#ribbon mahogany

[nanni-art]

Guest New York Bedroom - mid-sized contemporary guest dark wood floor bedroom idea

[magically-cozy]

Guest New York

Bedroom - mid-sized contemporary guest dark wood floor bedroom idea

[nutsamodebadze]

Bathroom New York

An undermount sink, furniture-like cabinets, medium tone wood cabinets, marble countertops, a two-piece toilet, brown walls, and white countertops are all featured in this small, traditional powder room design.

[dawnnaomidesigns]

Built-In Home Office New York Example of a mid-sized trendy built-in desk dark wood floor study room design

[modelsoffduty]

Hawaii Tropical Entry An illustration of a sizable island-style entryway with a limestone floor, beige walls, and a dark wood front door

[matteojensen]

Home Bar Hawaii Example of a huge island style open concept limestone floor living room design with a bar, beige walls and a wall-mounted tv

[chasing-after-memories]

Tropical Living Room - Open Stunning image of a living room with a limestone floor and beige walls in an island style.

[jesslearnsthings]

Loft-Style Living Room

[metanoiastudies]

Open - Contemporary Family Room

[devildomcuties]

Obey Me: A Gift for You [Demon Brothers]

🕷 pairing: demon brothers x f. reader

🕷 summary: You're gifted a pair of panties from the Demon Brothers, so you wear them for him.

🕷 wc: 6.5k

🕷 warnings: pet names (darling, love, treasure, baby, kitten, kitty, hun, doll, cupcake, moon, little moon), degradation (slut, whore), jealousy, choking, fingering (f. receiving), impact play (spanking, cunt slapping), oral sex (f. giving and receiving), unprotected sex, food mention, making-out, the heels stay on, marking (biting, scratching), hair pulling, praise, masturbation, pillow humping, mention of smothering with a pillow, panties used as a gag, cum swallowing, collar with a bell, possessiveness, dom/sub undertones, breeding kink, body worship, bondage with ribbon, objectification, use of a bullet vibrator, 69, handjob, implied food play

🕷 a/n: this is strictly 18+ content as links lead to adult content!

🕷 date: April 17, 2024

Lucifer

“Barbatos said you needed help with some paperwork?” You ask as you enter Lucifer’s office. You hold a thick file under your arm as you walk forward.

“Is that so?” Lucifer asks, not bothering to look up from the stack of papers in front of him. He taps his monogrammed pen on the mahogany surface, biting his bottom lip as he finishes reading the paper and moves to the others. 

“Yeah,” you click your tongue. “Barbs said I was distracting the Young Master.” 

You roll your eyes before you set the file on the desk with a thump. You push it toward Lucifer before sitting on the edge of the desk;  a habit he loves and hates. 

“Your impression of Barbatos has gotten much better,” Lucifer sneers as he finally looks at you, his eyes roaming over your body. 

Your thighs are splayed on his desk, clad in black thigh-high stockings held with a blue garter belt. The skirt you wear is nearly bunched at your hips and your black heels shine, reflecting the light in his office. 

“I see why Barbatos labeled you as a distraction,” Lucifer smirks as he sets the file aside along with the rest of his work. 

You shrug. “He was the one who said Dia needed me to grab the file. I don’t see why Barbatos couldn’t do it himself.”

“Best not to defy him, darling,” Lucifer says as he rises and steps between your thighs. His hands grip them as he pushes you back until you catch yourself on your elbows. You blink slowly as you look up at him, his black hair falls over his eyes and you lick your lips when you spot him staring at your blue panties. 

“You were at the Demon Lord’s Castle in the panties I gifted you? Parading around like a little slut for everyone but me? Is that any way to thank me, love?” Lucifer's tone is low, and dangerous as he raises a dark brow in question. 

You resist the urge to moan, shaking your head as you maintain eye contact. 

“I didn’t want to go over there. I wore these for you, Luci.”

Lucifer hums as he considers your words, remaining silent as he takes a step back and pulls you off of his desk. You stumble, but he’s there to straighten you on your feet. 

His nose presses to yours, his lips tantalizingly close. You want to kiss him, taste him but he spins you and you catch yourself with your palms. 

“Lucifer!” You gasp in surprise. 

Lucifer gets on his knees. His hands roam over your legs, fingers gripping the lace at the top of your stockings. He admires the blue panties you’re wearing.

His fingers fiddle with the bow above the little peekaboo window, his lips press kisses to the curve of your ass before he’s on his feet. 

Slowly, Lucifer spreads your legs with one of his. His left-hand wraps around your throat as he bends you further while his other hand moves between your thighs. 

“You wore these for me?” Lucifer asks he pushes your panties to the side and two of his fingers slip into your wet cunt. He growls, his hold on your throat tightening when you whimper. Your eyes shut, nearly panting as he fucks his fingers in and out of you before his thumb brushes your clit. 

“Answer me, darling. It’s rude to keep me waiting,” he whispers as you drip all over his fingers and pant leg. You nod, moaning when he releases your throat to smack your ass. 

“I did. I wanted you to see them on me,” you admit as he bunches your skirt at your hips as high as it will go with one hand while he removes the other from your cunt to suck his fingers clean.  

“Tell me, love. Did Diavolo get a preview? How about Barbatos?” Lucifer asks, failing at hiding his jealousy. 

“No! Never!” You exclaim as he moves back to admire your frame bent over his desk, wet and needy for his touch. 

Lucifer palms his cock over his pants while he watches your legs shake unsteadily in your heels. 

With ease, he unbuttons his pants and pulls the zipper down. He’s quick to push his boxers down his thighs and rip the buttons off his shirt. 

If you’d been facing him, you’d be drooling over his delicious body, begging to lick every inch before he stuffs his fat cock down your throat until tears run down your cheeks. 

However, today isn’t about you. It’s about those blue panties you’re wearing that hide very little of your ass. Which is why he had picked them out for you. 

He couldn’t wait to fuck you on his bed. Your back to him while you rode his cock while wearing the stockings, panties, and garter belt. 

The thought alone made his mouth water as he pumped himself a few times. You beg him to fuck you. Your thighs pressed together to try and distract you from the throbbing between them. 

Lucifer smacks the back of your thigh, getting you to spread them open before he presses the head of his cock at your entrance. 

“Lucifer!” You moan as he slides home, his hand on your hip and the other pressing his fingers to your lips. 

“We must be quiet, darling. We aren’t the only ones in the House of Lamentation tonight.”

Mammon

Mammon had a busy day. Levi was on his ass about paying him back, so Mammon had to do a last-minute photoshoot just to give a payment to him. He’d have to do a few more in the next few weeks to finish paying Levi off but then he’d be free to borrow from him again. 

Goldie was taken again by Lucifer, so Mammon’s next goal was freeing his sweetie. 

Groaning, Mammon takes his jacket off as he enters his bedroom. He had a shower at the set and was ready to get in his pajamas and climb into bed. 

Sighing, Mammon takes his shirt off, tossing it onto the couch beside his jacket. 

What he doesn’t expect to see is you bent over his pool table as you try to sink the eight ball. 

Mammon freezes in his spot. He’s not sure if you’ve heard him and he doesn’t want to startle you as you lean over further. If you notice your skirt hiking up further, you don’t make a move to correct it as you move the pool cue. 

Silently, Mammon eyes you hungrily. He spots the yellow panties he gifted you on your last date from beneath your black skirt. He wears matching boxers under his jeans. 

The ruffles on the edges make him gulp as you curse when you slip, your breasts pressed on the table as you balance yourself on one high-heeled foot. 

Nearly drooling, Mammon watches as you finally sink the last ball and stand on both feet. 

“Hell yeah!” You cheer as you place the pool cue on the table.

“Been here long, Treasure?” Mammon asks as he leans against the table. 

“Oh!” You giggle as you walk toward him. 

“I was waiting for you. Levi said you had a job.”

Mammon rolls his eyes. “Just like him to tell ya my business.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” you frown as you pull him into a hug. He smiles as he breathes you in, his face buried in your neck while you rub his broad shoulders. “I missed you and you weren’t answering.”

“It was a busy shoot. I barely had time to have lunch before I needed to get back on set,” Mammon explains as he grabs your hips. 

“I’m glad you’re back. I’ve got you all to myself for the rest of the night,” you grin as you press your lips to his. Mammon moans against your lips, his large hands moving lower and beneath your skirt to grab your ass.

“Mammon!” You groan as he nips your bottom lip, sucking it before he releases it. His fingers toy with the edges of your panties before he moves his hand to the front. 

“What? I just want to feel your heart,” he smirks as he traces the heart on the front of your panties. 

His hand moves lower, feeling the wet spot on your panties before his lithe fingers push the material aside. 

“Fuck, Treasure. You’re always so wet for me, huh?” Mammon groans as he feels your wet cunt, his fingers easily slipping inside. You grip his shoulders, your heels making you teeter.

“I’ve got you, Treasure. I always will,” Mammon promises as he kisses you while his fingers curl inside you and fuck your soaking wet pussy. You moan into the kiss, allowing his tongue to meet yours as your hand moves between your bodies to grip his hard cock over the denim. 

“You’re moving too fast, baby,” Mammon chuckles as he noses your throat before kissing it. “You haven’t even allowed me a taste of that sweet, sweet pussy.” 

“Greedy bastard,” you mutter before Mammon spanks you, gripping your ass harshly in his hand and squeezing it until you gasp. 

“I am, don’t forget it, Treasure.”

Mammon lifts you onto the pool table with your skirt hiked up to your hips and your blouse ripped down the middle, the buttons strewn on the table and his bedroom floor. Mammon eyes you greedily, licking his lips as he shakes his white hair out of his eyes. 

You spread your legs further as you look up at Mammon. Your heels hang over the edge and you admire the beautiful ridges of his torso and his glowing tan skin. You reach out for him and he allows you to touch him freely while he kisses you. His fingers thread in your hair while yours unbutton his pants and unzip them. 

Mammon kisses his way down your body, expertly removing your blouse and bra before his lips are wrapped around a hardened bud. He’s greedy with his tongue on both tits, licking and sucking them until he’s satisfied. 

“As pretty as these are, they’ve gotta go,” Mammon says as he tugs your panties down your thighs. He stuffs them in the back pocket of his jeans before he’s kissing down your body, sinking his teeth into your hips before grabbing your thighs in each hand. He tugs you to the edge of the table, not caring if you’re arousal stains his precious pool table. 

“Mammon!” You exclaim as you fall back onto the table and stare at the ceiling. You arch your back as his tongue meets your cunt, teasing you as your legs drape over his shoulders, heels digging into his broad back. 

“Fuck, Treasure,” Mammon slurps, his lips shiny with your wetness. He dives back in, his fingers fucking into you as he ignores the throbbing of his cock. He wanted to mount you, fuck you full of his cum, and then fuck it all back into you. 

Mammon wanted you to reek of him. He needed the halls of the House of Lamentation to stink of him and your coupling. He wouldn’t be satisfied until Lucifer was banging down his bedroom door, pleading that you stop. 

“So delicious,” he grunts as he palms over his cock, his tongue teasing your clit, gently sucking it just to watch your squirm beneath him. “Such a good girl for me, Treasure. So good.”

Levi

Levi loathed leaving his bedroom, more so when Lucifer demanded that he did. His older brother was the only demon who could get him to abandon his precious manga and video games. He was just about to start a new anime (Don’t Look Under the Bed Because There’s Probably a Monster, Even if Monsters aren’t Real and Don’t Hide Under Your Bed), when Lucifer banged on his bedroom door, ordering him to go check on you before dinner. 

The two of you had dinner duty, and with it only a few hours away, you had to get started within the next hour or two. Levi didn’t want to piss off Lucifer anymore than he already was, so begrudgingly he went to your room to get you. 

Normally, Levi would knock before entering your bedroom, but he was too busy muttering about Lucifer and his anime to remember to knock. It wasn’t like you needed him to anyway. You always welcomed him in quickly and with open arms. 

One time won’t hurt, right?

However, when he steps inside and shuts the door, he’s frozen solid. 

Gulping, Levi watches as you hump his missing pillow. Your back is to him, and he notes you’re naked except for the orange ruffle panties he gave you as a gift. He remembers how red his face had gotten when he left the gift on your bed just a few days ago, he didn’t realize you’d known they were from him. 

“Fuck, Levi,” you moan as you grind your cunt into his pillow, ass bouncing as you pick up the pace. You’ve soaked the pillow under you, no doubt making it harder to return but you couldn’t help yourself. Levi had invaded your thoughts until you couldn’t resist but smother yourself in his scent and finally steal something that belonged to him that he probably wouldn’t miss. 

Levi is in awe as he watches you, cock growing hard in his pants as you moan his name again, cupping your tits in your hands and throwing your head back as you soak his pillow with your cum. 

“Levi, are you just going to stare or are you going to come over here and take care of me?!!” You ask as you look at him from over your shoulder. 

 “I-I wasn’t staring!” Levi stutters, feeling his face grow warm. “Lucifer said, and then dinner, shopping. Not staring!”

You climb off his pillow slowly, allowing him an eyeful of your ass in the tiny thong. Levi never imagined you’d wear them, much less for him but here you were in all your glory humping his pillow and asking him to fuck you. 

Frozen, Levi just stares as you approach him. Your lips meet his as you strip him down to his boxers in between kisses and moans. 

You have him lie on the bed, his pillow beside him. You straddle his hips, kissing his cheek just to feel the heat of his embarrassment.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” you pout as you place the pillow over his face. 

Levi groans as he smells your arousal. How many times had you cum at the thought of him? How many times have you soaked the fabric with your juices? Levi could die right now and he’d die a happy man, blissfully inhaling your scent. 

“Don’t be greedy,” you giggle as you move the pillow under his head, your tits brushing his face as you place it under him. 

“There,” you grin as you take his shaky hands in yours and place them on your tits. “Want to feel some more?”

“Y-yes,” Levi clears his throat. If this is a dream, he never wishes to wake up. He would gladly stay underneath you forever if it meant you’d be touching him like so.

“What do you think of the panties? I wasn’t sure if orange was my color but they look so good on me, don’t you think?” You ask as you place Levi’s hands on your ass and you swear he almost cums in his pants. 

“They look go-good,” he blushes as you guide his hands to the ruffles. 

“You have good taste, baby,” you state as you easily slip the panties off you. Levi watches as you tug his boxers down just enough to release his leaking cock. He’s too horny to be embarrassed, almost prideful as you lick your lips when you take it in your hand. 

You’d love to tease him, make him beg, make him suffer but you’re too turned on to think straight. Your mouth wraps around him, engulfing his length greedily as his eyes flutter shut and your name forms on his lips. His hand grips your hair, guiding your movements as you meet his pelvis and he hits the back of your throat. You swallow and his thighs clench as he almost sees the Celestial Realm with how high you take him. 

Levi is near tears now and you pop off his thick cock long enough to get on your knees and reach for your panties. 

“Open your mouth for me, Levi.” You instruct and he does so obediently. 

You stuff your soaked panties into his mouth as you stroke his dick. Levi’s cries of pleasure are muffled as you take him back into your mouth. One of your hands is between your thighs, fingers fucking your soaked cunt while you continue to bob up and down Levi’s cock. 

His groans and moans grow rapidly, his body trembling from pleasure as you feel him hit the back of your throat moments before he’s cumming down it. 

Levi feels hot tears roll down his cheeks as his hips continue to thrust into your poor throat. You swallow hungrily, a few stray tears rolling down your cheeks until you pull off him, cum and spit coating your pretty lips. 

Levi catches his breath before he sits up and spits out your panties. His hand grabs the back of your head before he slams his lips on yours. His tongue meets yours in a hungry, messy, cum-filled kiss.

Satan

Rain pelted the windows of the Devildom late at night. Satan had spent all day in the library looking for a particular book with no luck. 

He had fallen asleep and woken in a puddle of drool before he gave up and decided to head to his bedroom after a shower and a brush of his teeth. 

Now, he lay in bed with a thick book on his lap as he leaned against the headboard. He had walked through the quiet halls of the House of Lamentation and figured everyone was in bed. What he hadn’t counted on was you showing up in his bedroom with a poof and a sparkle of magic. 

“Kitten?” Satan sets his book on the nightstand beside his bed. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I was with Solomon learning a new spell and got locked out of HOL. You didn’t answer my texts,” you frown as you begin to undo the buttons on your blouse. 

Satan looks at his D.D.D. and realizes he never turned it back on after Mammon was spamming him with messages asking for money. 

“Sorry, Kitten. Mammon was begging for money again,” Satan apologizes as he looks at you. He notes the collar on your throat, the tiny bell jingling when you take your bra off to toss on the floor. 

You step out of your high-heels and shimmy out of your skirt leaving you in just your thick thigh-high socks and strappy green panties.

“You wore these for Solomon?” Satan growls as he lifts one of the straps with his fingertip.

“Of course not, Satan. I wore them for you,” you huff, as you crawl into his lap, legs on either side of his hips. 

“Wearing them under such a short skirt says otherwise, Kitten. Do I need to remind you who you belong to?” Satan asks lowly as his hands grip your bare ass, the pathetic green straps do nothing to conceal you. 

“Maybe,” you tease with a sly grin as you press your breasts to his bare chest. Your fingers twirl his blonde hair as you lean in to kiss his lips. 

“You play a dangerous game, love,” Satan sighs as his fingers grip the tiny bell on your collar, another one of his gifts. 

“Only because it turns me on,” you admit with a smug smile as Satan tugs your collar and your eyes darken as you meet his wrathful gaze. 

“Watch yourself, Kitten. You’re not the only one with claws,” he remarks as you lick your lips before he kisses you passionately. His hands cup your face before moving to your hips. He groans when you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, tugging slightly before releasing it. 

Satan smirks as he quickly moves you over his lap, your ass in the air as he spreads your legs further. When his palm smacks your cheek, you gasp before moaning. He smacks the other cheek and you bite your lip to keep from moaning his name for everyone to hear. 

“Count for me,” he commands as he spanks you a third time and then a fourth. You keep count, thighs soaking wet from your arousal as he finishes with number fifteen. 

His hands soothe the ache, gentle words leaving his lips with praises of how good you are for him. 

“Such a sweet kitten when you want to be, huh? Can’t listen the first time, always have to push the boundaries,” Satan coos as his fingers dip into your wet cunt. 

“Satan!” You moan wanton as his fingers curl inside you. He hushes you, his free hand pressing his fingers to your mouth. You take them in greedily, sucking and slurping on his digits with both holes. 

“That’s it, love. Be a good kitty for me,” Satan smiles as you tighten around him, his fingers soaked to the knuckles as his thumb finds your clit. 

You’re nearly there, your moans announce it as you squirm on his lap. He fucks your mouth and your cunt with his fingers, giving you hell at both ends before your muffled screams fill the air. 

His praises fall on deaf ears as you cum, nearly sobbing when he slaps your cunt twice and has you suck his cum soaked fingers clean. 

“Hands and knees, love,” Satan demands as you struggle to get on your shaky legs. Your body thrums with arousal, hot and aching for more as you arch your back. Satan tugs you toward him by your hips.

“Fuck, Satan,” you curse into the sheets as he stuffs you full of his cock. His nails dig into your hips as he pulls you toward him, the fat head of his cock reaching your cervix. Your eyes roll back as you take the pounding, greedily asking for more when his hand smacks your jiggling ass. 

“These panties sure have come in useful tonight,” he muses to himself as he watches your hungry cunt take his cock like the good whore you are. For a moment his thoughts run loose, imagining what it would be like to breed you, to see your breasts round and full of milk for his spawn. Everyone would know you were his and only his. Everyone would envy him. Everyone would seethe knowing you were with child.

“Satan!” You scream as pleasure overwhelms you, pussy clenching around his cock, creaming it as you milk him for all he’s worth. 

“Fuck, Kitten,” he scowls, looking up at his ceiling and ignoring the thumping of his headboard against the wall. Perhaps the two of you have woken everyone in the house but he doesn’t dare stop, especially when you start begging him to cum deep inside, stuff you full of his cum. 

Satan aims to please as he does just that. 

Perhaps his dreams will come true.

Asmo

Asmo sat on his bed painting his nails live on Fab Snap. 

“Isn’t this color just fabulous? It’s one of my favorites!” Asmo gushes as he paints another nail, blowing on it as comments fly by on the screen. He giggles as he shows his finished hand to the camera, thanking everyone for the compliments before moving to his other hand. 

Asmo has been live for almost two hours. The moment you’re out of the bath, he’ll say his goodbyes and end the stream. He’s been dying to get you alone all week but unfortunately, his bank account needed some money.

Five minutes later, you stand in a fluffy pink robe with a pair of pink heels and the cute panties Asmo gifted you. 

Asmo pats the bed. You cross the room to him, gently kicking off your heels as you lie back on his bed. 

“Let’s get you out of this,” he smiles cheerily as he untied your robe and helped you out of it. He pushes it to the other end of the bed after taking the silk ribbon used to tie the robe. 

Carefully, Asmo places your wrists over your head and wraps the silk ribbon around each wrist before tying them together. 

“Well, don’t you look ravishing,” Asmo grins brightly as he admires your beautiful body. You look away, feeling your cheeks grow hot as he continues to compliment you until you meet his gaze again. 

Asmo takes his time with you, kissing your cheek, jaw, neck, collarbones, and sternum. He’s generous with his kisses, covering the expanse of your chest with his lips just to listen to your soft moans. 

When his lips wrap around your nipple, you gasp, turning to putty beneath him as he settles between your legs. His fingers trace the strappy pattern of your panties. Fingers gently go over the tiny pink roses just to watch your legs twitch. 

“So sensitive,” he giggles as he takes your nipple into his mouth and gently nips it. He takes his time licking and sucking each breast until they’re glossy with his spit and lip gloss. 

“Asmo!” You moan his name as he kisses his way down your body further, his teeth sinking into your hip, leaving his mark behind. 

“Let me take care of you, hun. I knew you’d look so pretty in these,” Asmo bites his bottom lip as his eyes admire every pretty strap on your hips. His finger lightly traces the design until he’s pressing his fingertip to your clit. 

You gasp, surprised, and move your wrists upward. 

“Uh-uh, my love. I’m not done with you yet,” Asmo giggles as he flips you onto your stomach, lifting your ass in the air as you steady yourself on your knees. 

His hands slowly rub your back before gripping your ass. Your hands are bound in front of you, keeping you from reaching back to touch him. You want to feel him pressed against you, have him encompass every fiber of your being. You don’t have to think when you’re around Asmo, happy to be his dress-up doll, his toy for his pleasure; whatever it may be. 

Asmo’s fingers brush the ruffles as his lips kiss your spine.

“So beautiful, my love,” he whispers as he kisses his way lower, his fingers moving your soaked panties aside. You moan softly, pushing your ass toward him as he chuckles. 

“So eager,” Asmo coos as his finger circles your hole. “So needy.”

You nod, tugging on your restraints before a soft buzz fills your ears and you perk up. Asmo giggles at your reaction as you arch your back further and his tongue meets your pussy. He teases you at first, sucking on your clit and wetting his lips with your essence. Once he’s had his fill, you feel a soft vibration on your clit from the pink bullet vibrator in his hand. 

“Fuck, Asmo!” You try to fuck yourself on him but he holds you with his free hand. 

“Behave, doll. Or we’ll have to stop playing,” he warns as he moves his hand to spread your ass for him. You feel heat rush to your face as he spits on your hole and his tongue traces it after. 

Your thighs tremble as the vibrations quicken, soaking your panties and your thighs. Pleasure courses through your body, his name heavy on your tongue as you fall head first into utter bliss. 

Asmo watches you come undone, a proud smile on his lips as he speeds the vibrator up, matching his movements with his tongue just to watch you spasm. 

When you fall face-first into his bed, he removes the toy and kisses your lower back. 

“Ready to play again?” He asks with a smirk as you lie boneless on his sheets, nodding meekly. 

Beel 

Hunger always struck at the most inopportune times for Beel. 

He spent hours at the gym lifting weights and trying to keep his mind off his hunger. He even took a scalding hot shower to make himself focus on anything other than the pangs of hunger in his stomach but not even the steaming bathroom could help him.

By the time he had arrived at HOL, it was silent. Everyone had gone to bed, and the only light on was the one in the kitchen where he stood. 

“Hey, Beel,” your voice startled him as he looked up from the fridge. He was about to make himself a sandwich when you walked in. 

“Hey,” he greets you, eyeing your skirt and thigh-high socks. “What are you doing up so late?”

“I just got home. Solomon wanted me to learn a new spell and then he tried to make me dinner.” 

Beel grimaces with you. “Want me to make you something instead?”

You nod as you head for the cabinets to get your secret stash of chocolate chip and pecan cookies from the Human World. 

You grab your stepladder, climbing to the top step while Beel watches in amusement. You could have just asked him for help but instead, you reach upward, your skirt rising as you lean forward to grab your secret cookie jar. 

Beel notices the red panties you’re wearing, and his hunger turns into lust. 

They’re the pair he gifted you just this morning. A lacy pair with an open crotch. His mouth waters at the sight of your cunt on display as you grab the jar of cookies and begin to climb down from the stepladder. 

The moment the ceramic jar is on the counter, Beel is on you. 

His large arms wrap around your waist as his broad chest presses to your back. His lips kiss your neck, pulling your shirt off to the side to expose your shoulder. 

“You have no idea how delicious you look, Cupcake. I want to eat you whole,” he whispers as he presses his erection to the swell of your ass. 

“Beel,” you curse as he grinds on you for a moment before his hands rip your shirt clear down the middle. The scraps fall to the floor uselessly and his shirt joins soon after. 

“Come here,” he demands as he climbs onto the kitchen island and lies down before he helps you on top of him. “Uh-uh, the other way, Cupcake.”

Your cheeks are aflame when he positions you so that your ass sits on his face, your wet cunt dripping into his mouth as he tugs your skirt out of the way, tearing it off you when he gets desperate enough to taste you. 

Beel’s large hands grip your thighs as he licks up your slit, savoring every drop of your arousal. His cock is thick and heavy in his gym shorts and your thighs tremble when you lean forward to palm it.

Beel hums in approval, making a fresh wave of arousal soak his pretty lips. 

“Beel!” You moan as you grind on his face, smothering him and his sounds of pleasure. You want him. You need to have him in every way possible and his cock throbs in your hand as you tug his shorts down, unsurprised he’s gone commando. 

You nearly drool at the sight of his hard cock as you mouth at it, licking the head before you tongue the slit. He’s a mouthful, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth as you take him a little further but just the head of his cock is enough to choke you. 

You pull off him with a gasp, inhaling as much air as possible as tears stream down your cheeks. Beel chuckles as he continues to slurp up your wet juices, pussy so warm and creamy, and delicious. He’d eat you every hour of every day if you’d let him. You’re the only one who could dim his rabid hunger for a while. 

Beel adores you. He can never have his fill and you’re always needy for him. Your hunger for him rivals his hunger for food, and it’s always so pleasurable to satisfy you. 

You squirm on his face and he holds you still. Messy slurping sounds fill the kitchen as he sucks, licks, and teases your cunt. He could ruin you for everyone if he chose to, could make it so nobody else could satisfy the ever-building need to be stuffed and fucked full at all times. 

Beel would be content just eating you out until you couldn’t take anymore. Until his tongue grew tired and your pussy couldn’t cream anymore. He’d feast on you, body and soul and you’d surrender to him willingly just to feel the pleasure that his talented tongue provided. 

You take his cock back into your mouth, saliva coating his length as you take more of him and you inhale through your nose as you push further. Spit soaks Beel’s pelvis, dripping to his balls as you release him, coughing as you try to catch your breath before wrapping your hand around him to jerk him off while taking his balls in your mouth to suck those instead. 

Beel rewards you with two fingers in your cunt. You clench around him as he sucks your clit and your hips rock back and forth on his face. He loves to see you dripping, soaking every bit of his face as your sweet moans go straight to his cock. 

The lace of your panties is ruined. There’s no saving them but Beel doesn’t care. He tears them easily and slides his tongue into your hole, fucking you on it as you squeeze his head and choke out his name. 

You cum hard. Beel moans your name as he’s rewarded for his efforts. He guzzles down every last bit. The noises he makes are obscene as he savors your taste on his tongue until you’re utterly spent. 

“Really?” Belphie’s voice startles the both of you. “We eat off of there.”

You cover your face in embarrassment as Belphie walks out of the kitchen without another word but Beel doesn’t seem fazed. 

With trembling legs, you climb off of Beel. “Let’s continue this in my room.”

You pick up his shirt and put it on before heading to the fridge for a bottle of whipped cream and a container of strawberries. 

Beel’s mouth waters as he grabs the cookie jar and your torn clothing. He hopes nobody will notice the mess on the kitchen island in the morning. Beel will be too tired from tonight to wake up early to clean it. 

Hopefully, Belphie will take care of it. 

Belphie

It was no surprise that Belphie could fall asleep just about anywhere. 

Sometimes he’d fall asleep in the hall, in front of his bedroom door, or outside Asmo’s bedroom with a full face of makeup as a reward for his carelessness. 

Tonight, Belphie had snuck away into his attic. He had paid Mammon to take his turn making dinner so he could sleep all evening. He’d spent the day catching up on chores and laundry. He was too exhausted to complete another laborious task. 

You were relieved when you finally found Belphie that night. You had snuck upstairs in your pajamas just to climb into bed with him. He was warmer than usual, so you stripped down to your panties and snuggled under the covers beside him and his pillow. 

“Hmm,” he grumbled as he reached out to touch you. “Moon? What are you doing here?”

“I missed you at dinner. I was looking for you all day,” you whisper as he drapes his arm over your waist. He presses his nose to your shoulder, feeling the warmth of your skin before his fingers move down to grab your hip. 

Sleepily, Belphie opens his eyes to see what you’re wearing. He had assumed you were naked like he was while he slept, so when his fingers brushed a silky bow, he was puzzled.

“What’s this?” He asked as he swallowed a yawn. He looks down to see the purple panties he gifted you over the weekend. 

“Like them? I wanted to show them to you all day but you’re a hard demon to find,” you pout as you feel him play with the silk bow. His lips find your shoulder, kissing it. 

“I am hard,” he chuckles as he nips your shoulder. His hand moves upward, cupping your breast.

He lifts your leg and places it over his. He slides his cock over your wet folds, moaning at how hot and soaked you are. 

“Easy access,” he smirks as you turn your head to kiss him, tongues lacing together as he lines his dick at your entrance and pushes in. 

“Fuck,” your eyes roll back as you take him. The familiar ache is a little painful but pleasurable. Belphie stretches you with his cock, making you take every delicious inch as stars explode behind your eyes. 

“That’s it, Little Moon. Take my cock like the good whore you are,” he praises as he kisses your bare shoulder and then moves to suck his mark on your skin. 

You moan, grinding your ass on him as best you can as he devours your body with his. You take each thrust with a sob of pleasure as you tighten around him, screaming his name when he rubs your clit just how you like it. 

“Such a little slut,” Belphie coos. “I bet you paraded around the whole of the Devildom in a tiny skirt wearing these panties while you searched for me. Tell me, love, did you prance around for the House of Lamentation? For the lower demons around town? Or perhaps you decided a visit to the Demon Lord’s Castle was necessary?”

“Fuck, Belphie! I-I didn’t-” 

Belphie hushes your protests with his lips. A toe-curling kiss that shushes you as he grabs your hips and positions you on your hands and knees. Your face is buried in the pillows, your hands held behind your back as Belphie watches you fuck yourself on his cock, creaming all over him. 

“I heard Diavolo was having Simeon and Solomon over for dinner tonight. Did you join them? Perhaps they had you instead?” Belphie chuckles as he smacks your ass and watches as you cum all over his cock. 

Belphie grins, he pushes you onto your side, your back to his chest as your rapid heartbeats settle again. He’s known for his small bouts of energy but soon lethargy settles into him again. 

He’s slow with his thrusts and kisses. Slow when he pushes his cock as far as it’ll go just to hear his name roll off your tongue. He’s quiet when he cums, rope after rope filling you as you fuck yourself on him. Another orgasm rocks through you, your soft whimpers lulling Belphie back to sleep with his hard cock still nestled inside your warm cunt.

©devildomcuties - I do not allow reposts or translations of my work on any platforms.

[cherrychilli]

18+

Eddie Munson x AFAB reader, established relationship, lingerie, allusions to oral sex(F), PIV sex

a/n: I'm no seamstress by any means but I can do a decent enough job with a needle and thread and I love making my own lingerie from time to time so it got me thinking about dear sweet horny Eddie and what it might be like when you let him in on your little hobby.

You'd first told him about it a few months into your relationship, on a day when a press of his lips to the corner of your mouth had turned into open mouthed kisses, his tongue wrapped around yours. Eddie had pulled you closer to feel more of you then, settling you in his lap, pushing your skirt up to find the black, hand sewn lacy garters circling the thickness of your thighs, made dainty and pretty with ruching and bows.

He doesn't even know what they're called – all he knows is that he likes them, a lot and he tells you so between kisses, tracing the soft fabric with his fingers, pinching the delicate lace with a low whistle. He slips in a corny but sweet line about how it makes your thighs look like they've been giftwrapped just for him and that gets a giggle out of you, telling him you made them yourself.

"You serious?", he looks up at you, amazement shining bright in his deep mahogany eyes even when you try to downplay it, telling him it's not that hard. But your modesty does nothing to stop him from thinking you're the most talented person he's ever met and he reminds you of that mixed in with more praise when you change positions and he's down on his knees, slipping his fingers under each garter while he fits his head between your legs.

"Turning up in a pretty little outfit like this? that's begging to have my tongue on you, baby. You shoulda known that", he tuts against your clothed mound, licking a broad stripe up your panties, tasting the wetness that had gathered there on the black cotton.

He only pulled out the stitching on one garter that day – unintentional of course but unavoidable too given how tightly he had to hold you down in place as you writhed. It didn't trouble you though because it was nothing you couldn't mend with your needle and some thread back at home.

From then on, whenever you feel inspired to tackle a new design he's all sorts of encouraging, driving you and accompanying you to get all the things you need – all of the sewing supplies; fabric, thread, lace, ribbon, elastic and more. He helps you decide on which colors to get and he makes the gesture of paying for it all too, wanting to spoil you. Not to mention it's kind of like he's buying himself a present too, knowing you'll model the undergarments for him when you're done.

The most you let him help with after that is taking your measurements, letting him wrap the measuring tape around your hips and bust while you guide him on how to do it correctly but what that leads to is a lot of wandering touches and a few sneaky pinches on your ass, having to playfully swat his hands away if you hope to get anything done.

Eddie backs down with a little whine but all the faux pouting's just for show. He finds space on your bed while you look up DIY tutorials online at your desk before you get down to sewing, all of your supplies laid out neatly by your side, ready to be used.

While you're busy he spends his time strumming away on his guitar, pencil tucked behind his ear as he brainstorms lyrics for a new song. Both of you liked working on your own projects this way, in the same room because you appreciate having each other's company and presence to surround yourself with while you create.

Though Eddie had promised not to look too much he struggles to uphold that promise as he sneaks peaks at you cutting out patterns for a matching lace bra and panty set. He adores the cute way your brows scrunch together in concentration when you thread your needle and how you sometimes mirror him with your tongue pinched between your lips while you meticulously stitch all the individual cut outs together.

Somewhere between the time it takes you to get the panties finished and the bra started he approaches you, one hand clamped over his eyes so he can't see your progress – he knows how much you want to surprise him with the final result. Held out in the other is a mug of that tea you like, having made a quick trip to your kitchen and back, a bag of potato chips cradled in the crook of his elbow for you too.

You thank him and gladly take the offerings, cheeks growing warm when he plants a quick kiss on the top of your head. "Don't overwork yourself", he coos into your hair, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze before he heads back to your bed and picks up his guitar again.

The tune Eddie's playing carries you through the rest of your stitching and close to an hour later you swivel your desk chair around in his direction. "I'm done", you announce with a sunny smile and he grins back at you, fingers abandoning his guitar. "You gonna get changed right now?" he asks hopefully, eyes twinkling.

"Yup", you answer him, popping the 'P' with a little wink. You gather the set in your arms, stepping into the bathroom. "Wait here, I wanna do a reveal", you tell him before closing the door, all giddy with girlish excitement, proud of how the it all came out.

The wait isn't long but every second that passes has Eddie feeling like his head's full of fireworks, finding it impossible to remain still, fingers drumming on his knees, legs hung over the side of your bed, socked feet tapping away on your carpeted floor.

You don't announce yourself once you've changed, unlocking the bathroom door and letting it swing open as you lean against the doorframe, letting your boyfriend take in your newest creation.

You know you've succeeded when his lips part, jaw going slack and his eyes going wide to rake over every inch of you, stunned.

He makes grabby hands at you and its somehow made cuter given his age so you step forward to let him get a closer look, occupying the space between his spread legs, letting him place his warm hands on the bare skin of your waist.

It's always a rare moment when Eddie goes silent, words escaping him as he quietly admires the way the material wraps around your proportions perfectly and the the cheeky cut of your panties as you do a little spin for him, the front a soft lilac satin, the back a matching shade of lace to reveal your ass through the floral embroidery.

The bra is simple – nothing too elaborate like some of the designs you'd scrolled through but it compliments the underwear well. The straps are thin and rest comfortably on your shoulders, the rest sewn in a longline style. It's sheer with the same floral lace as your panties so your nipples show through, your breasts supported well even without padding or underwire for extra softness, all with a tiny, pretty ribbon bow stitched right in the middle to match the one on the front of your panties too.

"You're so fucking beautiful", me utters, pulling you closer to kiss you right above your belly button, making your chest flutter with a thousand beating wings, a hurricane of butterflies taking flight just beneath your skin.

You let him lay you down on the bed and he's far more gentle than he needs to be when he slips your panties to the side, not wanting to stretch or snag the lace and ruin all your hard work. Your belly feels warm like sunlight spilling through your window in the morning because he's so careful with the pretty underwear while he runs a finger through your wet folds, making you feel like something as delicate as porcelain, something to touched with care and worshiped. It makes you hunger for more, pulling him closer by his shoulders.

"Wanna feel you inside", you place your lips on his, hands helping him to unbuckle his belt as he leans over you. You pull not so gently at his clothing, a big contrast to how he's handling you, tossing each article to the side impatiently while you remain in your cute little ensemble. You wouldn't be ridding yourself of your underwear tonight and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"Can't believe I've got the prettiest doll in town all to myself", Eddie huffs a breath against the column of your neck at the same moment you suck one in, pressing his cock inside you, so thick and hard it makes the stretch that much better.

"And she's all dressed up just for me"

[stupidlittlespirit]

Rating: SFW (later chapters will be NSFW) Type: Long form, multi-chapter, Stanford Pines x Reader Tags: Mutual pining, no pronouns used, teasing, a special appearance from Stan, mentions of the kids, housekeeper!Reader, tw: my horrible jokes. Word count: 5,729 My other works: here on tumblr and here on Ao3! Ch.2 here

In which a simple expedition with Ford goes increasingly sideways and you learn more than enough about thermodynamics to last you a lifetime.

A/N: This has been quite an undertaking to produce. I created this fic as somewhat of a universe in which base a number of my post-portal!Ford one-shots etc in, and that meant I had to lay a lot of groundwork in it. I wanted to have a setting where I didn't need to keep giving background on what the Reader's role is and how/why they feel a certain way in every fic, and to also offer a kind of timeline that could be explored through future works. Because of that, in this fic there will be vague allusions to some small events happening to set us up for the current day and if people are interested in reading more about those events in full detail then I'd really love to explore them properly with you guys.

Just as an aside - Reader will mention they don't have a father in a throwaway line. It can be taken as just a joke or as literal. Up to you.

Anyway, most of this fic is already completed and I'll be posting a new chapter every couple of days or so. You can wait to read it all in one go or enjoy it in chapters. There will be roughly 5 in total. Enjoy!

Sometimes, in life, things align so perfectly that a person can't stop themselves from considering the possibility of cosmic interference.

Deities. The universe. Some other unseen, all powerful entity of murky origin. All of their existences seem far more plausible when events in one's life fall effortlessly into place and line up to give them the exact thing they've always wanted.

Today is one of those days.

You're busy chopping onions when the planets orient themselves for you.

The broad kitchen knife in your hand knocks rhythmically against the oak board underneath it with every slice you make and the little ribbons of milk-white flesh stack neatly between blade and vegetable, but your attention is, quite irresponsibly, elsewhere.

You really ought to be keeping track of your fingers but you're far too preoccupied with gazing out of the bay window in front of you to really care all that much. The thing is huge; its frame is rimmed with rich mahogany and it has one broad, square pane sitting in the centre, beset by two more, slimmer, rectangular pieces. It drinks in the waning daylight outside and on sunnier evenings, the pretty little stained panels that skirt the tops of each one glow a rich blue, showing off the depictions of constellations inside, like someone has captured part of the night sky and trapped it within the glass for their own private amusement.

Today, the clouds block the sun and the cerulean glass is dull, but you don’t mind too much. You’re not making use of the window to admire the art, lovely as it may be. You’re far more focused on what’s taking place on the lawn, beyond the bounds of the warm interior of the house.

Out on the well-kept grass, two figures are vigorously working out. Well, one is. The other looks like he’d rather keel over and die than spend another second out there, but he’s doing his best all the same and that’s what matters, you suppose.

Steam rises from Ford’s figure as he pauses in his work to help his nephew grip a mid-sized dumbbell correctly. It curls off and around his body like smoke, rising from its sweaty source and wafting into the unseasonably cool air. His cheeks are pink, likely both from exertion and the chill in the weather, and the colour blooms all the way across his face, stretching far enough to even tickle the tips of his ears.

He looks gorgeous.

Dressed in all-black, he’s wearing a short sleeve t-shirt and sweats, paired with dirty blue trainers. Where the skin of his throat and arms should be exposed, however, they’re instead wrapped up tight in what you presume to be some kind of fancy thermal shirt. You’ve never seen him wear anything that shows off his skin, yet somehow the way it clings to the curves of his biceps and forearms is even more revealing than seeing them bare.

Granted, this isn't the first time you've spied on one of his workout sessions like this (in almost exactly the same way), but every time he shows up, it feels like you've been blessed by the Heavens.

Ford, for what it’s worth, hasn’t noticed anything untoward. Not as far as you’re aware, anyway. He’s usually too lost in whatever he’s doing to pay you much mind and if he does catch your presence in the window, you’re always quick to make yourself look busy.

Ford works out four times a week, like clockwork, on the front lawn of the house he shares with his brother. He doesn't always have his nephew with him (Dipper clearly only ever wants to do his best for his great-uncle, however exercise is hardly the kid's forte and you can't say you blame him), which means that oftentimes you get the absolute pleasure of observing a clueless Ford lift weights and stretch his quads for sixty minutes whilst you break from your other chores to prepare them all dinner.

You've been working for the Pines’ for the better part of a year now and getting hired had been a complete accident:

Upon moving to Gravity Falls eighteen months ago and landing the first job you had come across in the local paper (an underpaid, exhausting waitressing gig at the local diner) you’d run into the kids one afternoon on a rare day off.

Mabel had almost smashed your ankle to bits after she and her brother had lost control of their overstuffed trolley and once they had finished their litany of apologies, you’d taken note of the cart’s contents: primarily filled with sugar riddled snacks and items with so little nutritional value that you’d been astounded they’d been legal to sell, neither one of the kids appeared to know how they were going to lug all their so-called food home or what they were going to make for dinner.

Without much else to do, you’d volunteered to lend a hand. They had explained their task: “Grunkle Stan says his back hurts too much to waste time in the store these days and he promised that if we helped, he’d make Grunkle Ford teach us how to drive so we can do it even faster!” Mabel had enthusiastically informed you, eyes bright and metaphorical tail bushy, and despite your confusion over the concept of a ‘Grunkle’, the idea of two apparently-just-turned fourteen year olds at the wheel had been less than thrilling.

Some gentle sweet talking had convinced them to swap out some of their items for things a little more suitable and you’d carried their bags back on a short walk to the house where you’d met the infamous Stan lounging on its porch, his feet up on some empty crates.

At Mabel’s excited introduction of you and her retelling of your recipe ideas, Stan had given you a once over before he’d asked how you felt about replacing the kids as dinner gofer. As it turned out, sending two hyperactive children out to get groceries every week had apparently (shockingly) not been working out too well for the older brothers, and one offer of help had turned into several paid offers.

After only a few short weeks of assisting them, you’d been offered a full time position as housekeeper. The decision to take them up on it had been easy; waitressing barely covered the bills for your decrepit little cabin on the outskirts of town and spending hours every day walking the same five metre route to and from the kitchen six days a week was monotonous enough that you’d been considering moving on anyway.

You’d jumped at the chance.

Technically, your job here is to help with the household tasks that Stan is too lazy to do and that Ford is too busy researching or gallivanting around in the forest to take on, but more often than not, you’re stuck doing whatever little thing Stan thinks up so that he can, as he puts it: ‘enjoy his retirement, sweetheart’. The work extends to any little chore they might need help with, and when the kids head home for summer and Ford and Stan set sail for a few months again, it falls to you to keep the place standing until they return.

Hence why you’re slaving away in their roomy kitchen this evening, gazing out at Ford like you’re some kind of yearning protagonist in a classic romance novel and turning over several thoughts in your mind that you’re sure would get you fired if you revealed them in detail to anyone else. You exhale softly as you watch him show Dipper how to correctly pull off a bicep curl, his arm flexing beneath his shirt.

Behind you, at the dinner table, Stan pauses where he's rustling through his daily newspaper at a leisurely pace and his chair creaks as he shifts in it. “Keep sighing like that and you’ll fog the windows up before he’s finished.”

You start, having completely forgotten his presence, and narrowly you swerve the kitchen knife to avoid chopping off the tip of your index finger. “Jesus, Stan!” you huff. “I almost cut my hand off! They should put a bell on you.”

Stan laughs under his breath. “Oh, they’ve tried, trust me,” he mutters darkly. “Besides, that’s what you get for not paying attention.”

“I am paying attention,” you lie. “I was just…. Thinking.”

“About what?” Stan asks, in a way that suggests he already knows. He probably does.

Stan is the only other person besides yourself who’s aware of your affection for Ford.

The crush had started small, blossoming slowly over time into something more significant, and Stan had worked it out before you’d even caught it yourself.

For all his faults, the guy is as perceptive as they come and admittedly, he’s a lot of fun in his own right. He’s cantankerous and rough around the edges, and yet he’s got a heart of gold that he hides deep underneath his gaudy chains and string vests. At first, he’d been grumpy and standoffish about your presence, despite being the one to hire you in the first place, but as time has gone by and you’ve proven yourself to be competent at both the work and at giving as good you get, he’s dropped his guard and dragged you into his jokes and games.

Although he’s less than thrilled about your private sentiments towards his brother, he's charming in his own special way and he only ever uses it to rag on you when he’s feeling mean. To the best of your knowledge, he hasn’t said a word to anyone else about it. Stan is an ass, but he’s not cruel.

And while you’re not going to divulge your most intimate thoughts to him, you’ll always rise to a little back and forth with him. He seems to enjoy having a verbal sparring partner.

“How old did you say your brother was again?” You ask with feigned innocence, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“What?” Stan grunts, folding the top of his paper down enough to glower at you over it.

“I said, remind me how old your brother is again,” you repeat, turning your attention back to watching Ford lean down to stretch his hamstrings again. It looks like he’s cooling down for the day now which means he’ll be doing static stretches for the next ten minutes, and every time he does so you’re treated to a wonderful view of his ass.

“Same age as me,” Stan says, and at your silence he tacks on: “We’re twins,” like you’re an idiot.

“So….?”

“He’s sixty-two, genius.”

“Huh,” you mutter quietly. “Interesting….”

It's hard to remember when Ford is so agile and active, and for all your interest in him, you've never actually asked his age. Sixty-two is perfectly doable though, in every conceivable sense of the word…..

Stan rustles his paper again. “If you’re thinkin’ about what I think you’re thinkin’ about, and I know you are, don’t even think about it.”

You snort. He has such a way with words.

"I told you last time, stay away from him. He's...." Stan pauses, as though he intends to say something else but thinks better of it. "He's old enough to be your father."

“I don’t have a father,” you say absentmindedly.

It’s Stan’s turn to snort now. “Y’know, that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

You tear your gaze away from Ford’s routine to flip Stan the bird, sticking your tongue out for good measure before you reach for the glass mixing bowl to your right. Now that your evening matinee is ending, you really ought to get a move on with dinner.

“Anyway, I didn’t hire you to gawp at my brother like he’s a piece of meat on the discount shelf,” Stan grouches. “You’re s’posed to be cooking.”

“I'm not gawping, I just happen to be facing the same way that he's doing all his stuff in,” you say defensively, before adding in a muttered: “Besides, he definitely wouldn’t be on the discount shelf.”

“Uh huh,” Stan says, clearly not believing a word.

Rather than defend your actions, you focus on your work: Tonight's dinner is wild mushroom pie. You've only made it once before but it's nice and filling, and you're supposed to be helping everyone eat better. Bad diets run in the family apparently (although where Ford is concerned, he just as often skips meals altogether some days) and so far, they've all been amenable to trying something new. The kids had been reluctant to test out vegetables at first but after a few valiant efforts to make them as palatable as possible they'd come round.

A lot of the work is already done; a pot of stock is simmering away on the hob, the onions from earlier are ready to be tossed into the slowly-warming frying pan and a red, ceramic pie dish is neatly lined with pastry and ready to go whenever you need it. For now, the next task is to prepare the star ingredient: Wild mushrooms.

You’ll be the first to admit, quite happily, that you're not the most outdoorsy of people and you're going to cheat a little bit on the ‘wild’ requirements. You'd picked up a packet of the things last weekend at the supermarket with the intention of doing one thing or another with them, and it does say on the label that they're wild, so you'll let yourself off on that one. Although, knowing Gravity Falls you're really hoping that ‘wild’ isn't a play on words and they turn out to be some kind of feral man-eating fungi. You're not in the mood to be hunted down by a hungry creature today.

Leaving your pots and pans to simmer, you check in the pantry for the little box only to come up empty handed. There's no sign of it anywhere in there, not even when you rummage around right at the back, and you call out to Stan in confusion: “Have you seen the mushrooms I brought back last week?”

“The ones in the brown container?” Stan asks.

“Yeah….”

“Mabel fed ‘em to Waddles last night,” he says, and when you stick your head around the pantry door to stare at him in disbelief, he shrugs without looking up. “What was I supposed to do, tell her no?”

You know what he means; She’s upstairs right now giving the damn pig a manicure makeover with your old (and apparently animal safe) nail polishes because you hadn’t had it in you to deny her them when she’d been upset about her own limited supplies.

It’s extraordinarily hard to refuse Mabel anything and you can appreciate the difficulty, but still.

“Stan, I told you what I was planning to cook tonight!” You groan, kicking the pantry door shut. “How am I supposed to make a mushroom pie with no mushrooms?”

You can’t exactly nip to the store today either. Every single shop in town is shut. The news this morning had warned of a major storm blowing in and informed everyone that they best stay at home lest they keep an inflatable raft in their back pocket, and no one sells those outdated things anymore. Too many accidental indoor deployments, apparently.

According to Ford, this place is susceptible to irrational weather spells and the increasingly aggressive changes in pressure and temperature that have spawned with global warming have only made them more volatile. Last summer there had been a spate of hailstorms that had puked up football-sized pieces of ice and smashed the windscreen of your car to pieces. You’re still sore about that one….

“What am I supposed to do?” You lament, sparing a miserable glance at the half-done recipe on the stove.

From behind you, a deep voice makes you jump: “Is something wrong?”

You almost leap out of your skin, swivelling on the spot to find the source hovering in the doorway of the kitchen.

Both brothers have the ability to be supernaturally quiet when they want to be. While Stan uses his subtlety less often, Ford skulks around like a well practised alley cat a lot of the time and he frequently scares the shit out of you. He must have finished his routine and crept back inside unannounced.

He gives you an apologetic smile, holding one hand up to ease your fear. “Apologies,” he laughs under his breath. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Ford is still dressed in his workout clothes, his thick, wavy hair roguishly dishevelled and slightly damp at the temples, and he looks just as lovely up close as he had done from the window. Perhaps even lovelier.

You swallow thickly, your brain short circuiting at the sight of him. “Uh, yes?” You say, though it's more of a question than an answer.

Ford looks at you expectantly, evidently waiting for you to expand on your problem, and Stan smirks at your lack of grace.

You shake your head minutely, desperately pulling yourself together and hoping he'll assume your speechless state is just because he's made you jump and not because your heart is climbing up your throat.

“I'm making pie,” you say, jerking your thumb over at the pots. “And someone,” You pause to fix Stan with an annoyed look and he rolls his eyes. “Let Mabel feed them all to Waddles, and…. I don’t have a back up plan.”

You feel a little stupid admitting it aloud.

Ford hums thoughtfully, heavy brows creasing together as he leans against the doorframe.

“That's quite the conundrum….” He says, frowning at the flagstone tiles under your feet.

His dark eyes flicker back and forth quickly, and you can tell he's trying to think up a solution.

After a long pause, he snaps his fingers and speaks up again: “You know, I did stumble across a nice little patch of mushrooms not far from here about a month ago. We could take a walk up there and grab some, if you'd like?”

“In the forest?” You ask, brows raised.

“Where else?” Ford grins, and you feel your stomach fill with butterflies. “They're edible, of course, I've tested them myself.”

“Are you telling me you ate random mushrooms you found on the ground, Doctor Pines?” You ask, mildly appalled. “They could have killed you.”

Ford waves a hand dismissively. “Unlikely. My travels have given me something of an iron stomach. It takes more than a Death Cap to put me down these days.”

At the mention of ‘travels’, you perk up a bit.

Ford's history is more than a little murky to you. In the time you’ve been working for the family, you’ve only heard second-hand snippets or passing mentions of his alleged escapades. The kids have let slip to you several times about his adventures and, despite initially assuming they'd been making things up for fun, the stories had eventually begun to seem a little too consistent to simply be make-believe.

One evening, when the kids had been safely tucked up in bed and Ford had been locked away in his study, you’d brought the subject up to Stan over a nightcap on the porch.

Stan had sighed, lit a cigar, and sworn you to secrecy before giving you a rough outline of his brother’s complex background: his outstandingly impressive academic history, their less-than-ideal family rift and some kind of accident that had sent Ford careening into, quite literally, another dimension. Stan hadn’t gone into excessive detail, and you hadn’t pushed despite desperately wanting to, but by his own admission he had felt that if you were to be working around them then you’d be better off at least having some idea of their strange history.

And strange it is.

You yourself have only lived in Gravity Falls for the better part of eighteen months and becoming accustomed to the weirdness of this place has been unusually easy. Residents take the bizarre in such casual stride that you’re more likely to stick out should you make a fuss about it all and after a while, seeing the odd oddity around had quickly become the norm.

At Stan’s vague reveal of his brother’s disappearance and, as everyone else calls them, his travels, the notion had been surprisingly easy to fathom in the context of such an already weird place. Utterly incredible, yet somehow very in line with this town.

Ford has never brought it up to you himself beyond a rare, fleeting mention, but you’re aware that he’s apparently spent significant time in places that other people might only dream of.

You’re sure he knows of your vague awareness but you know better than to poke around in other people’s sore wounds without permission.

Stan had warned that neither he nor his brother were predisposed to telling everyone and anyone about his time away and you can’t really blame them. From what you know (and can imagine), it can’t have been all fun and games.

“I think he’s got, like, PTSD or somethin’,” Stan had said that night, sounding genuinely heartbroken about it. “So don’t go sniffing around him, alright? He’s…. It’s difficult. Everyone’s been through a lot. Maybe we’ll tell you about it properly one day.”

You understand, of course. Whatever has gone on in their lives is clearly significant and you’re still an outsider. A year is no time at all in the grand scheme of things and they’re a tightly-knit, protective family. They’ve no reason to fill you in on their traumatic family history just because you help around the house and you’ve no right to know it, but you’re willing to earn their trust and if the stories come with it, then so be it.

Although slow to start, things have been going well so far and you’re closer than ever with them, so every titbit Ford drops has you on tenterhooks immediately.

“Besides,” Ford says, still on the subject of his thrilling mushroom discoveries, “their lack of toxicity isn’t even the most exciting part!” He adjusts his glasses and you can tell he's gearing up into scientist-mode.

Behind you, Stan sighs, long-suffering.

“I thought they tasted significantly more intense than a regular mushroom, so once I’d confirmed that they were safe for general human consumption, I asked Dipper to try them. He reported them to be, in his words, 'beefy'. Now, Umami is the most commonly associated flavour with regard to mushrooms because of naturally occurring glutamate, but monosodium glutamate, which would deepen the flavour even more and fall in line with mine and Dipper's taste tests, isn't, and I doubt the gnomes are out there spraying crops with MSG. They haven't the tools for that, I've checked. Anyway, I asked Mabel to try them and she said they tasted, quote, ‘like chocolate stirred by puppies and angels’,”

Here, Ford pauses to laugh fondly before he goes on:

“Which is most certainly not a common flavour of mushroom. So my hypothesis is that they change taste based on whoever touches them and I've been meaning to test them again, seeing as we ate the first batch before I could record the findings properly. We'd be killing two birds with one stone, really.”

You have to fight back a smile. The way he lights up when he talks about his stupid fucking mushrooms is beyond cute and you always enjoy watching him get passionate about his projects, especially when he veers off course on silly tangents that he deems relevant.

But Ford has never asked you to accompany him before which makes this event all the more alluring. It's a privilege to be invited along and as much as you want to jump at the chance, you do have one worry:

“What about the storm?”

At the table, Stan pushes his chair back with a screech and stands up. “Exactly. TV said it's gonna be a bad one and I'm not paying for another newspaper ad if you kill our housekeeper just because you wanna show off again.”

Ford sputters. “I'm not showing off, Stanley! This is about science!”

It should be worrying that his main concern is his pride over your potential death-by-negligence, but the way the top of his ears turn red at his brother's accusation overrules your concern. He's disgustingly adorable when he gets embarrassed.

Dipper chooses that exact moment to trot past his great uncle's side and into the kitchen, giving you a bright, exhausted smile. He’s shed his workout gear for a t-shirt and a fresh pair of sweats, and his hair is slightly damp. “Dinner smells good,” he yawns. “I'm starving. I got ten whole reps in today, right, Grunkle Ford?” He looks especially proud about it.

Ford shucks off his ire to give his nephew a warm smile. “That you did, my boy. Up two compared to last week, by my calculations. You're going to be giving me a run for my money before the summer is over.”

Dipper rubs the back of his neck, bashful, but the way he's beaming betrays his excitement. “I wouldn't go that far….”

“Nice work, dude,” you grin, offering a hand out for a high five.

He takes the bait and slaps your palm with his before fetching himself a soda. “So, how long ‘til dinner?”

You wince inwardly. He'll be hungry enough to eat a horse by now and you can't let him subsist on snacks after all the exercise he's done today. It won't help him build the muscle you know he so desperately wants if all he eats are chips, dips and sodas.

“You better stock up on snacks tonight, kid,” Stan chuckles as he reaches for his own bag of chips that he already has open the table top. “Somebody forgot to get ingredients.”

You shoot Stan a venomous look and at Dipper's disappointed little ‘wait, what?’, you turn back to Ford. Storm be damned, the idea of letting down a child makes you feel worse than getting stuck in a downpour ever could, and you know you'll regret it but what other choice do you have? You've done stupider things for less.

“You're sure the patch isn't far from here?” You ask Ford, giving in with a sigh. “And we'll beat the storm?”

Ford beams at your change of heart, and that, combined with the knowledge of a well-fed charge, instantly makes your agreement worth it. His moods vary like the wind sometimes and you’re always eager to see him happy because you know that it means he’ll spend more time talking to you.

“We'll be in and out in under an hour, you have my word,” he assures you. “I know that place like the back of my hand.”

You sigh again. “Fine. I'll go with you to get the mushrooms.”

Dipper slips back out of the kitchen. Usually, you're sure he'd inquire about your task and ask to come along, but it seems he really is thoroughly exhausted from his gym session and he takes an early leave. Poor kid.

Ford nods, pleased. “Give me a moment to shower and change. I'll put together some supplies and then we can leave.”

“Sure,” you smile. “And thank you, Doctor Pines. I appreciate the help.”

Ford grins, giving you a nod, and then he’s following his nephew out of the kitchen, sweeping down the hallway to sort out his things.

You make use of the spare time to tidy up a little and lower the gas on the stock as low as it will go, then take the pan off the heat. If Ford means what he says about getting in and out quickly, you might have a chance at saving the rest of the prep and it would be a shame to have to start everything over again.

You clean up your workstation and make sure everything is safely put aside before taking a seat at the table to wait.

It's then that you realise Stan is watching you closely. He’s smirking, and it always makes you a little nervous when he wears that mischievous look.

“What?” You ask him hesitantly.

“You can just call him Ford, y’know,” Stan says, slumping back in his chair and looking amused. “Pretty sure he wouldn’t mind….”

You roll your eyes, shrugging one shoulder. “Not this again. I told you before, he's never asked me to call him anything else. I did the same for you when I first started, didn't I?”

“Yeah, and I told you to stop because you made me sound like my old man,” Stan gripes through a mouthful of potato chips.

“Exactly, and that's your prerogative,” you say, a little defensively.

You're telling the truth; Ford hasn’t ever asked you to call him something less formal, even if you might like to try the taste of something more intimate on your tongue. “Ford has earned his title, I’m not going to take it away from him.”

Stan snorts. “Oh, I bet he loves that.”

“What?”

“You, stroking his ego and running around after him like a lost puppy,” Stan says, amused.

“First of all, I run around for everyone in this house like a lost puppy, it's literally my job,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Secondly, I’m not stroking his ego. The guy’s smart and he’s got an armful for doctorates. I’m just…. Acknowledging that.”

“Uh huh,” Stan says, sceptical.

“What now?” You huff.

“Nothing.”

“Stan,” you say sternly. “Don’t play coy, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Oh come on,” he says, trying and failing to keep the smirk off of his face. “Could you be any more obvious? You're worse than Dipper was when he came back after all that time, hanging off his every word and getting all googly-eyed over him like the sun shines out of his ass.”

“I don’t-“

“‘Yes Doctor Pines, no Doctor Pines’,” Stan simpers, putting on a poor imitation of your voice. “Take me out to the woods and experiment on me, Doctor Pines!’”

You can feel your face heat up. “You're such an asshole sometimes, you know that? And he isn’t experimenting on me, he asked me to help hi-”

“Show me your magic mushroo -“

Someone clears their throat in the kitchen doorway and both you and Stan whip your heads around to follow the source of the noise. Much to your horror, Ford is waiting for you, clad in jeans and a trademark red turtleneck along with a pair of filthy hiking boots. There's a sizable backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders and he doesn’t look very amused at his brother's antics.

“Are you done?” He asks, levelling Stan with a searing look.

Stan opens his mouth, still grinning, and Ford cuts him off instantly. “Actually forget that, I know you’re not,” he says. “You never are.”

Then he turns his attention to you.

You’re trying very hard not to melt into a humiliated puddle on the floor and under his gaze you feel yourself slip just a little further down into your seat.

His gaze softens somewhat, almost sympathetic, and he gestures vaguely towards the front door down the hall. “If you're not too busy being harassed, I'm ready to set off,” he says.

You really rather wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole right now, but alas, you do need those stupid mushrooms…..

“Sure,” you say faintly, scrambling up from your seat.

Ford heads off towards the foyer and you try to compose yourself with a deep breath before you follow him, glancing back to stick your tongue out at Stan again.

Stanley laughs at your awkwardness and as you hurriedly trot towards the hall, he pretends to fan himself dramatically.

“Three bags full, Doctor Pines,” Stan grins, and then you're shutting the kitchen door on him before you put your job on the line with the insult you're lining up in your head.

Stan thinks he's endlessly funny when it comes to winding you up over Ford and if you show how much he gets under your skin with it, he'll only get worse. You think he might be doing it in the hopes of putting you off his brother, but he’ll need to try a lot harder than that.

Instead of encouraging him, you follow in Ford's footsteps down the short, oak panelled hallway until you reach the front door.

Ford has already donned his reliable tan trench coat, patiently waiting for you to pull your own jacket and boots on. So much of the town is woven between the forest that you practically live in hiking shoes these days and it doesn't take you long to be readily dressed and warm.

Once you’re sorted, Ford swings the heavy oak front door open. A well-timed gust of cool wind blusters in as he does so, ruffling your clothes and hair, and instantly you realise the weather is much more intimidating when face to face with it.

It's incredibly dull out here. In the short time that Ford and Dipper have ended their routine and you've packed your things up, the sky has gotten impossibly darker. The winds must have herded more clouds overhead than you’d realised and the light has faded so much that you'd be forgiven for assuming it to be almost night time. When you check your watch, however, it still reads barely 6PM.

Ford must catch the concern on your face because he picks up on your worry straight away. “It's just overcast,” he reassures you. “I’ve seen plenty of storms like this in the time I’ve lived here. We'll have enough time to make it there and back before it gets too dark, and I brought torches as a precaution.”

That makes you feel a little better, at least. You know he’s an experienced outdoorsman and he’d probably be able to find his way around here blindfolded and hogtied. If you have to go out in risky weather with anyone, Ford is your best bet.

With the stride of a uniquely confident man, Ford steps out into the evening with a sharp breath inward and a contented sigh, taking in the awaiting scent of petrichor. He holds the door open for you with one hand and gestures for you to follow with the other, offering you a rakish grin.

“Shall we?”

And when he smiles at you like that, what choice do you have?

A/N: Yay! You made it to the end!

So firstly, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to post another work! These take a bit of time for me to write because I tend to write the entire work in one go from start to finish before I begin posting and I've also been unwell/busy, so it took a backseat for a bit but here we are!

Secondly, as I posted at the start, this is going to be a small series and will start as a decently sized multi-chapter fic. There will be smut and I already have most of it written. Your patience will be rewarded!

Please consider supporting me on ao3 also :)

[autisticlenaluthor]

Leaves

In the backyard, there’s an old treehouse visible from Lena’s window. Kara had seen it during their first sleepover when Lena stepped out to change. She found herself alone, wandering the room in curiosity to try and make sense of it all. 

She took in the mahogany trim around the ceilings and the rows of blue first place ribbons on the walls. She read every inscription under every trophy– going through awards for chess, equestrian, and even fencing. It was only when she heard a tree branch tapping on the window that she’d gone out and looked through the glass and saw the garden for the first time. 

It was a beautiful, wide open space. Perfectly maintained and bordered with neatly trimmed hedges and an overgrown oak tree towards the end. Cozied around it, was a worn out treehouse and a stained American flag hanging off the side. 

Kara had stood with her hands on the windowsill, expression solemn and tried to imagine what it must’ve been like when it was still used. She thought about how not that many years ago, Lex was a teenager with sad eyes just like his sister’s. He was a little boy with wildly curly hair who would’ve played in that hideout all alone. 

The same man who wanted her, and all of her kind dead, had once been her best friend’s big brother. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

Kara closed her eyes and tried to picture what that must’ve been like. 

Did Lex ever jump into piles of leaves with his little sister just to disturb the person raking them? Did he pick Lena up when she fell and scraped her knees, or just leave her there to cry? Did he ever know how to love? Did he somehow forget?  

He must’ve, Kara thinks. There had to be a reason Lena was still so attached to him. He had to have done something to deserve the hope she held in her heart for so long.  

But when Kara sees Lena now and looks into her tired, hollow eyes, it all becomes a jumbled, confusing mess again.

One day, Lex was human and the next, he was a monster. And in the process, he managed to take down the person who loved him most. I’m sorry, is all she wants to say. You deserved so much better.

[callmelola111]

my summer of you ♡ part one

✄ - - - -   part 1 , part 2   - - - -   inspo track ⭑ till there was you

synopsis: being sent to your grandparents for the summer was supposed to be a punishment, but when you came face-to-face with your neighbor, you knew it’d be quite the opposite.

      | 𓆣 | pairing & wc: loser!ellie williams x neighbor!reader. wc: 4k

      | ❀ | cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, fem reader, sexual themes but no smut (yet), mentions of religion, tense family relations, perv!ellie makes an appearance, mostly cute fluff moments with a tad bit of angst

a/n: i’ve literally wrote and rewrote so many different fic ideas, it actually was driving me insane. but finally here’s something i’m somewhat satisfied with. this will be a 2 part series so no crazy long wait, and ofc there will be smut. lollipop bit was definitely inspired by the movie hot summer nights except gay and no timothee chalamet jump scare. love you all dearly ♡~ lola

Your 2 vintage suitcases, bursting at the seams, fell to the sidewalk with a thud as you stood in front of your new home for the summer. It was an older house with light blue paneling on the sides, an expansive green lawn, and a wrap-around porch, all surrounded by a classic white picket fence.

Bolting out the front door was the most eager old woman you’d ever seen. Your sweet, sweet grandma. She wrapped you in the biggest embrace and the smell of old Chanel perfume and Jergens lotion overwhelmed your senses. The old woman continued crying out your name pestering you with 1,000 kisses. You erupted in a giggle, expressing the same sentiments of love.

The reason for your stay was less heartwarming. After you had wrapped up your first year at university, your overbearing and uber religious parents caught wind of some of the stuff you were up to while there. In their words, you were “impulsive”, “wreckless”, and “just plain stupid”. But in all actuality, you had just smoked some weed, got wasted, and hooked up with some girls.

Nothing too crazy considering it was your first year of freedom, but of course they flipped and decided banishing you to your grandparents for the summer would be best. And although you were less than ecstatic about them being angry with you, the resulting consequence left you anticipating the perfect summer. I mean come on… a gorgeous old house, right by the beach, home cooked meals, and no one to bother you. How could you not get excited? 

✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - -  

Soon, you find yourself strolling along hot sidewalks of the small beach town, wandering into every little place that piques your interest. The first was an antique mall. You ventured through the heaps of knick knacks, furniture, and clothes, finally landing on the sweetest tea cup. It was delicate ivory with a thinly curved handle. Painted on the front; a pair of kittens adorned in pink ribbon. You then stumbled into a 50’s themed sweets shop where you purchased a single cherry flavored lollipop which landed in your mouth as soon as you walked out the door. And finally, you came across a quaint bookshop that was practically begging for you to come inside. 

Pushing the old wooden door open you entered, followed by a small melodic bell announcing the new presence. This caught a young individual's attention. Revealing her collection of freckles and short auburn hair, the girl looked up from behind the mahogany counter to greet you. The employee's smile was adorably toothy and the evening sun leaking through the windows made her practically glow. Your eyes remained locked on the girl's face for a little longer than you’d like but it was worth every second. 

Candy in hand, you toured the towering shelves of tattered books and baskets of old magazines, not really knowing what you were looking for. And still considerably distracted by the dreamy woman manning the front desk. That is until a loud creak of the floorboards stole you from your reverie and left you face to face with the culprit of these thoughts.

“Hi- uh, did you need help finding anything today?” she questioned, giving you a slow look up and down.

“Hmm I’m not sure yet,” you took a long pause to regain a little sense of decorum, “Got any recommendations for me Ellie?” Her eyes went wide in confusion before you gestured to the silver plate pinned to her shirt, pointing out the obvious. “Your nametag hun.”

“Oh, right” she looked down sheepishly at the pet name, “Ummm let me think…” Her voice trailed off again and you popped the sticky, red lollipop back in your mouth to fidget with as she took a beat to think. After compiling a few books in her mind Ellie opened her mouth to speak but god was it hard. Your intent sucking had her in a trance.

“I think you-you’d probably- like…” Ellie wanted to keep talking, she really did, but your plump lips engulfing the red little ball was extremely distracting. She watched as your spit pooled at the upturned corners of your mouth and coated the hard candy. Every thought she had left her except what her lips would look like wrapped around something else. You took note as her pupils slowly dilated at the simple action and decided to have some fun with the awkward girl who you’d obviously left in a trance.

“Did you want a taste?” Ellie took some hard blinks in disbelief and some reproach, not realizing how conspicuous her stares must have been.

“Uh- like of your…” She pointed and you hummed in confirmation, holding the thin white stick at its base, hovering the candy just inches from her mouth. 

“Come onnn, I don’t bite… not unless you want me to.” Ellie’s quick and hot breaths of anticipation tickled the little hairs on your knuckles and you knew exactly what you were doing to her. Eventually she dove into your sweet offer. First with a flat tongue, then her whole mouth closing in on it. The crimson disappeared into her cavity and you twisted at the stick connected, sending an odd sensation across Ellie’s tongue. You quickly snatched it back out and plumpted it back in between your own red stained lips, leaving the girl a flustered mess.

“So what about that book?” you inquired, voice laced with a preformative innocence. 

She shook her head to focus, “Uh- right, how about The Bell Jar? Sylvia Plath?”

“That’s actually perfect. It’s been on my list for months now. Which shelf?”

“If you want… I uh, actually have a copy that you can borrow for free.”

“Actually yeah, I’d love that. Thank you.” You gave Ellie a warm smile that sent millions of butterflies through the pits of her stomach, and honestly yours too. She then disappeared to the back with a flash of her green eyes before returning holding a small book bursting with colored tabs.

“Here- I like to annotate,” she chuckled bashfully, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Even better.” Ellie blushed at every word you spoke, sending a nervous hand back to scratch at her neck. “Well, thank you for this. I do have to get home but um- I promise to return it as soon as I’m done.” You shook your clasped hands at her like a praise and departed leaving nothing but a trace of your luscious perfume.

Ellie remained awestruck, replaying that whole scenario back again and saving it for later. Selfishly she wished for you to finish the book in just one night. She couldn't help but miss your pretty face already. And after being the only thing on her mind for the rest of the night, she wasn’t sure how long she could wait to see you again. 

✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - -  

That evening after Ellie’s shift she retreated to her bedroom with plans to remove you from her thoughts. Controller in hand, she maneuvered through some first person shooter game but lost every round due to her lack of focus. This was frustrating and she went to light some incense hoping to clear her head with a different approach. The brown, bergamot scented stick caught fire before cherrying at the end leaving a trail of smoke behind. Ellie followed it with her eye’s, gaze passing by her window and quickly retreating back as she spotted something out of the ordinary.

The neighbor's familiar window positioned right across from her own was usually shrouded in curtains, hiding the empty bedroom. But today she could see right in, and even better, there was someone just behind the glass. She inched in closer to get a better look and watched as the girl lay on her bed, ass up, feet kicking in the air. Ellie assumed she was talking on the phone from observing her bouts of giggles, but it was hard to tell. Even harder to decipher was who this mystery woman was. Every little mannerism felt oddly familiar and it was driving Ellie crazy. Could you just get off the phone already and turn around?

Yes, you. Who eventually wrapped up the call with your best friend where you had spent 30 minutes gushing about the 5 minute interaction you had with Elllie. “I just have to have her!” you raved through the telephone line, “in fact, I neeeddd her!!” 

Night had completely fallen at this point and as so you rolled out of your lying position and peeled off your shirt to change into pjs. You did it right in front of the window too, unknowingly giving Ellie a show. 

Next door, the girl's jaw was slack and bottom lip red from her harsh bite. Ellie stared lustfully at your soft seeming skin and gorgeous curves. After getting a better glimpse of your face she knew exactly who you were. And once your top started coming off there was no chance she was looking away now. That is… until she got caught.

As soon as you saw a flash of freckles across the way you dashed to the window almost getting a rug burn from the maneuver. With tits out, (well in a sheer lace bra, so practically out) you slide open the white trimmed aperture and give Ellie the most eager wave, shouting her name along with it. The girl could barely pull herself together as she hesitantly opened up her own window. Was Ellie about to get exiled for being a perv or were you feeling forgiving tonight?

“Ellie?! What the fuck?? Didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon!!” You shouted with excitement like a child on Christmas.

“Hi-” she halted her greeting, “wait, I don’t even know your name.”

“Oh, it’s ____”

“S’pretty name… I’m glad to see you again.” 

“Oh I bet you are. Saw you watching me change Els.” Really you didn’t mind, but something about teasing her got you off.

“Fuck- no, no. I- I wasn’t trying to, just was getting a better look to see if it was actually you. Please don’t be mad, I really am sorry!” You had left her a stuttering mess.

“No need to say sorry,” with a bat of your eyelashes you eased her worries, “you liked what you saw… right?” 

The girl squirmed, “Uhh…”

“It’s okay, you can say yes Ellie.” And she quickly did, making the cockiest smirk grow on your face. But, you weren’t an easy girl and you planned to tantalize Ellie with subtle passes until the both of you could hardly resist. So you quickly retreated, wishing Ellie a good night before sealing the window and swiping the curtains shut. 

The girl was left a hot mess after it all but trust and believe she had a good night. One with her hands between her thighs and your newly learned name falling from her lips.

✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - -  

The next morning you catch the emerald-eyed girl outside mowing her lawn and take this as the perfect opportunity to play some more mind games.

Slipping into the skimpiest bikini you could find, you scampered into the front yard “to tan”. The green lawn tickled the bottoms of your bare feet before you laid out a red and white striped towel to lounge on. Stomach down, facing towards Ellie, the sun beamed on the expanse of your back. Heart shaped sunglasses hugged your face and shielded your eyes as you admired the pretty girl.

She was dressed in some long cut-off jorts and a black wifebeater tank. A newly lit cigarette hung from her mouth carelessly. You loved the way her pec would flex with each push and pull of the mower. Lines of sweat racing down her arms and neck, illuminating every small vein. And god, when she tilted her head up to exhale a puff of smoke, it drove you wild. 

Your presence had not gone unnoticed though and neither had your cherry printed swim bottoms that were riding up your cheeks. Ellie continued mowing the lawn but was essentially butchering it, too busy staring at you out of her peripherals. She continued passing over the same barren spots of grass over and over, trying to get a better look of the angel laying just on the other side of the fence.

She’d pause mid push every time you’d reposition yourself just so she could see the little recoil of fat that was your plush thighs and heart shaped ass. Her cigarette had yet to leave her mouth after the first few exhales and your prompt arrival. A long build up of ash was begging to slip off the end and at this point she was just mowing little nubs. The yard was a patchy mess and so was she. This mess escalated as soon as she saw you marching to the edge of the fence straight towards her.

Approaching Ellie you planted your elbows on two white posts that stopped at your torso. You shouted out to the sweaty girl, waving her in your direction and she immediately scurried over like an obedient puppy.

“Whatcha smoking?” you questioned, causing Ellie to remember the all-ash cigarette, now between her fingers, being rid of its debris.

“Shit, I’m sorry- do you not like the smoke? I can stop, seriously.” She put out the remaining butt frantically in attempts at atonement.

“Lighten up Els, I don’t care if you smoke. I was just gonna ask to bum one off of you, but I only smoke Marlboros. That menthol shit gives me a headache.” She softened in relief, already pulling out a fresh one just for you.

“That’s crazy, I’m the same exact way. Here, it’s all yours” Ellie attempts to put the cigarette in your hand but you part your lips instead, requesting a different placement. She happily fulfills your request and follows with a silver, square shaped lighter. The flame catches at the end as you take a big inhale, blowing it to the side.

“Thanks, you have no idea how much I needed that. I’ve been cold turkey over here at Grams. Couldn’t even sneak a smoke from her either, she swears by Newports. Truly disgusting if you ask me.” You rolled your eyes, rambling on about your stay and Ellie just listened. She tried piecing together your story from the little tidbits you mentioned but still struggled to understand how you ended up here.

“So you’re just staying with your grandparents for the summer?”

“Yeah pretty much.” you answered nonchalantly.

“How come though? I’ve never seen you here until now. Trust me, I would’ve noticed a pretty girl like you.” she blushed.

“Oh yeah? You think I’m pretty?” you taunted, completely ignoring the question at hand. You weren’t sure how ready you were to spill those beans yet. Ellie gave off such an awkward loser vibe that left you questioning how much of you the girl could really handle. I mean, it seemed like you were already too much for your own parents and beginning to piss off the elders too. And speak of the devil, they arrived home just in time to steal you from Ellie’s company. 

“Babygirl, what are you doing bothering the neighbors?” your grandma called out, making you turn all hot and embarrassed in front of Ellie. Up until now you had managed to keep up the perfect cool girl vibe. The thought that Ellie might not be enjoying this as much as you perceived had never even crossed your mind. But now that it had, your confidence was knocked down a notch. 

“Grams-” You turned to excuse her politely but were cut off before you even got the chance.

“Is that a cigarette young lady?” 

“Umm.. yes…” you hesitated before swiftly putting it out on one of the wooden posts.

“Now where did you get a thing like that?” she prodded, arms crossed. Your eyes glanced over to Ellie but you decided to lie, knowing how your grandparents would react. You’d rather get into trouble than risk losing access to your new favorite girl.

“I swear it was just rolling around in one of the dresser drawers upstairs. I shouldn’t have taken it, but I did and I’m really really sorry. Please can we not mention this?” 

The old woman took a beat to consider your request, “Fine. But hand it over, I need a smoke, the ladies over at bingo this morning were driving me absolutely crazy.” You passed over the cigarette and thanked her and the heavens for sparing you. If your parents found out about any more wrong doings, you knew you’d be done for good, and deep down you believed that Grams had recognized the same threat.

Just over the fence, Ellie had witnessed the whole thing and was left even more intrigued. All this over a cigarette? Mention what to who? But just as she was exiled out of the conversation, Ellie was quickly brought back in.

“So hun, you seem pretty handy if I’m not mistaken.”

“Uh, yes ma’am I guess I am.” Ellie fidgeted, not sure where this conversation was going. Hoping not to get scorned by the wrath you had brought on from the whole cigarette debacle. 

“Well, we’ve got a couple of loose fence posts around the perimeter. I’ve been pleading with my husband to get it done but the old fart can hardly handle walking the block, let alone hard manual labor. You think you could help us out? I’ll give ya 50 bucks for it.” Ellie looked at your grandma, then you, and back to Grams again. 

“Sure, but I don’t need your money. I’ll happily do it free of charge.”

“Well mighty me, thank you very much!” your grandma elated, nudging at you to give thanks as well. You smiled at the girl and then mouthed a little sorry, feeling bad for wrapping her up in all of this. She waved you off, not thinking twice about her choice to help out. Anything to get closer to you, right?

 ✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - -  

That evening you stood in the kitchen, occasionally grabbing out a bowl or passing over an ingredient as your grandma fixed dinner. You sipped from a tall, clear glass of lemonade and looked through the window hoping to catch a glimpse of Ellie in action. 

Noticing your staring, Grams spoke up, “Why don’t you go bring the girl some lemonade to cool off, yeah? In fact, go on ahead and invite her to dinner since she refuses to be paid. Got to say thank you somehow.” Your heart skipped a beat imagining the beautiful girl sat at the dining table.

It was almost scary, every interaction you’d had so far was just casual flirts in passing. This would be the real deal and on top of it, your grandparents would be right there with you. Very, very scary. But there was no arguing this one, so out you went with an endearing proposal and a freshly poured glass of lemonade, all for Ellie.

“Here, I got this for you. It’s homemade.” You ushered the cup forwards to sweaty Ellie and she gratefully accepted with a thank you. You then awkwardly popped the question.

“Sooo… my grandparents want me to invite you over for dinner. As a thank you.” Ellie looked up from her work again trying to read your tone.

“Do you want me over for dinner?”

“Yeah, yeah of course I do. It’s just, you know how it is with family.” You kicked at some dirt that was loosened by the yard work, voiding Ellie’s gaze. It’s not like you didn’t want to see her but how could you trust your grandparents to keep up the mystery. Flirting felt so easy when all the vulnerable parts of yourself had yet to surface.

“I don’t have to come if you don’t want me to. I’d hate to cause any problems.” You quickly backpedaled, afraid she might take your words the wrong way. 

“No, no, not at all. Please. Come. I want you there.”

“Okay, then I will be. Let me finish up out here, take a quick shower, and I’ll be over.” 

✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - -  

Ellie had taken 30 minutes to come back, making it just in time. 20 of those minutes were spent just rummaging through clothes and messing with her hair, too nervous to think about punctuality. She wanted to look good for you, and even more she wanted to impress your family. 

At Ellie’s arrival you opened the door dressed in the shortest little sundress. The pale yellow complimented your skin just perfectly and Ellie wanted to tell you so bad but nerves got the best of her. All she could do was smile and turn 5 different shades of red, matching the rust colored Dickie’s and loose button up shirt that adorned her figure.

“Well, well, well… don’t you clean up nice?” You poked at Ellie’s right arm and she humored you with a shy laugh before putting her head down to shield from embarrassment. Ellie had always been somewhat of a loser but never had she ever met a girl that could leave her this much of a mess with just a few words. 

You then led her into the dining room, both of you taking a seat across from Gram and Gramps at the other end of the table. 

“We’re so happy we could have you over for supper Ellie. I know we don’t mingle much but your father and you have always been such good neighbors.” Your grandpa gushed as Grams nodded along but there was a slight lull before Ellie actually responded. Maybe the mention of her dad? You weren’t sure.

“Well, thank you for having me. It’s always nice to have some company around here.” There was something regretful in her eyes as she said it but the conversation quickly progressed past the moment, leaving you curious for the rest of the night. 

“So how’s school been going for you?” the pair asked.

“It’s been really good. Going into my second year actually.” Ellie answered, putting it simply as she knew this was all formalities and small talk. Even you were beginning to get a little bored with the dry conversation. So you decided to spice things up for the both of you, sliding off your strappy sandals to see how far you could take a game of footsies. 

“Oh wow! ____ is too! What’s your major?” Gramps continued. Your bare foot slid over to Ellie’s beat up sneakers waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. 

“I’m an en-” Her voice cut out as you creeped up the edge of her pants, rubbing on her exposed ankle. She coughed trying to recover, “I’m an engineering major.” You had to bite the inside of your cheek to not let out an audible laugh.

“How wonderful!” Grams enthused, blissfully unaware. Having too much fun, you then slid your hand a chair over to drag down Ellie’s thigh and felt as she tensed up.

The conversation continued at a steady pace and you removed your hand, not wanting to take things too far. Unexpectedly Ellie grabbed it, moving your limb back to its place and keeping her own hand rested on top. A big move considering just minutes ago she couldn’t even muster up the courage to compliment your dress.

You took this as permission to proceed and a simple resting hand turned to a grabby one, gripping at her inner thigh. Teasing the girl to incomparable lengths. She eventually followed in suit, slipping a few fingers under the hem of your dress just slightly before shying away at the dinner's conclusion. And even with such little touch, you were still absolutely soaking.

If only your grandparents knew what was going on under the table.

✄ - - - -   part 2   - - - -   masterlist   - - - -   ♡

taglist...

@endureher @gold-dustwomxn @alexpritch @4rt3m1ss @robinismywifee @sophlovesbooks @97cityy

(taglist is for all callmelola111 works, if you'd like to be removed just kindly lmk)

[leiawritesstories]

The First Concert

Rowaelin Month 2024, Day 16: Opening of the Royal Theater (canon) @rowaelinscourt

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: none!

posted late bc college lol. enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning of the opening of the Royal Theater of Terrasen dawned bright and sunny, clear skies and a crisp chill in the autumn air. The queen had been restless, and as the sun crested the mountains in the east, she stood on her balcony, silk robe wrapped loosely around her frame, and watched the dawn paint the sky in hues of rose. 

You’re awake early. Her mate’s sleepy rumble drifted across her mind. 

Couldn’t stay asleep. 

Footsteps padded across the tiled floor, and it was only a moment before warm, thickly muscled arms banded around Aelin’s waist. It will be a good day.

She leaned back into his embrace. How can you be so sure?

Because our people love you, and they love what you have done for them. Rowan kissed the top of her head. Besides, if you get bored of shaking hands, I know you had a private box built. 

Naughty buzzard. With a half-smirk, she turned to face him, drinking in the sight of his calmness, so rare in the years they had spent together. “I just want it to go well,” she said, quietly. 

Unconsciously, his fingers traced the wings inked across her back. “It will,” he promised. 

“Good.” She pressed her lips to his, lingering in the kiss for a long, sweet moment. “When did you get all the optimism?” 

“When the world ran out of crazy-ass demons trying to kill us all.” Rowan’s tone was completely deadpan. 

Aelin laughed, bright and clear as the Orynth sky. I love you, Ro.

I love you too, Fireheart.

~

Aelin had insisted on coordinating finery for the evening, reveling in Rowan’s suppressed groan when she brought out the linen shirt and emerald silk jacket with silver embroidery that she’d had made for him. He grumbled, but he put on the fine clothes, and she stunned him speechless with her emerald silk dress, its cuffs and hem detailed with the same silver thread, the back a plunging V that dipped nearly to her hips, revealing her tattoos in all their glory. The kingsflame crown sat atop her head, its weight light but solid, grounding the queen in the solemnity of her position. 

“Beautiful,” Rowan murmured, touching his lips to the back of her neck. 

She sucked in a gasp, sparks climbing her spine at the subtle teasing. “Later, my love.” 

He smirked and linked his hand with hers, thumb tracing the obnoxiously large emerald on her wedding band. “As my queen commands.” Together, they ascended the cobblestone steps that led to the entrance of the Royal Theater, exchanging smiles and greetings with the crowd of Orynth’s residents that had gathered for the opening concert. 

At the top of the steps, a forest-green carpet had been rolled out, a matching ribbon looped across the handles of the soaring mahogany double doors of the entrance. Aelin’s court waited there, beaming proudly at the queen who had brought the theater back to its home, and she felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes at the sheer joy on her family’s faces. 

Even Lorcan was…not scowling, though she supposed that had more to do with Elide than the theater. 

Aelin and Rowan stopped beside their court, and with a twist of her hand, flames curled around the prongs of her crown, adorning the symbol of Terrasen, and a twin circlet of fire wove around her mate’s brow. Aelin of the Wildfire, the crowd murmured, a soft rumble of support for their queen. She smiled. “My beloved people!” She kept hold of Rowan’s hand, drawing her strength from him lest she be overcome with emotion. “Welcome back to the Royal Theater of Terrasen!” She pinched her first two fingers together, and a fine ribbon of flame sliced neatly through the ribbon on the doors. Rowan spun out a cool northern wind, and it wrapped around the door handles and tugged them open to the people. 

And they walked into the theater, footsteps falling on plush carpet and polished hardwood, eyes wide at the marble sculptures and gilded frescoes worked into and across the walls and vaulted ceilings. Tales of their beautiful nation—from Brannon to Gavin and Elena all the way down to Rhoe and Evalin, to Orlon, to Aelin. She had protested at first when the artists showed her the sketches, saying she did not need to be pictured all over the walls, but Rowan was…very convincing. 

Overhead, a bell sounded, calling the people into the theater itself, and they slowly filed in, filling the emerald velvet seats that lined the floor and the galleries and the balconies curving around the massive stage. The thick stage curtains were drawn back for the arched tiers of chairs that filled the stage floor, and as the members of the symphony walked onstage, applause rippled up in waves from the crowd. From the royal box, which Rowan had specifically situated in the third tier of balcony boxes on stage left, Aelin was beaming as she applauded. 

The conductor appeared to joyous applause, and he bowed to the audience and to the queen before he stepped onto his podium, tuned the orchestra, and, with a flourish of his baton, launched into the opening chords of the Stygian Suite. Aelin’s hand flew to her mouth, and the tears that had been hovering behind her composure all evening broke free, dripping soundlessly down her face. 

Rowan’s hand splayed on her thigh, warm and firm and reassuring. Are you alright?

It’s…it’s been twenty years since this music was played. In her glassy eyes, he saw a reflection of the child she had been when she snuck into the opera house in Rifthold to hear the symphony, and a reflection of the young woman who had brought the music to life on the keys of a forgotten pianoforte on a spring afternoon. Did you know?

Perhaps. She flicked him a glance, and he chuckled softly. Yes. I asked the conductor if he could prepare this piece for the opening. For you.

The music swelled to a crescendo, the notes bursting into a waterfall of descending arpeggios that crested and swept through the theater like water over the audience. As the final triumphant chords echoed around the vaulted ceiling, Aelin brought her hands together and rose to her feet, leading the standing ovation with tears still tracked down her cheeks. 

She waited for a long while before she left the box, heading down the stairs to greet the orchestra along with the rest of the audience. Most of them had already gone home, and Aelin spoke gratefully to the conductor, wiping the tears from her face. He shook her hands eagerly and introduced her to the symphony members, who were a mix of awestruck and overwhelmed at the appearance and support of the queen. 

“And we have a few particularly special members,” the conductor continued. “You see, Your Majesty, these five were part of the last ensemble to perform this piece—the orchestra that vanished. Five of them made it through the war and chose to come to Terrasen.” 

Aelin’s throat thickened. “I cannot possibly express how much that means,” she choked out. “Thank you. Thank you, so very much.” 

One of the symphony members, a woman with dark hair shot through with silver, set down her violin and took the queen’s hands. “And we can’t thank you enough, my queen, for welcoming us home to Terrasen. For giving us a new home.” 

Aelin could only nod wordlessly, and she was silent all the way back to the palace, overcome with emotion from the performance and the people who had created it. Tucked into bed behind her, sensing the swirling of her mind, Rowan linked his fingers with hers. 

For you, Fireheart. All of it is for you.

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

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@thegreyj

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@mariaofdoranelle

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[astralnymphh]

what do you imagine ellie smells like? which perfume/body wash/scent would she use? im curious!!

i'll cut this off based on product + natural scent causeee ideas aplenty! ౨ৎ MDNI implied smut

perfume/cologne— im gonna project just a tad and propose black ice cologne. it's my fav, plus the smell is attractively tantalizing. if my nose caught a whiff of ellie wearing that scent, ohh boy, i would be FAWKING on her. but besides personal projection, i'm catching a lingerance of anything fusing aromatic, dry woods, or soft oriental scents. like amber or leather, and i weirdly feel the scent of apples is something you'd be inhaling when going in for a hug. you're at her door, greeting her, and as soon as you nosedive that collarbone— forest of apples. a peculiar occurrence, ellie never dons a scent to mask her own, so what's the reason? you. oh my goddess, she definitely sprays a few clouds to her wrist and neck if crush!reader was coming to hang out at her place in jackson. pursues the act of impressing you— bluffing up her true appearance with the perfumes, the freshly ironed and tucked–in shirts, a pair of warm mahogany boots that aren't nearly as scuffed as her converse. literally doesn't need all that, I'll take her as she is. I bet she also applies way too much on accident the first few times, welling a sear to your nose and a lake to your waterline when you sniff. ackk.

natural scent— so steering off the beaten path of her smelling sweaty, in an attractive manner, i just know that girl reeks a vintage aroma. like a dad scent. naturally comes with wearing cast–offs from the pre–apocalypse age, but also because i hc ellie borrowing several pieces from joel's closet sometimes— in tandem with his jacket. hopping hurried feet back on that beaten path though, B.O. yeah, body odor can transmute into nose–curling pungency when baked beneath the sun or vigorously pushed to surface because of jolly little ring–a–round–the–rosies with blathering infected that refused to die during patrols or hustiling workdays, but normally? when that tang settles upon her skin by the lick of warmths gentle spirit, cuddled up in a blanket with you? ugh, a pheromone fest, piquant. has her dumbfounded when you nudge the wad of your nose in her neck, sniffing noises coming from you as you take that shit in greedy. she tchs low in her chest, the little jitter of her chuckle budging your shoulder, "y'gonna watch the movie ooorr sniff me out like a dog?" cooed she, meshing a snort afterward as her palm whole on the base of your spine lifted, pressing a new presence on your shoulder and piano–tapping her fingers, which shifts a reply out of you, "stop smelling so good, n'maybe i won't get distracted.." you enchant at the level of a whisper, spoken lacy with red, flirty ribbons for tone. a sigh leavens above your head first, then a sough of fabric below— and a zipper, "alright, as long as you don't distract me."

and that's how ellie got fingered while watching an 80s action movie.