#the most boring reel

[mrsfitzgerald]

Nach fünf Jahren, 135 Shows in 22 Ländern haben wir die Europa Stadium Tour 2024 dort beendet, wo 2019 alles begann. Vielen Dank an alle 250.000 Fans, die unsere Shows in Gelsenkirchen unvergesslich gemacht haben! (x)

[servuscallidus]

One thing people should point out when explaining the evils of makeup is the amount of time it takes. It takes ages! And I know people that are really proficient at it can put it all on in ten minutes, but that's still ten minutes of your morning routine. A slow breakfast takes ten minutes, ten more minutes in bed take ten minutes, all way healthier things than putting on makeup

[tuulikki]

The problem I have with algorithm-driven social media seems to be that the only genuinely social aspect would have to be with people who are already into the same shit as me

Maybe I want to see what’s eating other peoples’ brains. What rabbit holes are other people tumbling down

Maybe I don’t want content relevant to my interests

[mossflower]

think im just bored of the internet. or probably more accurate to say im tired of being on my phone

[cowboy-robooty]

u may have noticed i havent been reblogging much recently but its bc tumblr has been causing my phone to overheat and explode everytime i use this app and honestly i kinda like it because now i go in and post and then leave. robooty gets zero scrolling dese days

[rubberduckyrye]

I like using Occam's Razor when I theory-craft, because often the simplest answer is the best solution.

But man does it sometimes lead to the most BORING answer known to man.

[rayvern-sheep]

Someone needs to slap my phone out of my hand when I start looking through the comments on Insta reels… I only use that site to look at art but still somehow end up clicking on reels, going into the comments, and being absolutely pummelled by the bigotry that festers in there.

Learn from my mistakes ppl, avoid at all costs.

[augiewrites]

"valley reverie" - sebastian

summary: the timeline of sebastian and the farmer’s relationship based on canon dialogue

pairing: sdv sebastian x farmer

word count: 2.5K

a/n: this may be my magnum opus

The sun was beginning its descent behind the mountains when Sebastian emerged from the house for the first—and only—time that day.

He shot a glance to his mother and Demetrius, who were standing at the edge of their property, looking over the valley bathed in golden light. His mother sent a small smile back, followed by a pointed disappointed look at the carton of cigarettes held loosely in his glance. Demetruis didn’t acknowledge his existence.

Sebastian knew it was a nasty habit, but he spent most of his life with not much thought to the future—he was surprised he made it this far. Maybe his life would have been different if he had planned better; if he had considered for a moment that there was such a thing as life past sixteen, then eighteen, then twenty-one. He supposed he should start to consider a life past twenty-four, but quickly dropped the thought as he placed the cigarette between his lips and continued his stroll to the lake.

He saw it then, as his lighter sparked to life and helped the cigarette take eleven minutes off his.

Someone was sitting in his spot. A humanoid blob of denim focused intently on the bobber floating in the water.

He hesitated, then decided to keep moving—his trajectory now locked in past the stranger and across the rickety planks of wood to the smaller islands in the middle of the lake. His mother had been saying for years that she needed to build something more structurally sound, but had yet to get around to it.

As he got closer, he took in more of the scene. There was a muddy bucket next to the stranger, and he noticed a couple slimy carp flopping around inside. Whoever this was, they clearly didn’t have enough experience to catch the tricker creatures in the lake.

Just as he was about to slip past toward solitude, he locked eyes with the stranger. Their bored expression quickly turned to worry.

“Sorry, am I in your spot? Robin said it was okay for me to fish here.”

Recognition sparked in his brain—his mother had told him about the new resident of Pelican Town. The words she had used to describe them flashed behind his eyes: sweet, a little lost, cute. That last one was sent his way with an exaggerated wink and met with a scoff from him.

“Oh. You just moved in, right? Cool.”

The farmer didn’t respond, just looked on waiting for an answer to their question. Sebastian didn’t gratify them with a response, instead looking across the lake at the tree line and abandoned quarry.

“Out of all the places you could live, you chose Pelican Town?”

The farmer scrunched up their mouth slightly, beginning to reel in their line. There was nothing but a limp worm dangling from the hook. Sebastian took note of the grieving look flashing on their face before it was gone in a blink.

“Better than where I was.”

Sebastian didn’t bother responding as the farmer heaved up the bucket—they were a lot stronger than they looked—and walked away without another word.

Robin smiled at the farmer with a wave and shouted goodnight before sending another disapproving look to her son.

_________________________________________

Sebastian heaved open the door of the house, exhausted from band practice. Sam was his best friend, and he enjoyed spending time with him more than he would admit, but the newest addition to the band was definitely a hindrance.

He didn’t dislike Abigail, and he couldn’t deny that she was a talented drummer, but he had been hoping for years that her little crush on him would fade away. He could only take so much of puppy dog eyes and over exaggerated laughter at his quips that definitely aren’t that funny.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts on how to shake off the purple-haired girl—more importantly, how to shake her off without actual confrontation—that he didn’t notice the farmer leaning against the shop counter until their voice pierced through. His mother was nowhere to be seen, so they had to have been talking to him.

“What? I didn't hear you...I'm busy thinking about something. What do you want?”

The farmer narrowed their eyes at him, leveling him with a glare. “You know, I get that you’d rather be listening to My Chemical Romance and jerking off to Nietzsche than interacting with a human being, but you really need to work on your people skills.”

Well, he hadn’t been expecting that.

He expected avoidance from the farmer, based on their first meeting and subsequent run-ins where they gave him a nod of acknowledgement before going back to acting like he didn’t exist.

He realized that the farmer wasn’t as timid and one-dimensional as he let himself think.

The moment was saved by Robin entering the shop room and dropping a workbench on the floor with a heavy thud. “You’ll make better use of this than I have lately—it’s pretty old,” she looked up from the dusty bench, noticing her son frozen in the doorway, “oh, hi Sebby.”

“Sebby?” the farmer questioned with a smirk.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, brushing past his mother to get to his lair.

“Sorry about him,” he heard his mother as he descended the stairs.

“It’s fine,” the farmer laughed, “he’s cool.”

He couldn’t help the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. _________________________________________

Sebastian looked down at the frozen tear in his hand with a neutral expression on his face, though his heart was quickening its pace.

“Gunther told me it’s fabled to be the frozen tears of a yeti.”

He met the farmer’s grin with one of his own, “I really love this. How did you know?”

They shrugged, “Seemed like some emo shit you’d be into.”

A breathy laugh escaped him before he could stop it. “Well…thanks.”

“No prob. I’ll keep an eye out for more when I’m in the mines.”

“The mines?,” his brow furrowed, “how far down did you go?”

“Not super deep, I think I stopped at sixty since it was getting late.”

Sebastian gaped at the farmer—who he now realized he really misjudged—as they shouldered their backpack and turned toward the door.

“Oh,” they stopped just shy of the threshold, “your code is wrong, by the way. Third line down.”

He looked to the screen, baffled, seeing that there was, in fact, a mistake in his code.

He began to ask the farmer how they knew that, but they were gone. _________________________________________

The sun was setting on the valley, and Sebastian found himself sitting by the lake’s edge with the farmer, who was reeling in sturgeon and bass with ease.

“I’m sure the city’s different for other people, but it was corporate hell for me,” the farmer spoke softly as they baited their hook—it was different than any bait he had ever seen, and the farmer had informed him that the wild man living behind their house had taught them the recipe.

Sebastian hummed, “I guess that makes sense.”

“You guess?” the farmer teased him, flicking water at his face.

He blew a puff of smoke in their face.

The farmer coughed, then began to laugh as they fanned the smoke out of their face, “asshole.”

Sebastian grinned, leaning back on the palms of his hands and gazing across the water.

They sat in comfortable silence as the farmer cast out their line and half-heartedly focused on the bobber—they didn’t really need it anymore, but liked the safety net.

“You and Sam are probably my only friends in this town.” Sebastian broke the silence, but continued looking straight ahead.

“Well I am very likable.”

Sebastian knocked their shoulders together with a scoff.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” _________________________________________

Sebastian was indifferent—and sometimes loathful—toward most events held in their little town, but tonight was an exception. It was hard to not be in awe of the midnight jellies, and he was excited for the farmer to see them for the first time.

They were perched at the edge of the dock, along with Sam and Abigail, their feet dangling inches above the water.

It was a lot colder than expected, and the farmer was bundled in his black jacket. He couldn’t help but feel bad about the sad glances Abigail was sending their way.

The farmer looked content, and Sebastian recalled something they told him at the beginning of the season—the used to be terrified of the ocean before moving to the valley.

He nudged their shoulder with his own. It didn’t take much effort—they were sitting a lot closer than he realized. A light blush dusted his cheekbones.

“I thought I saw something moving in there…” he pointed to the void of the ocean and leaned closer to their ear, whispering, “something big, something dark.”

The farmer’s eyes widened as they looked across the vast darkness before they narrowed and turned to him.

“Just trying to scare you...” Sebastian laughed.

The farmer smiled, knocking their knee against his, muttering an all too familiar “asshole.”

It wasn’t too long before Lewis sent out the first lantern, and the water surrounding the docks was filled with glowing jellyfish.

“It’s beautiful,” the farmer breathed out as their head landed on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” his eyes landed on a glowing green jelly before looking down at the farmer, “it is.” _________________________________________

Sebastian never saw the farm in its full glory—before the farmer’s grandfather grew old and passed away—but he had been there plenty of times when it was overgrown and abandoned.

He had told the farmer this as they sat on the newly installed swinging bench on their porch. They joked that they would be suing him for trespassing, since it was technically their property at the time, even if they hadn’t known it.

It was a chilly fall day, but the farmer had made a pot of coffee to keep them warm.

“I thought this was your busy season,” Sebastian lit up a cigarette and moved the ashtray closer to where he sat. It was a newer addition to the farmer’s decor. He thought about the prideful look on their face as they held it up and told him that Leah let them use her pottery wheel. It was painted with little creatures that looked like the much happier cousins of the slimes living in the caves.

The farmer hummed, holding their mug close to their face, but not taking a sip, “Yeah…a lot busier than I thought it would be, actually.”

He grinned at them, “so, you’re slacking today, huh?”

The farmer laughed.

“I’d rather hang out with your sorry ass than work.” Despite the insult, the farmer’s tone was soft and earnest. Sebastian felt his cheeks heat up.

“Could you picture me living on a farm? It seems ridiculous, but I have been thinking about it lately.”

“If I could do it, then so could you,” the farmer linked their pinky with his, “it’s a lot more freeing than you’d think.” _________________________________________

Boxes filled with Sebastian’s things lined the walls of the farmhouse, but Sebastian and the farmer lay in bed, choosing to ignore them. 

They had all the time in the world.

The farmer was twirling the pendant dangling from Sebastian’s neck, “there’s steam coming out of your ears, Seb,” the farmer giggled and smoothed out the wrinkle between his brows with their finger.

“I’ve just been thinking,” Sebastian turned his attention from the ceiling to the farmer, “The older I get, the less I'm drawn to the city. It had a certain mystique to it, once. But it turns out that was just a romantic fantasy. The city's so busy, so full of people... I don't belong there. I'm a loner.”

A beat.

“Present company excluded, of course.”

The farmer laughed, “Well I would hope so,” they tugged gently on the pendant, pulling him closer, “because you’re stuck with me.” _________________________________________

Sebastian and the farmer had joined his family for dinner, and his mother had shooed them away with one hand as she cooed at the bundle held tightly in her other arm.

The valley was coming to life, but the ghost of a winter chill was in the air. They settled down by the lake despite the cold. It was no longer his spot, but theirs.

The farmer was skipping stones across the lake when he grumbled about how being in that spot made him want a smoke.

“No one’s stopping you,” the farmer laughed.

“I am.”

The farmer still held a loose smile as they raised their eyebrows at him, “oh?”

“I'm trying my best to quit smoking now that we're married…” He avoided their gaze and brushed some mud on the palm of his hand onto his jeans, “I don't wanna die on you. It's a bad habit. I want to have a future together.”

A baby cried in the distance. Sebastian and the farmer smiled at each other. _________________________________________

The farmer was surprised to find Sebastian’s side of the bed empty when they woke up. It wasn’t a rare occasion, as they usually found Sebastian in the kitchen after a restless sleep, but he was nowhere to be found.

They couldn’t help but worry a little bit as they pulled on their boots and opened the screen door. They paused out of instinct to let the dog run out before them only to realize that the dog wasn’t hot on their heels like usual.

They had only gotten two steps onto the porch before a mass of fur and slobber crashed into their legs.

“Oh hello baby,” they cooed down at the dog as it rolled onto its back, breathing heavily out of excitement, “good morning stink.”

“Good morning to you too.”

The farmer was so caught up in giving the dog attention that they hadn’t noticed Sebastian leaning against the porch railing.

They straightened from their crouch, smiling at him as the dog whined from the loss of affection.

“I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I went ahead and fed the animals,” he pushed off the railing and took a few steps forward to fix a rogue piece of the farmer’s hair, “one less thing for you to do.”

“Thanks, Seb,” the farmer said softly, suddenly bashful, “I’m going to check on the pumpkins. Thought I could make some soup tonight if any of them are ripe.”

They took a few steps off the porch, “feel like being a country boy today? Or did you get your fix?”

He smiled, leaning his forearms against the railing, “I'll just watch you from here. I enjoy watching you.” _________________________________________

Sebastian and the farmer found themselves sitting on the porch swing once again. It was a mild summer evening, and he was looking on as a toddler played with the dog in the yard.

He tore his attention away from the rowdy scene in front of him to look at the farmer, who was curled up at his side reading a book. He felt his heart swell.

“This is so different from my old life, but I'm really starting to like it. I feel like I really belong here.”

The farmer looked up from the book in their lap, smiling.

“I don't often show it, but I'm really happy that I'm your husband. Marrying you was the best decision I ever made.”

[hazelfoureyes]

Alastor in Rut (one shot)

Rutting Alastor x Fem Rabbit Reader

Less than confident and lacking much in the way of assertiveness, you find hell to be scary. But, a very kind and helpful deer demon has a solution! Just in time, as an unexpected rut hits him and he feels the need to reel you in.

this is pure self indulgence. Shout out to @jazzmasternot , @lustylita , @sugoi-writes , and @minkdelovely for keeping me sane and horny (with art lol)

「Warnings/Promises: actual warning - mentions of accidental vehicular homicide and reader's death, Marathon Smut, p in v, finger almost in a?, anal is considered, knotting because fuck it, attempt at breeding, womb flooded, not dubcon but everyone in the hotel thinks it is, slightly repetitive fucking because he wont waste semen on other holes, Alastor would fuck anyone but you’re the most amusing, Alastor doesn’t think he’s the good guy which is honestly kinda cute, deadass talk about making you carry his fawns?? Why is it so hot?? Knock me up deer man bleat bleat bitch, implied previous relationship with a human man, plans to cuckold your ex, heat, blue fire isn’t hot, you’re tricked into a deal with Alastor, kinda size kink, demon Alastor, minor aftercare, a little sexual choking (as a treat)」

Hey--- we're all here for something. This is 10000 words, 5300 or so is smut. Smut starts at the bright green divider for you impatient and horny deeries.

MINORS YOU KNOW THE DRILL DNI

The line for reception was long, but that was to be expected. After the extermination ended early and Adam killed on television by a maid, the Hazbin Hotel had been busy. Or so you overheard others saying. You’d only been in hell a day, lucky enough to catch the advertisements and hear the gossip for the hotel soon after your descent.

You recognized the princess immediately, but not that tall man beside her. He wasn’t doing anything, just staring and smiling. Was he friendly? Were there friendly people in hell? Truly friendly. Not high school girl friendly. Or hungry witch friendly. He had witch vibes.

“Hiya welcome to the”, she took a deep breath in, “Hazbin Hotel! I am Charlie! This is Alastor! What did you do to bring you to hell? Gotta know so we can cater your redemption activities to your sins!”

She was staring at you so happily, pen over paper. Your eyes nervously shot to the man, who leaned down in response.

“I fell asleep driving and killed someone, and myself.”

Everything about Charlie was frozen still except the sudden glossiness forming over her eyes. “You… you… were you like, a thief or… did you…… push old ladies into traffic?”

You shook your head no.

“Gluttonous? She asked.

“No, I wasn’t a fan of overindulgence.”

“Prideful, then?” 

“Unfortunately… I don’t think too highly of myself. Living or dead.” Your hand came to your down turned rabbit ears, sad and limp. Even in death you weren’t the right kind of anything.

“Uhh,” Charlie clicked her pen furiously again and again, “Lustful?”

“Just the one partner. My highschool sweetheart.”

A sweat was forming on Charlie’s brow, “Sloth?”

“I did fall asleep behind the wheel… but it was from working 25 hours of overtime this week.”

Charlie put the pen down, “I don’t think you belong in hell. You made an accident. That’s not how sins should work…”

Your eyes bore holes into the desk, avoiding eye contact, “I don’t think heaven cares much about that.”

“Poor thing. Let’s circle back, Charlie.” Alastor’s large hand rested on your head, patting twice. 

She nodded, “Good call. I’ll just,” her tongue stuck out as she began to write, “make a new category just for you! Other.”

Yeah that made sense, you thought. That was fitting. This truly was hell. Finally you stood out, as the one who didn’t fit in. You supposed that’s what a wallflower deserved for murder. 

“Follow me little one.”  The tall Alastor instructed you as he snatched a key from the hook and walked past you.

Happily. Small tail uncontrollably swishing as you followed a foot behind him.

A hum of approval, Alastor noticing the distance you kept.

“You obey instructions well.”

You always did. “Thank you.” Tiny and soft, your response made his shadow shift and smile.

It wasn’t a compliment, but the fact you took it as one interested him. Subservient. 

Fun. 

“I take it that you really were a good girl in life, weren’t you?” He swiveled on his heels to face you, the sudden change causing your face to run into his lower chest.

A song of apologies fell from your mouth as you backed up, tripping over your own pathetic attempts at platitude and falling back onto your ass.

He was tall before but now he towered over your, hand outstretched to help you up. You offered a thank you before taking it.

Clawed fingers tightened around your palm. Not letting you pull away. “You’re new to hell, right?”

A glance around, no one else in the hallway, “Is it obvious?”

“Yes. But also, you mentioned work this week.”

A nod, “It’s been maybe a day.”

Delicious.

“Could I offer you some advice?” He leaned down, hand tightening further. Wide eyed and a little frightened with the change in atmosphere, you just nodded again. “It’s very dangerous out there for little prey animals like yourself.”

“Aren’t you also a prey animal?”

His hand uncurled.

A moment of tension, Alastor leaning down further.

A strange sound was coming from his microphone, the best approximation you had was a car radio going haywire skipping through the channels.

“Room 243!” His body popped up and he held the key out for you. The hallway lights seemed to be glowing brighter now.

You grabbed the key, “Thank you!”

Two fourty three was just past him. A small tremble kept you from getting the key in on your first and even second try. 

You didn’t even stop to turn on the light, just pushing the door closed behind you as soon as your body was through the threshold.

The relief barely left with a sigh when you heard it, “You know…”

Frozen, your eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see the shining of his red and pink eyes in front of you.

“I’m somewhat of a deal maker. For a small price, I could help you. Perhaps, you’d like a change of appearance?” His voice seemed to be coming from the walls, above and beside you all at once.

Something lifted a floppy ear. But his eyes were too far from you for it to have been his own hands. A small scream as you smacked at the appendage.

“What do you say? I can use a little magic to make you happier with your new form.” A dark whisper into your right ear. 

Your hands flew to your head before you dropped to your knees to escape the hidden things touching you. 

“What do you want?” To your left now. “Let’s make a trade. A deal.” Above your head. 

His eyes were gone. Just darkness and a soft laugh echoing around you.

Your mind was reeling through possible answers, what did you want? At that moment? In general? 

An answer tumbled out, too quietly.

“Hmm?” His eyes reappeared closer to you and glowing a bloody red. “Speak up, my ears are quite a bit higher than your mouth.”

A second attempt, “Safety. I wanna be safe.” The laughter got louder, mocking you without words.

“A little tougher of an ask.” The sound of something slithering near your feet made you pull your knees tighter to your chest. “But! I’m here to please. In exchange for protection from the more nefarious of hell’s citizens I’ll need something worth my while.”

Of course, that is how deals work, right? A promise with compensation. 

“I don’t have any money, or possessions yet. Maybe I should try again later?” You were lost in the light of his stare and found the darkness deepening around him.

A considered hum, “Well, you’re already dead. You’ve no need for your soul. Damned as it is, give it to me instead. To keep safe. And I’ll always answer your calls for rescue when in harm's way.”

Why would…what use was a soul, you wondered. Was he right? But if he wanted it, surely it had value. You were too new to this world, scared to say yes and part with what little you had. 

At the risk of angering the demon in the darkness of your room, you whispered to yourself and hoped he would hear it, “I think I shouldn’t.”

Hissing in your ear, “Disappointing.”

The lights flickered on, an empty room. A bed. A nightstand. A closet. A bathroom. No tall smiling dealmaker.

A tremor stayed in your hands through the night. 

To your surprise, when you ran into Alastor the next day he was more than kind. He was eavesdropping when you asked Charlie if the hotel needed any staff. Not only did you want to be of use, you were hoping to earn some money. He quickly slid beside Charlie suggesting things you could do. 

Wow, you thought. He didn’t hold a grudge at all. Maybe he had been trying to help before? 

It took a few weeks, but you found a groove. You were a floater between the staff, helping Husk with the restocking of his bar, following behind Niffty with supplies her tiny arms couldn’t carry, and keeping notes for the activities Charlie held. It was vital for you to feel needed and everyone seemed happy to have you around. Hell wasn’t so bad.

“Dear,” Alastor found you holding a basket of towels in the hallway on a rather standard weekday, “I need an errand runner. Do you mind?”

You had been finding Alastor’s presence enjoyable, a little secret you held. He was always smiling, which made you smile in turn. And his manners, well, perfect. You couldn’t understand why such a sweet man was in hell, but then you considered you were also in hell. Mistakes happen, perhaps he was also damned by technicalities. 

Not that you would ask him, you barely spoke a word to the deer demon. Every time he was around you your throat would close up. Oftentimes you would pull your hands behind your back to shield the wiggle of your too-honest tail. 

When he would speak to you, you would get so focused on the sound of his voice and watching his mouth move you’d actually not hear a damn thing he said. You must have looked like an absolute airhead, always replying, “What?” every time he finished a statement. 

“Hellooo, anyone home in there?” He knocked gently on your skull. Ah, those big hands again. He watched the pink bloom across your cheeks, your hands coming to your ears to pull them down as your mind wandered off.  A snap of his fingers finally brought you back.

“Sorry, what?” Your eyes were bright as you finally made the journey all the way up to his face.

“Welcome back. I need some stuff picked up from a shop downtown. I can’t leave right now, mind hopping over for me?” The grin he offered you made you melt.

“Of course!” That damn tail shaking behind you, “What am I picking up?”

He waved his hand, “Not important, it’ll be all wrapped up and waiting.” The radio effect of his voice grew, “I’ll write down the address.”

Terrible handwriting. You could barely read it, but didn’t want to insult him so you just nodded as he followed you to the doors. Pausing, you realized it was your first time leaving the hotel alone. 

“What’s wrong? Not up to it?”

You shook your head, “No! I can do it. Thank you.”

A pounding in your chest made you question if you were actually dead. But despite your concerns, no one bothered you beyond some catcalling and intense glares. Staring at the paper, you struggled to decipher the address. Was that a 7 or a 1? A 4 or a 9…? You were in the general area, the street name lined up and the first couple numbers of the address too.

You brought the paper closer to your face, maybe if you really inspected it you could figure it out. 

A shriek, dropping the paper to felt a small goblin-like creature pushing at your knees. Another, then another, began to appear from the shadows of the street. Black and white little creatures pushing and pulling at your legs until you tumbled over.

“Help!” You thought it was a shout, but it came out as a soft spoken request, the tone itself adding a ‘please’ to the end. 

They weren’t hurting you, just knocking you over every time you tried to stand up like grade school bullies. You managed, the creatures relenting momentarily before a stockier one materialized. A step back, what did they want? Money? You pulled out your wallet and opened it but the large one smacked it to the ground. 

That quick heart skipped a beat when your back hit against something solid. As your head bent backwards, you could see those red and pink eyes looming over you. 

“Oh dear. Trouble already?” 

You could cry. You did cry, a little, at the sight of a familiar face. With a flourish of his hands, those previously unseen tendrils whipped from his back and flung the aimless attackers away. 

Rescue! You hugged his waist, a chorus of ‘thank yous’ and ‘Oh, Alastor!’ into his chest. 

“Now now, can’t even be a proper task rabbit. You really do need some safeguarding.” He peeled you off him, brushing his coat off. Your mind thought back to the offer. “And I don’t see my purchase… didn’t complete the task either?”

You shrunk, you’d entirely failed him. His smirk was one sided, eyes half lidded and expression dramatically disappointed. Alastor sighed and turned to walk away from you. You’d let him down. He’d been nothing but accommodating and gentle.

“I’m sorry! Alastor!” You grabbed his wrist, eyes shut so you didn’t see the green glow of arcane symbols floating up around him. “Can I please have that deal? Please. I’m sorry, you have my soul as payment.”

Painless, selling your soul. With a handshake, a little light show, and a whirling of magic, you had done it.

“Excellent choice!” Alastor patted your head, “I’ll come to your aid when you’re scared for your life! Aaaand in return, your soul is mine. Easy peasy, yes?”

Fine, not an issue in the slightest. “Do I need to do anything?”

“About what?” His eyes wandered to inspect his fingernails.

“My soul.”

A barking laugh, “No. You’re tied to me now, dear. As for my end, just call my name when you’re in danger and I’ll,” a flourish of his talons, “rescue you.” His smile strained as he peered down at your little face, “Why are you crying?”

“I’m so happy to have the help, thank you Alastor! You really are just, amazing. Your mother raised you right.” Your hands were holding your cheeks, grateful and feeling a little less alone.

The mention of his mother made his back straighten, a bloom in his chest he knew all too well to be pride. Finally, someone was vocalizing his better qualities. Well, other than Charlie. But impressing Charlie was like making a dog think you’d thrown a ball. Just a little quick whirl of your hands and a couple sweet words with a smile and she’d be all wagging tail as she ran to retrieve nothing. 

But he supposed you were very much like Charlie, easily tricked and distracted. Had you really not noticed those goons were his? Or that the address wasn’t real? Were you stupid or naive? His head fell to the side unnaturally as he watched you talk. He wasn’t listening, though. He took in your features, slight but average. His hand came out absentmindedly and felt at one of your long and limp ears. He didn’t see you blush or caught how you stiffened. 

Naive. Terribly naive.

Perfectly usable. 

He dropped your ear and turned to leave. “I won’t rescue you twice in one day. Best to follow me home if you value your life.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You hadn’t told anyone about the deal, a secret for yourself to keep. Partly because you were embarrassed you needed the help, and partly because you had been warned extensively to not make a deal with the deer demon. Everyone had such a peculiar idea of Alastor, it seemed to you. Even after making a deal, he was still…Alastor. Always offering a joke, or playing something jaunty in the shared spaces. You could vent and whine and Alastor would hum as he read. Always offering a gentle pat to the head when you were sad or did something he liked. 

So when Alastor suddenly left the group in a sweat, hands shaking and body rocking slightly side to side, you were quick to follow behind him. He bumped off the walls a couple of times before making it to his room and falling forward past the threshold. 

You waited for the door to close before running down the hall and knocking. 

“Are you alright?” You pressed your cheek against the wood and listened for any reply. 

Alastor was still on the floor when you knocked, which worked out well. He leaned against the door, ears flat with his condition. He took a deep breath, voice dropping an octave and carrying easily to you, “Just— an out of season rut. Unexpected and unwelcome. Without any does nearby it’s quite odd.”

“Oh, are deer not like rabbits? Rabbit does are always in estrus! Mating actually triggers their ovulation. Neat, huh?” Silence, Alastor’s ears turned forward focusing on every other word.

Does, always, oestrus

Mating, triggers, ovulation 

“I had pet rabbits when I was little. Isn’t that funny though? That they’re also called does.” You worried he thought you were weirdly interested in rabbit sex. “We had them as pets. So….,” a silence you misinterpreted as awkward.

Alastor tapped a long claw on the door before dragging it down the wood. A line was etched behind, “Is that so?”

You knelt down to get comfortable, “How long will it last?”

“Ah, hard to say. I've only suffered through a few. Alone, perhaps a week.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“With an appropriate partner, a deer demon would rut for two days. One for mating with his doe, one for guarding his doe from rivals who could still interfere with conception.”

His doe. You both found your throat running dry at the words. 

You nodded, “Oh wow, I guess that’s why you always see bucks locked together in fights.”

“Precisely.”

“But...can sinners actually conceive?” You gulped, the idea was a little naughty to you. The entire conversation was actually making you uncomfortable. The kind of discomfort that made your breath pick up. The kind of discomfort that shifted to hunger with just a few words or a well placed look.

“No, but that doesn’t matter. Once fully in the hold of a rut or heat, demons aren’t motivated by logic.”

You nodded again, forgetting he couldn’t see you. “Oh okay…” the idea of Alastor rutting into his own hand desperate to fill a womb made your knees come together. “Must be hard for you. As an asexual.”

A hum, confusion breaking his creeping fog for a second, “A sexual what?”

“Nevermind.” You shook your head, shaking off the topic with the motion.

Alastor could smell your arousal wafting under the door. A feverish chill ran through him, drawing the fog back into the recesses of his mind.

“Well… I’ll let you rest. I know you can’t call me, so I’ll stop by to see if you need anything.”

His mouth opened to correct you— he could call you in a sense, and he didn’t need help as he had minions he could summon with a snap. 

“That sounds lovely, what a helpful thing you are.” The words came out strained, his jaw tensing. How much longer could he hold out? The thinnest lie held in place that he’d suffer alone through the week. Already compromised by his errant shadow, flat against the carpet beneath your thighs. 

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Within hours Alastor was lying on the floor with his limbs splayed out. The sweating was the worst, not the heat. He could feel ticklish drops dripping down his stomach. His hair was sticking to his face, adding to the mounting overstimulation. Wet, hot, clothes clinging to his body like a second skin. A clawed hand pulled off his bow tie. His fingers shook too much to handle the tiny buttons of his shirt so he gave up and ripped it open. 

It fell into a pile with the bow tie and soon his pants and socks joined. Sitting up on his elbows he looked down at his underwear, he wasn’t hard yet but he knew the smallest touch could trigger what could be days of painfully swollen erections.

He fell back to the floor with a huff, hands raking through his hair and gripping his ears a little rougher than he’d meant to. A gasp, red tipped talons feeling down his ears and slipping around his already growing antlers.

Alastor’s eyes rolled back, strong hands squeezing his prongs, tugging them forward as he imagined anyone riding him. Using his appendages as a handle while he bucked up into them. His hips were already moving, lower back rising off the carpet as he rolled his body up into the imaginary mate he despised his desperation for. His mind flicked through faces. Husk’s pained but satisfied expression, Vox’s tears as he whined, Carmilla’s lusty eyes paired with surrendered sighs. He lingered briefly on Angel’s smirk as his hands roamed down his chest and his thighs in tandem. 

But through the darkness of his imagination he saw two watery and timid orbs, tears welling as eyebrows rose in confusion. Pleasure making the features soften. Soft. Soft velvet ears he could tug on in turn, a little bushy tail he could grip. 

A doe. 

The only doe he knew of in the hotel. 

The radio on the writing desk flipped through channels, piecing together the sounds to form the words he was trying to forget, a magazine ransom note cut from sound bites.

....out the windows

 ....always and forever, 

....in yesterday. 

....rusty cage 

May you never....

Hating how I....

....pull the trigger

....say you love me?

....congratulations 

The relevant sounds spiked in volume, mocking him. 

He walked to the radio and hurled it across the room. Aggression. Already he was losing himself to hellish biology. 

A minor part of him didn’t want to use you. You always looked at him with such adoration, which he’d come to look forward to when others weren’t giving him adequate attention. You also seemed to genuinely see him as a friend, as much as he didn’t directly feed that idea.

But using people was how the world worked. Everyone was using someone. You had said how much you wanted to help… Alastor leaned on the desk with both hands and watched the sweat fall onto the wood and leather writing surface.

How was his body leaking from every pore but his mouth was so dry?

His shadow reached for the thrown radio, the light flickering on. That dark doppelgänger using a song to offer another piece of torment for him, ‘you ain't never caught a rabbit and you ain't no friend of mine.’

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You had been speaking to Husk about what you could do to help prepare the bar for the weekend when a green light began to form around your neck. 

“Did you— Did you make a deal with him?!” Husk dropped the dish rag, hands shooting to your shoulders, “Hold on! I’ll— fucking hell. Fuck!”

“Wait what’s wro-,” you were standing inside an unfamiliar room, just at the door, before you could figure out why Husk was panicking. Looking up, you locked eyes with Alastor. The room was dark, curtains drawn shut and ceiling lights off. A slight glow from a roaring blue fire to your left. His eyes were those familiar glowing red orbs in the darkness of his large canopy bed. “Oh, Alastor.” You finally noticed the third light source. A neon green large linked chain was wrapped around his fist. Following the squared interlocking pieces down the length of the bed, across the carpet and up as you looked down to find it ending on you.

Your hands touched your neck, feeling the cold metal of your collar. 

Alastor took a deep breath in, a shaky exhale following.

Oh. You’d heard from Angel how his deal with his boss often materialized as a series of smoke rings linked and attached to him. 

Before you could question it any further you were sliding across the floor, hands and feet struggling to find purchase as he reeled you toward the bed. Alastor lifted you by the glowing chain around your neck, evidence of the deal you so easily accepted.

“Can a deer breed a rabbit?” He mused, breath ragged as he struggled to remain in control of his impulses, “Doubtful. But I’ll give it my sincerest efforts, regardless.”

“Alastor-! You don’t want to do this, it’s just your rut.” You pulled back, legs kicking and piling up the blankets. It was fruitless. 

He laughed, incorporeal radio studio audience joining along. You couldn’t stop from glancing at the straining fabric of his black boxers. Setting a small hand on his chest to better attempt to push away you gasped, “You’re burning up!” The fear of the moment left you entirely, replaced with deep concern. 

He gripped your wrist with his free hand, not letting go of the chain in his right, “The fever is unbearable. My mind is slipping away.”

“Is this normal?!” Your hands came to his cheeks, his forehead, his neck. You remembered how your grandmother always checked your temperature, and pressed your lips to his sweat slicked brow. “You poor thing…”

When you pulled back you were met with the bright and blown out pupils of Alastor’s gaze. He was staring at your mouth, the green of his magical connection to you reflecting off his glossy eyes.

“Poor me.” He’d been sitting with loosely crossed legs but got on his knees. His face rose until he was looking down at you, hand now holding your chin, “You promised to help me.”

Your eyes were looking everywhere but his face. 

His hand on you tightened, cheeks squished together as he pulled your head up, “Are you a liar?” Of course not. His hand made your head shake left to right.

The trembling of your hands was obvious to you both. A cruel laugh, “Do I scare you, little bunny rabbit?”

In life you weren’t popular. No one hated you, but, well, you never had much luck attracting the men all the women seemed to want. No one of power or consequence ever paid you any mind.

Alastor was scary. But were you scared? Someone strong wanted you. Someone people feared was saying you were good enough for them.

Tears welled in your eyes as you felt your tail wiggling side to side. Your body always betrayed you. Your own death had been the doing of your body’s inability to listen to you. 

He couldn’t see the tail but the way your face screwed up in shame tipped him off. Letting go of your face, super heated finger pads slipped down your back. He slotted your tail between two fingers. There was no reason for it to be such an intimate action, but your entire body trembled.

Another deep sigh from Alastor, closing his fingers around the base and pulling gently. A test. Your head dropped to hide your reaction.

“Ah ah, eyes on me.”

He hummed happily as you did as you were told.

But the moment was cut short, you jumping when a rough knock came to the door.

“Alastor!” Vaggie was turning the knob despite knowing it was locked, “Is she in there? Open the fucking door.” A kick, a threat, “Now.”

“I’ll need your answer.” He leaned back onto the pillows piled behind him. Making a point, he lifted your chain and dropped it. It dissolved into nothingness before it could hit the bed.

“I’m here!” You said barely loud enough to be heard through the wooden door. Your eyes were drawn to Alastor’s lap as he pushed down his underwear to free his deep red cock.

His hand tenderly touched his base, hissing with the contact.

“For fuck’s sake Alastor!” Vaggie yelled, “You have three seconds to open this fucking door before I rip it off the hinges.”

Alastor’s head fell back with a moan, stifled as he bit down on his lip. 

“One!”

As his fingers slid up his length and touched his leaking slit his entire body violently shook.

“Two!”

He opened his eyes just barely. You hadn’t noticed the antlers on his head were quite a few times larger than normal. 

“I’m okay!” You shouted, the loudest noise you’d made since your death, but not the loudest you’d make by the end of the day.

Silence.

Mumbling.

 Vaggie spoke up again, “Are you sure? Come out and talk to us first.”

His hand began stroking himself, precum spilling down. Something soft and fuzzy was settling over the front of your brain.

You scooted backwards off the bed, eyes staying on his lap. The light color of his inner thighs. The little bit of red and black tail you could see squished down under his ass.

“Hello!” You opened the door just enough to shove your head through. “Hi there gang.”

Husk’s arms were crossed and his foot tapping, “Are you really okay? No matter the deal he can’t fucking make you stay in there with him.”

While you weren’t sure that was actually true, it wasn’t an issue, “I wanna stay! He needs someone to watch his fever and-,”

A brief rush of cool air up your shirt before a hot mouth was pressing into the small of your back.

Vaggie’s eyes narrows, “and?”

“And! And. Yes.” Your eyes shut, “and take care of cleaning up after him.”

They shared a glance, “He can just make his little creatures do it.”

A surprisingly long tongue ran up your spine.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Oh my god! No! I couldn’t let my friend,” you sucked your bottom lip in as his hands wrapped around your waist and undid the button of your pants, “rely on strangers.”

Husk sighed, “Alright, just… like, call us or something? If you need anything.”

You began to nod but the door was shut and locked by Alastor before you could reply.

₊✧˚﹕︶︶︶﹕૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ₎ა﹕︶︶︶﹕ ˚✧₊

Your face hit the wall as you lost balance when he pulled down your pants and panties with one yank and buried his face into your crotch. His tongue licked at the wetness pooled at your entrance.

Any moans would probably still have been heard by the other two so you tried to keep quiet. Alastor didn’t seem to care though, growling into your skin.

The fever seemed it would spread skin to skin, but when he pulled away you found your body quickly cooling. Taking a moment to breath before turning back, you wondered if you’d made a great decision or a terrible one. When you turned, Alastor was settling back into his previous spot. “I could rip the rest off of you or you could undress yourself.” He wasn’t looking at you as he said it. You made quick work of removing your shirt and returning to the bed as you had before.

"Turn around."

You turned to face the door.

"On your hands and knees."

You paused briefly, but did so.

As you bent over, little tail high and trembling, Alastor’s clawed thumbs spread open your bottom lips. Perhaps it was embarrassment or just the nerves but you were twitching open and close.

You heard a low “Fuck” before the feeling of heat dripping onto you made you jerk forward. One of his hands came to your shoulder to hold you in place, the other kept your hole open as his seed continued to dribble down onto it.

He hadn’t been trying to cum, but his body was already responding to the opportunity before it; a breedable and submissive doe.  His cock trigger-happy at the sight of your pussy, inside pink and clenching.

A tiny yelp as he fell over you, joining you in an all fours position but larger body caging yours between his limbs. He laughed again when the back of your head hit him square in the chest. 

“You are uselessly small.” His body rumbled over you. “Clever girl to make a deal for protection.” 

A burning stiffness slid down your folds. You could feel from even how little contact he made he was too big. Was it a bad time to tell him you’d only had the one partner on earth? A rather boring but sufficient sex life. If Alastor was hoping for a sex kitten he’d be deeply disappointed in you.

He hummed imagining dropping his weight and feeling you fruitlessly squirm under him. 

“Mating triggers ovulation, I recall you said. I just need to fuck you into it, right sweetheart? Maybe if I do a good enough job,” his hands gripped the flesh of your ass, “your body will actually respond. Your belly will swell with the evidence of my virility.” Both hands slipped down your hips and came to nestle above your womb, tenderly caressing the protective layer of fat there, “could your little form handle it?” Little form? Not quite. But to him everyone was little. Claws leaving faint red marks as he dragged them up your ribs, around your sides and pressed your back down to get your chest into the bed and ass in the air.

A squeak, your legs flailing with what little motion they had as you turned your head, “Well that’s for actual rabbits not--.”

His hand came over your mouth, “Shhh, there's safety in the quiet. Don’t you know? We’re most vulnerable when we mate.” On the utterance of the word you’d been avoiding to even think about Alastor’s still hard cock squeezed its way into you. Your body was willing, but your pussy wasn’t ready to accommodate him. Not that your living partner had been small, but he wasn’t a seven foot tall rutting deer demon. And with height came a girth and length you’d not anticipated. You had seen it, yes, but that didn’t translate to much once Alastor was entering you.

His hips were snapping back as soon as he sank in. It frustrated him endlessly that he wasn’t trying to fuck you with such a lack of control. He couldn’t have been sure he’d have done it any differently had the circumstances been changed, but he liked to think he’d  retained some skills over the long years alone.

The way he whined made him sound like a weak man, which he was in that moment. You wanted to call out his name, do the things you were used to doing during sex, but his hand was still over your mouth.

As if he heard your thoughts, his fingers spread open over your lips. Pinky under your chin to keep his hold on you. 

“Alastor,” the tenor of your voice surprised you.

“Stick out your tongue.” He sounded far away, despite being right behind you. When you did as he instructed his hand shifted. Two long fingers went into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue. Immediately his fingers and your chin was dripping with drool. He whined again, louder, the noise growing into a growl as his speed began to pick up. 

You could feel the thin flesh at the bottom of your entrance stinging as it was failing to stretch enough for him. It would have bothered you more but the way his burningly hot cock's head was pressing into your cervix was making your eyes lose focus. 

Without ceremony, you felt a rush of heat deep in you. Your shins lifted from the bed as you squirmed, weak attempts to escape the deep press.

His hand left your mouth and you felt it working on the base of his cock that was not yet in you. He mumbled something, it sounded like an apology, before you felt him pop the rest of himself in. You choked on your scream, not knowing what he had put in you. 

It throbbed, new and stronger spurts of his seed felt against an indescribable place. 

A brave hand reached between your thighs and felt at the space between your bodies—- well, would have felt at that space. But there was none. You were flush against his lap. Your fingers slid down to feel taut balls pulled up into his body. 

He shivered as you traced between them, checking neither were …  inside you. 

“I should have warned you, but my ability to speak wasn’t—,” he waved his hand around, “available.” You tried to pull away but found you both were locked together. “A knot. Not an accurate representation of a deer… and technically useless.”

That word meant nothing to you. “Is it normal?”

His thumb pressed at the virgin tight ring of muscle just above your pussy, you instinctively jerked away but just made yourself gasp as that large knot in you threatened to further tear you if you kept it up. “I don’t normally do it so early in a mated rut.”

You surrendered, trying to relax your upper body into the bed. “How do we get it out?”

A mocking chuckle, “It’ll deflate, so to speak, in a couple minutes. It’s just keeping my little doe in place while I finish filling her up.” He patted your ass. 

It was mortifying to be suck in that position.

“Have you ever used this hole?” He rubbed some of your wetness up to your asshole. 

 Your tail lifted, “My boyfriend didn’t like anal.”

Alastor massaged around the puckered ring, “I didn’t ask if he used his.” Your head turned to look at him, shaking it ‘no’. You noticed his face looked less strained now, and that his finger didn’t feel like a fire was just under his skin. “Ah, well. I won’t need it today anyway.”

He didn’t see the bright blush that came over your face. He spoke so easily about the topic, a topic you’d never heard him speak on before. One you’d been told he had no interest in.

An error you made, assuming a lack of interest meant a lack of knowledge or experience. 

When he finally could pull himself out of you, you felt a rush of warmth down your inner thighs. Looking under you, past your chest and between your legs, you saw the thick white semen escaping from your stretched entrance. 

You’d never seen such an opaque release before. You wondered if it was a hint at his…potency. You wondered more what was happening in your body at that moment. 

“Will it come out on its own or do I need to clean it?” Finally sitting up, your fingers felt the mess still dripping out of you. 

Alastor leaned back onto his legs, ears turning in your direction as you asked, “Is this your first time? Your little boyfriend never finished in you?”

Crossing your arms, you turned to him, “Don’t be patronizing to him. And no, okay?”

He felt the heat rising from his gut again, cock twitching at every bit of the scene before him. Insolent body language, an attempt to scold him, and an admission. You watched him sit back up, a sudden reminder how much taller he was as darkened eyes looked down on you. The blue of the fire cast half of his face in shadows. “What’s this? My obedient doe wants to defend another man in my bed?” 

Your hands nervously came to the ends of your ears, “I didn’t mean it like that.” A finger twirled, telling you to turn around. You hesitated. Did he want you to leave? He didn’t want to look at you? You hadn’t—, “I’m sorry.” 

With a blink, his eyes were black.  His fingers longer as parts of him seems to stretch between the joints. He twirled them again as his smile grew wicked.

Desperate to show him you hadn’t wanted to upset him, that you wanted to stay, you turned around. The fear of not knowing what he would do next was sending waves of electricity to your lap. You realized you hadn’t touched yourself yet, not that this was the time to start. 

One by one, those freakishly long fingers curled around the small of your waist and lifted you off the bed. The tops of your feet were sliding across the dark maroon blankets beneath you both.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as he pulled you against him. He positioned you above his renewed erection, your legs opening a little in instinct. 

Grateful now to be turned around, you let your face run the full range of feelings as they washed over you. Fear, arousal, anticipation.

“What a wasteful man.” He brought you down with a painfully slow speed, head just now meeting your sticky wet hole. “He never flooded your soft cunt?” He pressed in a little easier this time, but as you sank to take him all in you felt a sting where you’d slightly torn earlier. “When he dies, I’ll be sure to find him.” Cruel. “And make him watch me breed you.” You clenched, yet another betrayal by your body. 

You were reduced to gasps as he stayed stock still and moved you on and off his cock. “Am I bigger than he is?” You could feel his breath against your back as you were lifted and brought back down again slowly. 

You nodded. A terrible liar, you didn’t even try to fib.

He stopped with his head barely in you.

A squirm.

“I’m sure I just didn’t hear you. Try again.”

“Yes.” You were full again as he got his answer. A creaking sound you didn’t recognize startled you.

“Do I fuck you better than him?”

Ah you understood. Your hands held at his fingers digging into your body. “Yes.” Another creaking sound as he quickened your rise and fall.

Alastor’s antlers were wide and multi-pronged as your affirmations jostled around behind his eyes. Your ‘yes’ somehow made you tighter, wetter, hotter around him. His hips started moving again to meet yours. Perhaps he his dick grown a little during his shift to a more demonic form, or maybe you enjoyed the line of questions. All he knew was you were squeezing him like your body didn’t want him to ever pull out again.

Blood dripped from his lips as he cut his own skin, through gritted teeth a final question, “Do you want my fawns?”

Your legs pressed together, you knew there was only one answer and yet you asked yourself. Did you want that? To carry his children? A moan cut through your thinking, “Yes!”

The fire roared, a response to his own reaction.

Alastor felt his mind slip under again, noticing the wild way his shadow was dancing around the walls before his senses all dulled except touch.

The bed drifted away from under his knees and the walls melted like spent candles. Just sounds echoing off space as your moans deepened. As if learning, you began to whisper ‘yes’ to yourself as you felt a building pressure in your stomach. 

Every thrust into you further separated your brain from your body. Your eyes lost focus as you watched the door bounce. No, wait, you were bouncing, right? Bouncing up and down the stiff rail of Alastor’s arousal. Your head fell forward, gasping as you felt him harden further while buried deep in you. He was going to cum again, you could feel it, you would feel it. The thought made your body shake as a pressure grew steadily in you. 

Not a new sensation, but a different one. 

“Louder,” another thinly veiled demand from Alastor that seemed to come from somewhere else entirely. Your eyes noticed a small light on the floor near the wall. A radio, buzzing with the same crackle as his voice.

“Yes,” you ground out, his hands were slippery with sweat as his nails dug in to ensure he didn’t lose his grip on you. “Yes, yes, yes.” He brought you down entirely and only let you off a little, an unspoken fear he would release too close to your entrance and he’d lose precious seed he needed your body to receive. “Yes! Alastor!” You weren’t sure who was talking now, as it surely couldn’t be you. You’d never —

“You’re better than him. You’re bigger and stronger and and he never —- he could never…”

He was suddenly regretting the position, unable to watch you fall apart as he so lovingly spread you open. 

With a shriek, your back crashed into his chest as Alastor fell backward into his pillows. He didn’t miss a beat. He continued fucking up into you but let one hand reach your clit. When you whined, he breathed into your hair, “I need you to orgasm.” Other hand pressing down on your womb, “Many cultures believed a woman couldn’t get pregnant without finding her release first. Surely it’ll take. Cum for me my doe.”

You shook your head, “Alastor that isn’t possible.” Not that you were arguing against the way his finger was rubbing up and down on your swollen clit, you just felt the need to remind him of the obvious. Your eyes wandered up and back to see the hauntingly wide antlers now. His transformed face barely visible in the shadows.

“I thought you were a good girl.” His mouth kissed at the base of your ears, hand over your womb pressing in and exaggerating the feeling of his cock bulging from under your skin. “Darling,” he groaned, “Are you ready for my knot?”

You moaned at the words. No, of course not. 

“Yes,” you got quiet, embarrassed again. Your hand snaked up and behind to hold his shoulder for stability. 

“Relax,” he hissed, feeling your body tensing in anticipation.

You tried your best, but between his strumming finger and the sting still at your entrance you struggled to let things go limp.

This time you felt it growing beneath you. Alastor was ready as well, pushing it in before it was swollen so large he’d have to force it or just suffer with it outside.

Lubricated with the multiple loads already fucked into and then out of you, the knot pushed past your entrance with ease. But then you felt it expanding in you. Eyes crossing as they rolled back with the foreign sensation. It didn’t hurt, but a little alarm was going off in the back of your brain. How could something natural feel so unnatural? And how—

Your body locked up, muscles from thighs to neck tight. Alastor’s finger hadn’t stopped, and as the second knotted release flooded you with his feverish need, as his knot trapped every drop and forced it up past your cervix you tripped into your first orgasm. Different from your own hand and toys, the build up hadn’t been a slow ratcheting climb. No, you were rolling through waves of nearly pained pleasure. The spasming forced your body to feel him even more, pulling him deeper, triggering another wave to crash into you.

Alastor wanted to praise you, a rush of hormones and ego expanding his chest but the sensations had him so overwhelmed he was manually breathing. His hand didn’t want to stop, because then the way your pussy was positively sucking him in would also end. But your little cries and moans got increasingly choked and strained.

The calm briefly offered by knotting a mate during his rut came to your rescue, Alastor dragging a still barely moving finger up your body and going slack into the pillows.

Deep breaths, both of you fighting to slow them down. Alastor was experiencing another moment of clarity, only slightly upset he had doled out so much tenderness.

But for you, there was no deep fog of a heat to numb the sensations and let the more bothersome bits of consciousness turn off. Your mind was just as clear as normal. A little lusty, but nowhere near Alastor’s altered state. As you laid against his chest, waiting for him to be able to pull out, you could feel the pains and aches setting in.

Alastor summoned a minion, food set down on his desk under a silver cloche. Your eyes caught the black and white creature before it was whisked away.

Sitting up, you flinched but fought against the pain, “Alastor. What was that?”

His hands pulled you back down by the shoulders, skin on skin, “My minion. One of many.” 

 Exhausted, you could only sigh, “So, the errand.”

His hands went up defensively, “Oh come now, did you really think I was the good guy?” You didn’t reply. The silence began to bother him. Odd, given he usually didn’t give a fuck.

But he’d asked a lot of you, and you agreed willingly. You did as you were told. A little twinge of concern he had actually upset you wiggled between his ribs.

His hands slipped down your waist and settled over your stomach, “…Are you hungry? If you stay like this, I can help you eat.” You took a deep breath in, but didn’t even move to look at him. He squirmed ever so slightly, “I can only assume you’re… quite sore. Perhaps a bath? But I can’t guarantee we’ll make it out much cleaner than we are now.” His smile was smaller, just lips; no teeth. As his antlers withdrew and his limbs all returned to their proper places he could turn his head enough to look at your face.

Alastor felt relief wash over him to see you deeply asleep in his arms. It wasn’t a bad idea, to sleep before the next spell hit him and he was too far gone to think about baths or meals.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Alastor awoke in the dark. He found his hands and ankles tied behind his back, his body naked and sweating. He was on fire, pieces of himself lifting in the hot breeze and blowing away. He could feel his body fragmenting. You were just a little ways away and he tried desperately to reach out to you but as his eyes adjusted you were suddenly too far. If he could just get you to take a single piece of him, a shard of himself, he would live still. Even when the rest of him was dead and gone, he’d be alive in your hands. A raging stress, the fire now reaching his bones. It wasn’t too late. He still had time. Just a sliver of his existence was all he needed to get to you.

When you woke up, your body was at the foot of the bed. Looking over you saw Alastor lazily stroking his painfully hard erection. His gaze downcast, vision cloudy with unmet needs.

“Alastor?” With shaky arms you lifted yourself. You were hot. Was it the fire? No, before it had no heat. A little damp outline into the comforter formed where your body had been. 

“You’re awake.” He reached over and grabbed your ankle, pulling you towards him and rolling you onto your back. Hand still around your ankle, he pulled your leg against his chest.

“Alastor.”

He sunk into you without hesitation, hips rolling into you roughly. Your body was rocking against the bed, wood creaking against wood with the steady force of his thrusts.

It felt good. Better than before, your walls felt soft and puffy around him. Alastor’s head was low, groaning every time he bottomed out. You could see just enough past him to watch the bed canopy swaying above you both before he folded you in half and leaned fully over you.

His eyes were unfocused like his mind, staring into the bed. A large palm at either side of your head, his back curved as he angled his hips to reach deeper yet.

“I’m so hot.” You were struggling to get the words out. It felt so good, the deeper in you he reached the more you seemed to be melting away.

Your hips were lifted off the mattress, held up entirely by his cock as he continued to rut into you. He could feel the fever in you rising. 

Bent and tangled together, his head was nearly above yours. He was sweating, hair stuck down and ears folded back. A bead fell from his cheek and hit your forehead. He was working so hard. Such a strong man. A strong buck. 

Something in you snapped. Something twisted and burned in your belly. You brought the other leg up to let yourself be folded in half completely, and his eyes wandered to your face. Your frontal cortex was just static as the lights were shutting off in most parts of your more human faculties. 

Everything got quiet in you, a deep seated feeling of security creeping up your legs and sinking into your bones. With Alastor in you, nothing bad could happen to you. If you were carrying his offspring you’d be guaranteed a new level of protection. You needed it. You wouldn’t survive if you weren’t fucked and bred by the overlord. 

How could your body be wrong when the feeling was so natural? So intensely confident?

“Alastor!” Your nails dug into biceps, hands clamoring up his arms to cling onto him, “breed me, please.” 

He was caught alight, mind on ablaze with his raging fever. Your plea was a magnifying glass concentrating the sun into him and sparking a wildlife. Alastor was defenseless against the way your words affected him. 

He could feel it, he could smell it, your heat triggered finally. His lips caught yours as his hands slipped up the blanket with how he had to contort to reach your mouth. You moaned into him, teeth on teeth as neither of you had any ability to finesse things.

“On your knees,” he instructed. You scrambled to turn around as he briefly left your body. A desperate whine in the seconds that stretched on, the emptiness unbearable. It hurt to have him anywhere but balls deep in you.

His hands slipped around your tail that still tried to swish side to side. When he tugged you gasped, the closest sensation you had was having your hair pulled. Chills ran up your spine. You nearly fell forward, but a strong hand wrapped around your neck and pulled your head back. He lined up, adjusting his legs wider to get down to your level.

“Are you feeling it?” He nipped at your shoulder, “Your heat?”

You pushed your ass back and pressed his tip into you. The sound that tore through your chest was answer enough for him as you tried your best to move along his length all on your own.

“You’re okay,” he squeezed lightly around your neck, pussy twitching around him as lightning snapped through you. “I’ll take care of you.”

Words that made your head spin. His body on yours felt like security. Everywhere his skin touched yours was a gulp of cold water in a drought.

A cliche, as he began to move again and his cock hit your g-spot every couple thrusts, you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. His fever was matched to yours, no heat exchanged as warm and wet flesh moved around warm and wet flesh. Was that your hand or his on your stomach? Both were searing, both soft and slick. One of your hands was reaching down to hold his arm for support.

Eyes slipping shut, you imagined this was what being high felt like. You were out of your body entirely, feeling his dick slipping in and out of you from a different plane of existence. There was a sense your mouth was moving but no awareness of what you were saying. Truly just babbling as Alastor’s speed hitched. A clawed hand on your hip cut into you as he pressed deeper with every thrust.

He guided you down onto your stomach, hand now resting on your right shoulder to keep you in place. You were entirely flat, his knees parting your legs so he could get flush against your core. 

His knot was in place as he began to swell. You felt it again, him flooding your womb as he released directly into your twitching cervix. A euphoria filled you so totally you were sure you could feel the cells of your body humming.

Like a cool breeze had blown down, your fevers broke nearly immediately.

“Oh,” you squeaked, Alastor’s hand releasing you as he lied on top of you. The weight of him was oddly arousing as it gave a clear comparison of your smaller size. “I think you’re right. Estrus.”

He nodded, rolling you both onto your sides, “Would you like the good news or bad news first?”

Resting your head on his extended arm, you tried getting comfortable despite the sticky feeling of your skin and the burning in your thighs, “bad news.”

“You won’t be walking straight for days.” He said it with a heavy tone of pride.

“Oh geez…,” you could feel his knot still throbbing between your hips, “The good news?”

“Your heat is going to make me even more desperate to fill you,” his free hand ran down your sides and slipped between your legs to feel where you two were connected. 

You turned your head the best you could, “That’s not good news, Alastor!”

He laughed, “I lied. Oh well!”

While the good news had been a lie, the way your body’s shift into meeting Alastor’s instincts upped his feral responses was not.  You nibbled on fruit and bread and cured meats in the small windows the clouds around your humanity parted.

But when they’d roll back in, a tempest of feral wants crashing into you both, you’d find yourself clinging to the deer demon.

You could have had an apple in one hand and be mid bite when his musk would reach you and your grip would loosen. With just a moan and a lifting of your hips Alastor would be dragging you closer, crawling over your body, mounting you wherever you two happened to be.

It wasn’t that you’d become confident by the end of the day, but that you’d lost all semblance of shame and embarrassment.

When Alastor pulled you onto his lap and placed your hands on his peach fuzz covered antlers, you didn’t need verbal instructions. It took all of your arm span to reach them, so you held tightly as he thrust up into you. None of his noises had been as intoxicating as the ones he made when you were leaning over him and squeezing his prongs with every jostle of your womb. Perhaps he’d lost his shame too, loud and long moans the other residents had to have heard spilling from his open mouth. 

The wet slap of your ass coming back down onto his thighs as he bounced you was barely registered. Head hung low to meet his black engulfed eyes, you didn’t notice his smile was gone for the first time since you’d met him. Pinhole red pupils were locked on your face and imperceptibly roamed around your lust filled expression. 

One hand reached up and rubbed the soft skin of your downturn rabbit’s ears between his thumb and index finger. Soft. Velvet. 

A sensation that was wholly pleasant, not sexual in any nature but feeding the comfort provided by Alastor’s cock buried to the hilt. He wanted to enjoy the smile it gave you but he could feel his orgasm climbing exponentially.

There it was again, the darkness of your combined heat and rut slinking in. Body to body, your own sounds harmonizing with his and losing distinction. “Alastor–,” eyes drifting shut, “Please. I feel empty.” His previous loads dripping down your thighs, then down his own, and soaking into the carpet. “Fill me up. Please, can you breed me?”

His hand pulled down on your ear, “That was never in question.”

You let go of his extended prongs, arching your back to take a kiss. More. His tongue in your mouth, another hole full of Alastor. His hands both reunited on your ass and used the flesh there like handles. He fucked up into you, withholding the growing at his base, until he felt you cumming around him again. As your body sucked him in with rolling spasms, he pressed you down on his upthrust. A pained moan as it was pushed in a little late. 

Lightning behind your eyelids, your mouths hanging open and pressed together. 

Both of you a pile on the floor, a cold blue flame and soft music playing from the still broken radio. Uncharacteristically, Alastor’s arms wrapped around your smaller form and clung to you. The sensations were popping up one by one. Sticky skin, sweat rolling down your face, hair sticking to your neck and forehead. You’d have to peel each other apart. Which you did, eventually. When Alastor could pull out, he followed through on the bath he’d been thinking about. 

You protested, reminding him you’d be soaking the floor with displaced bath water as soon as the next urge to mate came around. But he laughed, smile back in place as if it had never left, “Sweetheart if I do my job right you won’t even realize you’re not in bed until you’re knotted and knocked up.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He hadn’t been lying about the protective second day. But what he hadn’t anticipated was just how long that aggressive desire to keep others at a distance from you would last. While your deal had been in place for a little while before his rut, it wasn’t until after your time together in his room that it seemed to ever be used. 

But you didn’t need to call out for him, like he had said. No, anytime someone even looked at you with a nasty thought, you were graced with his presence. Most people figured it out quickly enough, but occasionally new and brave idiots would approach you with trouble. 

So when a tall and imposing creature cornered you in a shop, hand holding something sharp and shiny and asked, “Scared, little hare?", you could only smile as your face was lit up by a green glow and offer a little advice, “No, but you should be.”

deleted scene ˗ˏˋ Masterlist ˎˊ˗

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (11)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: after a lil bit of a break, chem ov has returned! More of the drama, the yearning, and the tension is served here, for your pleasure <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Following the reader's unfortunate accident, tensions run high between the two men vying for her heart. The cast get together to celebrate Ewan's birthday, and things go exactly as you would expect. And then some.

Ewan has never been the most active in the cast group chat. It does amuse him some, especially when Tom and Rhys get into those selfie battles of theirs, when all throughout the day, the chat would be flooded with deliberately posed pictures of the two pulling the most ridiculous faces in increasingly absurd locations.

It's a place for playful jabs, catching up, sharing updates. Light banter all around.

Which is why Ewan's heart nearly jumped out of his chest when the latest message came. He had been on location in LA, running through the script for his film when he received the notification. He’d ignored it at first, never one to reply promptly anyway. But a flicker of instinct – or maybe he felt it, felt you – made him check. 

Phia informed the group that you had an accident.

“... and it was during stunt training, but she’s fine and is in the hospital now…”

Everyone was encouraged to visit if they could or send their well wishes. 

Ewan’s mind reeled. Fine? What the hell does that mean? Fine could be a scratch or it could be… Fuck.

He read the message over and over until they blurred together. He knew he was willing the words to change like some idiot. You had to be okay. Nothing bad could happen to you.

Phia had just casually dropped the bombshell. She might as well have said, “Hey, how is everyone, good? Oh, by the way, she almost died but it’s cool.”

Ewan knew none of it was Phia’s fault, but that didn’t stop him from feeling an overwhelming irritation. What did ‘fine’ even mean? If he threw his phone across the room like he wanted, would that be fine?

He felt nauseous with worry as he dialled whoever he could – anyone who might give him more than just that damn word. Time went by torturously slowly, the only thing repeating in his head was the image of you – broken, unconscious, or worse – until Phia finally confirmed that it wasn’t life-threatening. 

He had to calm down, according to her. You are being taken care of, and are set to make a swift recovery.

But even then, it wasn’t enough.

Because it was you.

“Love… you’re awake.”

Sitting beside your hospital bed, Ewan gets a good look at you – finally awake but still too fragile for his liking. He hadn’t slept properly, and he feels like a whole mess. 

You blink slowly, your eyes meeting his. “Ewan?”

He feels like breathing again after being underwater for far too long. He can’t help the awkward smile that tugs at his lips. “Hey, darling. You look like you just fought a dragon.”

You start to laugh, but it quickly turns into a wince, and you relax back into the pillow. “Oh, jeez, don’t make me laugh. My head hurts.”

He quickly reaches for the glass of water on your bedside table and offers it to you. “Sorry, my bad. I’ll be my usual, stoic, boring self then.”

“You’re never boring, Mitchell.” You roll your eyes, before taking a sip.

He can’t help but watch you closely, as if you might vanish if he looks away. “Phia told the whole cast about your accident in the group chat. Did you know that?” he said, trying to keep things light.

“Oh great,” you mumble. “Did Rhys send one of his motivational selfies?”

“Well,” Ewan smiles. “He did. Said something about you ‘getting back in the saddle’ while he posed with a horse. It was inspirational, honestly.”

Ewan hadn’t felt anything when he saw that, consumed with thoughts of you, but now he feels free to let amusement wash over him. Now that he’s with you.

You roll your eyes again, softly smiling. “Of course he did. Well, I appreciate it.”

You are okay, which means Ewan is okay.

He knows just how in love he is with you. Even though you’d broken things off for his sake, even though the boundaries had blurred. Then friends with benefits. No strings. Except those strings had tightened around both of you, slowly suffocating the pretense until it collapsed. And now here you both were – again. With the issue of his PR looming like a goddamn stormcloud, and there is no running from it. 

He clears his throat. “You scared the hell out of me, you know?”

Your expression softens as you look at him. “I’m sorry. But I’m okay, really.”

He sighs, running a hand through his unruly dark blonde hair. “I didn’t know what I’d find when I got here. And Phia, bless her, has a knack for delivering life-altering news like she’s talking about what she had for breakfast.”

“She means well.” You smile, shaking your head.

“Yeah, darling, but next time, let’s just skip the part where you end up in a hospital bed, okay?” He reaches for your hand, his voice wavering slightly. He hates how vulnerable he sounds, but there’s nothing he can do to hide it.

“Deal.” You give his hand a playful shake, but your tone is sincere. 

Ewan glances down, his jaw tightening. He wants to ask if things can finally go back to the way they were – to you being his. He’s already yours anyway. 

But instead, he swallows hard and forces a lighthearted tone. “You know, if I had been there to teach you how to ride the Buck, then this never would have happened.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really, Mitchell? I’m pretty sure you almost got thrown off once.”

Ewan scoffs, giving you his best offended look. “Almost doesn’t count, darling. I’ve practically mastered it now. I do ride the biggest and fiercest dragon in the realm, remember?”

“I said don’t make me laugh,” you say, giving him a pointed look. 

He leans forward, his smirk widening. “I’m just saying. I could’ve saved you from all the stale hospital food. I mean – ” There’s a familiar flicker in his expression. With his head tilted downward, he looks at you through his eyelashes. “ – I have seen you ride, and you’ve got skill, but you do need my help.”

Your mouth falls open at his audacity. “Mitchell! When have you been this smug?”

“Only you have seen the full range of my talents,” he teased.

“Oh really?” you counter. “I did hit my head, so maybe I forgot all about them.”

“Recover quick, and I can jog your memory.”

He can feel the pull – he’d always felt it – and the familiar ache creeps back into his chest, stronger than ever. He wants to reach for you and close the gap. But instead, he buries it beneath a smirk.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

“Good. I’ll even throw in a few tricks. You know, to keep things interesting.”

“You said it, Mitchell,” you snort softly.

His gaze lingers on you, and the playful banter stalls, replaced by something heavier. And before he can stop himself, he leans close, hovering over you. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, darling,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You don’t respond, but you don’t need to. The way you look at him, the way your eyes soften, says enough. He hesitates for just a moment, his hand brushing gently against yours before he leans in further.

Gently, he presses his lips to your forehead, the touch light and lingering. When he pulls back, his face is close to yours, his gaze searching as if he is waiting for something. An answer. A sign. Anything to tell him where this was going.

There is something in your expression that seems like the same yearning that he has been unable to fight for so long.

“I’ll be here,” he whispers, the heavy significance of the words settling. “Whenever you need me.”

It’s your third morning at the hospital, when Phia, Liv and Tom burst into your room like a gust of fresh air, their loud voices echoing out in the hall.

Phia’s holding an extravagant bouquet of flowers – so big it practically obscures her face – while Liv balances a tray of coffees, her smile bright and warm. Tom walks in last with a massive balloon arrangement, the centre one reading GET WELL SOON in neon colours. 

“Look who’s alive and kicking!” Tom announces, waving the balloons around. “For a while there, we thought Alyna was going to have to be recast!”

Liv elbows him sharply in the ribs, then sets the coffees down on your bedside. “Tom, honestly.”

You can’t help the grin that creeps onto your face. “Yeah, right. As if there could ever be a better Alyna.”

Ewan sits by your bed, arms crossed, watching the group with quiet amusement. But the second Phia notices him, she arches a brow and points at him with a no-nonsense look. “Mitchell. Go home. Shower. Sleep. You look like death cooked over.”

Ewan’s brow furrows, and he opens his mouth to protest, but Phia cuts him off with a stern glare. “I’m not asking. I’m telling.”

He glances down at you, his expression conflicted, but you give him a small, tired nod. “You probably should. You’ve been here the whole time.”

Ewan hesitates, but then sighs, resigned. “Alright. But I’ll be back soon, darling.”

Phia nods, pleased. “Good. And don’t come back until you’ve slept at least eight hours… darling.”

Ewan shoots her a mock glare, then leans down toward you, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “See you in a few hours,” he murmurs softly, his voice just for you.

You nod, watching as he leaves the room, your heart sinking just a little. As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, Phia turns to you with a smirk. “He’s so whipped.”

Your cheeks flush instantly. “He’s just… worried.”

“Worried?” Tom scoffs, dropping into a chair beside Phia. “Right. I’m sure that’s all it is.”

“Please,” Liv chimes in, smiling knowingly. “He’s been practically glued to your side since you woke up.”

You shift uncomfortably, trying to deflect. “Yeah, well, after everything, we’re just… friends.”

Phia arches a brow. “Friends? You guys stopped being just friends since the age of the fucking dinosaurs, doll.”

You open your mouth to argue, but Liv interrupts, sliding you a cup of water from the tray. “Alright, we’ll stop harassing you – for now. Let’s talk birthday plans instead.”

At the mention of birthdays, guilt twists in your stomach. Ewan’s birthday had been in March, just a few weeks ago. You had known, but with the mess of the overall situation, it had slipped by.

“I completely forgot his birthday,” you murmur, the guilt weighing heavy. “I should’ve done something.”

Liv squeezes your hand gently. “You’ve had a lot on your plate. I’m sure he understands.”

Tom leans forward with a grin. “That’s why we’ve got a plan to make up for it. Joint birthday bash.”

Phia nods, her eyes twinkling. “For Ewan, Fabien, and Freddie. We’re thinking a trip to Spain, some villa, maybe a pool party, lots of sunshine. It’ll be a proper holiday for everyone.”

“Wait, what?” You blink, surprised by the sudden reveal of such an elaborate plan.

Liv grins. “Yeah. We’ve already started organising it. It’ll be in mid April, just after you’re up and moving again. A real joint celebration for the three of them.”

Tom gestures grandly. “Fabien’s excited. Lord Freddie’s thrilled to be celebrated, you know how he is. Ewan – well, he doesn’t know yet, cause all he thinks about is you.”

The idea sounds incredible – a break in Spain with the cast, a chance to relax and celebrate together. Especially after your on-set slipup. But the more they talk, the more conflicted you feel. Being in the same place with both Ewan and Matty… would be something indeed. 

Ewan is still to be in a carefully curated PR relationship, all for the sake of his movie. You dislike it, though you understand it, that relentless Hollywood game of optics. But the thought of spending time with him at a secluded villa in Spain – away from cameras, prying eyes, and staged appearances – sends your heart racing. You know Ewan. He’d see it as an opportunity. A chance to be close to you, to slip back into old habits, to erase the distance that the PR relationship has forced between you.

There would be no cameras, no script to follow – just the two of you in the same space, and you already know what that would lead to.

The memory of the masquerade ball is still fresh in your mind. That one night, where the lines had blurred so easily. You’d been wrapped in the heat of his arms, the press of his body against yours, the intoxicating thrill of being with him without anyone knowing.

And then there is Matty. Sweet Matty who is too charming for his own good. You had started seeing him casually, trying to convince yourself you could make it work, and you can’t deny the pull he has on you. How easy it all could be. Being with him feels like standing with the warm embrace of sunshine. 

You love Ewan. You want Matty. Thousands of girls would scramble to be in your position – the one who captured the boys’ affections. You, the one lying there in a hospital gown, with a broken ankle and head gauze.

So glamorous. So desirable. 

Tom’s voice cuts through your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. “So, Spain. Swimming, sunbathing, a giant villa – what do you think?”

You blink, catching up to the conversation. “I think… I’m in.”

Phia grins widely. “Good. Ewan’ll be thrilled you’re coming.”

Liv smiles. “We thought the party could be a way for everyone to unwind, you included. No pressure.”

No pressure. But you know there is pressure – at least, there is for you. You’ve been avoiding it, dancing around the feelings you can’t admit to yourself, let alone to Ewan. And Matty – kind, supportive Matty, who doesn’t deserve to be caught up in your mess.

“Yeah, no pressure,” you say softly, but the words feel hollow.

Phia stands up suddenly, clapping her hands together. “Alright, enough of this emotional nonsense. Let’s talk logistics – birthday cake! We’re doing three layers, one for each of the boys.”

Tom dryly says, “I offered to get Martha to bake it, but we decided against it because her specialty is burnt-charcoal waffles.”

Phia shoots him a deadpan look. “They were practically concrete. Love her though!”

Liv laughs, shaking her head. “We’ll leave the cake to the professionals, thanks.”

As the conversation shifts to party details and farfetched ideas, your mind drifts. You try to stay focused, but your thoughts keep circling back to the same place – Spain, the party, Ewan and Matty. The idea of being around them for days, in a relaxed holiday setting, feels both exciting and terrifying. 

You know it’s not just a party. It’s a ticking time bomb.

Ewan’s footsteps echo in the sterile hospital hallway, his grip tight on the bouquet he’s brought for you – your favourite flowers, carefully chosen. As per Phia’s orders, he had gone home and slept a good 10 hours, being more exhausted than he must have realised. The day after, going back to you was the only thing that came to mind, and he was out the door in no time.

As he rounds the corner toward your room, his steps falter at the sight of someone else approaching. 

Matt.

His tall frame is impossible to miss. He saunters down the hall from the opposite direction, holding a similar bouquet in one hand and a gift bag in the other. Ewan feels the tension twisting in his stomach as Matt’s eyes meet his across the corridor. 

For a moment, the hallway falls into an eerie silence, the air thick with an unspoken challenge. Neither of them says a word as they approach the door to your room at almost the same time, both armed with flowers, both here for you. 

“Ewan,” Matt greets first, his voice low, almost amused.

Ewan nods, keeping his expression neutral. “Matt.”

Ewan’s eyes flick to the flowers in Matt’s hand, and a bitter taste rises in his throat. Matt isn’t just another visitor, he’s the guy who’s been with you while Ewan is forced to sit on the sidelines. 

“You’re here again,” Matt comments, breaking the silence. “Not that I’m surprised.” 

Ewan raises an eyebrow. “And why wouldn’t I be? She needs support.”

Matt’s eyes narrow slightly, and his smile is tight. “I get that. But I’m here now too. She’s got plenty of support.”

Ewan feels a flicker of annoyance, his grip tightening on the bouquet. “You think that’s all it is? Just showing up with flowers and pretending you know what she needs?”

Matt’s jaw clenches, but he keeps his cool. He knows better than to cause a scene in the middle of a public hallway. “And you think you’re the only one who cares about her? The only one who knows her? She and I – we’ve been spending plenty of time together. I’ve got some idea of what she needs.”

The possessiveness in Matt’s tone is unmistakable, and it sets Ewan on edge. He steps closer, his eyes locked on Matt’s. “You’ve only been dating her for a few weeks, mate. But we’ve been through things that you couldn’t even begin to understand.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard all about your history. But let’s be real – if you were so good for her, why’d she end things with you? Why’s she with me now?”

Ewan feels a sharp pang at the reminder, but he doesn’t back down. “If you think things are over between me and her, then you’re mistaken. It will never be over. Maybe you’re a convenience. Someone for the moment.”

Matt takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. “A convenience? Right. I don’t see you making any moves to change the situation. You’ve been content to sit back and watch while I’ve been with her. Maybe you’re the one who’s convenient, yeah?”

Ewan’s jaw tightens, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows Matt’s right, in a way – he’s been stuck, unable to break free from the PR relationship that’s kept him and you apart. But that doesn’t make what Matt’s saying any easier to swallow.

“The way I see it, you’re just a distraction,” Ewan says, his voice sharp, laced with bitterness, “a way for her to forget what she really wants.”

Matt’s eyes flash with anger now, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “And what she really wants is you, is that it? Tell me, Ewan, if you’re so sure she’s still in love with you, why hasn’t she said anything? Why hasn’t she kicked me to the curb and come running back?”

The words hit harder than Ewan expects, and for a moment, he falters. He knows you still love him – he can see it in the way you look at him, the way you can never quite let go. But Matt’s right. You haven’t made a choice. And now here they are, two men standing in a hallway, both fighting for something that feels just out of reach.

Ewan steps even closer. “You think just because you’re in the picture now, I’m going to step aside and let you have her? Not a fucking chance, mate.”

Matt takes a deep breath in an attempt to collect himself. It’s clear to him that Ewan isn’t going to loosen up easily. Especially not when he’s being provoked. “I’m not asking you to step aside. But unless she tells me otherwise, I’ll keep showing up. So maybe you should get used to that.”

Ewan looks away, his voice lowering. “We… both… care about her. I’m not denying that. But don’t fool yourself. She hasn’t made her choice yet.”

“Maybe she hasn’t.” Matt holds his gaze. “But I’m here, and I’m willing to wait. Are you?”

The hallway feels suffocating, the weight of their words heavy in the air. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Ewan speaks again, his voice softer but no less intense.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Matt nods once. “Neither am I.”

They stand there in silence for a moment, the unspoken agreement settling between them. It’s a temporary truce, but they both know this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Finally, they turn toward your room, the door looming in front of them like a gateway to another battle. Ewan’s heart pounds as he pushes the door open, stepping inside, with Matt close behind.

You’re awake, sitting up slightly in bed, looking both surprised and nervous as you see the two of them enter together.

“Well, this is… unexpected,” you say, your voice tinged with humour as your eyes dart between the two men.

“Hey,” Matt says with an easy smile, walking over to place his flowers on the table by your bed. “Thought I’d stop by, check in on you.”

Ewan follows suit, setting his bouquet down next to Matt’s, though his gaze stays fixed on you. “And I came back, as promised.”

“Funny that you show up at the same time.” You glance between them, your brow raising. 

Matt chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, we didn’t exactly plan it.”

Ewan forces a smile, trying to keep things light. “Just making sure you’re not causing any more trouble, darling.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Oh, I’m definitely the troublemaker here.”

Ewan sinks into the chair by your bed while Matt leans against the windowsill, arms crossed. For a brief moment, it almost feels normal. Almost.

“Phia mentioned Spain,” Matt says after a beat, his voice casual, but there’s an edge to his tone. “The birthday trip.”

You nod eagerly. “The joint birthday for the lads.” Your eyes flicker to Ewan. “I feel terrible for missing your birthday last month.”

Ewan shakes his head, his expression softening. “You had a lot going on. Don’t worry about it.”

The casual mention of his birthday tugs at your heartstrings. You hadn’t forgotten exactly, but things had been so complicated. Now, though, guilt gnaws at you.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you say sincerely, looking at Ewan, and the way his eyes hold yours makes your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, the villa should be fun,” Matt chimes in, but there’s something sharp in his tone. “But we have to be sure you’re in tip top shape first, love.”

“I’ll be the one in the bikini and a leg cast,” you joke. 

The conversation drifts into lighter topics – memories of on-set pranks, silly cast antics – but there’s an underlying tension, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. It’s almost like watching a film in slow motion, each moment dragging longer than it should, with none of you willing to say what you’re really thinking.

After a while, Ewan checks his phone, his brows knitting together. He glances at you, a reluctant sigh escaping his lips. “Darling, I need to head out. I’ve got a meeting with my manager to sort out the filming schedule.”

You nod in understanding. “You did leave LA pretty quickly. I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”

Ewan’s gaze softens. “It’s not trouble,” he says quietly. “Not when it’s for you.”

As he walks to the door, he pauses and looks back at you, his expression unreadable. He hesitates, then takes a few steps back toward the bed, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently. The gesture is tender, and it leaves a warmth in its wake that lingers long after he’s gone.

“Rest up, darling,” he murmurs before turning to leave.

You’re left with Matt, the silence between you more comfortable and less tense than it was with Ewan. He moves from his spot by the window and sits down in the chair Ewan just vacated. He offers you a gentle smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “He cares about you a lot, you know,” he says.

“I know,” you reply softly.

Matt smirks, his cheekiness resurfacing. “Almost as much as I do.”

The atmosphere eases after that, Matt joking about the cast’s upcoming trip to Spain, trying to make you laugh. After a while, your body begins to give in to exhaustion, your eyes growing heavy. He notices and encourages you to rest, and you doze off before long, the soft hum of his voice lulling you to sleep. 

But just as you slip into that hazy space between wakefulness and dreaming, you hear Matt’s voice again, quieter now, like he’s talking to himself. Or maybe to you, thinking you’re already asleep.

“I know you still love him,” he says softly, the words almost painful to hear. “I can see it every time you look at him. It’s obvious.”

Your heart tightens in your chest, but you keep your breathing steady, pretending to stay asleep.

“I don’t blame you,” Matt continues, his voice rough with emotion. “He’s good for you, isn’t he? You’ve got history. I knew what I was getting into when we started this… whatever this is. But I can’t help it. I see myself falling in love with you, and it terrifies me.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your eyes burn behind your closed lids. You want to say something, anything, but you don’t. You lie there, frozen, letting Matty’s confession hang in the air between you.

“You don’t have to choose me,” Matt whispers, almost as if he’s resigned to his fate. “But I… I certainly wouldn’t mind it if you do, love.” He laughs bitterly at the end, then turns serious once more. “We could… we could be happy.”

His voice cracks slightly, and it takes everything in you not to react. You hadn’t realised just how much this meant to him, how deeply he felt. He always seemed so easygoing, so casual, and now you see that there was more beneath the surface. So much more.

You lie still, pretending to sleep, as Matt gently brushes a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll be here, if you want me,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. 

You chose yourself, selfish as it might have been, and you would make the same decision again if given the chance. You needed to do that; you owed it to yourself. You also sought companionship and a shot at happiness with him. But that hadn’t been final. 

No matter who it will be in the end, someone’s heart is going to break. 

Your ankle is forgotten, your concussion a trifling thing.

Because the weight of that choice is a much heavier burden to bear.

The villa in Spain is like something out of a dream, nestled in the rolling hills of Mallorca. Its white stone walls gleam against the deep blue backdrop of the Mediterranean, the ocean stretching endlessly in the distance. The courtyard is lined with blooming florals and tall cypress trees. It’s the kind of place that makes you forget about the rest of the world, even if just for a moment, and let go of everything that’s complicated and heavy.

But not for Ewan, who sits alert under the shade of a large patio umbrella by the pool, clad in only his navy blue swim trunks. His sunglasses are perched on his nose, as he pretends to read a script – his attention is elsewhere. 

They track you, where you’re surrounded by the girls, all of them fussing over you like a flock of mother hens. Your fracture boot is propped up on the sun chair, crutches leaning nearby. 

Ewan smiles to himself when you laugh at something Liv says, your face lighting up completely. He's relieved that you’re able to relax after everything. But underneath that relief is something else – something that coils even tighter every time he glances at Matt nearby.

Matt’s never far, either. Ewan notices it. Of course, he notices. How could he not? The way Matt hovers just on the edge of the group, never too close to seem overbearing but always there. It’s the same thing Ewan’s doing, and it’s infuriating because he knows exactly what it means. 

Ewan watches as a shirtless Matt hands you a cold drink, his hand brushing yours for a second longer than necessary. You look up, smile gratefully at him, and Ewan feels the sharp sting of it, like a jab to the ribs. He clenches his jaw and forces himself to look away, his grip tightening on the already tattered script in his hands.

“Mitchell, my boy,” Freddie says, plopping down in the chair beside him. “You’ve clearly got a thousand-yard stare going on underneath those shades. You alright?”

Ewan shrugs, trying to play it off. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

Freddie is unconvinced, but he doesn’t push. “It’s our celebration in paradise, mate. You should think about getting a drink in you. Pretend to have fun before Tom ropes us all into some ridiculous pool game.”

Ewan huffs a laugh, grateful for the distraction, but it’s short-lived. His eyes drift back to you, watching as Phia ties a sun hat around your head, joking about protecting ‘the merchandise,’ while Liv adjusts the chair to make sure you’re comfortable. You’re surrounded by care, by laughter, and yet… Ewan can’t shake the need to be near you. To be the one making sure you’re alright.

He hates the way Matt looks at you, like he’s got some claim, like he knows what’s best for you. He doesn’t know you. Not like Ewan does. He hasn’t been through the heartbreak, the sleepless nights, the mess of trying to hold it together when everything was falling apart. He hasn’t watched you fight through everything, hasn’t seen the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love.

Matt is there, sure, but Ewan has been there.

He wants to go over, tell the girls to give you some space, be the one to take care of you himself. But he doesn’t. Not with Matt there, standing just close enough to remind him that you’re not his to take care of. Not anymore. 

“Careful, mate,” Fabien materialises from the side, a drink in hand. “You keep looking at her like that, and it’s gonna get messy.”

“It’s already messy,” Ewan replies, clicking his tongue. He shifts in his seat, trying to focus on the script in front of him, but it’s pointless. He watches as Matt crouches down beside you, leaning in to say something quietly. You laugh, and the sound hits like a white-hot surge to his veins – an instinctual, possessive reaction he can’t suppress. 

Ewan doesn’t want to cause a scene. It’s a holiday, after all – everyone’s in good spirits, and you finally look like you’re getting some much-needed rest.

But before he even realises it, he’s already halfway across the courtyard, his steps brisk and determined. 

“Hey,” Ewan says when he reaches you, his tone light, almost forced. “Mind if I join?”

Matt straightens, settling in the chair next to you. “Well, look who finally decided to come over. Thought you were just going to lurk all day.”

You shift in your chair, adjusting your fracture boot, letting Ewan sit next to your outstretched legs. “I’m fine, by the way. If that’s what this is about.”

The girls are now watching intently in their respective sun chairs, pretending to sip their drinks but clearly enjoying the show. You’re caught between rolling your eyes and laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all.

Ewan casts a quick glance at your ankle boot, the tenderness in his gaze flickering just for a moment before he locks eyes with Matt again. “I’m just making sure you’re not overwhelming her. She might need her space,” he says.

Matt raises an eyebrow, his casual posture not matching the edge in his voice. “Space? Mate, that’s rich coming from the guy who’s crowding her chair right now.”

Phia snorts into her drink, earning a stern look from Liv, but it’s too late. The tension is starting to draw a crowd, and even Fabien and Freddie are craning their necks to watch. Freddie whispers something to Fabien, who laughs, clearly entertained.

Instead of rising to the bait, Ewan exhales sharply and forces a smile. “Just making sure my… friend is comfortable.”

Liv arches an eyebrow. “My god, friend, is it? Please don’t tell me I’m your friend too.”

Emma freely chortles at Liv’s remark, while Phia doubles over in glee.

You interject with a sigh, waving your hands between them. “Okay, enough. I love a good ego battle as much as the next girl, but seriously – this is supposed to be a holiday. Can we not do this?”

“Honestly, you two,” Phia says, “I thought I already made it clear – she’s my girl.”

The tension cracks as the group erupts into laughter, and even Ewan and Matt can’t help but smile. 

“Alright, alright,” Ewan mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Truce. For now.”

Matt smirks, extending a hand mockingly toward Ewan, who rolls his eyes but shakes it briefly before turning his attention back to you. His gaze softens as he catches your eye. “Just… don’t overdo it, yeah?”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling. “I’m the one in a boot. Trust me, I’m not going anywhere fast.”

Emma’s enjoying the scene, calmly sipping on their negroni sbagliato. “Honestly, with the way things are unfolding, this drama could end up being better than the show.”

Before anyone can throw in another comment, Ewan’s phone vibrates in the pocket of his trunks. His expression darkens briefly when he glances at the screen. It’s his manager, but she knows not to disturb him on holiday unless it’s urgent. “I’ve got to take this. I’ll be right back.” He catches your eye for a brief moment before stepping away.

The world of Hollywood is no stranger to scandal, but this one is poised to shake the industry to its core.

Bruce Haversham, the powerful executive behind some of the biggest film projects in recent decades, had been untouchable at the very top of the mountain. Until now.

The news broke late in the afternoon, first as a whisper across social media before exploding into full-blown coverage on every major network. Accusations of sexual harassment and assault came pouring in, one after the other, each more damning than the last.

By the time the story hit the major outlets, it was clear that Bruce Haversham’s reign was over.

In New York, where he had been arrested, footage of him being escorted from his apartment in handcuffs circulated widely. The headlines were merciless: Hollywood Titan Falls, The End of Bruce Haversham’s Empire, A Predator Unmasked.

For Ewan, this is more than just a story on the evening news. It’s personal.

It was Bruce who masterminded the PR relationship that drove a wedge between Ewan and the one he truly loves. 

Now, everything changes. Bruce Haversham is out. Effective immediately. 

The path ahead wouldn’t be easy – far from it – but now, at least it is a path Ewan can walk freely. 

His mind races as he drops the call, the flood of information almost too much to process at once. Talk about a late birthday gift.

The relief hit him fast, like a cool rush of air. But it is immediately followed by something else – confusion, uncertainty. What now? What does this mean for him, and for you?

Matt had swooped in, offering you comfort and companionship, complicating things further. He cares about you, Ewan knows that. And from the outside, it makes sense – you and Matt seem good together. 

But Ewan knows better. Deep down, he is certain – absolutely sure – that what you and he shared isn’t just good. It was right. You and him… you are perfect together.

Ewan’s free from his strings, and all bets are off. 

It’s all or nothing this time. 

💌 next chapter

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Some notes in the margins...

The rest of the holiday will take up most of part 12! Ewan can actually properly enjoy himself now 😉

Don't think it'll be that easy! Darling's tied to Matty too, in a way. And after that confession? Damn it, Matthew, you sly loverboy you.

How far will Ewan go? And will Matty double down on his efforts? It's all chemical. It's all overriding. 🤷🏻‍♀️💙

[crispy-armpit]

✧ 𝖒𝖞 𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 ✧

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴇᴀ ɢᴏᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𓇼˚₊‧꒰ა 🫧 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚𓇼

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 10 dollars on a dare leads you to break one superstition that changes your life forever. you begin to learn secrets tied to your family and upbringing, at the cost of your freedom. who is this mysterious Anshumat, and why does he want you?

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺, violence, implied stalking, kidnapping, choking, reader gets called a bride once

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,418

⭒ a/n: yan sea god was inspired by an Indonesian myth called Nyi Roro Kidul! it's a really interesting legend if you want to learn more abt it ^^ also.... man tits...... meow..

will you venture down this path?

growing up, you would stay over at your grandmother's house every summer. her beautiful seaside cottage made the perfect accommodation for a family getaway. throughout your childhood, the superstitious old woman restricted you from doing specific things. rules like never whistling at night, don't open an umbrella indoors, etc.

you'd eventually found out that these were just scare tactics for children to make them listen. but there was one rule that your grandmother seemed to fear the most, a rule that never made sense... never wear white to the local beach. and when questioning her about the rule, she'd tell you the same story every time.

"long ago...

a cruel serpent god who once ruled these waters would rise from the ocean and into the islands, devouring innocent villagers and destroying temples along its path.

the gods and humans were furious at its actions. fed up with the destruction and death, they prepared a plan to thwart the serpent; a binding curse.

the serpent was cursed to spend its days rotting in a hidden island, where it was accompanied by its servants. it was also tasked with granting blessings to sailors passing through the rocky tides, where it weighed the sins of each individual to seal their fates.

but over the decades... the serpent grew bored and lonely. through a loophole, the serpent found a way to abduct humans. you see.. the serpent loves the colour white and pearls. so much so, it would use its voice, so alluring, to lure the poor victims who happened to wear such things. and once in the water, the serpent would drag the human to its temple where they would become its slave.. or worse...

its spouse."

here you are today, telling the same tale in front of your young niece and nephew. "well, that's one way to get bitches." your nephew, Keona laughs. a scoffing Kehlani adds on, "nah, who would want to marry an overgrown slimy snake?"

"hey now, take that shit to grandma. she just assigned me to be your storyteller," you shrugged. "and this story has a real reasoning behind it, ok?"

"what? sexy sea snake destroying villages?"

"no, it's so that little rascals like you..." you drill both your index fingers onto their foreheads, "are easier to find if you ever get lost at sea."

how did i end up here...

facepalming yourself, you sigh. you were disappointed in yourself. how'd you let those little punks reel you in a dare? where was the self-respect? the dignity? seriously, breaking your grandmother's number 1 rule for what? 10 dollars?

you walk along the shore while wearing a flowy white shirt and neck encased in one of your mother's pearl necklaces. the dare was simple: successfully walk down the shoreline without chickening out and boom— an extra 10 dollars into your wallet.

you'd prove to the twins that you weren't scared of a little bedtime story. buuut just in case you did happen to go missing (for reasons that are totally not hungry sea serpent related), you brought essentials in a bag, left a letter for your family, and are currently being watched by the twins.

laughing at yourself for the paranoia, you nearly reach the edge of the walk until you hear a feminine wail from between the hidden rocks. is someone hurt? the sound was coming from beyond your finishing point so it wouldn't hurt to check, right?

signalling the twins to come over, you bend down to their heights, "listen, it sounds like someone's in trouble past those rocks. so I want you both to go grab the first aid kit and call Officer Holden over, 'kay?" they nod and scamper off into town.

approaching the rocks, you peek in to find a naked... mermaid?! observing her, you notice the torn skin on her iridescent tail and warily walk over to her. "uh... hey? hola? salve? hallo? i'm ah— good human! no... nooooo bad.."

you notice the air seems to smell... sweeter?

the woman looks up at you from the sand with pleading eyes, "please— please help me! my name is Coralie, my master, he—"

"woah, it's ok! you're safe, help is coming. uh, your master? did he do this to you? are you an underwater criminal?!"

a distant melodious voice interrupts you. Coralie's previously pained face now warps into a sinister grin as her wound disappears. she crawls towards you as your vision fogs up and your knees buckle to the soft sand. the song lulls you into a deep sleep, your body now being pulled into the shallow waters.

you awake to the bright rays of sunshine and lungs filling in with fresh air. but the next in your line of sight knocked all the air out of your body again.

the luminous, barely-clothed body of an unknown man sat above you. his 9'7 self relaxed on the marble throne, with 2 pairs of eyes fixated on you. what the fuck is that?

you gawk at him, "holy mother of god..."

i'm not dreaming, am i?

his gaze shifts into amusement, "wrong. we gods do not have mothers. we were created."

"you're a... a god?"

"is it not obvious enough from my appearance? would you like to see another version of me?" the towering deity begins to warp into a feminine body as if it was melting and moulding itself. "is this preferable?" her new voice is flirtatious, genuinely curious.

then, she tries to warp into a third body. the transformation looks more painful than the one prior, it barely shifts halfway into a gruesome beast before returning back to its first body. he huffs while grasping his golden collar, "this... is not my original form. I have been cursed, long ago, to never set foot on human lands. this island is both my kingdom and prison."

you shakily stand up the marble floor, now noticing Coralie standing beside the throne with a pair of legs. slowly processing his words, you piece together the clues from his story and your memories of the abduction. this couldn't be...

"you are.. you're the sea serpent god! I can't believe grandma was right— shit, shit shit—"

he smirks at your panic, "correct. I am Anshumat; shapeshifter deity of the raging tides, granter of safe travels—"

"murderer and enslaver." you complete.

Anshumat roars, "correct again! you're on a strike, dear y/n. though trust me, my servants are treated well."

"..how do you know my name?"

"oh you poor thing, granny never told you? I know everything about you— a name is barely anything."

"told me what?"

"she used to be my cupbearer. until she escaped with that bastard traitor. isn't that right, Coralie?"

she nods, "yes, master."

"please sir, let me leave. my family— they'll search for me! I have a cat at home! I haven't even finished my favourite show.. so please..." you try to list more life goals.

he chuckled, "oh you are so amusing. and why would I do that? we've barely just been engaged, dear."

"what do you mean engaged?"

"I've been watching you since you took your first breath on earth, y/n. so imagine my surprise— to see you wrapped up in my favourite colour, like a pretty bride. you're my sacrifice."

fear tingles your spine, "wait, that was just a dare! i didn't really mean it!"

"doesn't matter. you will be my pearl."

"no! I have a family, a partner—"

"i said... it doesn't fucking matter." he slams his fist against the throne arm, "and you'll be seeing the head of that twat soon enough."

you don't give him a glance before you're turning your back and run down the staircase of the grand temple. careful not to trip, you focus on the flight of stairs, painfully aware of the loud footsteps approaching behind you. it doesn't take a second for Anshumat to pull on the collar of your shirt and slam you onto the staircase.

he sits atop you, lower region heavily grinding against your stomach. "get off me! don't you have hundreds of other options?! why me?!" you scream.

his bedazzled skin blocks your view of the sun, furious eyes glowing under his shadow, and sharp teeth bared into a snarl. "you do not get to leave me again. you will stay, and worship me. this island will be our eternal paradise."

large hands pressing against your throat, you struggle before darkness begins to cloud your vision.

"this time, you will live."

[55sturn]

✮ REFLECTIONS

pairing: biker!matt sturniolo x good girl!fem!reader

synopsis: in which matt picks up his girlfriend for an evening drive but the sight of her in a tiny white skirt and his favourite shirt has mind reeling and his cock stiffening.

warnings: swearing, nsfw, helmet/mask kink, choking, fingering [ fem rec ], unprotected p in v, slapping, creampie, slight overstimulation, lowkey brat tamer!matt, big dick!matt, mean!matt.

when matt had pulled up into your driveway, the familiar rumble of his modified and muffled exhaust sent shivers down your spine. you fiddled with the edge of your tennis skirt as you waited at the door, despite knowing matt would scold you for wearing a skirt on his bike. you figured that you could make up for wearing a skirt, knowing it drives him insane, by being good for him.

but as you opened the door, matt’s tattoos on display bemeath the sleeve his white shirt, his biceps straining under the seam, all thoughts of being on your best behaviour left your mind. as he pulled his helmet off, you stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips, greeting him with an innocent smile.

“you look good sweetheart.” his hums, kissing his teeth as his left palm rests against your thighs right under the swell of your ass, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your skirt, brushing against your clothed hole, rubbing back and forth over the lace material. his right hand gripping tightly onto his helmet his arm wraps around your waist.

“thank you baby.” you grin, hooking your arms around his neck, your soft blue nails carding through the hair above the nape of his neck, watching as his eyes flutter shut slightly at the feeling of you playing with his hair.

“a little too good, y’gonna distract me.” he chuckles, his eyes boring into yours, the blues of them growing darker the longer he stares at you, his pupils sparkling and dilating, his lips quirking up into a lopsided smirk.

“oops.” you giggle, pressing a gentle kiss to your boyfriend’s lips, humming as he smiles against your lips, no matter what he was feeling in the moment of you kissing him, in any scenario, he could be angry or frustrated toward you, and he’d still smile like a kid in a candy story whenever you kissed him.

“you’re such a lil’ devil, ain’t ya baby?”

“nuh uh, you always say i’m your angel girl.” you pout mockingly, running your hand down his chest before smoothing it back up toward his bicep, lightly squeezing and digging your nails into the flesh.

“you are my angel girl but you’re such a devil when you’re teasing me like this. so mean t’me. but we need to get goin’ if you wanna get to the beach before sunset.”

matt was quick to hand you your helmet, the sleek black fibreglass material covered in stickers from every stop you guys made across the city and state, along with some from boston, matt watching intently to make sure you put yours on before, his hardened eyes softening around the edges as you smile up at him, your cheeks softly squished together, making his heart swell.

in matt’s eyes, you were the most precious thing in his entire world. he was torn between worshipping every inch of your body, and wrecking the hell out of you at every second. the tiny tank tops, the short skirts, the tight, perfectly fitting jeans all drove him crazy. but nothing topped the sight of you in his pink hershey’s shirt, or his pink zip up, paired with his boxers with the waistband rolled a few times and the way it made his heart melt.

but right now, the short white skirt, paired with his harley davidson cut-off with the front of the shirt tucked into the waistband of your skirt, paired with what he was sure what his favourite blue lacy floral thong that he’s had to replace three times, had his cock throbbing behind the confines of his boxers.

“fuck i’ll never get over the sight of you on my bike.” he groans, his head falling back as he watches you perch yourself on the back of his bike, your thighs flattening out, looking so soft and pliable. before climbing on, he was quick to readjust himself, slightly tucking his cock up beneath the waistband of his boxers, hoping to relieve the ache that the sight of you was causing.

after climbing on, he was quick to kick up his kickstand and rev his bike to life, speeding solely to feel your arms wind tightly around him, making him smirk to himself as he whips downs the nearly empty highway, your hands fisting the front of his shirt while your head rests against the space between his prominent shoulder blades.

halfway through the ride to the beach, the thoughts of you sprawled out on his bed beneath him began to override the need to lay out on the sandy beach and skinny dipping and he was quick to switch off into the merging lane heading to his house. you caught onto where he was heading, knowing he had something to else in mind, you were more than happy to just spend time with the love of your life.

you sit silently and patiently, despite knowing you could communicate with matt through the helmet intercom system you two share, but from his body language alone, paired with how he was acting before climbing on his bike, you knew better than to test him. but you couldn’t fight the downturning of your lips as you remove your helmet, watching as matt lifts his visor, his lip tucked beneath his perfect teeth, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you.

“i know you wanted to go to beach sweetheart, i know and i’m so sorry but the sight of you in that skirt has me so hard that i can’t think of anything but fucking you until the only thing you remember is my name. so i promise i will take you to the beach tomorrow but i need you painfully bad.” he hums, watching you squirm on the back of his bike, watching your nose twitch slightly, your eyes sparkling with mischievous intent.

“but i wanted to go now, it’s so nice out.” you whine, looking up at matt imploringly, the sight of you flashing your doe eyes at him has his cock twitching with desperate need.

“i know you did, but-,”

“you just want to get your dick wet.” you sneer, your voice thick with false malice as you squint your eyes at him. matt’s hand is quick to make light contact with your cheek before it wraps around your jaw forcing you to look at him.

“watch your mouth, y/n. don’t act like i didn’t notice the look on your face when i picked you up. i know what you’ve been doing this entire time. you better keep your tone in check or i might make ya hump my bike like a desperate bitch in heat before i even touch you.” matt spits, venom dripping from his tongue with ease as you smirk, your small hand wrapping around his wrist, bringing his hand in front of your mouth, pressing two of his fingers flat on your tongue before closing your mouth around the two digits. matt was quick to tug you off his bike, pulling you to him before looking around the garage, smirking at he spots the hood of the car.

matt’s movements are rough with determination as he pulls you over to the car, pushing you against the hood, moving to slot himself between your slick thighs, while flipping up the edge of your skirt, tugging down your thong down your legs, pocketing the thin lace and dragging his fingers through your arousal dripping from your sopping hole.

the feeling of his fingers brushing against the place you need him most was almost enough to distract you from the fact that matt hadn’t taken off his helmet yet. you open your mouth to speak and matt uses that moment as the perfect option to shove his fingers into you, watching your back arch off the hood of his car, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as he curves them just the right way.

“yeah that’s it doll, get lost in the way i make you feel.” he rasps, thrusting his fingers in and out of your drooling cunt at a perfect mixed speed of slow enough to feel every ridge of his fingerprints and fast enough to have you cannon-balling into your orgasm.

“y-your helmet.” you whimper, a strained moan following your comment as he presses against that spongey spot inside you that has you seeing stars.

“m’gonna keep it on so you can see what a pretty mess i make of you.” he chuckles, flipping down his visor, knowing how much it’ll get to you being unable to watch his facial expressions as he fucks you.

“b-but-,” you protest, gasping as matt starts thumbing your clit, his soft grunt as you clench down on his fingers muffled behind his visor and padded helmet, his intention behind his actions growing more and more direct as your orgasm washes over you.

“what was that darlin’? cat got your tongue?” he teases, his voice strained and quiet as you lean into his touch.

you watch pleading eyes as he undoes his belt, ripping it out from the loops of his jeans before tossing it to the floor beside him, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, tugging them and his boxers and letting them down to his his ankles, making quick work of fisting his aching cock. he runs it along the length of your folds, missing your previous arousal and cum with the precum pearling at the angry red of his leaky and desperate cock.

he’s quick to find your tight entrance and sink into you entirely, relishing in the way it feels to bottom out inside of you, making your gummy walls clench down on him, nearly forming to the shape of his cock as you suck him in deeper, the stretch of his sheer size almost too intense to handle, but the pleasure of the burn far more addicting, and it feels too good to push him away. you knew matt had a thick cock, but every time he fucks you, you’re blown away. you’re quick to squeal as he fucks into you, the pleasure of your first orgasm heightening the feeling of every throbbing vein against every ridge of your hole, the lip of the head of his cock catching on that certain spot inside of you.

“fuck doll, y’feel so fucking good, clenchin’ down on me so tight.”

your whine in response, your brain turning off and to mush with each stroke that he pulls out and pushes into you, further driving the primal need to fuck you dumb on the hood of his car. his heart pounds behind his ribcage, the thrill of being buried to the hilt deep in your cunt is the only drug he could live on for the rest of his life. his hand meets your throat, the pad of his thumb resting against your pulse point, feeling that your heart is in the same state as yours. his grip on your throat tightens, causing your eyes to snap open as you moan loudly, your eyes being met with the reflection of you falling apart beneath him, the sight being the second thing pushing you closer and closer to the edge of your second orgasm.

“i feel y’tryna t’milk me for all i’m worth, sweetheart, c’mon, let yourself go dumb on my cock.” matt orders, giving you the final push you need to release all over him, your cum forming a thin, sticky ring around the base of his length as he fucks into you, his own orgasm shooting into you with strong force and a loud grunt as he delivers a few harsh thrusts, the head of his cock kissing your cervix as he fucks his load into you, not wanting any of it going to waste. your whine is music to his ears, despite them being deeply muffled, as he pulls out, watching the mix of your arousals slowly leak out, before pushing it back in with two his of his fingers, making sure it all stays inside your pulsating cunt.

“that’s a good girl, take it all f’me. take everything i give you without complaining.” he hums, quickly ripping off his helmet, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, before pulling away to grab a new, clean cloth from the bucket of cloths he uses to wipe down his motorcycle.

“ya did so good f’me angel. i promise i’ll take you to the beach tomorrow.” he praises, watching the soft, but worn out smile tug at your lips before you nod lightly, the exertion already catching up to your body as exhaustion consumes you.

STARS CORNER this took like three hours to write, i hope y’all like it.

© 55STURN 2024 ! REBLOGS OF MY WORK ARE NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED !

[the-modern-typewriter]

Your vampires are amazing. Would you write something about vampires for halloween?

"Oh, dear." The vampire studied the vampire hunter with a fierce and searing hunger in their gaze. "That's an awful lot of blood."

The vampire hunter managed a rasping, panicked breath. Their eyes went wide. They struggled to shift, to reach for a weapon.

The vampire smiled.

Lightning quick, the vampire crouched and straddled the hunter, pinning them down against the dirt. They placed a firm hand on the hunter's stomach, applying pressure to the wound. "Ah, ah, ah."

The hunter gasped in pain. They scrabbled at the vampire's hand, but the blood loss had already left them weak.

The vampire inhaled deeply, the smile on their lips only growing. With their free hand, they brushed the hunter's clammy hair back from their face. "How many people have you killed to ensure your own survival, do you think?"

"None."

"Oh?"

The hunter clenched their jaw. "Vampires aren't people."

The vampire chuckled. Their grip on the hunter's hair tightened, yanking back, forcing the hunter's back to arch with another groan of pain, and their throat to bare. "You'd make a good vampire."

The hunter shook their head, or tried to. Tears leaked down their cheek.

"No, really," the vampire said. "Your first instinct was to try to slaughter me, even now, at the very end of you. What a murderous little thing you are! I can appreciate that. None of the other hunters around these parts will come near me."

"Just finish it!"

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" The vampire leaned down, to ghost their lips against the hunter's neck. "How about this. You can die when you can best me in combat."

The hunter went perfectly still at the teasing prick of sharp fangs. "W-what?" It would have been inaudible to a human.

"You can die when you can best me in combat. Until then, I'm going to keep bringing you back, mortally wounding you, and bringing you back again and again and again."

Vampire venom was curative. It kept their prey alive, their blood fresh and drinkable, for longer.

The hunter's heart raced.

The vampire bit.

The hunter's eyes fluttered, their body jerked, before the venom seeped in. Heat and life and desire and hunger. Intoxicatingly good. The lure of immortality, without the curse of a devil's bargain sealed.

The hunter moaned.

The vampire hummed, pleased.

The hunter struggled then, with greater strength as the wound on their stomach began to knit closed beneath the vampire's hands.

When the vampire pulled back, still straddling the hunter, it was to let go of the hunter's hair and capture their wrists instead. It was to release the pressure on the hunter's stomach, and bring a hand cat-like up to their lips to lick the hunter's blood clean away.

The hunter stared at them in horrified, mesmerised disbelief. Still reeling.

A vampire never looked so good as when they had just fed.

"You're delicious," the vampire murmured, with soft satisfaction. "I knew you would be."

"This is - why would you - I - we -"

"You thought I'd turn you?" The vampire's grin was wicked. "Just to torture you with being what you hate most?"

The hunter shivered.

The vampire laughed again. "No, no. I'll only turn you when you want it, when you beg for it."

"You're insane."

"I'm immortal." The vampire rose to their feet. "I'm ancient." They offered the hunter a hand to help them up. "And I'm bored. Have at, killer."

The hunter reached for the vampire's hand, feinted, lunged.

An instant later, they were on the forest floor again.

"Oh, dear," the vampire said. "That's an awful lot of blood." There was a pause, then, "best of three?"

[papaya-twinks]

just an assistant - l.n

Warnings: rude!lando

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

part 1

As Lando’s assistant, you were to accompany him o race weekends where you’d get him drinks and food, as well as tending to his other needs. The Silverstone weekend, which you knew was a big event for Lando, soon rolled up, and you were to be with Lando, helping him with whatever he needed. “Y/N,” Lando nodded, seeing you already in his driver room, packing away his clothes into their hangers. 

His nod was curt and cold, as if more a statement than a simple greeting as he dropped his other bag onto the eve, silently hinting at you to start packing away the contents. Lando sat onto the bed beside the bag, silent as he took his phone out, the only sound being you putting the items away and his phone blaring with the instagram reels he watched. 

“Can you be quieter, please?” Lando’s voice was sharp as he spoke, making you nod meekly, moving slower to put the stuff away. “Sorry,” you said quietly, his attention already back onto his phone, not truly caring about your apology. “You’re slow,” the man commented as his eyes darted back up to you, his eyes narrowed. How were you supposed to be quick and quiet? 

“I…sorry,” you cut yourself off, choosing maybe starting an argument with your boss was not the way to go. “Should be,” he cursed under his breath as he continued watching. “Get me a coffee, making it strong,” he clicked his fingers, gesturing to the door vaguely. You nodded, dropping the race gloves onto the bed and quickly hurrying to the door, opening it and rushing to the canteen. 

The thing is, Lando knew he was working you hard, he knew he was very much overworking you, but he needed to test your endurance. He needed to make sure he didn’t have some prissy little assistant who was only there to look good. As well as doing the jobs, you always were the one who’d hold the phone for him during his interviews, meaning you rarely ever got a break, but you were okay with it

You balanced the cup in your hand, the coffee steaming as you pushed the door open with your arm, Lando’s eyes raising as he saw you. “Is it strong?” he asked, taking the cup from you. “Y-Yeah,” you nodded, struggling to catch your breath as he took the cup, peering at the contents. He shrugged, taking a sip. It was good. Almost perfect to what he expected. Not that he’d let you have that. “It’s alright,” he said, voice cold and stern as he spoke. 

You nodded, going back to putting the clothes away, when the door opened, one of the staff members of the team walking in. “Lando, interview,” he said, nodding outside, “Sky Sports,”. Lando groaned, throwing his phone down onto the bed beside you, gesturing for you to come as you scrambled for the phone on the shelf, running behind him. Lando found your enthusiasm to be annoying, the way you never got frustrated at how he treated you. 

He’d been trying to treat you like you were some annoying little prissy girl who skipped around with a stupid grin on their face, and he’d been trying to belittle and degrade you, but nothing had worked. You were just too fucking positive all the time. It was annoying. You ran up behind Lando as he took his big steps, purposefully trying to lose you behind him, but to no avail as he stepped in front of the camera, a small plastered on his face, 

You’d learned quickly enough that the smile he usually plastered on his face was fake, and most of the time just for the camera to play to the fans. If they met him outside of his TV persona, most of them would be disappointed. You pressed the record button as the interview began, your attention slipping by the second as you grew bored of the questions you were forced to listen to the same repetitive words. 

Soon, your attention drifted along from watching Lando and the presenter talk, before looking down at your shoes, your McLaren top right round your body, your skirt short. You then drifted to stare at the other drivers in the media pen, Verstappen talking to some Dutch media, Charles to some French TV. “Eyes on me,” Lando said, lip curling as he saw you stare at the drivers behind you, his hand coming to your chin to pull you back. 

The internet would definitely go wild about that. You focused back onto him, staring at him as you tried not to day dream, your eyes flickering over his outfit, his hat on his head. “Excited for the weekend?” the interviewer asked, a smile on her face. “Yeah, I mean, it’s my home race,” Lando shrugged, his voice back to its usual happy state. 

“Got a lot of fans,” the interviewer mused, “a lot of girls in the crowd,”. Lando raised an eyebrow at the statement. “I’m not looking for a girl at the moment,” he said, the continuous questions about his love life getting more annoying by the seconds even you were annoyed - all you’d heard were people trying to prise out information about his own life. 

“I’ve got other commitments and im not looking for a girl, I’ve got one, just need to make her mine,” Lando knew the words would stir utter uproar in the media, the answer rendering the interviewer speechless as Lando nodded, walking back as you ended the recording following him. “You have a girl?” you asked, skipping up behind Lando. The question was a surprise to Lando, he hadn’t expected you to ask it to him. 

“Yes,” he responded with a curt nod, “is that an issue?”. You shook your head, still trying to keep up with him as you fiddled with the device. Just as you did so, you felt some,one walk straight into you, sending you falling onto the floor, the device dropping too. “God, Y/N!” Lando groaned, staring at you on the floor, rolling his eyes. He didn’t good his hand out to help you up as you picked up the phone, the screen smashed at the top.

“You’re so clumsy,” he cursed, putting his hand onto your bicep and pulling you up roughly, not caring that you stumbled a bit from the force of it. “And now look,” he gestured to the phone. The fall hadn’t been your fault in the slightest and you knew it, but you said nothing, cheeks red in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to,” you mumbled. You used your own phone for the recording, a google pixel you’d been given by the team, but now it was smashed, the pixels twitching at the top.

“Give it,” he held his hand out as he started walking again as you placed the hand and followed. “That’s expensive,” he said, running his hand over the crack. “I’ll send it to get fixed, use my phone for now,” he grumbled. You nodded, surprised he’d offered to get your phone fixed for you, instead of being mad or something at you for dropping it. He glanced down, your skirt a little ruffled from the fall, his eyes falling to your knee.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, voice emotionless. “Oh,” you looked down, suddenly aware of the slight stinging in your knee. “God, you’re supposed to take care of me,” he muttered pushing you onto the bed of his room, taking out the firt aid kit. “Oh grow up,” he grumbled as you hissed at the feeling of the alcohol rub in your knee. Lando was always demeaning to you, so it didn’t hurt as much as it did the first time. 

But you still wished he was a little nicer 

[breathinlove]

gf!ellie headcanons

read this

sinopse: ellie williams is your girlfriend, modern au.

cw: ig ellie grabs boobs?? sfw tho. basic fluff, ellie is just silly, puppy love again, mention of dealer!ellie, not explicit if reader is fem or masc, not proofread (it's never proofread tbh!).

gf!ellie who pokes your inner cheek with her tongue when you kiss or blows in your mouth "elliuhhhh" ands she's definitely gonna chuckle like "heheh"... she's SOOO SILLY.

gf!ellie who doesn't ever just invite you over, she has to make an excuse, something about how you do her hair better or how she needs skin care.

gf!ellie who doesn't have any stream apps like netflix or prime, she's a piracy master from practice (getting several viruses on joel's old computer).

gf!ellie who watches and listens to anything you like because she loves you but you can see it in her pained face that she's bored, but she'll sit through it and lie "it's cool, babe".

gf!ellie who sends the most unfunny (hilarious) reels, you can hear her wheezing while she's in the bathroom.

gf!ellie who, still talking about her bathroom texts, lets you know like fr "the hardest shit of my life istg that was a rock?" and you will laugh and buy her plums to help your constipated baby.

gf!ellie who has the most fun with you, sleeping at ellies is just like having a girls night sleepover.

gf!ellie who will skin care with you and watch youtube (shes a youtube kid)

"pooks can we watch this streamer now?" she points at the screen, while you untangle her stupid hair. "careful yeah?" she hisses when you catch a knot and you kiss her scalp "yes im sorry my love". and she'll look back at you to give you the sweetest cutest smile that makes you sick to your stomach.

gf!ellie who is a weed dealer but is also a homebody. so goes to them parties just to deal "just business babe" like she's going to the office or sum.

gf!ellie with whom everyone knew you were dating before you two even admited you had crushed on eachother. she'd protest to your friends "no... like, we're real good friends" as she blushed and you giggled 'yeah's.

gf!ellie who has cold ass hands and they're always inside your shirt when you're cuddling

"babeeeee let me warm up" trying to shove her feet inside your pants??? when the laughter dies, her hand that's up your shirt WILL find your tits.

gf!ellie who takes pictures of you when you're asleep, not to tease you or anything, she just thinks you're cute.

gf!ellie who only drives when she absolutely has to... but she's always there to drive you anywhere you need.

gf!ellie who goes "aww you're so preeeetty" out of nowhere and gives you a smooch on your face.

a/n: i need a gf yall, send applications please ❤️

[hayatoseyepatch]

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Description: Kaji would never eat another lollipop again if he could have his mouth on you at all times. Basically just oral with Kaji Ren.

Featuring: Ren Kaji x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Tags: smut, afab!reader, reader has a vagina, tried to make this one as gender neutral as possible, oral fixation, cunnilingus, face sitting, dirty talk, Kaji being a menace, written with a curvy reader in mind (but no indication of size)

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a/n: This honestly was supposed to be one part of a headcannon fic but then I got carried away writing this. So enjoy some Kaji lickin’ ya like a lollipop lmao.

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Kaji tries so hard to regulate his emotions. From his lollipops to keep his sharp tongue on lock, and the music he uses to drown out the world to keep his temper under control. He hated the way his rage over took him, made him feel like a wild animal, incapable of controlling his actions or avoiding hurting people.

But you had become an outlet for him. In most cases it was the way you were able to calm him with just your mere presence. The feeling of your nails scraping his scalp as you carded your fingers through his hair. The way the soft tone of your voice was able to snuff out his raging anger better than any melody. He’d always have his mouth busying itself with you. Whether it was the both of you cuddled up on the couch his mouth absent mindedly trailing kisses along your shoulders up to your neck. The way your lips pressed against his in sweet kisses that put his mind at ease.

However, there were times, times where you offered a different outlet for his raging emotions. Kaji could get lost in  your body, the way it made him feel, the way he would drown himself in the feeling of you. His lollipops long forgotten, the taffy paling in comparison of the sweetness of your cunt’s juices that coated his tongue, always eating your cunt like a man starved. He dives down, burying this face into your folds. His nose bumps your clit as his tongue invades your entrance, curling inside you. He collects your juices on the wet muscle, withdrawing from inside you he pushes himself up. Tongue lolling out of his mouth, allowing your juices, mixed with his own saliva, to drip down on your neglected clit.

He watches, enraptured, as the mix of your juices and his saliva drip down, coating your cunt in the both of you. He ducks down once more, licking a fat stripe up your cunt. Collecting your wetness on his tastebuds. “C’mere baby” He groans, his large calloused fingers entangling your waist. Using his strength, he easily maneuvers you both, now laying flat on his back with you straddling his waist. His eyes bore into yours as you look down at him. “I want you to sit on my face, sugar.”

Being a grade captain and constantly reeling in his emotions, being careful with every choice he makes is exhausting. Sometimes relinquishing his power to you is the best form of soothing, he trusts you fully and wants you to have your way with him. Just letting him encapsulate himself in the moment with you, just focusing on you both. As if the world outside and the one in his mind doesn’t exist, here its just you and him and the way you make each other feel.

Your cheeks flush a bright pink at his request, one said so simply it was as if he was asking you to pass him something. “But Ren.. What if I…” Your words are cut off, a heated kiss placed against your lips. He pulls away after a moment, breaths panting against your lips. “But nothing angel, sit on my face and let me eat your pretty pussy like its one of my lollipops” His words send a shock to your core, cheeks flushing a deeper red at the filthy words that leave his mouth, but also extinguishing any further arguments you had for him.

Shakily, you crawl up on the bed, throwing one leg over his face to sandwich his cheeks. You hover your cunt over his face, lifting the material of his oversized t-shirt to expose yourself to him. You exhale a breath, preparing to lower yourself onto his face. Before you can, however, his large hands grip your hips pulling you down to be flush to his waiting mouth.

A shocked gasp leaves your lips, and Kaji takes this opportunity to nuzzle his face in between your folds once more, tongue swiping out of his mouth to glide against your clit. “Oh, Ren, baby, fuuuck~ ” You moan, throwing your head back, losing yourself in the pleasure he’s providing. Your earlier worry and fear being tossed out the window as you grind your hips against his face.

Kaji lets one hand leave your hips, moving to grip the plush fat of your ass. He releases the soft flesh only to give your ass a harsh smack, the sound echoing throughout the room. He soothes the area, tongue never stopping its ministrations against your sensitive nub. Kaji devours you like a man starved, if you didn’t feel his shallow breaths against you, you would wonder if he was even breathing. He pulls away, hot breaths fanning against your clit. “That’s it angel, that’s my baby, go ahead and ride my face sugar.”

You don’t need to be told twice, sinking down until his nose bumps your clit, hips grinding down on his face. Kaji lolls his tongue out of his mouth to lick at your clit, breaking only to playfully nip it from underneath you. He grins against your cunt when you heed his words any hesitancy from earlier long gone. Your hips pick up speed, practically riding his tongue. He flattens the muscle, letting you do just that. The words that tumble out of your mouth are nothing more than incoherent calls of his name mixed with pleas and curses. Kaji feels your thighs spasm, both hands now gripping your ass, to pull your cunt further onto his face.

Your hips bucking against his tongue, as you cry out a mix of curses and his name. You can feel the coil inside you about to break. “Ren, Ren, please…fuck!” He mumbles something that sounds like approval against your heat, and that’s all it takes for the dam to break. You release with a scream, thighs trapping his head between your legs, only releasing once you’ve come done from your high.

With the last bit of energy you can muster, you remove yourself from on top of him settling into his chest, nose nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, lips pressing against your forehead in a gentle kiss. “So proud of you baby, did so good for me, I love you so much.” He says softly meaning every word. When your breathing had evened out, your joint actions from earlier lulling you to sleep, Kaji thinks about how no song would ever compare to the sound of your contented breaths as you sleep, tucked safely in his embrace.

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Thought Kaji deserved some attention since he wasn’t in the last one. I’m thinking of writing for the loml Tsubaki next~ Hope you enjoyed, see you in the next one!