#under cut that is lol it's a drabble

[aubins]

she is rasping and literally crawling toward yuri with big wet eyes because the week has been very unkind to her and she's a little scraped up from getting caught in a wilderness trap but don't even worry about it. however! she reaches them and her fluffy head perks up.

"yuri! yuri, we weren't on the same island last week, and bernie didn't want to miss you just in case—" rustle, rustle. from her belongings, she fishes out a lilac-ribboned box. inside there is makeup, carefully curated and dorothea-certified of course, along with a flower accessory she'd made herself. its blossom is the color of their eyes, which she is doing her very best to meet now, thank you very much.

(in fact, she's trying so hard that it pinches her brow just slightly. eye contact will always be her worst enemy but god if she isn't pulling out all the stops to show her earnestness. they deserve that much and plenty more.)

"happy, uh, early birthday...!" the gift is ushered into their possession. then her arms flap at her sides, and she blurts: "please don't get eaten by alligators, okay?! wait, are there alligators on this island? w-well, don't get eaten by anything! please. um, yes." nod, nod. "i don't get this whole competition thing, but you're still bernie's dear friend. and bernie really, really wants to keep being friends by the time your next birthday comes, too."

a pause. then, lips curl into a silly, fond smile that bernadetta can't help but make. "a-and it doesn't have anything to do with this weird island, but, um... you make me happy. so i hope this makes you happy, too."

Yuri Leclerc does not celebrate their birthday.

Sometimes, there are exceptions. Like the treats and surprises of a certain red-haired girl or the odd greeting here and there from Abyssians who have known them for long enough to learn it. Yet no matter how routine these exceptions start to become, they will always be just that: exceptions. Because, for so long, the day they'd said was theirs never really was their birthday anyway. Because, a long time ago, the boy who was born on their actual birthday died on the streets of Adrestia.

“Bernadetta,” is their hummed greeting as their gaze flicks over her, pleased— well, always pleased, really, to see her, and even more so when she appears to be in relatively one piece— their usual smile curling at the corner of their lips. “That for me?” they ask, tone teasing as she fishes the box from her belongings. It's not even my birthday yet, is the follow up, already upon the tip of their tongue when—

“Happy, uh, early birthday...!”

And Yuri blinks, stunned for a moment, because no, they think, they will never quite get used to these exceptions. Even as Bernadetta shuffles the gift into their hands, babbling that they shouldn't get eaten by alligators, if there even are any— “No,” they think they hear themself say automatically, first instinct always to reassure, “I haven't seen any alligators. And I won't get eaten, so don't even worry about it.”— and that they're her dear friend— “...ah?” is the only sound they make in response to that one, a little quiet and a little confused, because there's no automatic answer to it, not one that they want to give to such a genuine effort anyway.

They glance at the box now in their hands for a beat, then pull it open gently, as if afraid it might break. “You didn't have to,” Yuri says, gaze immediately attracted to the collection of makeup within. They know, of course, what it costs, and suddenly mean it doubly so. “Must've cost you a pretty penny. You should've spent it on yourself.” And even if some people would say it just to be humble, humility has never been one of their features. They know what they do and do not deserve.

After all, Yuri is no stranger to gifts like these. Makeup and jewelry offered to them because only the finest of accessories should decorate the most beautiful dolls— and never for free, of course, because nothing in this world is ever for free, and they are quite used to trading both face and body.

They kept them all, no matter how they loathe them sometimes. They may be prideful, but they are not foolish. There is a trunk under the floorboards beneath their bed in Abyss filled with their hoard, bountiful enough to convince someone they are a magpie and not a mockingbird. Bountiful enough to remind them that, now, the Savage Mockingbird can take a noble's expensive gift and slit his throat while wearing it if they wanted, then toss it without a second thought to disappear within their collection.

But while Bernadetta is a noble, she is not like them. (But how do you know? asks a voice. Yuri silences it. They just do— they must believe that.) Not because of this island, she says next, and as much as Yuri can guess where her mind tends to spiral to, they wonder if she can do the same. Because they would have thought it next, yes, wondered about an objective handed to her in the interim that perhaps needed completing or some other game their hosts wanted to play. Even with the reassurance, they might have still wondered.

But maybe it is because it is Bernadetta, because she had known them before they were Yuri, and know all the secrets and vulnerabilities that come with that, because no matter how many times she says she has forgiven them, Yuri is used to bracing for betrayal, that the mockingbird pauses. Briefly, yet completely and utterly struck still mid-flight.

And then they believe her, even when the first instinct ingrained in them is not to.

“It...” they start, then pause. Correct themself. “You make me happy, Bernadetta. With or without the gift. But thanks for thinking about my birthday.” Because it's nice to be thought about, in the end. If it needs to be put simply for her, without the mess of their past, then it— and she— makes them happy. Bernadetta doesn't need to know the rest. Yuri grins, then plucks the flower accessory from the box to hold out to her. This one, they can think about without straining their smile. No shadow haunts it; this one is just Bernadetta. “Help me put it in my hair?”

Next birthday, we'll still be friends. But they do not say it aloud. This one is a promise all for themself. Yuri resolves not to break it.

[wind-without-wings]

Drabble + Food))

The taste of stale bread lingered on her tongue. The ashy, bland taste refused to leave her mouth, even after being drowned with water.

As the sky grew dark, lanterns flickered to life in the distance. The wind danced among the leaves, tugging at her clothes as it crossed the dirt path. She picked up her pace, her stomach rumbling as the scent of meats and vegetables filled the air.

She didn't even need to knock on the door.

It was already open.

A human woman greeted her, a bowl on the table.

“The windchimes never lie. Dinner’s ready, dear.”

This is my first ever drabble! Legit. I tend to do longer writings (800-2k words), so staying to 100 words is entirely new to me.

But I can see why people do them! Have to know what to say and how to say it.

For this one, I wanted to communicate a little about Yzl and her relationship with her human mother.

Yzl travels almost constantly, and is almost never home. As such, she often has to prepare or purchase her own food. And cheap food isnt always made for traveling. She tends to lean for breads and dried fish or fruits, as they keep a little longer on the road. But when its they only thing you eat for weeks at a time, it leaves a lot to be desired.

Yzl already loved her mother's cooking, since its what she grew up with. But after travelling, she's come to truly appreciate the simple meals she prepares. Something she was indifferent about as a kid, was now a luxury she often couldnt wait to have again.

Oh, and the windchimes... Yzl and her Father often described as "loved by the wind." Inside the house, is a pair of wooden windchimes. Each one is hand-made, and have a Vastayan quill suspended from their centers. One from Yzl, the other from her Father. Being inside, the wind has no way to ring them. And yet the do ring. And over the last eight years--without fail--they have always predicted Yzl returning home.

[cherry-leclerc]

can’t you see ☆ mv1

genre: redbull!driver, enemies to lovers, smut, lando and danny playing cupid lol, protective!max (although he won’t admit it), mean!max, sub!max, dom!reader

word count: 3.2k

In between your mutual dislike with your teammate, Lando and Daniel try their best to make you and Max uncover some hidden feelings.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, riding, sucking on fingers

req!...quick one, but ahh first maxie drabble. eekk :)

“What a fucking asshole.”

Daniel’s eyes bulge out as he hands you a cup of coffee. It had been an extremely long day. Perhaps not the best idea to keep it going, but it seemed like the FIA didn’t give a shit about that. You were past being upset. You were seething. 

“Uh…Yeah. I mean I get it. I’m tired, too. This red flag came at the worst time-”

Briskly, you take the cup from him, cutting him off. “It’s not the red flag, it’s Max.” Ever since you joined Formula 1 as the first female to drive for Red Bull, you had felt welcomed by everyone. Everyone but your actual teammate. You had thought maybe it was because he had small balls and couldn’t handle the fact that you were driving alongside him, but when you confronted him about it, he only growled. 

As if you would ever cross my fucking mind.

Squinting, you point accusingly at the Australian. “You ought to stop being his friend.” He loudly laughs as he throws his head back. 

“You say that every time.”

Making a face, you shoot back. “And you never choose!”

“You’re both my friends. No one is winning custody.” 

“You’re older than both of us combined.”

“Hey!”

Hey, a low voice replies. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A shiver runs down your spine. Max leans up against the nearest wall as he ignores you and keeps his eyes on his friend. You wave your hand up in front of him a couple of times for good measure before your mouth drops open when he acts as if you were Casper the Friendly Ghost. 

“We were just talking abou- Ouch!” Daniel shrieks in pain when you pinch him. Faking a smile, you turn to the Dutchman. We were actually in the middle of something here. Nothing. He just keeps looking past you. Running a hand through his hair, he starts talking about how this all ‘ruined my flow’ and how he was going to have to ‘try to fix the FIA’s mistakes’. You have to laugh.

“Is something funny to you?”

You look around the room as you theatrically shudder. Sipping on the hot beverage, you hum and close your eyes. Max clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he crosses his arms in frustration. Cold weather, Danny. Do you think there’s a place nearby that sells homemade chicken soup?

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“If we find one, then maybe we can invite Lando and-” Suddenly, he reaches out for your cup and hot drops hit your hand. You hiss in pain. “What’s your problem, dickhead?”

Now, a normal reaction would be to be a decent human being and apologize. Offer up their own cup of coffee, perhaps. Not Max. Throwing it into the nearest trash bin, he turns to you. And he actually has the audacity to look upset.

“Why didn’t you let me overtake you? I don’t know if you don’t know this because you’re new or something like that, but here, when we are instructed to do something - we do it.”

Narrowing your eyes, you step closer. “So what? I don’t let you by one time and suddenly I’m the bad guy? Let me remind you that that’s all I’ve done for you this season.”

“Maybe when you’re someone’s number one driver then you won’t have to do shit like this, but until then,” he angles himself lower to you, “...It kinda looks like you have to.”

“Oh. No.” Daniel winces as he sips quietly on his hot drink. He can physically see your wheels turning as you glare back at the Dutchman. Your cheeks have turned light pink as you refrain yourself from yelling in front of all the Alpha Tauri engineers. Max scrunches his nose.

“Cute.”

You’re about to explode and let all hell loose, but just then, the red flag is over. Huffing, you grab your helmet as you walk away without sparing a single goodbye. Daniel frowns. “You need to stop treating her like that.” Max scoffs. Treating her how? The Australian inches closer as he lays a large hand on his friend's shoulder. “Like you don’t care.”

As soon as the race picks back up, you’re in the zone. You have to work twice as hard to overtake anyone in your way, considering most drivers were on new tires, but eventually you worked your way through. Drops of rain hit your visor as you slow down in sector 2. 

“Should I be worried about the rain?”

“Nothing to be worried about, just keep it up.”

You nod, even though Christian can’t see you. As you get closer, you can see Max’s rear wing. He’s fast - zooming, almost - but that only made you want it even more. Defend. I repeat, defend for a 1-2 finish. “Yeah. No.” Entering the DRS zone, you press down on the throttle as you try all tactics to catch up with the 3x World Champion. Fat drops of water hit the Red Bull as you squint in order to not get lost with the commotion. What are you doing? Defend. “I am defending.” You press harder. “Except I’m defending my spot. Not his.”

It’s almost as if he knows what you’re about to do. Quickly, he scans his sideview mirror as he curses when he sees  that you weren’t slowing down. It looks like the two Red Bulls are going head-to-head! Probably not the best idea at the moment considering the tough weather, Crofty announces. Passing Max by, you can’t help but cheer as you try to imagine his reaction. 

“Not what we were picturing, but very well executed. He will be defending now.”

It wasn’t planned to get stung by a boiling hot coffee, of course it wasn’t, despite the bickering between you two. It wasn’t planned to take time to scratch your burnt hand. And it most definitely was not planned to crash.

Plunging into the wall, you groan, curses flowing past your lips. Are you okay? “Yes. I’m okay.” Lifting your visor, you shyly wave at the grandstands. Would you mind going over to check on Max? He’s currently not responding. Your heart stops. Jumping off your seat, you climb out of your car as you turn and sure enough, Max’s Red Bull is ruined. 

“Are you alright?”

Throwing a thumbs up, he lifts himself out of his car to wave at the fans. He turns to you, dark blue helmet still over his head. “What the fuck was that all about?” You narrow your eyes.

“What do you mean? I got an itch.” And though he wears his helmet, you can’t help but notice the crinkles by his eyes. Your stomach flips. It's because of the crash. That’s all it is. You clear your throat. “What happened to you? You were driving well.” Professionally, he slides his gloves off as he waves over at the safety car.

“I had to check on you one way or another, right?”

Dumbfounded, you're faced with his back as he walks away.

-

“He’s into you, can’t you see it!”

“No. Jesus, don’t even say that.” Lando raises his brows as he throws his legs on top of your bed. Daniel hums from underneath the covers. He’s right, though. Pulling the sheets off, you scowl. “Don’t give me reasons to kick you both out.” Throwing yourself onto the mattress, you smile widely. “Soooo, what’s new?”

It’s all you three are ever good for. Pure gossip. Chewing hard on a piece of pizza, you gag. Daniel cackles as he reaches for the last slice. Hey! What if I wanted that? He cocks his head. Fine, you mumble.

“All I wanted was a warm soup.”

A gentle knock echoes through the room as you all turn to face it. Go and open it, Daniel hisses. Wha- No! You go open it, Lando whispers back. Bunch of babies, you murmur as you untangle yourself from your blanket. Swinging the door open, you freeze. Standing tall is Max with a paper bag at  hand.

“Hey.”

Peeking out into the hallway, you stare back confused. “Hey?”

Almost timidly, he kicks his feet up against the wall with a small smile. He extends his arm out, signaling for you to take the mysterious bag. I don’t want any problems, you choke out, feeling skeptical. His blue eyes grow wide.

“Oh. No, don’t worry!” He opens the bag and takes out a small container. Leaning forward, you feel blood rising up to your cheeks. “It’s just soup.”

After an awkward exchange, he leaves. Inhaling the delicious scent, you let out a dreamy sigh.

“He so likes her.”

-

“We might have been wrong.”

Lando tilts his head, curly strands bouncing at the motion. Daniel hurriedly takes a seat next to the Brit as he smacks his large hands on the table. “What do you mean, mate?”

Daniel scans the room quickly before shaking his head. “I mean, that I just heard them two. They were going at it.” Lando blushes as he lets out an awkward laugh. I don’t even want to know. The Australian bites back a smile as he continues. “Not like that. Yet. What I mean is that they’re back to square one. He’s being a complete dick.”

“Alright. Looks like we have to knock some sense into him.”

-

Go, Daniel mouths once Max enters the debrief room, eyes entertained on his phone screen. Pushing past the Dutch, Charles jogs over to where you sit next to George. “Hey!” Greeting him back with a warm smile, you pat to the open seat. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite after this. Maybe some chicken soup?” You beam.

“I love a good soup!”

Rapidly, Max’s ears perk up as he hears your conversation with the Monegasque. He was well over the rivalry, but with this? He would not second guess bringing it back. He clenches his jaw as he notices you nodding along with Charles. Strolling over to the small group, he shoots a bitter grin.

“Did you see Christian’s message about our last minute meeting?”

“Hello to you, too.” Checking your phone, you look back confused with a pout. “No. I haven't received anything.”

“Yeah, well, there’s one-”

“No, there's not.” Flickering your eyes behind your teammate, you’re even more lost. With hands on his hips, Christian taps his shoe as his eyes flicker between his two Red Bull drivers. “Don’t mind him, sweetheart. There’s no meeting.” He sends a small wink at Charles before walking off to the rest of the team principles. Max slumps.

“Ha. Guess it got canceled or something like that…”

Rushing over Lando and Daniel, Charles hunches over as he starts blabbering. “Did it work? Please tell me it worked - God - I think I almost shit myself. Tell me it fucking wo-”

The Brit points discreetly to where Max paces the room, orbs trained on you like a guard dog.

“It’s definitely working.”

He smacks a one hundred dollar bill onto a large hand. 

“And thank you for the help, too, Mr. Horner.”

-

Despite the attempts to get you and Max together, nothing seemed to work. The blue eyed boy would appear to start registering his feelings, and at the last minute, would completely chicken out. It would be an outright lie to say that this didn’t entertain the Alpha Tauri and McLaren boys, but they also knew that they had to continue their fairy godparent duties.

“Watch it!”

Crashing onto the couch inside of the Red Bull Hospitality, Max’s face bounces against it. He groans in pain before throwing a harsh stare at his friends. Lando stiffles a giggle as Daniel raises his arms up in defense. Getting seated, the Dutch looks back with a sour expression. 

“What’s this hostile situation about?”

Lando panics as he turns to his mate. The Aussie licks his lips, patting his lap. “Look, we’ve noticed a few things-” What things? He huffs. “Maybe if you would just let me finish-” That’s what she said! He glares at Lando who slaps a hand over his mouth, tears from unreleased laughter painting his blue eyes. “As I was saying…We’ve noticed your behavior towards a special little someone…”

“Towards Heidi? Shit. I didn’t think it’d be that noticeable.”

Lando clicks his fingers rapidly before pointing at the Red Bull driver. “He’s trying to not talk about it because he knows where this is going!” No, I’m not, Max shrieks as his voice cracks. Blushing, he pushes his hat lower to his face.

“You like her!”

“You know I like Heidi! She’s good for you-”

“You know that’s not who we’re talking about.”

It’s silent for a while. Standing up, Daniel goes to sit next to the 26 year old. Running a hand over his face, Max’s sighs as he looks up. “I’m not…used to feeling this way, okay?” 

“That’s totally fine, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat her like a piece of gum stuck at the bottom of your shoe. She’s amazing. Could have anyone - and I mean anyone - but she likes you. I don’t know why or how, but she likes you.” Daniel scoots away when Max narrows his eyes.

“She doesn’t like me.”

Jumping over the coffee table, Lando plops down. “Yes! She does. Ask me how I know.” A bored expression slashes Max’s face as he asks anyway. How, Lando? How do you know? “Because she’s always fighting with you.”

Daniel clicks his tongue as he slowly squints his brown eyes. “I don’t think you’re making the point you think you’re making, mate.” The Brit waves him off.

“I’m dead serious. When she gets upset, she always walks away because she claims to not want to waste her time on stupid arguments. But with you,” he pushes his index finger against the Red Bull polo, “With you she never - ever - walks away. Sure, you’re both at each others throats, but that only means one thing.” He leans against the sofa as he takes a sip of the open energy drink. 

“She doesn’t mind wasting time on you.”

-

After some more convincing, the duo had managed to raise the 26 year olds confidence. They could be wrong. Embarrassingly wrong, but how would he ever know if he never tried? Taking in a deep breath, he finds himself knocking on your door.

“More soup?”

Sheepishly, he shakes his head. His heart skips a beat as he notices how laid back you seem. How relaxed you were. He was going to ruin all that. He was going to say something that would change everything and things might never be the sa-

“Wanna come in?”

Handing him a plate of cut up watermelon, you take a seat in front of him, legs tucked beneath your butt. What are you doing out so late at night, Mr. Max Verstappen? He sets the plate down as he forces himself to mold into his chair. 

“I’ve never hated you.”

You blink. Clearing his throat, he looks down to his lap as he fiddles his fingers. “I know I’ve been such a bad teammate - I know - but I promise that it never had to do with you.”

“Okay. So…then what did it have to do with?”

He lets out a croaky laugh as he shuts his eyes. “That’s the tough part…” Opening his blue eyes, he finds you staring back, waiting for an answer. “I feel the opposite of hate…towards you.” He hates the way your face doesn’t change and you remain still. He hates when you shrink back and chew on your lip.

But he could never find himself hating the moment you climb onto his lap.

“T-that’s not what I came here for-”

“I know.” You slide your hands against his stubble. “Your confession was…adorable. Had trouble saying those words out loud, right? Because you,” you strum your finger against his chest, “...You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart.”

Now he’s frowning as he tries to unravel your words. A giggle bubbles up your throat, eyes crinkling shut. His breath hitches. “I feel things…” Your heart twirls with the way his voice sounds. Sure you do, Maxie- 

Grabbing your face with his left hand, he kisses you. It’s hot, feverish, and impatient.

It’s him.

Whimpering, you grind against him as he groans underneath you. Forcing himself to pull away from your warm lips, he cocks his head to the side. “Was that enough proof?”

“I might need more.”

It’s such a moment of pure adrenaline, that you can’t even pinpoint the moment your hatred towards him had turned into lust. All you know is that it felt so good to be riding him. Squeezing your hips, he lifts you up as he lets out a strained moan. The sound itself makes you drip even more. 

You had always loved his voice. How croaky it was. But you never imagined that it would turn your entire world upside down to hear him moaning your name like a prayer. Oh, fuck. Holy shit. Pushing his hands down, he opens his eyes as he looks back, weak and concerned. He worries you might have suddenly regretted all of this. That you would walk away and never want to talk to him ever again. But he’s already kissed you. He’s already been inside of you. 

He would beg you to stay in order to make you keep it that way.

“B-baby.” He whimpers with the way you dig yourself against him before circling your hips. Slow. “It’s okay if you want to stop-” You slide his fingers into your mouth. He swears he could finish with such a pretty sight.

“I don’t want to. I just want you to say sorry for everything you’ve ever done to me.”

“I already said I never meant any of it! You’re absolutely everything to me.”

Your core grows tighter with his affirmations. Holding onto his broad shoulders, you continue your sinister rhythm. “Maybe. But I still want one.”

“I’m so-”

Rubbing your bare tits against his chest, he shudders as he harshly pinches your thigh. Try again. “I said I’m so-” Pulling all the way out, you slide back down onto his cock. “Oh - don’t fucking do that.”

“Try again.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry.”

A satisfied smile slides onto your plump lips as you nod before kissing him and riding him the way you know he deserves. With one last hop, you both finish as he moans into your neck. Your fingers push his sweaty, blondish strands away before pressing your lips against his cheek. He smiles weakly.

“I like you, too.” You look down before returning your attention. “But I can’t be with you.”

“Wh-”

“Max. Let’s be realistic here. I’m a girl in Formula 1. You don’t know how hard I’ve worked to get here. I’ve had to do twice the work simply because I’m not a man.” You roll your eyes. “People are going to hate me. Call me names - God, I can already hear them.”

He never thought his heart could actually hurt for someone. You were really messing him up. He gingerly rubs small circles against your cheek.

“I’ll ruin whoever says anything bad about you, but please give this a chance. I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I do you. Please.”

And yes, there will be nasty comments. Hateful interpretations about your relationship. But that never really mattered as long as you had him. 

[tswhiisftteedr]

Wings ☆ Drabble/Really Short One Shot

☆ Adam x Wingless Angel!Fem!Reader :

They were just so pretty, you couldn’t help but touch your boyfriend’s beautiful golden wings. And hey, what was the worst that could happen’ probably nothing too bad, right?

Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Praise & Degradation, Adam is a bit condescending and forceful, but hey, it’s Adam we’re talking about. Oral Sex(Female Receiving), Penetrative Sex, First Time As A Couple. NOT PROOFREAD.

Words: 2330

Ask: Hi! ^^ Omg I saw that your requests are open!! I have one for Adam from Hazbin Hotel. I have a headcanon that his wings are very very sensitive and when you touch them it drives him crazy. Could you please do a Nsfw/ smut headcanon, or scenario with him and his female S/O just hanging out, him eating and she gets curious and touches softly them (not knowing what the affect it)? I hope you have a beautiful day!

Note: Of course!! And thank you, hope you also have a beautiful day/night!! Thanks for the request, right now I’m going to work on my others lol. Hope you like what I wrote!!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Ever since your ascent to Heaven post-mortem, a sense of exclusion lingered in your heart. Unlike most heavenly beings with wings, you were one of the few soul that lack that part of the brand new heavenly anatomy. While everyone in Heaven remained kind and courteous, the infrastructure, were obvious designed for winged inhabitants. That posed you quite the challenges, especially when you where in need of transportation— the lack of automobiles was your greatest nemesis in the afterlife, as everyone effortlessly soared using their wings they didn’t need them.

Despite a subtle feeling of inferiority, your fascination with wings endured. Their majestic allure captivated you, and the desire to experience the softness of the beautiful contraptions persisted. ‘You just had to feel them!’

And you were determined to do so today, as you had received an invitation from Adam to come over.

Currently, you find yourself enjoying takeout on the expansive balcony of his penthouse. It was nice scenery, a comfy outdoor couch with a coffee table full of food.

As he rambled about his day, you nodded along, your attention solely fixed on the captivating golden wings adorning his sides and back. Sneakily inching closer to him, captivated by their beauty. “—Anyways that chick had a huge rack,” He pauses to take a bite of his burger, “So I guessed even Karen ass bitches can be hot.” he finishes with gulp.

Then you finally had a hold of them, ‘his marvellous wings!’ You were engrossed at their exquisite softness, surpassing any feathers from animals you had ever touched. Lost in the delicate material for about a solid five minutes, it had than dawned on you that Adam had stopped talking. Looking back up at him, you notice he had dropped his burger on the table. Then when you glanced at his face, you noted that he looked ‘different’, if you had to describe it, his face almost looked feverish.

In a blink, you were flipped onto your back and hit the couch cushions, then one of Adam's hands pinned both of your hands above your head.

“Fuuuck, babe! You don't need to get so handsy just because your jealous, you could've just fucking said so instead of acting a little tease, feelin’ me up and all.” He informs you while staring down at your perplexed expression, because, while Adam talked dirty in general, you had  no idea  what  you had done to be a tease in this particular  situation.

While that question spun in your head, Adam moved closer to your ear, his words jolting you out of your thoughts.

“if you were feeling needy, you just had to speak up. You know I would never leave my girl hanging, especially if getting her little brains fuck out is what she wants.” His voice low, full of desire and malice. He then playfully nip at your ear, ‘now who was the tease again?’

“Wait what— Um, Adam, where is all this coming from?!” You speak up, clearly nervous as a result of your boyfriend's statements and how close your bodies were together.

“The fuck you mean? You started this shit.” He begins, slowly sliding his free hand up your thigh. “Getting in my personal space, touching my wings to get me riled up, are you really gonna play the clueless card now you slutty little thing.” His hand now reaching under you shirt. “Think you can mess with me and just act like nothing happened, huh?” He says as he fondles with one of your breast.

“What do mean get you riled up, I barely touch you!?” You speak out anxiously; this was going far beyond anything you had done before. You two would kiss passionately at most, never doing anything remotely close to, 'well this!' It was strange; he almost acted like he did when he was mad, but this was somewhat different.

"Bold lie for an angel, like you wouldn't know— Oh, riiiight, you don't have wings." It had now dawned on him that you were utterly clueless of the affects the soft petting you gave to his wings had on him, and how depraved it made him feel.

"Yeah. I am not sure what I did to you when I touched your wings, but let me make one thing clear: it was unintentional. Seriously, they seemed soft, and I wanted to know how nice they were to the touch. So I'm sorry for making you mad; I should have asked before touching them.” You explain.

"Aww babes, don't worry, you didn't make me mad, and I'll tot's forgive you,"

You briefly relax as he speaks, well that is, until he opens his mouth again.

"Yeah I'll definitely forgive you if take care of my raging hard on for me'." He emphasised his words by grinding himself against you, making you feel his erection, and oh boy! Was he big; his self-appointed title of 'dickmaster' didn't seem so baseless anymore.

Your heart races faster as you feel a wave of panic wash over you. Despite his words, you couldn’t help but feel anxious about the situation. It was a big milestone to you, ‘the first time the two of you would have intercourse’.

You squirmed slightly, attempting to break free from his hold due to nerves but soon realize it was futile with him pinning your hands above your head. "I... I'm not sure that—," you started to say, but before you could finish, he cut you off.

"Shut up and enjoy the ride, babes." He growled softly, taking advantage of your momentary hesitation to quickly roughly kiss your lips. His tongue thrusts aggressively into your mouth, demanding entry while his other hand continues cupping your breast, squeezing and groping roughly. His erection presses harder against your thigh, digging into your sensitive flesh.

Despite your initial protests and confusion, you can't deny the familiar thrill coursing through your veins. You knew better, yet you still arch into his touch, moaning softly against his rough treatment.

As a warning to quit your shifting around, Adam's grip tightens around your wrists, almost painfully so, causing you to whimper in discomfort mixed with arousal.

And when he finally breaks the kiss, his breathing is heavy and labored.

"You like it, don't you?" He asked, his voice low with desire. His hips rock back and forth, grinding against you harder, making sure you felt every inch of his member. "Admit it, Y/N."

"A-adam, please... I—," you pleaded while being out of breath, but your words were cut off by another deep kiss. His tongue forced its way past your lips, exploring your mouth hungrily yet his hand didn't stop its manhandling of your chest. Meanwhile, his cock throbbed painfully against your thigh, leaving a trail of precum on your clothes.

The sensation was too much for you to handle; despite your original nervousness, the thoughts of messing up or not being enough had dissipated, and you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him anymore. You wanted him and he was totally into you.

Plus your body responded to his touch in ways you didn’t expect it to, it was incredibly in tune with his wants. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as he continued his assault on both your body and mind.

Suddenly, Adam pulled away, his breathing heavy and short. "Good girl," he praised, his tone laced with satisfaction. "Now, spread those legs for me."

While being aroused, you still reluctantly spread your legs wide apart, letting him take off your shorts and exposing your wet panties. "Please, Adam," you whimpered, unable to resist his advances any longer.

With a growl of lust, he ripped off your remaining clothes, revealing your naked body to him. His eyes devoured every inch of you—your stomach, to your hips and obviously your beautiful pussy. Without further ado, he leaned forward, his mouth descending upon your navel, tracing slow, hot lines with his tongue before moving lower still. "Mmmm, you smell so fucking good toots," he murmured against your sensitive flesh.

His hands trailed downwards too, cupping your thighs in his palms, squeezing and kneading them. Soon switching to one free hand and one holding down your legs, inching his face to your then and lapping at your heat.

“Adam, what in the heavens are you doing!?"

“Uh, trying to eating you out, pretty obvious babes”

"Yeah, I get that, but like, why?? You always complain about 'bitches being annoying for demanding you go down on them.' when you mentioned passed relationships"

"Oh yeah, I did say that lmao. Honestly, I just feel like it. You look so pathetically adorable; I couldn’t help myself."

“Did— did you just lmao out loud?”

“Do you want me to stop eating you out with all your interruptions.” He threatens.

"No! I mean, I'm alright. Please continue."

"That’s what I thought too, babes," he grinned around your wet folds, sucking and licking at your sensitive spots. His tongue traced along your cunt, flicking against your clit before returning to tease your entrance again.

You moaned softly, your hands grasping tightly onto Adam's horns as he continued to pleasure you. You arched into him, letting out a soft whimper when his long tongue brushed against your G-spot. "Mmmhmmm... More please..." you managed to mutter between heavy breaths.

He chuckled lightly against your sensitive flesh before pulling away slightly. "Alright, alright." With renewed vigor, he returned to his task with even more enthusiasm, sucking harder and faster on your clit while his fingers teased her opening. He could feel your wetness increasing rapidly, seeping down onto his hand.

Your body trembled and shook in response to the intense sensations assaulting every inch of your being; you were close now—very close. Your breathing became increasingly shallow as she fought the impending orgasm building up inside of her. Then finally you reached sweet climax.

Adam momentarily let go of you to undress himself, now cock in hand."Tell me you want it," he demanded between kisses to neck, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

"I... I do," you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible above your heavy breathing.

"That's my girl," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. Without warning, he thrust his cock deep inside you, filling you completely. A sharp cry escaped your lips as the unfamiliar yet familiar feeling washed over you. His thrusts were fast and hard, pounding into you relentlessly. Each powerful stroke brought forth a moan from your throat, mixing with his growls of pleasure.

Your body adjusted quickly to his size, accommodating him easily despite initial discomfort. You arched your back against him, meeting his rhythmic thrusts. The sensation was unlike anything you've ever experienced before—it hurt, but in the best possible way. Your chest bounced with each powerful thrust.

As Adam continued to ravish you, his fingers found their way between your legs, rubbing and massaging your sensitive folds. He teased and tormented your clit mercilessly, causing waves of intense pleasure to ripple through your core. After staring at your lower half for a minute, “I should totally get my name tatted on you, like a crotch tattoo or some shit.” he tells you in his usual goofy tone, yet the look behind his eyes seem to say that he wasn’t completely joking. You on the other could only cry out his name between ragged breaths, begging for more.

“That's it, you filthy little whore," he murmured between labored breaths. "Tell me how much you love this, slut." His pace picked up even more, slamming into you harder and faster than before. Your moans echoed around the room as he relentlessly claimed your body.

In response to his demand, you managed to choke out, "I... I love it!" Your voice cracking with desire, filled with honesty despite yourself.

"Good girl." He growled, picking up speed. His hips slammed against yours in a brutal rhythm that left you gasping for air. His fingers continued their relentless assault on your sensitive spots, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. As a reflex you grabbed at his back, well in this case, his wings.

And that action fucked with him so bad. So Adam bit down hard on your neck, leaving a mark that would later turn into a pretty obvious hickey. Blood trickled down your skin, but it only served to heighten your arousal. "Cum for me, babe," he groaned, his voice hoarse with lust. "Let go, don’t think too hard about it"

You were close, so close to the brink of orgasm. The constant barrage of stimulation was too much for your body to handle, and you couldn't hold back anymore. "A-Adam... I'm..."

"That's it, baby," he encouraged you, his words thick with desire. He increased the pace even more, pounding into you relentlessly.

With a loud cry, you release around him, your pussy contracting tightly around his cock as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over you. Your entire body shook with the force of your climax, and sweat trickled down your body, mixing with his saliva and cum.

Adam groaned in satisfaction, following suit moments later, filling you up with his hot seed. Panting heavily, he lifted his head to stare into your eyes, his gaze filled with lust and satisfaction. "That was fucking amazing, shit, that’s why your my fav."

After momentarily going inside to get cleaned up, you had returned to the balcony.

“Shit my burger is cold!” Adam bitches.

“Well what did you expect it was left on a table while being outdoors— Oh, shit, did someone-?” You begin, than the realization of the what just happened hits Locke a truck.

“-Hear us? Yeah most likely, but doesn’t really matter, they won’t do shit about it, well probably.” He says followed by a laugh.

Sometimes you wondered why you were dating someone so irresponsible, but after today, you did have another bullet point to add to your pros list. ‘The dick was good’

Thanks @starlightfire97 for requesting!

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Tag list for Adam: @sunflower-lilly @moonbloom226

Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)

[satoruhour]

On honeymoon with geto..and while you’ve had sex before, it’s the first time you two do it unprotected. His face lights up when you tell him to do it without a condom and breeding kink goes BRRRRRRRR

a/n: “Newlyweds gojo and reader having sweet romantic nasty dirty disgusting shameless honeymoon sex PLEEK” combining requests since theyre the same premise! anons u two r the biggest brained mfers and bc u all voted so nicely and promptly this is my lil present :3

wc: about 1k+ for each drabble

warnings: SEPARATE drabbles, fem!reader, soft dom!geto that turns filthy at the mention of no condoms lol, unprotected sex, fingering, clit stimulation, creampie / breeding kink, sorta soft dom!gojo but not really established, almost public sex and multiple rounds for gojo, n*sfw under the cut

✶ GETO

the first breath of fresh air is already so pleasant and different from japan, but you’re distracted again by the shiny band upon your finger, staring at it with a small smile. you had your eyes glued on the sterling silver for the whole flight here, only breaking out of your daze when suguru approaches with your collected luggages, pressing a kiss to your temple. “shall we go?” you can’t help but mumble a soft ‘i love you’ before you peck his lips, the coldness of his matching ring on your skin reminding you of your newly forged bond.

geto makes sure you feel its coldness later on your thigh, hand holding down your legs firmly when he first inserts both fingers, cunt easily sucking him in right until you feel the chill of the wedding ring. he’s rewarded with your sweet moans, s’thick and s’good leaving your lips softly while he leaves your clit untouched. it’s throbbing, and yet he tortures you more when he removes his fingers.

“suguru!”

“what?” he grins, a sick grin as he starts to remove his pants and admires the way your pussy just asks for his dick. “want ya to cum on my cock.”

“yeah, but—” you huff, although you weren’t opposed, before you hear the familiar crinkle of the condom packet and you’re sitting up to hold his hands back. now, his what was truly confused, and you bit your lip, wondering if this was really the route you wanted to go down.

you’ve always loved sex with suguru; it was phenomenal always, except the feeling of the rubber in you. it was necessary, you knew, but now that you’re bound by vows and your endless love, you’d think that . .

“can we not use it today, sugu?”

geto didn’t think he heard you correctly, and he’s asked you to repeat it even when you’ve seized the packet and threw it to the side, a hand on his hardened cock that only responds to you — you swear you feel more pre-cum on your thumb when you say it for the third time.

“are you sure, baby?” geto asks softly, hovering over you with his large stature and it’s just like the first time you were intimate with each other. caring and gentle as he always is, “we don’t have to do away with it just cause we’re married now, (y/n).”

you give him a small reassuring smile. “i’m sure, suguru.”

and he proceeds to ask you for two more times before your legs are carried up. surprised, you watch as he drags his tip along your folds, eyes darkening when he watches his pre-cum mix with your juices. and now when he’s given permission to fuck you raw? he can hardly keep his heart rate down.

“hear that, baby?” geto moans, keeping his eyes locked in yours, making you hear just how wet you were and you nod, wanting to have his hand in yours. there’s a mixture of your moans when he first pushes in, with your pussy clenching around him. a loud whine leaves your throat as your hands interlock.

“s-su! feels so—!” you gasp when he bottoms out, a feeling entirely different from the usual — you swear you can feel his cockhead and the veins along his length, and geto knows the same. your gummy walls that hug him, your warmth.

“shiitt . . god, you feel so fuckin’ good—” he grunts out, leaning forward to capture your lips, sighing when he does a light thrust and the drag of your cunt is just too good and he already feels his high approaching. “just so perfect in this pussy— t-thank you, darling.”

geto swears he goes in and out of consciousness when his hips start to move, focused solely on your hand on his cheek and the squeeze of your hand in his, alongside those hooded, drunken eyes of yours and the whimpers leaving your mouth.

“suguru— s’big!” you pant against his lips and the squelch of your pussy is only amplified by how swiftly he rails into you, driven by the raw feeling of your cunt.

“y’can take it, can’t ya?” geto hums, pressing one last kiss against your lips and comes off of you, grabbing your legs and pushing. they’re right up to your chest and suguru reaches so deep, you squeal in surprise. “good girl, takin’ me so damn well.”

you let him use your body, now hanging onto the headboard of the hotel room as his hips move relentlessly into your dripping cunt. you can see your juices splay everywhere from how wet you were and the rough movement of his hips don’t help, “g’na cum, su—”

“that so?” he mumbles, and angles his hips to hit that spot and your head digs into the pillow. although, geto doesn’t like that, “c’mon baby, watch me as i breed you.”

you whine at his choice of words, opening your eyes to see your newly wedded husband look divine. his hair falls all over his face and his lips are parted in little pants, sweat lining his torso and face but his honeyed eyes only look at you.

the way geto’s hips drive into you is carnal, feeling your ass ripple with his thrust to the hilt and the sounds that leave his lips sound like heaven, a mix between whines and moans — “look at how much cum i have f’r you—”

and for the both of you it comes so quickly you don’t have time to prepare for the visions of white; you can feel as geto cums deep in you, feeling each spurt of cum fill you up and you think you’d never want to go back to condoms ever again. geto’s head is thrown back when he shoots his load, hips bucking so much as you cum at the same time, spasming on his cock that the room is full of your lewd sounds.

geto doesn’t look at you when he removes his cock silently, watching as his tip continues to push out globs of semen while your cunt is painted white. it’s clear he’s drunk on it, looking toward you finally with a small smile. the final clench your pussy does is the last straw for him, pushing out his cum that drips down to the sheets and he’s hard again.

“you don’t know what you just unlocked in me, baby,” geto laughs breathlessly, slapping his length along your folds with obscene noises, “but it’ll definitely end in me filling you up with s’much cum, yeah?”

you giggle, wiggling your hips until he’s in you again. hot breath against your ankle and a scrunch in his expression — your pussy’s just too good.

“yeah, i’d love that, sugu. give me all your cum.”

✶ GOJO

your happiness was unmatched running down the aisle, interrupted by the smooth sweep of gojo’s arms under your neck and knees in a princess carry, moving your body up and down like you just scored the final goal of a game — except you did. you’ve captured satoru’s heart and his fourth finger, smiling with glossy eyes as he leans in to kiss you. “you cryin’, baby?” the audacity to ask that when his nose is red too — you only shake your head, hearing the camera click and your relatives cheer.

that sweet sentiment is changed later after your wedding dinner when he hasn’t even got you past the front door until he has you against the wardrobe, dinner gown and panties swiped to the side and you desperately trying not to overturn the hotel kettle.

“can’t keep me from this pussy for long, baby.” gojo’s stamina is exceptional, you were made aware of this from the first time you got into bed with him, and you still weren’t exactly used to it. from here, you only wish to memorise the sight of gojo on his knees and the chill of his wedding ring on your thigh. “looked so delicious in this dress—”

“s-satoru, we haven’t even closed the door yet—!” he hums, skillfully using his free hand to do it and he continues his assault on your pussy. you have one leg propped up on the vanity table, leaking so much juices just from having his hand on your thigh.

it’s no different later that gojo presses kisses on your neck, making you watch yourself in the vanity mirror. your cunt’s already so used to his heavy, thick cock, and yet it still reaches so deep in you, kissing your cervix. there’s a ring of white around the base of his cock from how much he’s cummed in you, pussy gushing so much around his length that he has no problem moving in and out of you.

“look at how beautiful you are, sweets,” he whispers along your skin while you tighten around him, body lined up with yours while his hips continue to ram into you. you can’t even fathom what round exactly this is as his hands knead at your lower back, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes from just how good his cock was hitting your spots. a hand to your clit is enough to get you cumming for the nth time that night, tongue lolling out in the mirror. “you cryin’?”

you whine and nod softly, head dropping from the sudden soreness and exhaustion on a particular thrust, and your husband coos, “went too hard on you, did i?”

gojo places one more peck to your neck and slips out of you, making you choke on a moan as your entrance clenches around air and you’re off the ground like you were at the front of the church. he simply laughs at your fucked out form, knowing nevertheless you loved it when you’re asking him to hurry up. and so he brings you atop him, letting you move your hips until he’s in you and you’re whining into his neck.

“’toru . .”

“what is it, mrs. gojo?”

you stifle a laugh at that, lifting your body tiredly. even after being fucked for four rounds (he counted), you still look as lovely as you did as you first appeared at the start of the aisle, when you were crying your eyes out saying your vows, when you grinned during your first dance.

“jus’ tired baby, help me, pleasee?” the little pout you do is too cute not to resist that it gets his heart tightening up and his dick jumping. 

“hang on, sweet girl, i got ya.” the first thrust up into you is euphoric, skin so sticky from the cum before that you’re sure there’s strings of white connecting your pelvis to his. the feeling of your clit brushing up against his pubes has you moaning into thin air and your hips move back on him to get more friction, “that alright?”

“mhm . .” you mumble, “s’good—”

gojo only lets out a little chuckle, letting you tangle your hands in his hair as he plants his feet down into the mattress and slams into your dripping cunt. he groans softly at the feel of your walls, still so warm and tight, muttering soft praises while your limp body moves along with his rough ministrations.

“oh— my g-god . .” you mewl out when he latches his lips onto your tits, sucking and swirling his tongue and your back arches in his arms; you simply can’t hold yourself up from the overstimulation, falling forward into his waiting arms. “s-sorry, ’toru.”

“what’re you apologisin’ for?” gojo swear when he feels you clamp down, cock twitching and you both know he’s about to cum, “my pretty girl doesn’t need to be saying sorry . . fuck—”

satoru’s his lips meet yours messily and his thrusts turn weak and sloppy while he ruts mindlessly into you with the lewd pap! pap! pap! sounds of his balls against your ass. he’s primal with his hips, with muffled moans onto your lips. there’s drool dripping from the corners of your mouths as he spills into you shamelessly, so much cum spilling from your connected bodies that you reach your climax too, body trembling from the intense feeling.

“’toru—! s-so much cum, haah . .” it’s so hot, entirely sure your womb is full of his previous loads, your mixed juices coating his still hard dick and you might just tap out, but when you feel his cum dribble out of you and down his cock, you’re already wishing for more. you merely reach for the cup of water and gulp down a large amount and your lover only watches you, amused.

“n-need more, satoru . .” you whisper, sitting up and trailing a hand down his body, making sure he can see the shimmer of the expensive ring he bought for you — it wouldn’t rust, either, he told you. eyes fluttering close, you remove yourself from him completely and lie back on the king-sized he insisted on booking, and spread your folds to show him just how needy your cunt still was.

there’s a small moan that escapes gojo’s mouth when you do that, already hovering over you with his heavy cock resting along your pussy, “give me more, baby.”

“oh, when my good girl asks so nicely,” satoru slyly grins, swallowing your whines with a sloppy kiss, “’course i have to give it to her.”

tagging my loves @hyomagiri @jabamin @shotorus @utahimeow @satohruu @na-t0 @lvlybee @slttygeto @crysugu @suguruplsr ❀

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟓]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.1k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, reader is mentioned to be wearing a dress, descriptions of blood and injury

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. the slow burn is burning... kinich is a little slow to the punch though LOL. this chapter talks about turnfire night, i took a lot of ~artistic liberty~ with the banquet and such so don't hate on me pls. there's a bit of angst in the next few chapters, i'm sorry HAHAHA. pls lmk what you guys think, it's very motivating! i hope you enjoy <3 reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗠 (𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗘)

At some point, the flowers start to speak your name.

Kinich isn’t sure when the idea took root in his mind—it had been slow for sure, a snail crawling over a branch. Living together makes you a perpetual presence in his life, a certainty like the rise of the sun and the glint of the stars. He finds comfort in that knowledge, but rarely thinks on it more than that.

The day he realizes it, the sun is a bright yolk in the sky, honey-yellow and shining dutifully upon his back. A layer of sweat plasters itself to his forehead, and he scrubs it away with his wrist, panting. For as many years as he’s been a farmer, the work hardly gets easier; it still leaves him sore and aching every day.

Across the field, the front door of your home swings open—it’s you that peeks out, waving. Kinich nods back in reply, gathering the vegetables in his basket and jogging back over to you. He frowns when he notices a dark spot on one of his carrots, vaguely noting that he should toss that one out later.

“I ran you a bath,” you offer, leaning halfway out the doorway. Kinich extends a half-smile in gratitude.

“Thanks,” he replies, holding the harvest out to you. You take the basket with a small ‘thank you’, placing it down on your feet. Usually, you would take the vegetables inside right away to wash and cut them, but today, you’re lingering—there’s something on your mind.

But Kinich is nothing if not patient, so he merely waits, arching a brow.

“It’s Turnfire Night,” you finally admit, hands clasped behind your back. “Elder Leik invited us to the banquet, if you’re keen on going.”

Surprised, Kinich glances over his crops. He’s just about done here for the day, and he doesn’t have anything on the to-do list for tonight anyway.

“Do you want to?”

You’re hesitating, likely out of shyness—he watches you rock back and forth on your heels.

“I think it’d be nice,” you reply, short. 

You’re trying not to force him, he realizes. You know how much he hates crowded things like that. And usually, you would be right, but he thinks back on the last time he’d visited the village. It’s been long enough, he decides, and one day wouldn’t kill him.

“Sure, we can go.”

Your disposition brightens instantly, nearly ascending with joy. 

“Really?” you squeak, hands drawing to your chest. He smiles and nods, shaking his head with amusement when you disappear back inside, cheering. You’re easy to please in a lot of ways.

Kinich takes you up on your offer of a warm bath, then prepares one for you as well. Gone are the days that the two of you washed up in the river—a nicer bathtub had been one of your earlier investments, and Kinich had grown to appreciate the blessings of a warm place to wash at the end of a long day. It does wonders for his aching muscles.

Over the years, Kinich’s house had slowly grown into a home, right under his nose. Your presence had been a driving force in that process.

While his hair dries, he’s in the kitchen organizing a few of the cupboards when you emerge from your bath, footsteps quietly padding against the floor. You call his name, voice thin and uncertain. When he turns, his heart squeezes.

You’re wearing a lovely dress, a forest green with golden accents—he briefly notes that it matches his eyes, then wonders if you had chosen that on purpose. The thought leaves his head foggy.

“What do you think?” you ask shyly, giving a small twirl. Kinich’s gaze follows the flow of your skirt, the liveliness of it. He’s never seen you dressed up like this in all his years of knowing you, and the sight makes something take root in his chest. “I bought it at the market a while ago, just in case.”

There’s a beat of silence, but it doesn’t sit for long.

“It looks nice,” is all that crawls from his throat, thick. The words sound awkward from his lips, he thinks harshly. A heated flush surges up his neck, curling around his ears and resting there. You practically glow at his response, clapping to yourself. 

“I got something for you too,” you sing, disappearing into the bedroom. Kinich waits patiently until you return, gesturing for him to close his eyes. He indulges you, and it’s a few seconds before something soft brushes at his forehead, pushing his bangs aside.

A bandana.

When his vision returns, you’re standing inches away from his face—his breath hitches at the proximity. Your gaze is searching as it meets his, your lip twitching at the edge. The excitement nearly pours off of you in waves. 

You’re staring.

Kinich’s fingers brush his own cheek, self-conscious. “What is it?”

You lean impossibly closer.

“Nothing,” you hum, happy as a clam. “I just think it makes your eyes look even prettier.” 

You’ve always told him how much you love his eyes, the starburst of jade and gold. You have a tendency to notice things about him that no one else does.

“Does it look nice?” he asks quietly, thumbing at the cloth. He would recognize a product of your weaving anywhere—you must’ve been working on this for a while now. He wonders when you found the time, or even how you managed to do it without him noticing.

You nod, a fond smile gracing your face. “You look really handsome.”

Kinich feels a touch of jealousy at the ease with which the words seem to fall from your lips. Sometimes, he wishes he could speak his mind the way you do. He doesn’t usually hold back in his words—most people he interacts with can attest to that—but when it comes to you, his tongue grows heavy in his mouth.

Still, the idea that you think he looks handsome is…nice.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

You turn and skip back into the bedroom, calling over your shoulder about how the two of you should leave soon. He watches you leave, the dress flowing like silk over your form. He swallows.

It’s really, really nice.

Later on, Kinich holds you close as the two of you grapple toward the village, mountains and trees racing past you. Your giggles are warm against his ear; you love traveling like this, the adrenaline that pulses through your veins. Winking dots of light are already visible in the distance, a rousing cheer reaching your ears—the festivities have already started.

He lands neatly on one of the wooden walkways, taking in the scenery. The village is decorated with bright streamers and vases of blooming flowers, crowds of people maneuvering around the party. You maintain your grip on Kinich’s hand, unwilling to lose him in the crowd.

Two taller figures emerge from the swathe of people, greeting you by name. 

“Have you two been taking care?” Elder Leik asks warmly, Chief Wayna smiling at his side. The elders are concerned for the two of you, Kinich knows; they’ve tried many times to convince you to move back to the village. Their efforts slowly ceased as the two of you grew older—you’ve always been steadfast in your independence.

You nod enthusiastically. “We’ve been doing really well! Everyone’s seeking out Kinich’s work.”

Your compliment makes him feel a bit embarrassed—he feels an urge to deny it, but the elders only laugh and congratulate him, ruffling at his hair. He does feel a bit satisfied that they recognize his strength.

“That’s great,” Chief Wayna replies, genuine. “Just remember you can always come to us if you ever need anything. But also make sure you enjoy the party!”

He leaves the two of you with a wink, fading into the crowd, and you take the opportunity to grasp at Kinich’s hand, pulling him along. You’re the most excited person there, truly in awe of everything.

Kinich indulges in some of the food, laughing at the gusto with which you scarf down your own—he chuckles as he wipes crumbs away from your cheeks. Everyone’s spirits are high; the music is loud and roaring, an electrifying song that Kinich can feel in his veins. You perk up at the sound.

“Kin, can we dance?” you beg, eyes bright and lips pouted. 

He glances around. Really, he doesn’t want to, especially not in front of all of these people. But the music is slowing, and Kinich can never say no to you, so he sighs, pulling you close and placing a cursory hand at your waist.

“Is this good?” he asks, a murmur. You hum in content, resting your head at his shoulder.

“It’s great.”

A permanent grin seems to have plastered itself over your lips. Kinich absently thinks that it makes you look so much more beautiful—a flower in bloom.

“You’re really happy today,” he comments.

Your eyes flutter shut, delighted.

“I’m happy you wanted to come with me. And I was happy that you liked my dress, and that you liked the headband I wove for you. I’m just happy.”

A deep yearning fills Kinich’s chest at the feather-softness of your voice—he feels an urge to hide you away. Somehow, he wants this side of you to only be for him.

“I did really like it,” he confirms. “The headband, and…everything else.”

He likes spending time with you, he likes your dress, and he likes the warmth that permeates his body when you hold him like this. Everything else seems to fade into nothingness.

For a while, the two of you talk about nothing and everything. It’s a truly peaceful existence. Kinich tries to remember if he’s ever been to a Turnfire Night like this before; the last time he’d attended, he’d likely been too young to even remember the event. You just have a way of replacing his darker memories with pleasant ones.

The beat of the music picks up again, and Kinich feels an instant chill when you lift your head from his shoulder. Still, he sways to the music with you, smiling when you start to sing along to the energetic song.

“You’re a good dancer,” you observe, in awe. Kinich shrugs, smoothly spinning you again.

“It’s not that hard.”

Dancing with you is actually fun, he realizes despite his initial hesitation. Your laughter fades with the passing wind, dissipating into the night, and he can’t help but stare at the way the torchlight glimmers against your skin.

The two of you celebrate until the music dies to silence, until people start to yawn and retire to bed. By this time, the sun is already peeking in the distance, barely a whisper of light reaching you. 

Kinich carries you home, soft snores echoing from your place on his back—he decides he won’t tease you about it later.

Instead, he promises himself that he’ll keep taking you to Turnfire Night every year after.

(Then, he promises himself that he’ll always protect your smile.)

/

By the time he cries for the first time, Kinich is fifteen.

He feels that he knows the way the world works now—those with strength, with value, survive. It’s not that he has any interest in being one of the rich ones with towering houses that line the cliffside. Really, all he needs to be satisfied is a comfortable life with you at the foot of the mountain. And his needs—things like clothes and food—come with Mora, so he makes Mora. It’s a simple existence.

He spends more time with you. Slowly but surely, he starts to bring you on jobs and hunts with him. You’re eager to learn about the work he does, and even more excited to help—your medical knowledge does tend to make things go faster. Still, he feels extra layers of anxiety whenever he knows you’re coming along, his grip drawing tighter around his sword.

It comes on a day like any other.

At first, it doesn’t seem like a particularly difficult job—it’s a run-of-the-mill request, to subdue a Saurian that’s been attacking travelers near the village. Even still, Kinich is as thorough as always in the days leading up to the job, and you let him take the lead. He’s strict about these things when you come along, and you know better than to distract him.

The day of, the two of you encounter the Saurian in a clearing adjacent to the road. It’s sick, you mention quietly, hidden in the foliage nearby—it’s foaming at the mouth, erratic in its movements. Kinich mumbles back his agreement.

It starts to peck at the poisoned berries he’d left for it, movements slowing. He counts down the minutes—at this point, it should be incapacitated enough for the kill.

It’s only when Kinich creeps up behind it, greatsword in hand, that he realizes he’d been wrong. The Saurian seems to switch at the last second, beady eyes burning as it poises to strike. Kinich barely blocks the attack with the flat of his blade, teeth gritted.

“Kinich!” you cry out, running to his side. The Saurian perks up at the sound, tense.

Kinich’s eyes widen. “Wait, don’t come—”

It’s too late. The Saurian’s claw catches you in the stomach as it whips around, sending you flying.

A sickening crack echoes when your back smacks against a rock—you crumple to the dirt, hunched over. A cold breath hisses between Kinich’s teeth as he screams your name.

The Saurian doesn’t last much longer than that, not that he really remembers any of it. He swings his sword, cutting and slicing, sounds of battle piercing the air. It’s only when he sprints to your side that he returns to his senses.

A harsh gash is ripped through your shirt and the skin beneath, a pool of crimson already gathering on your stomach. The sight brings bile crawling up his throat.

“Kin…”

Your voice is weak, and Kinich hushes you quickly, an urge to save your strength. A striking fear has his blood freezing in his veins—he remembers his father’s corpse. Terror hovers over his body, leaving him breathless. He intertwines his fingers with yours, pressing the back of your hand to his lips. 

“That hurt,” you mumble, a touch of humor in your tone even now. “I’m tired.”

Your eyelids are heavy, stare unfocused. 

“Don’t close your eyes!” he demands. He palms at your cheek lightly, willing you to stay awake. It’s unlike him, the desperation in his voice. “Didn’t you say you’d always be by my side?”

You chuckle, a line of blood dripping down your chin. Kinich thumbs it away.

“I said that when we were kids, silly.”

He swallows, throat bobbing. Your eyes follow the motion unconsciously.

“We’re still kids.” 

His voice cracks as he says it, like his words can’t bear the brunt of their meaning. Your heart pulses, a burst of adrenaline coursing through you at his rare show of emotion. It’s only a moment, because the pain returns milliseconds later and a groan escapes your chest. 

Quickly, Kinich pulls his headband off, sliding it between his teeth to hold while he pulls the flask of water from his belt. He sets about cleaning your wound, gentle, but the stress is evident in his expression. His hands are shaking; you can feel the tremble against your skin as he eases your shirt up.

“It’ll be okay,” he breathes. Even he is unsure if he’s speaking to you or himself. You nod weakly.

“It’ll be okay, Kin.” You cough, and something in Kinich’s chest snaps when a spray of blood splatters over the hem of his shirt. A spray of your blood. “Don’t worry, okay?”

He can’t even really hear you anymore. He’s staring at the crimson mist, wondering how this had even happened. He’d assumed he was strong enough—strong enough to do this job, strong enough to protect you—and he had been wrong. There must’ve been an error in his calculations, or maybe he hadn’t prepared enough. 

He fastens his headband around your wound, stemming the blood flow. It’s almost an out-of-body experience—he hardly even recognizes the hands as his.

He’d gotten too comfortable, and you had paid the price.

Those with strength survive, but that day brings a sobering realization—Kinich is far weaker than he thought.

A cold tear slides down his cheek as he carries you home. 

You’re sniffling in pain at each step, the movement irritating your wound, and Kinich feels truly helpless. All he can do is whisper promises and apologies, that he’s sorry it happened and that he promises everything will be okay. It almost feels worse that you don’t seem to blame him at all—you’re apologizing too, telling him you’re sorry for being a burden on his job.

“You’re never a burden,” he spits. It comes out harsher than intended, so he sighs, softening. “You could never be a burden to me.”

You don’t reply.

A thick lump lodges itself in his throat as he feels your blood soak through the back of his shirt. It all almost feels unreal—he feels like he could return home to your warmth and smile and everything would be okay. You have a way of making everything okay.

“We’re almost there, okay?” he murmurs. You’re sweating from the pain, sticky against his skin. “Just stay with me.”

The house feels unnaturally cold when he kicks the door open. 

By the time he has your wound properly wrapped, the sun is gone, a distant memory. He sets you down in bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin—you’re already asleep, but your expression is unpleasant, tortured. You must be in pain, even in your dreams.

The thought makes him sick.

With a sigh, he stumbles out of the bedroom, collapsing onto the couch. His hands are still shaking from overuse and exhaustion. He’s not used to the tedious movements anymore like you are—you’re always the one patching him up these days.

A vase sits on the table. It’s full of Saurian Claw Succulents—you’d planted them yourself, cheery at the prospect of decorating the house a bit more. Kinich plucks one of the flowers from the vase by the thin stem, vacantly inspecting each petal.

He wonders what he has to change.

Those with strength survive. Kinich wants to survive. He wants to survive and live his days out with you.

But he’s not strong enough. If you can’t smile at his side, what good is he at all?

Your labored breathing is audible from the other room, the sound grating against his ears. If he had a Vision, or some other kind of power, things might’ve been different. If he had just been stronger—

He thinks back on his younger self, on his innocence, on his weakness. He’d discarded that side of himself long ago in favor of something more powerful, in favor of someone who could protect and take care of you.

There’s no turning back now, he thinks.

The stem snaps under his fingers, under the weight of it all, previous gentleness gone.

[prythianpages]

I Put A Spell On You | Acotar x Witch Reader

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[season of the witch masterlist]

summary: You, a witch, perform a ritual over your mate.

warnings: witchy rituals, Az being smitten with Green Witch, suggestiveness for Cas's bc he's horny for Love Witch, and a bit of Eris being soft for his Chaos witch.

a/n: Happy Summerween! This is inspired by the meme "hot witch wife and me doing whatever the hell she wants" that came from the gif above. Only Azriel, Cassian and Eris are included in this. Idek if these count as drabbles since each one is roughly a little longer than 1K but oh well lol.

moon divider by @tsunami-of-tears <3

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Azriel x Green Witch

Candles were lit and placed carefully around the room, casting a warm glow that danced with your every movement. You knelt in the center, drawing a chalk circle with meticulous care. Your eyebrows knitted together, focus unwavering.

A sight that had Azriel’s gaze softening as he watched you from where he stood. His shadows flitted around him, singing in content. Precious, they whispered. Yours. The corner of his lips tugged up into a faint smile. Ours. His shadows were just as smitten with you as him.

"Azriel," you called softly as you shifted into a kneeling position.

He stepped forward, shadows shuddering under the force of your magic as he crossed the chalk circle. Kneeling before you, his gaze flickered to the tray between you, filled with an assortment of herbs, shimmering crystals, and freshly cut dandelions. Through the bond, he could feel your anticipation and nervousness humming like a vibrant current. He sent a soothing wave of calm your way, reveling in the way your muscles seemed to relax.

Lighting the candle on the tray with your magic, you finally look up and meet Azriel’s gaze. A faint blush colors your cheeks at what you find in those hazel eyes. "Why are you staring at me like that?" 

“Because you’ve bewitched me.”

You lifted a brow. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Oh, but you have.” He grinned, hazel eyes sparkling. “Just being you is enough.”

“Don’t distract me,” you admonished, though your voice lacked firmness, and the blush on your face deepened. “I could be casting a hex on you for all you know… what if I were cursing you into a toad?”

“I’d croak only for you.”

“And if I jinxed you with a body-bind curse that would immobilize you?”

Azriel tilted his head, his eyes boring into yours with a challenge. “So that I’d never leave your side…Are you sure that’s a curse?”

You stared back at Azriel, eyes narrowing in skepticism. But he doesn’t waver. You’re certain he doesn’t even blink, and the sincerity radiating from him sends a wave of warmth through your heart. He’d let you do anything to him.

“You’re insufferable,” you finally replied, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed your words.

“And you’re adorable,” he said softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch sending delightful shivers down your spine. 

Before his hand could fall back to his side, you reached out for it and laced your fingers through his, smile widening when one of his shadows wedges itself through the cracks.  “Will you let me focus now?”

Azriel gives your hand a squeeze, silently commanding the shadow between your fingers to return to him. With a wave of your other hand, your spellbook came flying to you from your desk in the corner. In a whirl of green, the pages began to turn, your eyes darkening as they searched for the spell in mind.

“What is this spell for anyway?” Azriel couldn’t help but ask, realizing he had no clue as to what this ritual of yours entailed. When he told you he was going on a long mission–a full week–and you had asked if you could try something, he had simply said yes.

Darkness fully consumed your eyes, the turning pages coming to a stop. He doesn’t flinch when your dark eyes look up to his. To him, they were just another beautiful part of you that he loved.  “It’s a small binding spell for protection. It’s like a stepping stone for the spell I want to cast after our mating ceremony.”

“And no, I won’t tell you what that one is because it’s a surprise.” You added after sensing the next question ready to roll off Azriel’s tongue.

Azriel let out a small huff. He doesn’t like surprises but you’re stubborn and unwavering. At the slight pout of his face, you bring his hand to your mouth and brushed your lips against his fingers. The subtle twitch of his right wing betrayed him, making you smile. 

“Now, sit back on your heels and relax.” You instructed, taking his other hand in yours so both hands held his.

Azriel’s wings curled in slightly, the dark talons lightly grazing the floor. His shadows quieted, resting against his neck and lap. You gave both of his hands a squeeze before you began to murmur a chant, your voice soothing and melodic. The flames surrounding you both danced higher, responding to your magic.

Your magic enveloped you both, swirling along the line of your circle and casting a shimmering green glow upon the room. The magic from Azriel’s cobalt blue siphons sang in response, fluttering toward your emerald light and intertwining with it, just like your fingers are with his.

The combined force of your magic sent a cool gust of air your way, making your hair sway gently. The dandelions between you both seemed to awaken with a life of their own, the pappus carrying their seeds stirring. A tender flutter of warmth rose from Azriel’s stomach as the dandelions began to rise, his mind flashing back to that day in the field of dandelions when your laughter had filled the air.

The feathery plumes floated in the air between you both, carrying promises in the wind of your magic.They wrapped around your intertwined hands, morphing into a golden thread in a burst of bright light. Azriel eyes filled with a mix of admiration and something deeper that made your heart race. It prompted you to close your eyes, not wanting to be distracted as you whispered the last words of the spell.

When you finished, the room fell into a calm silence. You opened your eyes, and Azriel watched as the darkness lifted from them, smiling as you were brought back to him.

Azriel rises first so that he can guide you to your feet. His hands don’t let go of yours. Though it’s time for him to leave for his mission, his shoulders feel light. As if a huge weight has been lifted off and he feels something he’s never felt before–an overwhelming sense of safety. Even his shadows seemed to give a sigh of relief.

Resting his forehead against yours, he takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut briefly. “I’ll come home to you as soon as I can. Crawl if I have to.”

“You won’t have to,” you promised, looking up at him. “You’ll come home to me unscathed and we’ll have our mating ceremony. Then, I’ll show you my surprise.”

His lips brushed against your forehead in a tender kiss, the promise of your future together shimmering like the magic lingering in the air.

Cassian x Love Witch

Cassian’s head tilted back in pleasure, his large hands falling to your hips. Your lips found purchase against the newly exposed skin of his neck, slowly working your way up. He let out a deep groan when you grinded down against him, his hands kneading into you to press you further onto his growing bulge.

“Sweetheart–”

“Can I–” 

“Yes.”

You let out a breathless giggle, pulling back to look down at your mate, your heart shaped pupils making an appearance. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“Well, let’s fix that?” He smirked at you, his hand sliding up your shirt.

“I want to try something.”

“Anything,” Cassian replied, eyes hooded with lust, before chasing after your lips.

You placed a finger against his lips, stopping them from meeting yours and when your lips curved into a devious grin, Cassian realized you were not talking about sex.

“I want to cast a spell on you, perform a ritual.”

His throat bobbed. “A ritual?”

“Mmm,” you replied, shifting in his lap as you cradled his face into your hands. “One I can only perform when the recipient is in love with me. It makes my love potions more potent. I’ve never tried it before but I’d like to. It’ll be fun…”

Cassian searched your face, eyes narrowing at you. “Fun in what sense?”

“Fun in the sense that it’ll make you feel real, real good,” you replied, hands falling to his chest slowly snaking their way upwards to run down his back and teasing at the area where his wings meet his skin. His wings shuddered, his arousal filling the air.

“Only if I get to make you feel real, real good after.” His hands guided you to circle your hips over his lap again, eliciting a soft moan out of you as you felt his desire for you.

“Deal.”

**

Cassian watched as you moved about your spell room with a grace and purpose that made his heart swell with pride. Since you had become a couple, your magic had been steadily returning to its former strength. It seemed that all you needed was to believe in yourself for your magic to flourish again.

This wouldn’t be the first time you’d work your magic on him but it was the first time you’d perform a ritual on him. He couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anticipation as he laid down in the center of the circle you had drawn. His wings, arms and legs were splayed out in a relaxed yet expectant manner.

You sprinkled salt around the circle, its crystals catching the fae lights hanging above and adding a shimmering boundary. Then, with a dash of cinnamon, Cassian’s nose wrinkled, the warm, spicy scent teasing his senses. As you scattered rose petals along the floor, Cassian’s eyes followed you, tracking your every movement. 

“How does this work again?” 

You made your way towards Cassian, your feet stopping right at his head as you peered down at him. “It’s simple. You think about me and only me—”

“Easy.” He smirked up at you.

With a playful wink, you threw a handful of rose petals at him.  “—while I chant a spell. Your feelings will manifest into a tangible energy that I can then work with and stir into my potion.” You explained as you added drops of honey and more cinnamon to the brewing potion in the cauldron at the edge of the circle, the mixture bubbling softly.

“But what if I accidentally think of other things?” Cassian couldn’t help but ask. 

His thoughts did tend to drift away often, usually to not so innocent thoughts of you. However, there were the occasional random ones such as what he’d be having for dinner, the  result of the loud instrument he had gifted Nyx on his birthday or what would make Azriel tick next.

“Then, the cauldron will tip over angrily over your defiance to love me.”

He lifted his head slightly from the ground, relief bringing it back down when he saw you were joking.

“Just don’t think of anything negative. Otherwise, you’ll mess with the spell.” You reassured.

“Okay, got it! I can definitely do that. Think positive thoughts.” His eyebrows knitted together in concentration but then another thought came to mind and once again, he was lifting his head from the ground.

 "And why am I shirtless?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Oh that," you grinned back at him, eyes sparkling with mischief.  "That's for my own entertainment."

You began the ritual by lighting candles placed at each cardinal point of the circle. You then took a small, ornate vial from a nearby table, filled with a shimmering liquid—the essence of moonlight collected during the last full moon. You carefully poured a few drops into the cauldron, causing the potion to glow.

As you started chanting the spell, the energy in the room seemed to shift and intensify. Cassian closed his eyes, focusing on his love for you, letting the emotion swell within him. You placed your hands gently on his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath your palms. 

“Stay still.”

“Your hands are cold and it tickles.” Cassian breathed but did his best to not move.

The air around you crackled with energy like a steady, burning hearth. The pink thread of magic began to weave itself around Cassian, glowing brighter with each passing moment. The connection between you two was palpable, a current of love and magic flowing freely. You could feel his love transforming into a tangible force, ready to be harnessed for your potion.

As the final words of the spell left your lips, you gathered the energy with a sweeping motion of your hand, guiding it into the cauldron. The potion bubbled vigorously for a moment before settling into a golden liquid, infused with the power of your love and Cassian’s devotion.

You looked down at Cassian, who opened his eyes and met your gaze. “There,” you said softly, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. “How do you feel?”

“Amazing.” Cassian replied, his entire body humming with a pleasant warmth. He felt good, real good. Just as you had said. He reached up and gently pulled you down for a kiss, his lips warm and soft against yours. “You’re amazing.”

Then, he flipped you over, positioning you on the ground beneath him as he hovered above you. His gaze darkened, love and lust simmering in those hazel eyes. “Now, it’s my turn to make you feel good.”

Lost in the promise of pleasure, you failed to close the ritual and your brewing love potion bubbled, turning into something more sensual…

Eris x Chaos Witch

Eris entered the dimly lit chamber, the hair on the back of his neck rising at the sudden chill in the air. The sensation, once unsettling, now was a welcomed embrace, a whisper of the magic that thrived in these walls. He closed the door behind him.

It was only then that he allowed his shoulders to sag, burdened by the heavy yet long desired mantle of his new responsibilities as the High Lord of Autumn. As he begins to unbutton his coat, the soft hum of a melody reached his ears, a soothing sound that seemed to dance with the flickering shadows. Drawn towards the source, Eris walked into the bathroom, where the air was thick with the scent of enchanted herbs and essential oils.

In the center of the room, a large, claw-footed bathtub awaited, filled with steaming water. Floating atop were petals of autumn blooms, interspersed with sprigs of calming lavender and rosemary. You stood beside the tub, your back turned towards him, but he could feel your awareness of his presence through the bond that tightened in his chest.

Eris leaned against the doorframe, taking a moment to fully appreciate the scene before him. The tightening in his chest blossomed into a pool of warmth, the sight of you bringing him a sense of peace that always left him wondering if this was all a dream. Another tug through the bond reminds him that it’s not. 

You wore a flowing gown of deep burgundy, reminiscent of the Autumn Court’s forests, and your hair cascaded around your shoulders. The humming ceased, and with a smile in your voice, you finally greeted him.

“My High Lord.”

A faint smirk tugged at Eris’s lips as he crossed his arms. "What is all of this?"

You turned around to face him, your eyes glowing a vivid crimson as the room darkened around you. "A little treat for you."

Eris raised an eyebrow, his own magic flickering the candles surrounding the bathtub to life. "A treat? For me?"

"Mmm. That’s what I said.”

Your eyes softened back to their natural hue. “Your energy has been all over the place these past couple of weeks. I thought a ritual might help ease your burden." You gestured to the enticing bath. "To relax you a little."

Eris blinked, momentarily taken aback by the gesture. His eyes roamed over the various jars and elixirs lining one of the counters, each one glimmering with an otherworldly light. His gaze returned to you as you moved towards the array. You paused, studying the selection with a discerning eye before picking up a dark vial, its contents swirling with a strange mist.

You approached the bathtub with the chosen elixir, the air tingling with anticipation. You uncorked the bottle, releasing the trapped mist with a soft pop. You brought the open bottle to your nose, inhaling deeply and closing your eyes as if savoring a fine wine. “Frog’s breath,” you said, the corners of your lips twitching at the slight grimace on Eris’s face. “It’s surprisingly refreshing. It’s the toad’s breath you have to watch out for.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to go sniffing the wrong amphibian,” Eris replied, his tone laced with dry sarcasm.

You shot him a wry look before turning your attention back to the bath. With a flick of your wrist, you directed the mist towards the water, where it hovered above the surface like storm clouds, emitting a soft hiss as it settled.

Then, you reached into your dress, pulling out a long, vibrant feather from your chest, its colors shimmering in shades of reds, oranges, and gold. Your eyes glowed with a radiant red light as you admired the feather. “A phoenix feather. It brings forth rebirth and renewal—a rejuvenating energy, perfect for new beginnings.”

You beckoned Eris closer, and he complied, his amber eyes alight with curiosity and intrigue. He stood beside you, watching intently as you cast the feather into the bathtub as if it were your cauldron. There was a sudden flash of light, and the water began to glow with a faint golden hue.

“Looks like you’re preparing to make a stew out of me.”

You turned your head to meet his gaze, finding him already watching you. Your smile widened into a mischievous grin. “Oh, how you wound me, my love. I thought we were well past the murderous stage.”

Eris chuckled, reminiscing about the tumultuous beginnings of your relationship. How far the two of you had come since those early days. He never would have imagined that the witch with a love for chaos could capture his heart so completely. As you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle nudge, he turned to face you.

“Will you let me take care of you?”

Eris gave you a nod, not trusting himself to speak. His throat felt tight with emotion.

You began to undo the remaining buttons on his coat, your fingers moving with a practiced grace. The fabric soon slid down his shoulders and fell to the floor. You continued with his vest and then, you reached his shirt, your nimble fingers brushing against his chest. 

As the garment fell away, you took a moment to appreciate the sight before you. Your hands traced the planes of his muscles, the touch light and reverent, invoking a delightful shudder that ran through him like a current. Your eyes find his as your hands begin to trail lower, teasing at the waistband of his pants.

Eris’s gaze is intense, bringing your movements to a stop. He finishes undressing himself, knowing that if he allowed you, there was no way he’d have the strength to indulge in the bath before indulging in you.

His hands found purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him, lips meeting yours in a tender caress. “What next?” He breathes, his nose brushing against yours.

“Do you trust me?” You whisper and though he can only muster another nod, he sends his reassurance through the bond. “Then, get in.”

You extend your hand to him, and he takes it without hesitation, allowing you to guide him into the bath. Even as he settles into the tub, his back resting against the cool porcelain, his hand never leaves yours. The hot water envelops him, immediately easing the tension in his muscles, and he lets out a contented groan.

Bringing your hand to his lips, he brushes a kiss against your knuckles, his amber eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "What would I do without you?" he murmurs.

“Guess we’ll never find out. You’re stuck with me now.” You reply, tugging at the golden threads that tether your souls together.

"A devastating tragedy," Eris feigns lament.

"A true catastrophe," you echo, matching his tone.

The two of you share a smile, the look in your eyes contrasting the words exchanged. Your hands move gently to remove the autumn diadem from his head, a symbol of his new rank and the burdens he bears. You place the diadem safely onto the counter and then, you’re returning to his side.  

You sit on the stool beside the bathtub, your fingers threading through his hair with a soothing touch. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," he replies and though it’s not the first time you performed a ritual over him, it’s your first time performing one as his mate and for pleasure. His heart flutters in anticipation.

Leaning in, you press a gentle kiss to the top of his head. "Just sit back and relax.”

His breath hitched as he felt the coolness of your magic radiate from your fingertips and seep into his scalp. You began to hum an ancient tune. The chill of your magic transformed into a soothing, calming caress, gently breaking down the shields of his mind. He closed his eyes, allowing the sensations to wash over him—the warmth of the water, the scent of enchanted herbs, the soft glow of candles.

Eris, who had always been the one to shoulder burdens and stand strong, felt an unfamiliar sensation—a deep, unspoken care enveloping him. It relaxed him, allowing him to be vulnerable in a way he rarely permitted. And in the quiet embrace of the night, he realized how fortunate he was to have someone like you in his life.

Someone who understood the storms within him and embraced them, bringing harmony to his tumultuous world.

a/n: hope you enjoyed these! Eris's turned out a lot softer than I first imagined. I do intend to post more witchy HCs/drabbles but at the moment, I don't have an idea for one. But if you do, feel free to send it my way!

[witch au masterlist]

general witch tag list: @rcarbo1, @scorpioriesling, @ninthcircleofprythian

love witch tag list: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon,

@talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning, @anuttellaa, @breadsticks2004, @chicken-fifi

green witch tag list: @fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[askinkiskarma]

➸ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴘɪʟᴏᴛ!ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴄᴋᴘɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ꜰɪɢʜᴛᴇʀ ᴊᴇᴛ

pairings: simon "ghost" riley x female!reader

a/n: the way these masked men have taken over my life in the last like 48 hour is unhinged, and so here i am, trying my hand at a quick ghost smut drabble. enjoy x there's definitely gonna be more lol

warnings: pwp under the cut (18+ mdni), pet names (doll), daddy kink.

wc: >400 words

“C’mon, doll, you’re not even supposed to be here.” 

“But Ghost… this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.” You pout while undoing his pants, revealing his thick hard cock, throbbing in your hand as you pump him slowly, struggling to make your fingers meet. It was rushed and unceremonious, but you didn't care. You needed him, now. Wanted him, now. You straddle him, positioning his tip at your soaking entrance. You’ve wanted this forever, needed to fuck him in the pilot’s chair, needed to know he could take you anywhere and everywhere, over and over, until you were blissfully spent - the more inappropriate a location, the better. 

“Right… where… i’m… supposed… to… be.”

You moan as you lower yourself on him, taking him inch by inch, feeling so impossibly full, your head was empty of any thoughts outside of him. He can't help himself, no matter how hard he tries, bucking his hips upwards so he sinks deeper in you, groaning as he pushed his head back into the chair. You feel so good for him, so good around him, your tight little cunt milking him perfectly.

“Fuck, love! Gon’ kill me one day.” 

You smirk as you start moving up and down his length, each attempt easier than the last, your pussy stretching perfectly to take him in, the abundant slick running down your thighs and onto his balls making the movement easy and so, so delicious. It wasn't long until the feel of you drove him to the brink of insanity, as it always tended to, not long before his big hands found your hips and tightened their grip on you as he pulled you deeper and deeper onto him, not long before he was lifting you up like a little weightless doll until he was almost entirely out of you, before slamming back into you balls-deep. The pace he set was ruthless, necessary, the hurt of the control wheel digging in your back doing nothing but egging you on, the pain heightening the overwhelming pleasure as you edged closer to your much-needed orgasm.

"That's right, doll. Can feel ya squeezing me. Let me feel you come on daddy's cock."

It never took anything more than an order from his mouth to push you over the edge, the orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave, making drawn-out mewls escape your lips as he ruthlessly fucked into you, burying his head in your neck, trying to hide the way he couldn't contain the sounds that being inside of you made him spew out.

"Fu-ck! Gonna fill you up. Daddy needs to come inside his pretty princess."

You would never say no to being marked by Ghost. Never say no to having his cum dripping out of you for days to come, knowing, in this way, you were his, and only his.

[lurvly-malice]

"What are you doing to me?"

Pairing: Harvey x GN!Farmer

Summary: Just Harvey being smitten for the farmer whose always occupying his clinic, and mind

A/N: just a fluffly drabble, because Harvey's been dominating my mind lately and I'm bored lol

With each reckless adventure you pursued, you returned to his clinics doorstep with a collection of scratches, bruises, and cuts, and of course, the innocent smile that adorned your face - the sight would be the death of him.

 And each time, he would usher you into the clinic in alarm, he was beginning to suspect you did this on purpose, with the proud look in your eyes that suggested you had him right where you wanted as he doted on you.

'It’s only been a week, really, you would think you’d take more care of yourself by now' he often said under his breath, his voice trembling with nervousness.

You would chuckle, laughter so infectious, brushing off your injuries as normal relics of your adventures. 'Just a few bumps and bruises…nothing you haven't seen before.' you retort, alluding to your countless visits for this sort of thing. 

Harvey's lips would twitch into a wry smile as he guided you to the examination table. Your adventurous spirit both fascinated and alarmed him. It was foreign to him, and couldn't fathom how willingly you’d over exert yourself in those darn mines, stirring within him a whirlwind of emotions.

As he applied bandages and ointments, his hands couldn't help but tremble. The sight of your injuries, no matter how trivial, sent his heart into a frenzy. As a doctor, he'd seen such it all, and yet even the sight of a purple bruise on your soft skin made him want to faint. Each touch of your skin ignited a spark he could neither ignore nor deny, no matter how much practice he’d had treating patients every day. He'd learnt his lesson by now - you weren't a regular patient.

‘I really do wish you’d be more careful,' he would murmur, his fingers tracing over a shallow cut on your arm. 'You... you're hurt too often.'

And then you would respond with a comment like ‘but you’ll take good care of me, right?’, casually sending the poor man’s heart into a tailspin, because of course he would, always.

‘I-I’m serious, you know-’ he sighed, trying so hard to sound annoyed, but he wasn't, his concern evident in his shaky words, ‘I care about you’ he managed, avoiding eye contact with you under the pretence of focusing on your present injury.

But of course, like always, you didn't take him very seriously, and just leaned in a little, eyes twinkling.  ‘I care about you too, Harvey’ which had his head snapping up, wide eyes meeting your amused ones, unable to mask his flustered expression - what was he going to do with you?

Harvey's breath caught in his throat. Your words had always elicited such a potent reaction, but this time, it felt different. The weight of his own unspoken feelings pressed down on him.

Your visits had become a sweet torment for Harvey. How sweet you looked, scratched up arm extended offering him a gift - always his favourites, which you somehow had memorised to a tee, ignoring the pain you felt just to see him flustered as he accepted them.

Harvey's constant worry over your well-being extended to himself. The mere thought of seeing you sent his temperature soaring and his pulse racing. The symptoms he experienced—sweaty palms, flushed cheeks, and a pounding heart—often led him to question his own health.

'Oh dear, I must be coming down with something,' he would mutter to himself, his stethoscope barely grazing his chest in a futile attempt to make sense of his frazzled state.

What were you doing to him?

[chaepink]

HI CHAEEE UR MY FAVE AUTHOR AND ANYWAYS I HAVE A BRILLIANT IDEA!

can you please make a smut drabble where sub!yan was planning to prank dom!fem reader by putting viagra in her drink but instead he accidentally switch the drink and drank the one with viagra instead. Now dom!fem reader has to deal with it since he was VERY horny and mid way when they were doing it the dom asks why he was like that and then when she found out she punished him

(Special req not to put any toys in the story, i just want dom reader wrecking sub!yan till he passes out lol)

mention of viagra, dom!reader, sub!yandere, teasing, whining, mention of punishment, handjob

note: wasn’t sure when you said mid way doing it if you wanted p in sex, pegging, etc… so I made it open for interpretation

“Well aren’t you more horny than usual?” You chuckle at your yandere’s whine as your hand increases its pace on his dick.

“S-Shut up, I’m n-not ah!” A moan cuts him off as his hands grip the sheets under him tightly, his back archly slightly in a way that you can’t take your eyes off him. “J-Just fuck m-me already!”

You click your tongue and as you run your thumb over his leaky tip, he lets out a whiny cry.

“Look at you, you’re more sensitive than you usually are! It’s like you took something for this to happen.” Your yandere pauses and his eyes widen at you and you furrow your eyes at him, suddenly questioning his reaction.

“You didn’t take anything right?” You notice your yandere swallow but with a squeeze of your hand, his eyes roll back and he gasps.

“W-Well… I ngh m-might of accidentally t-taken ah! a-a viagra?” You frown and your hand stops its pace and your yandere whimpers.

“You took a viagra? On accident?” Your yandere nods, deciding to not mention the fact that it was meant for you and he accidentally took it instead.

You click your tongue and take your hand off his dick. “Alright then, you know what that means right?” Your yandere whines but he mutters quietly. “A punishment…”

“Back fully on the bed, darling. I want to test out just how sensitive you are.”

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[chilschuck]

— ONLY IF YOU’D LIKE ME TO:

(I COULD FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU.) ♡ chilchuck x gn!reader.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ sfw, ment. of n//edles (the sewing kind, lol).

꒰ wc: ꒱ 809 words. just a drabble!

꒰ note: ꒱ guys i can’t stop thinking about this repressed-emotions-having-ass man. i wanted to write something with the song “clusterhug” by iDKHOW as inspo. i don’t know if i like this or not, so maybe i’ll delete it later. i took inspiration from the mimic chapter in the manga. sorry if it’s a bit ooc, i just kinda let my heart go with this one. i hope you enjoy!

Little things lead up to big ones. In other words, small acts of kindness become forces to be reckoned with. There’s only so much someone can do to brace themselves for the impact of falling in love, which Chilchuck had learned the hard way. His efforts to keep work and private life separate were not enough. Despite his measures at bracing himself, the problem seemed to somehow build itself into something he just couldn’t fight; something he knows he’s not skilled at.

Your touch, so gentle when handling his wounds compared to others, was the first hit to his willpower. Chilchuck was used to leading and making sure others were safe in their steps, but even then he felt he couldn’t hold a candle to you. If there’s one thing you did for the party that he considered your skill, it was being a source of light. A source of delicate touches in which he had forgotten he craved.

Chilchuck believes he could blame this all on that single encounter with that mimic. You had beat Marcille to him, immediately dropping to your knees and making sure he was safe. The cut on his cheek was handled easily with delicate touches and small tuts under your breath. “I’m sorry,” he heard you murmur. “Someone should’ve gone with you.” The cloth in your hand did not bring as much relief to his wounds as your presence seemed to.

Later, he had tried to distract himself by mending his clothes, stitching the rifts in the fabric with precise hands. It was best to stay focused and squander any emotions he considered useless. The greater the attempt, though, the harder it came back to bite him in the ass. This was only one of many things he had to learn the hard way.

“Your stitches are really neat,” You had commented in that gentle voice of yours, the same pitch you always spoke in. It wasn’t syrupy sweet, but delicate in ways he couldn’t understand. It wrapped around his brain and inched into his chest. “It’s entrancing to watch you work.”

I could say the same about you, he could say. He pictured your bashful smile. Chilchuck reminded himself to breathe. You’re entrancing in ways I can’t explain.

There was something about your gaze that made him feel like the room rose in temperature. Rolling his shoulders, he flicked his eyes up to yours.

“Just something I had to learn.”

Just like the fact that you were winding your way around his heart. Could he even begin to comprehend what you were doing to him, what you were making him feel? The depth at which you were breaking his walls down scared him. Even the thought that maybe, just maybe, you reserved those sweet looks just for him sent him over the edge.

“You should teach me one day.” You whispered.

Only if you’d like me too. He could mumble back instantly. You waited patiently, smiling at him. He swallowed.

“Yeah, sure. Here.”

His fingers brushed against yours, the green fabric resting in your hands. Chilchuck held the needle, watching the thread cascade before setting it into your palm.

“I can teach you.”

Gods, don’t look at him like that. Don’t ever beam like that, not when he’s so close and looking over your shoulder as you thread the needle.

“There, now pull it through. Make sure the stitch isn’t loose.” You did as he asked, waiting for his next instruction. When you lit up at the progress, the rip shrinking in the scarf, he couldn’t help but smile.

Maybe while you’re at it, you could stitch up the rifts in his heart he let grow. He knew if anyone could, it’d be you. But before he knew it, you had repaired the hole, holding it up proudly.

“Thank you, Chilchuck! Now I can help next time, too.” You folded it, placing it into his hands. He felt his ears burn. There was something about how thankful you were to everyone, him included. Another shot to his willpower. It’s not like he really even did anything… It’s something anyone could learn.

Even then, as your attention was called upon by Marcille, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Gaze locked on the fabric in his hands, he let himself get lost in thought while you watched Senshi and Laios prepare the next meal. If you kept shining so bright like that, he’d have no choice but to fall in love with you. There’s only so much kindness he could handle from you. You were giving him no choice but to swallow his pride and reconsider everything he knew about living a double life like this. Could he really make you happy?

Only if you’d like him to, he let his heart say. Whether or not he would listen is for time to tell. He could fall in love with you.

[saddleups]

𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 .

★ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 . . . 2.8k

★ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 . . . drabble , complete. JAMES SUNDERLAND X F!READER !! 18+ SMUT MDNI !!

★ 𝐂𝐖 . . . fighting for dominance (?) . oral ( m and f receive ) . guys its rough . explicit dirty talk . sixty nine lol . p_rn w/o plot.

★ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 . . .  james  sunderland  has  always  been  a  mystery  to  you.  after  a  long  day  on  the  road  ,  he  suggests  stopping  at  a  rundown  ,  grimy  motel  for  the  night.  the  place  is  far  from  inviting  ,  but  james  is  determined.  its  here  ,  in  this  dirty  old  motel  that  you  finally  uncover  what's  been  lurking  in  that  charming  blonde  head  of  his.

★ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . . . i cheated and looked at the poll results earlier ... it gave me a head start considering 58% of y'all yearned for the motel lol . ngl , this is kind of a mess but i am feral.

The drive home had stretched out longer than either of you had expected. James was behind the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, but you could feel the weight of his exhaustion in his posture. The soft hum of music played in the background as you found yourself studying his profile—the sharp slope of his nose, the strong cut of his jaw, a perfect combination that made his handsomeness almost unfair. It was hard to keep your attraction under control. Your body reacted without permission, a quiet tingling sensation awakening inside you, but you did your best to keep those feelings tucked away. After all, your poker face was never quite as convincing as James’.

He always seemed to keep his emotions locked up, held at arm’s length. Unless he directly told you what he was thinking, it was nearly impossible to read him. You realized you’d been staring too long when he spoke, his voice calm and steady. "Everything alright?"

You quickly snapped your gaze forward, heat rushing to your face. "Y-yeah. Sorry."

"I'm feeling a little tired," he admitted, still focused on the dark stretch of road ahead. "I don't think it's safe for me to keep driving."

"Do you want me to take over? I don't mind," you offered, glancing at him.

James shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "No, no. I know you're tired too. There's a motel up the road," he said, nodding toward it. "We can stop and take a break."

You nodded, relieved. "Yeah, that sounds good."

As James pulled into the motel’s parking lot, he parked the car and turned off the engine. The building ahead was far from luxurious—run-down and worn, with a flickering neon sign that made the whole place look like a relic from a forgotten era. Still, it was a place to rest.

James got out of the car first and came around to open the door for you, a gesture that made you smile despite your surroundings. It was such a small thing, but it felt thoughtful, like a reminder that he always took care of you in these subtle ways. You murmured a quiet "thank you" as you stepped out, appreciating the moment.

He walked with you to the front desk, his hand lightly guiding you. The motel lobby was just as rundown as the outside, with faded wallpaper and an odd smell lingering in the air. You couldn’t help but feel uneasy, inching closer to James as the man behind the desk asked, "What can I do for you?"

"Any room available?" James asked, his voice steady and polite.

The clerk grunted, tapping at an ancient computer before handing over a key. "Room at the end. Number seven."

You gripped James' arm tighter as he accepted the key, your nerves on edge in the seedy atmosphere. He glanced down at you, offering a reassuring look before guiding you out of the lobby and toward the room.

Once inside, you both took in the sight of the small, outdated room. It wasn’t much, but it would do for the night. You set your bag down and turned to you James soft smile. "Not exactly five-star, huh?"

James didn't respond. Instead he firmly shut the door behind him. He turned to face you, his expression unreadable as per usual, however the tension between you two was palpable. Your heart raced as you take a step back, body pressing against the wall.

"What are you doing?" You whisper.

James stepped closer, his gaze boring into yours. "What am I doing?" He sounds almost … irritated?

"After the way you were looking at me before, god. I nearly crashed the car." He huffed a breath. "Like you were begging for me to bend you over." It dawned on you, it wasn't irritation in his demeanor. It was sexual frustration.

Before you could react, James grabbed your waist and pressed his body into yours. His lips crash forming rough, punishing kiss. His hands move up your hips, pulling them closer until there was no space between you two. You felt the restriction on his jeans against your thigh, the thought of the length caused you to gasp in his mouth.

James wasn't letting go. He deepened the kiss, his tongue probing into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise as he grinds his erection against your thigh. So desperate for a sense of relief.

Your voice trembles as you plead, "P-please…"

But James only pulls back, his eyes dark, "do you want me to stop?"

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you shake your head, your desperation matching his intensity. "No, please don't stop…"

He kisses you roughly, tracing the edge of your mouth with a finger as he groans against your lips. "You're so fucking sexy. I can't stop thinking about you."

Your knees tremble under his touch, completely under his spell. "What are you thinking about?" you ask coyly.

James's hands roam over your body, lifting your shirt to expose your lacy bra underneath. "Your tits, your ass," he growls as his fingers squeeze and knead your breasts. A soft moan escapes from your stained lips. "And how tight and wet your pussy feels around me."

His dirty words sent a jolt of desire through you, and you couldn't believe that such thoughts existed in his pretty head. You weigh your options in this game of seduction and decide to play along.

"But that's not what good boys do, James," you tease, causing his erection to twitch in response. "You're such a dirty boy." The seductive tone in your voice only adds fuel to the fire as James's desire for you intensifies even more.

James's eyes darkened at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Are you gonna punish me for it," he almost laughs, his voice husky with desire. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips tightly as he pressed you harder against the wall.

You gasped as he ground his hips against yours, feeling the hard length of him through his jeans. Your head fell back against the wall, exposing your neck to him. James took full advantage, his lips trailing hot kisses down your throat as his hands roamed your body.

"God, I've wanted this for so long," he breathed against your skin, nipping at your collarbone. "Wanted you for so long."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as pleasure coursed through you. "Then take me," you whispered, your voice breathy with need.

James growled, his eyes flashing with hunger. "I'll show you just how dirty I can be."

In one swift motion, he lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried you to the bed, tossing you onto the mattress with a bounce. Before you could catch your breath, he was on top of you, his weight pressing you into the creaky motel bed.

His hands were everywhere at once, caressing, squeezing, exploring every inch of your body. You arched into his touch, desperate for more. James's lips trailed hot kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You knew there would be marks tomorrow, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"James," you moaned, your voice a low, commanding whisper as your fingers slid through his hair, tightening your grip with each passing second. His lips traveled down the length of your body, but before he could indulge any further, you yanked him back, asserting control.

With a sharp tug, you pulled his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze. His eyes were wild with desperation, a raw hunger that betrayed his need, but you held him firmly in place, denying him the satisfaction he craved. He was yours to command.

"I told you," your voice cut through the thick tension in the air, "that's not how good boys behave."

His breath hitched, and you felt the shiver run through him. You could see the struggle in his expression—the fight between his desire and the knowledge that you held all the power. He was teetering on the edge, waiting for you to decide his fate.

With a groan of pleasure, you pushed yourself off the bed and stood before him, the alluring picture of innocence undone. Delicate fingers urged James forward, his eyes locked onto yours as he remained on his knees in anticipation. The sound of fabric ripping filled the room as you freed yourself from the confines of your clothes, revealing your supple body to his hungry gaze.

Your hands slipped behind the lace of your panties and gathered the wetness that coated your fingers. You held the sight before him like an offering, a temptation he couldn't resist. "Open your mouth," you commanded softly, and James obeyed without hesitation - hungrily watching as you slipped your fingers between his lips and onto his tongue.

Heart racing, you placed your fingers against James's eager mouth and ordered him to suckle like a baby from your honeyed nectar. His cheeks hollowed out with the effort as he swirled his tongue around yours, lapping up every drop of your essence while sending shivers of delight through your core.

"Good boy," you breathed out, feeling the tension within you mounting unbearably. "Suck harder." And James did - pulling on your fingers with all the desperation of a man lost in desire for you, his tongue flickering wildly against yours as he drank deeply from the wellspring of pleasure that was flowing from between your legs.

As you watched James suckle greedily at your fingers, a warm glow of pleasure spread through your body. You couldn't help but reward his eagerness with a soft "good boy" murmur that made its way into his eager mouth. His tongue flicked against yours in response, as if he understood the praise was for him alone.

Removing your fingers from his mouth a string of saliva connects you both. James , on his knees, scurried forward. His teeth biting the strap of your panties, he slid the lacey number down.

"That's my good boy," you purred, stepping closer to him and running your hands over his shoulders before guiding him towards the rickety bed that creaked under their combined weight. You pushed him gently onto his back, admiring the way he arched under your touch as he allowed himself to be led like a lamb to slaughter.

Kneeling between James's legs, you free him from the confides of his clothing. Freeing his cock from the cage it was trapped in. You ran your tongue along the length of his shaft before taking it into your mouth and sucking greedily on its hardness. His hips bucked up off the mattress in response, demanding more from you as you teased him with short bursts of oral pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so good. I feel like I'm going insane." He groaned.

James reached out to pull at your hair, urging you deeper onto his cock while pleading wordlessly for release. His hands trembled against your skin as he fought for control over himself, but ultimately it was you who held the power in this game… for now.

"You've been such a good boy," you whispered against his throbbing member before pulling back to admire its length one last time. "But I think it's time for your reward."

And with that, you sank back onto James's cock with a satisfied moan, welcoming him into the depths of your mouth. The tip of his hard cock hitting against your throat, meanwhile rings of your lipstick linger along the shaft. Before he can loose himself completely in your game, James returned the motion you shared earlier. With a fistful of your hair, he yanked you from his throbbing member with a guttural groan.

In a fervent nature he situated your body on the dirty mattress. Involuntarily, you find yourself opening your legs wider for him, "James! You're being so bad,"

"Shut the fuck up!" He dejects, running the tip of his cock against your slick cunt. He enters, stretching your walls to their extent. You stretch your legs farther in a feeble attempt to earn more from him.

As you feel James's cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy, you can't help but let out a moan of pleasure at the sensation. Your breasts rise and fall with each thrust of his hips, an erotic sight that drives him even deeper into you. "You're so wet, so filthy." With a growl of possession, James wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your body closer to his as he takes you harder than ever before.

"That's it," you pant in response, arching your back to meet him stroke for stroke. "Fuck me like the dirty little whore that I am." And James does – grinding into you with a ferocity that leaves no doubt about who holds the power here.

Finally reaching his climax, James grits his teeth and buries himself to the hilt inside you one last time before pulling out with a sharp groan of release. His hot seed shooting across your stomach in a powerful eruption that leaves both of you breathless and satiated.

As the two of you lay entangled in each other's sweaty embrace, you rest your head on his chest, tracing circles on his abdomen. The old mattress groans under your combined weight. "You were worth every fucking second," he whispers into your ear, nibbling softly on your lobe. His cock throbs against your thigh, still wet with his essence and aching for another round of pleasure.

"So what's next?" You ask teasingly, arching your back to offer him a glimpse of your slick folds beckoning him forward. "Should we try something different, I can ride you." James responded with a gruff you couldn't discern.

Then he rolls onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow as he drags you into a sixty-nine position. You yelp at the unexpected motion. His depravity, perverted nature was running like a faucet. You lay atop of James his hardened, throbbing cock mere inches from your face. With a trembling hand you reach forward for his length, tasting the juices that were inside you moments ago.

Underneath you, James darts his tongue out to taste you once more while his fingers trace lazy circles around your clit. "Fuck... you're so fucking filthy," he moans against your cunt, licking and sucking at your swollen folds as if they were the most delicious dessert he's ever tasted.

You gasp in response, surrendering your weight on James face, grinding. Completely lost in the pleasure he was providing you. Unable to focus on the task of sucking his cock, your nails dig into his thighs. Sounds of pleasure rip from your throat, uncaring of who can hear the two of you outside the motel door.

"You like that?" He asks teasingly, nipping at your clit before diving back into his feast. "Tell me how much you want it."

"I need... I need you inside me," you moan out, bucking against his tongue as it delves deeper into your soaking wet cunt. The pressure is building again but this time there's no rush – this will be a slow burn toward orgasm after orgasm until you both collapse in a puddle of sweat and satisfaction.

James' demand is like a whip cracking in the air, spurring you into action. With a ravenous hunger for his touch, you hastily position yourself as he commanded. Your legs tremble with anticipation as his hands glide up your thighs, admiring every inch of your body with greed and awe. "Beautiful," he mutters in breathless admiration. A soft smile tugs at your lips, but it quickly turns into a moan as you plunge yourself onto him, feeling his hardness fill you completely. His skillful thrusts hit all the right spots, driving you wild with pleasure. You place your hands on his chest, using them to anchor yourself as your hips move in sync with his, pushing him deeper inside you. His fingers dance over your clit, sending electrifying shockwaves through your entire body.

The symphony of your combined moans fills the room, each one louder than the last as you both lose yourselves in this passionate battle of desire and ecstasy. As your climax approaches, James' name becomes a mantra on your lips. With a final burst of intensity, waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. James' release floods inside you, overflowing with primal satisfaction that can only be found in each other's embrace. You slowly dismount and snuggle into his arms, basking in the afterglow of pure bliss. In silence, you both anticipate what new pleasures await in the morning.

[onepieceisreeeeaaalll]

HOW THEY EAT

Hey! I wanted to add another piece of kinktober content even if I’m not doing the daily challenge. I’ve recently had more free time so I’ve been writing again. I plan on putting up more SFW content and drabbles soon, but I’m admittedly having way too much fun writing smut lol.

CHARACTERS: Law, Zoro, and Sanji

CW: NSFW!! Afab reader x Character; manhandling with Zoro; mention of overstimulation; (sort of) dom Law and dom Zoro

Only did a little bit of proof-reading so I might edit as I go. Enjoy!

Edited for redundancies.

———————————————

LAW - Deliberate

Law is a man who takes his time. His whole life has been so fast-paced, urgent and exhausting in its own right. So, when it comes to pleasuring his woman, Law is insistent in the fact that he wants to take his time. After all, the best things in life are savored, right?

Mussed black hair is all you can see just barely peeking over your breasts, his head snug between your legs. His lips trail and nip over your inner thighs, sucking and leaving small red and purple marks in their wake. With every small, wanton sigh and gasp that leaves you, Law knows he’s doing a good job. Praise is his love language, after all, though he'd never admit that.

His breath ghosts delicately over the lips of your pussy, puffs of air that come between kitten licks against your skin. He savors the descent, relishing in every little noise and twitch of your body. It’s not until you’re practically whining for more contact that he finally kisses at your needy, aching clit. The movement is testing, always careful to see just how much you want him. If he decides you don’t want him enough, he’ll return his attention back to your thighs. Those occasions when you aren’t ready, he’ll bite at your stomach and thighs until you’re a panting, tortured mess. The majority of the time, though, he’s fairly practiced at getting you there with ease. So, after kissing at your clit, he’ll lick a delicate strip along your slit with the tip of his tongue.

It’s when he hears you breathe a curse under your breath, or moan his name softly, that he’ll formally dig into the bountiful feast before him. Strong hands hold your thighs apart with a firm, needy grip.

One thing about Law is that he really knows how to use his tongue. Sharp, cutting remarks somehow translate to the way it curls and laps over you in the bedroom. He is incredibly skilled and always intentional with it. With a flat tongue, he’ll begin where he thinks best to get you aroused, that beautiful bundle of nerves that sits atop your anatomy. He loves this point of contact, using his tongue to slowly circle your clit with the tip of his tongue before flattening it to stimulate it up and down, side to side. It’s slow, deliberate, and meant to very carefully curate specific responses from you. Eventually, if you’re twitching and begging for more, he’ll keep licking and sucking at his own pace to try and draw as much pleasure from you as possible.

If this wasn’t enough, when he’s trying to build you up, he’ll use that tongue of his to speak the filthiest, most possessive things possible against your flesh.

”Mmm…fuck, (y/n). Tastes so good for me…all mine.” He’ll mumble after retracting his tongue, the breath over your cunt driving you crazy.

If you whine or complain about the break in contact, he’ll just smirk, his eyes tearing away from his meal to look up at you. Law's eyes are always dark with pupils blown out from lust. The look alone is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

”Look at you, so impatient. So goddamn needy.” Law smirks, “And so loud. What did I say about keeping quiet? You’re gonna have to try harder than that. Or should I just stop, since you can’t follow a simple rule?”

When you shake your head quickly in response, trying to prove that you’ll be good - you’ll be patient, quiet. He lets out a small hum against your cunt. He’ll click his tongue almost teasingly, as if trying to use the sound alone to drive you crazy. He loves when you become a desperate, pleading mess. There’s nothing more beautiful to him.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you’d like that.” He'll pause, moving his tongue to trace slowly back and forth over your clitoris. “Be a good girl and keep that mouth shut.”

It’s when his tongue moves lower, lapping to tease at your entrance before sliding tantalizingly slow up to your clit that he really has his fun. Once again, Law takes his time between these two locations - it’s about the journey, not the destination. Not that you agree, of course, but he wants to show you how much better things are his way.

He'll continue like this, moving back and forth between teasing your entrance and your clit. It's almost like a game to him to see how slow he can go before you're absolutely a keening, sweaty, panting mess. Law will chuckle to himself, sending vibrations through your flesh. Once again, this is intentional, just as everything is. This man knows what he's doing and he lives for the thrill of seeing what he’s done to you. It’s his own way of marking you - reminding you that no one else has this power over you. Just Law.

When he's finally had his fun, that's when he'll finally satiate both of your growing need to see you orgasm. Using his tongue, he'll quicken the pace of his movements, entering your aching pussy and rubbing his nose into your clit. He eats with a new sense of determination with the sole intention of getting you off. If he decides you're being too loud, he won't bother to vocally reprimand you again, instead opting to reach up and shove his fingers into your mouth. If you suck on them, he'll reward you with a groan and a strip of his tongue to your clit.

Law won’t stop until he's pulled at least two orgasms from you. It's only when his dick is throbbing painfully against his pants that he'll finally relent, kissing up your body and positioning himself to fuck you stupid.

———————————————

ZORO - Hungry

Zoro is the kind of man who eats his meal like he's been starving for weeks. It doesn't matter how long it's been since he's last eaten you out. To him, it's seemingly never enough. The swordsman is insatiable and you damn well know that when he wants something, he gets it. If you don’t give it to him, he’ll take it. Not that you’re complaining.

“Get on the bed. Now.”

It's not a request. It's a demand.

If he's had a hard day, he's been known to launch you onto the bed himself with a searing, rough kiss. Nothing about this man is gentle, not even the way he is with you. Zoro likes to manhandle, though he’ll always be careful enough to not hurt you. He just has a lot of pent up energy and is more than willing to show you just how much he wants you, pushing beyond his stoicism to make his desires known. He’ll never use words to tell you that he likes to eat you out, but he doesn’t have to. Zoro is a man of action and it shows.

Sometimes he won't even wait until you're fully undressed. Zoro will drag you to the edge of the bed and hook his strong arms under your thighs to pull you close. He'll begin licking you over your panties with a flat tongue, the smell of your arousal elicits grunts and groans from him. When the fabric is so wet from the combination of your slick and his saliva, he'll finally pull them aside or rip them off to remove any barriers. If there are a few words that can best describe Zoro when it comes to oral, it's impatient, greedy, and voracious.

His tongue immediately delves into your folds and licks at your entrance. He'll move his tongue up to your clit in aggressive, hungry laps before sucking on your labia. No flesh goes untouched by him. Zoro isn't one to half-ass anything he really cares about and your pleasure is no exception. When he begins to eat you, he'll go full-throttle. He's a disciplined man - he has to be in order to meet his goal of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman. When it comes to you, though, there's no sign of restraint. Zoro doesn't just eat, he consumes.

Zoro is messy. Saliva will mix with your juices on his cheeks, his nose, and drip down his chin. He doesn't care about staying clean, he can deal with it later. For now, all he can focus on is the ambrosial sight before him and the pretty sounds coming from your lips. God, he loves the way you sound. The noises alone are enough to make him double his efforts as a reward for how good you’re reacting to him. In fact, if he doesn't think you're being loud enough, he might reach a hand up to slide over your stomach to your chest, fondling a breast and pulling at your nipple. He's also been known to pull you further off the bed, using his strength to hold you up just so he can have access to slap your ass. Every yelp or whine from you results in a groan from him that vibrates over your folds.

He will return every noise you make ten-fold. He’s typically pretty quiet outside of the bedroom, but when it comes to sex, he doesn’t hold back. He wants everyone to hear how good he’s making you feel and how good you’re making him feel. It’s his way of showing off, the possessive and gloating mean-streak showing. Zoro will groan loudly against you, grunting and slurping in order to make sure you know just how much he’s loving every second of eating you out.

Zoro loves to tongue-fuck you more than anything. He’s gotten into the habit of bringing a thumb around to focus on your clitoris while he reaches as deep as he can. To him, it’s one of the most arousing, sensual things he’s ever experienced. Feeling your soft, velvet walls constricting against the muscle of his tongue is downright erotic to him in every sense of the word. Sometimes, he'll pull out just to dirty talk to you, though most of the time, he's too focused on the task at hand. The times he talks dirty, though, his voice is gruff and low. He gets drunk on pussy the same way he does saké.

“So tight for me already. Guess I'm not fucking you enough.” He'll mumble, placing kisses against you before diving right back in. He doesn't even care if you respond, all he wants is to continue his meal.

All the while, his calloused thumb is working over your clit with a renewed sense of urgency. He's not gentle, but he’s careful enough to make sure the feeling isn’t too overwhelming or painful. His digit will move back and forth, sometimes up and down depending on his mood, pressing at a moderately fast rate. When he feels like you aren't reacting the way he wants, he'll press against the delicate bundle slightly harder but at a slower, agonizing pace. He's also a fan of tracing his tongue back up to make sure it's wet enough for his thumb to glide over you with ease.

He won't even bother counting the orgasms he pulls from you - he'll eat until he's full. When he's finally satisfied, when you're an absolute babbling wreck above him, he'll finally pull away to take his cock out in preparation for a very, very long night. Zoro always leaves a clean plate.

———————————————

SANJI - Dedicated

The curly-browed cook has always appreciated a good culinary experience. When it comes to your pussy, though, it's almost ritualistic the way he consumes. Like any good cook, he doesn't just eat, he tastes. There's a sort of reverence that comes from Sanji's handling of you, as if he's a lowly servant worshipping some kind of ancient goddess. If you asked him about it, he'd tell you exactly that - he's appreciating the body of someone who he doesn't deserve. If you tell him that he does deserve you, he won't have it. To him, you're so beautiful and above him that its not even quantifiable.

Sanji wants you to be comfortable, laid out on the bed and already undressed. He'll start at your ankles, slowly kissing up your legs to appreciate every inch of your lower body. He'll take his time, whispering compliments against your skin as he runs his hands along your calves and thighs. Sometimes he'll take the time to massage you, but this depends on how patient he is. After a particularly long day, he'll settle for cutting to the usual routine, though he'll never skip the legs. Sanji is a legs man, through and through.

“Mon coeur, so perfect…you're so soft.” He'll murmur, his lips ghosting soft trails over your knee. “I can't wait to make you come, angel.”

Sanji will fluctuate between using his tongue and his lips on his slow ascension towards your pussy. He can already feel you shaking for him, and if you complain, he'll laugh softly against your skin and apologize. After all, he's not cruel. He knows exactly what you're wanting and he's not one to let his woman suffer and beg.

He'll gently run his hands over your thighs before kissing over the lips of your cunt. Sanji treats your pussy lips the same way he treats the lips of your face - the kisses are gentle, heated, and intense. His gaze will never leave yours. He wants to look at you while he goes down on you if for nothing more than to see those beautiful eyes looking down at him.

When he finishes his gentle ministrations, he'll take his time licking long strips over your slit with a flat tongue, lingering on your clit where he'll dig in side to side with the tip of his tongue. He loves the way you moan, the soft sighs that leave you, and he'll smile easily against your flesh.

Sanji likes to taste every part of you he can. He'll lick and gently suck at your clit, your labia, and of course your entrance. He'll circle around the entrance, bringing his tongue back up gently to your clit. He likes to taste everywhere he can, to savor the rich aroma that comes from your pussy. He'll fluctuate between licking and kissing at you, continuing to whisper praises.

“You're so amazing, so gorgeous…so delicious.” He'll say before diving his tongue into your entrance, moaning into your skin. His hands will run up and down your thighs, holding them apart gently so that they don't close over his head. He's a fan of your thighs closing around his head, but he likes to wait until he's made you orgasm before he lets it happen. It's like a reward for his efforts.

One of his favorite ways to drag an orgasm out of you is to pull his tongue from your entrance, licking and sucking at your clit gently while fingering you. Sanji is very good with his hands. He’s a chef, after all. He’ll ease one finger into you at a time, focusing on the way you tighten around them. When he feels you pulse or flutter in that very specific way that tells him you’re close, he’ll curl his fingers and tease at your g-spot. When you do come, he’ll bring his tongue back down to your entrance and pull his fingers out, lapping at the pooling liquid. Sanji swears nothing tastes better than your pussy when you come.

Sanji doesn't eat with the intention of getting his own pleasure afterwards, though he'll palm himself as he works to ease the tension in his pants. He especially likes it if he can feel your leg or foot brush against his erection. He swears that he can come just from the sight and feeling of you finishing on his tongue. It's an addiction that he's developed, and he's not sure if he can ever fuck you properly without eating you out first. Your pleasure matters to him and it's shown in the way he effortlessly moves his tongue across your folds.

Sanji will bring you to orgasm as long as you'll let him. He doesn't want to hurt or overstimulate you, but he'll go seemingly for hours if you'll let him. When you've finally had enough, tugging on his hair as your signal, he'll kiss up your thighs and stomach until he reaches up to your face. He'll let you suck your juices from his tongue and lips, a small smile lighting up his face.

“What do you think, beautiful? Tastes good, right?”

Sanji always cares about your opinion of his work, whether it be cooking or the way he pleasures you.

[smoshyourheadin]

guys here’s a tiny tiny drabble based on a convo me and my bsf had recently LOL sorry if this sucks but my schlatt brainrot is getting to me (fem!reader, cockwarming n smut - 18+ under the cut <3)

“fuck, toots…” schlatt groaned, as you slid down onto his length.

“hey, you were the one being needy! i just wanna play the sims.”

schlatt cursed under his breath and grabbed onto your hips whilst you loaded up the sims on his pc. he needed the movement, but he didn’t want to piss you off whilst you were locked in on create a sim.

“please, j’s lemme fuck you baby, can’t take it” he babbled, head leant back against his gaming chair as you rolled your hips.

“no jay, let me play, then we can fuck. just enjoy me letting you be here for now!” you retorted, clenching slightly just to make him groan.

you stayed like this for about 30 minutes before he couldn’t take it any more. he pushed you up his length, and slammed you back down.

and again.

and again.

until you were riding him, his hands still locked to your hips as you tried to focus on your game, letting out the occasional moan.

but, this wasn’t enough for him, so he moved one hand to gently rub your clit, the climax starting to get to you.

“fuckfuckfuck m’close schlatt!” you said, your high beginning to catch up to you.

“i know baby, i know, c’mon cum for me.” he grunted.

and so you did.

your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, the instant pleasure shaking your whole body. riding out your high as you grabbed onto the edge of the desk, you could feel schlatt’s thrusts become slower.

you leant against him, his chest up against your back.

“you know you want to…” you teased, nipping the bottom of his ear with your teeth.

“oh- f-fuck” he spluttered, as you felt ropes of his cum painted your insides.

you sat catching your breath with him, before he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom.

“let’s clean y’up princess”

[tswhiisftteedr]

hi!!!! could I please request general nsfw headcannons for vox, val, and velvette (or just your favorite of the 3!)? maybe especially with a slightly bratty partner? thank you! :)

Behave Bitch! ☆ Headcanon + Oneshot

☆ Valentino x Bratty!Gn!Reader, Vox x Bratty!Gn!Reader, Velvette x Bratty!Gn!Reader, and Valentino x Bratty!Gn!Reader x Vox:

You go out of your way to fuck with them and test their patience, and this is how their repercussion would be.

Warnings: Mature Content, Explicit/Graphic Language, Praise & Degradation(Lots of of degradation), Oral Sex(Male Receiving), Penetrative Sex, Bad Spanish, Creampie, Possessiveness, Spanking, Choking, Dacryphilia, Bondage, Handcuffs, Blood, Biting, Electricity NOT PROOFREAD.

Words: Total — 13 806, Valentino(Hc + Oneshot) — 2419, Vox(Hc + Oneshot) — 2365, Velvette(Hc + Oneshot) — 3463, Vox & Valentino(Hc + Oneshot) — 5539

Note: So I may or may not be a total slut for the three of them, and especially a sucker for Val x reader x Vox action. Like how should I say it? Oh, yeah, I need them inside m— Hehsjsnsnjwns Awooga lol. *Bitch is used gender neutrally if you couldn’t tell. So 4 things, number one this Headcanons + Drabbles/Slight Short One shots, note that the example in the headcanons are just examples of scenario, and are unrelated to the drabble part, so don’t get confused when they mention one situation and then you read about another. Number 2, the type of reader was not precise so I went with gender neutral, so I’m sorry if the smut part isn’t the best as I am still lacking in writing experience to make something great with the lack of precise genitalia mention. But if you find it good, we’ll good for you! Also I used Google and translation apps when it came to the Spanish that Valentino employs, so I’m sorry to my Hispanic readers of the display of language is not to your liking. And lastly, I didn’t know how to write a slightly bratty reader, so I’m sorry anon if the reader is either not enough or too bratty. Personally I love a full on bratty, attention whore, whiny reader because that’s how I am.(If I was hot and got over my fear of being rejected, anyways-) That’s it for info about the fic!!

Author Note: As I am writing this, I am halfway way done with a lute one shot, but I must say, please stop requesting works. I put my request on pause, and I indicated that one both my Masterlist and rules, but seems that people are still confused because some of my older fics have ‘Request are open’ at the bottom. So please don’t request anything more, I have 34 request to start working on after I finish the lute one, plus I still haven’t started to work on chapter 3 for my Idia series. (12 of those request are actually Adam related, and one of them is a zestial one, where the requester offered to pay me for it, so it’s at the top of my list after this 💸💰. Though I still haven’t reach them because I want to finish my lute work first.) Also I am fucking pissed as I am written this, cuz I keep seeing clips of episodes 7&8 of Hazbin on tumblr, but I don’t have prime so I have to wait for stupid illegal websites to repost them. Like I am genuinely mad at the wait time, since my boys(Val and vox, my loves, my husbands, my #1 turn ones-) are in it. Worst part of it all I saw the clips of Vox literally thrusting into the air saying his hard and that the sight of Alastor bloody was better than sex. Like shit, did that make me horny. Like Vox, sweaty, you can take out that pent up energy from the build up excitement, I don’t mind if the other Vees are watching, Valentino can even join~ Hehsjjsjsjnsks. Update: I just watch the two episodes, and fuck were they good. Anyways I’m done, enjoy the fic cunts!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

ఌ︎ Valentino ఌ︎

Oh, you have no idea ‘what kind of gift you gave him with your behavior, Cariño~’

He takes pleasure in ‘putting bitches in their place,’ so feel free to be yourself, use that sharp tongue, but be prepared for the consequences without too much complaints. And he relishes in being the one to mete out repercussions.

Valentino's approach is straightforward; he often lets you play and act as bratty as you want while casually keeping an eye on you. ‘No need to worry; he's merely observing.’

He'd allow you to talk back, tolerating insults, while seated in the VIP section of one of his clubs, surrounded by smoke and flirting demons. All that set up to provoke you into further incriminate yourself.

Despite the condescending expression on his face, you didn’t have anything to about him, everything appearing ordinary, considering he was Val. Nothing seemed suspicious for a while... and then, ¡Bam!

You find yourself dragged into the club's private bedroom, now in a position where you're either tied up or bent over his lap/desk, enduring a session of intense spanking for being a 'good-for-nothing slut,' with degrading comments throughout.

Valentino opts for a paddle, well aware of the sharp sting it leaves on your skin.

Eventually, he transitions to using his hands, relishing in the visible aftermath of his touch—handprints and bite marks adorning your body.

As tears stream down your face, you apologize and plead to him ‘that you would be better, so please stop’ and that’s ‘ ‘s to much!’. He makes no effort to conceal his satisfaction, openly grinning at your vulnerable state.

Today unfolded like any other typical day in hell, as you paid a visit to your boyfriend on the set. Entering his studio, you hung back for a moment, observing Valentino directing the actors, his voice sexy as always but this time yet again fill with frustration.

Amidst the chaos, there were whispers among the staff about the planned star for the movie being decapitated and having to fill their role in with a newbie due to the lack of time ro wait for the actors regeneration, this bringing light upon the source of Val's frustration.

You pondered how much worse his temper would escalate if you followed through with your planned actions. However, that thought didn't weigh heavily on your mind, as you were determined from the get go to mess with him.

Emerging from the shadows and skillfully navigating the set while evading the cameras' gaze, you approached Valentino. Grinning, he remarked, "You came to entertain papi, how sweet of you, amorcito~" standing up and expecting you to jump into his arms.

Surprisingly, you kept walking, engaging in conversation with a crew member, casually flirting. Val struggled to process the fact that ‘not only did you ignore him, but you did so to chat with some nobody!’

Oh boy, was he pissed, yet instead of his typical inclination to abandon work for a tantrum. He had remained seated, continuing to provide screen direction to his actors.

Now that he was well aware of your actions, he had no intention of losing the little game you were playing. Throughout the shoot, he feigned indifference, though his teeth subtly gritted each time he caught a glimpse of you so close to that random sinner.

Despite Valentino's own lack of shamelessness when it came to sleeping around, he was still the ever so possessive and obsessive man. And having so hands-on with someone else, especially in his presence, drove him to the walls.

After 45 minutes of takes and retakes, Valentino directed his staff to wrap up for the day. Immediately afterward, he approached you, gripping your wrist forcefully enough to surely leave a bruise. He then ushered you into the elevator, ascending to his shared luxurious living quarters and, ultimately, his room.

Once inside, he roughly threw you onto the bed, using one arm to pin both of yours above your head, another around your neck, while the remaining two swiftly removed your clothes.

As he approached your ear, his breath on your face, he scornfully remarked, “You wretched whore, think you go and flounce around, letting some fucker feel you up! ¿You’re so desperate to get fuck, verdad, puta?“ His voice carried disdain for your actions, yet beneath it, pent-up sexual frustration lingered.

Now having you completely undressed, Valentino briefly pulled away to retrieve something from his nightstand. It turned out to be a pair of long, dangling cuffs, ideal for securing you to his headboard. And that's precisely what he did.

Bound to the bedpost, you tested your restraints with a subtle tug, ensuring they securely held you in place. You wanted to confirm if there was any potential escape route, making sure you were aware of all possibilities.

In an instant, you felt Valentino's hands on you once more, grabbing your chest roughly, squeezing them hard enough to cause some pain but not enough to leave marks. His fingers then dug into your sensitive flesh, leaving bruises visible through the thin layer of sweat forming on your skin.

His touch was cold and calloused, contrasting sharply with the warmth emanating from his body.

"You little slut," he growled, his accented words dripping with contempt. "You think you can just throw yourself at anyone, disrespect me like this?" With each harsh word, his grip tightened further, pinching your nipples cruelly between his rough fingers.

Despite the pain, a shiver ran down your spine at the prospect of what was to come. You knew exactly how much control he had over you now, and it was exhilarating.

"No, Val," you managed to croak out between gasps for air. "I didn't mean anything by it, really."

But your words fell on deaf ears; instead, Valentino's hand moved lower, cupping your hips roughly before squeezing them forcefully. "You fucking liar," he snarled, his voice low and menacing. "You’re lucky your body is good at satisfying my needs, otherwise I would have already shot your ungrateful bitch ass!”

With that, you observed as he let his tongue swirl around his fingers, that action was followed by him teasing at your hole. “Wait Val, are you not gonna use lube—“

“Lube? Are y’a kidding me? ¡Shut the fuck up, puta! You should be crying tears of joy that I’m even prepping your undeserving ass.” Was all he said, before his fingers divulged into your tight hole, letting his other hand paw at your bits teasingly before pushing in a third finger inside you. The sensation was both pleasurable due to his aphrodisiac like spit and painful as it was all so sudden, it also felt as if he was claiming ownership over your body once more. Tears begging to role down your face at the stretch.

"You’re such a fucking slut, getting off on this, aren’t you?" he asked, his voice husky with desire yet stern. "You like acting like a desperate bitch in heat and piss me just so I can punish you, isn't that right, mariposa~"

As he spoke, he began to thrust his fingers in and out of your heat, pounding into you relentlessly. Each thrust caused your hips to rock forward, meeting his rhythm eagerly. Slightly letting reach down further, just close enough for his tongue to scoop your tears.

You could feel your body responding to the invasion, your hole tightening around his fingers, begging for more. Despite the pain, it was becoming increasingly difficult to resist the pleasure building inside you.

"No! Stop, please, Val!" you pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears. Instead, he added another finger, stretching you wider. The sensation was both terrifying and arousing, pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

"Eso es," he growled, his voice laced with lust. "tómalo todo, you filthy whore."

Just as you thought you couldn't handle anymore, he removed his fingers, leaving your hole gaping open and vulnerable. With a cruel chuckle, he stood up and unfastened his pants, revealing his massive harden cock, thick and veiny, throbbing with desire.

"Time to teach really you a lesson," he said, his eyes burning with hunger. "Get ready to scream, puta."

Without further ado, he positioned himself at your entrance, aligning his tip with it.

"N-no, please, Val—" you managed to utter out before he slammed into you without mercy, filling you up completely.

The sudden intrusion caused you to cry out even harder in both pain and pleasure. Your body shook violently as he started to thrust in and out of you.

Each powerful thrust pushed deeper than before, stretching you further than and further. Your moans turned into high-pitched squeals of mixed agony and pleasure, and your juices coated his member as he pounded into you relentlessly.

The bed creaked under the combined weight of their bodies, adding to the primal rhythm of your session. Your body bounced wildly with each thrust, nipples hardening further under the harsh treatment.

Your legs were spread wide apart, while your hands were still bound tightly to the headboard, rendering you helpless against his onslaught. You couldn't move, couldn't escape the intense pleasure building up inside you.

As he continued his brutal assault, your body adjusted to the his dick, becoming slightly accustomed to the stretching. Your walls tightened around him, milking him eagerly.

He groaned, his hips slamming harder against yours, his cock pounding deeper than ever. His hand reached up to grab a fistful of your hair, yanking your head forward forcefully, exposing your neck and throat.

"Open that filthy mouth," he growled, his breath hot against your neck.

You obeyed, parting your lips, and Valentino pulled back to spit directly into your mouth. The saliva was thick with frustration, a stark contrast to the usual sweet yet dominant taste of his kisses.

"Swallow it, bitch," he demanded, his voice full of desire. Your throat still constricted by one of his hands, yet you managed to swallow the bitter saliva, feeling it coat your tongue and throat.

The humiliation and degradation only served to heighten your arousal, your body quivering as his thrusts grew more frenzied. Your walls clenched around his shaft, urging him to go faster, harder.

"You like that, don't you? Of course you do!" he snarled, his grip tightening in your hair. "You love being treated like the worthless slut you are."

His words only served to fuel the fire inside you, your body shaking and writhing under his control. You couldn't help but whimper in response, your body betraying you with every moan.

Valentino continued to thrust into you, his pace relentless. Your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, ‘almost there’ you though.

Suddenly, Valentino pulled out, leaving you gasping for air, feeling empty and needy.

He quickly untied you from the headboard, dragging you onto your hands and knees, positioning you on all fours. His grip tightened around your neck, choking you just enough to make your vision blur.

"Don’t think I didn’t feel you clench around my cock, you ain’t cumming that easily," he hissed, his voice full of lust.

You nodded, trying to catch your breath, your eyes watering from the lack of air. He wasted no time, thrusting back into you, filling you up once more. This time, his thrusts were even more brutal, the angle hitting your g-spot with each plunge.

The choking intensified, making it even harder to breathe, yet you found yourself moaning louder, your body desperate for release. Your legs shook, struggling to hold you up as he continued to pound into you.

"You're mine, not any other overlord’s or fucking prince of hell, and certainly not that pathetic fucker from earlier, you hear me, Y/N?" he growled, his grip on your neck tightening.

You managed a nod, your voice strangled by his chokehold.

Valentino keeps his hold on your neck, as he brings one of his hand down onto your ass, leaving a stinging impact. The pain was a welcome distraction from the choking, making your moans turn into cries of pleasure.

He spanked you repeatedly, alternating between cheeks, leaving handprints on your flesh. The stinging sensation only served to heighten your senses, your body trembling with every smack.

"You're going to cum for me, slut," he promised, his voice low and menacing. "And you're going to beg for it." Following his words, the hand that was then on your neck was now grabbing at your hair.

Your body tensed, the pleasure building to an unbearable level. Your inner walls clenched around his shaft, milking him relentlessly as he continued to spank and thrust into you.

You couldn't help but comply, your voice hoarse from the choking. "P-please, Val, I need to cum!"

He chuckled darkly, his thrusts becoming even more frenzied. "I said beg for it, you filthy little slut!"

"Please, papi, I need to cum, please! I need so, so bad, ‘can’t think! I just need to come, please, please, please Val!" you begged,

Your voice breaking with the intensity of the moment. Valentino smirked, his thrusts growing even harder, slamming into you with all his might.

Your body was at his mercy, your orgasm building to a crescendo. You could feel the wave crashing over you, your insides clenching around him, milking his cock as he continued to pound into you. One of his hands playing with your front.

"Cum for me, you worthless bitch," he growled, his own release nearing.

You cried out, your orgasm overwhelming you, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure washed over you. Valentino followed suit, groaning loudly as he filled you with his seed, your body trembling as he came inside you.

He pulled out, leaving you panting and shaking, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body. Valentino stood up, wiping the sweat from his forehead before lighting a smoke.

After taking some puffs at he grabbed your body once more, “V-Val??” You question in confusion, and the look he gives was so demeaning.

“Bitch, are y’a dumb? Don’t tell me you thought this was over already.” Was all he said before resuming….

Here you were, on the verge of passing out, body full of cuts, hand, teeth, and whip prints all over your body.

"You're lucky I love you," he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of affection. "But don't you ever fucking test my patience again, amorcito."

You nodded, with the both of you knowing that it was a lie, you would definitely act out again.

Finally, your body lulled to dreamland.

⌁ Vox ⌁

Listen, despite his constant complaints about everyone's incompetence and having to clean up after their mess, he finds himself unable to do the same when it comes to you.

But, ‘fuck, did he adores your brattiness.’ It's not that he particularly enjoys dealing with your attitude; rather, it's the journey to the aftermath of your actions that captivates him. Overall, the right to fuck all of his day’s frustration into you!

Take, for instance, a meeting—perhaps not the most crucial, but still relevant, especially as it is concerning one of his latest products on the market.

Suddenly, you would barge into the meeting room, whining about him not giving you enough attention and accusing him of being all about work.

He would sweet talk you into silence until the meeting concluded, but that didn't imply you felt obligated to completely behave. As the meeting continued, you ended up seated on his lap, grinding yourself on his crotch.

Immediately after the meeting concluded and the conference room was emptied, he would lock the door. Then bend you over the spacious table, he pressed your head against the cold wood and proceeded to unleash a waterfall of insults, flowing from his mouth kin to water from a faucet.

He would fuck you so intensely that the both of you would almost lost sight of the initial cause. Almost, though you might have blurred the memory, he certainly hadn't. So as soon as his workday concluded, he would take you once again in his private quarters.

Forcing you to ‘repent for being such impudent slut,' reducing you to tears with his rough handling and verbal abuse.

Today was an incredibly dull day in hell. Wandering around the pentagram on the Vees' turf, you had an escort by your side as per Vox's requirement for taking a stroll outside.

There seemed to be nothing to do, or at least it felt that way. You managed to grab a cup of coffee, but beyond that, nothing fun was available, entering clubs required asking Vox's for his permission first. This ensured that he could assemble a larger entourage to guarantee your safety when you wanted to partake in the activity.

Despite your inclination to fuck with him, you refrained, recognizing that would be too much on his already overworked heart – he'd be more worried than irritated.

Opting for a tamer approach, you aimed to provoke him and get under his skin. Your goal was to distract Vox from his work, shifting his focus to entertain you. Making him jealous seemed the most effective strategy in your eyes, and that's where your escort, a tall and attractive hellhound, entered the scene.

Aware that Vox had eyes throughout the pentagram, particularly in this area, you initiated your plan with this knowledge in mind.

You strolled with your arm around the hellhound, falsely fawning over his looks and intellect, toying with his hair and even embracing him—all visible to Vox. Despite his busy schedule, Vox always kept an eye on you through the multitude of screens around pentagram city. And the sight of you so cozied up with the hellhound, left him seething.

What intensified the situation was your final gesture. As you bid farewell in front of the Vees' tower, you made the hellhound lean down for a thank-you kiss on the cheek, this fuelling your boyfriend's rage and insecurities. After that, you simply entered the building, mentally preparing for the upcoming interaction with Vox.

As you exited the elevator, Vox stood right in front, evidently having anticipated your return. As you locked eyes with him, the flames of anger and jealousy practically radiated from his gaze. It seemed your somewhat sadistic display had made a number on him.

"Hey, Vox, baby. How's it going? I thought you were too busy to step out of your office," you nonchalantly remarked, playing the coy card. Before you knew it, one of his clawed hands circled your waist, while the other firmly grasped your chin.

"Yeah, I was one incredibly busy man this morning, busting my ass to keep this shit show afloat. However, my partner seems to be utterly indifferent to it all. It looked as if they couldn't care less, with the way they were all over that hellhound-nobody," he remarks, his hand at your waist pressing into your skin.

"Oh, what on sweet hell could you be referring to?" you playfully feign innocence, this only aggravating your boyfriend's frustration.

"Do play games with me, whore. You know exactly what you were up to, the fact have eyes everywhere, and despite today's incident, I won't fire that guy because he's loyal." His face inches closer to yours, "If you were so desperate for my cock that you went out of your way to mess with me, you could’ve said so baby~ And I would’ve had you sucking me off as I work. But noooo, you just had to be be a a fucking slut and piss me off. Now let's see where that misbehaviour gets you, bitch.”

Now, bent over his lap, bottoms off, you endure the consequences as he delivers hits to your behind, while he casually sipped on a glass of whiskey;

You flinched slightly at each slap, but didn't dare to yell or struggle. Instead, you bit your lower lip and whimpered softly, your body trembling with each impact.

Your mind raced with thoughts of how much you deserved this punishment, how much you craved it.

"Please, sir, stop, it hurt ‘so much!" you whimpered between each strike, your voice cracking with each word. "I'll be a good, I promise."

"You’ll be good? Ha! What a fucking joke. You're lucky I don't break your pretty little neck right here and now. But since you asked nicely, maybe I'll i won’t hurt you as bad, this once. Now stand up straight and face me like the disobedient whore you are."

Slowly, you stood up straight, your legs trembling slightly as you awaited his next move. "Thank you, sir."

"That's better," he said putting his drink down on the nightstand, his voice laced with distain yet also a hint of satisfaction. "Now, strip for me."

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to push your luck or not. But then again, you knew better than to defy him twice in a row. Slowly, you took off your sweater, removing a layer of heat.

Next came the your top, you began to undo the buttons of your shirt, revealing your chest.

You stood there, naked and ass completely bare, feeling exposed and vulnerable yet somehow aroused by the power he held over you.

"Turn around," he commanded coldly. Reluctantly, you turned around, your ass wiggling seductively as you did so. "Now, get on the bed, all fours, and face the mirror."

You complied reluctantly, feeling your heart race with anticipation mixed with fear. You knew what was coming next, but it didn't make it any easier to endure. You could feel his presence looming over you, his heat radiating off his body.

"That’s it bitch," he praised, his voice dripping with false reassurance. "Now, spread your legs."

You widened your stance, exposing your parts to him, the scent of arousal filling the air around you. "That's a good whore," he complimented, his hand reaching out to grab your hair and pull your head back forcefully, so you would be looking straight at the mirror.

"Look at me," he growled, his eyes boring into yours through the reflection. "Do you understand what happens to misbehaving sluts like you?"

"No," you managed to croak out, your voice barely above the sound of your pounding heart. "I-I don't know."

"Then let me educate you," he said coldly, his hand reaching out to slap your ass hard enough to leave a mark. "This is what happens to disobedient whores like you." Meanwhile he had removed his other hand from your hair, using it it to play with your front, ‘how kind of him~’

With each slap, his hand left a stinging mark on your ass, making it throb with each impact. The pain mixed with the humiliation and arousal, making it difficult for you to think straight. You squirmed and whimpered, trying to escape the torment but knowing it was futile.

"Please, sir," you begged between slaps, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'll be good. Just give me something more, please."

"You're sorry now? Too late for apologies, greedy bitch," he spits. But after a moment of consideration, he seems to have a change of perspective. With a wide grin on his face, “Okay then,” he says, releasing you and getting himself confortable on the bed. “Crawl over here and worship my cock, and I’ll consider forgiving you."

With shaking legs, you crawled towards him, your eyes locked on his hardened member, throbbing with desire through the fabric of his expensive pants. You reached out and undid them, pulling down his boxers and wrapped your lips around the head. Taking as much of his cock into your mouth as you could.

"Fuck," he says a bit breathless, this followed by his hand roughly grabbing your hair and pulling your head back and forth, face-fucking you.

"That’s right, show me how much you want me, how much you need my cock inside you."

You moaned around his cock, sucking and slurping greedily, your tongue swirling around the head, trying to please him. Your hands reached up, grasping his thighs, leaving wrinkles on the fabric as you held on tightly.

"Good," he praised, his voice becoming more husky with desire. "Now, let’s go back to the previous position." He tells you, forcefully pulling you off his dick.

With that you had his hand at your hole, rubbing and teasing your entrance "Spread your legs wider, and besides that, don't move a muscle."

You obeyed, spreading your legs wider, exposing yourself fully to him. He continued to tease and torment you, spiting on his fingers, he then digs into your sensitive spot, making you moan and writhe in pleasure mixed with pain.

"Tell me you're mine, bitch, that you belong to me," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Tell me you'll do whatever I want, whenever I want."

"I'm yours, Vox," you managed to choke out, your voice cracking with each word. "I'll do anything you want!"

"That's better," he purred, his fingers leaving your hole and moving to your nipples instead. He pinched and twisted them mercilessly, causing you to arch your back and cry out at the painfully mix of sensation.

"Now, beg me to claim you as my own, not anyone else,"

"Please, Vox, claim me as yours," you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I'm yours, I belong to you. Take me however you want, whenever you want."

"Seems like your not completely braindead after all," he sorta praises, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Keep your legs open like that."

"Yes, Vox," you managed to mumble out, your voice trembling with fear and arousal.

“That’s it," his voice dripping with false affection. "You better be ready, because I’m still pissed."

Without warning, he grabbed your hair again, pulling your head back forcefully, exposing your neck to him. "This is for disobeying me earlier today," he growled, his sharp teeth shining in the light as he bit down hard on your neck. His teeth sank deep into your skin, sure to leave a mark.

As he moved to bite another spot, you writhed and squirmed beneath him, unable to escape his hold. His tongue darted out to clean up the blood that trickled down your throat. Meanwhile, his other hand reached between your legs one more, finding your front and playing with it vigorously, driving you wild with desire.

"You taste so fucking good, slut," he growled as his mouth was now at your lips, his voice hoarse with desire. "Don’t fucking play with me again like that what you did today, understand?"

"Yes, Vox," you managed to choke out between gasps, your body trembling with the combination of pain and pleasure. "I won’t.” A lie you were both aware of.

"That's a good bitch," he praised, releasing your neck and licking the mark he had left on your neck clean. His hands now solely focused on making you climax, in addition he would let out some electricity coarse through his and consequently your body.

Your body still trembling with the aftermath of his earlier assault, and his current touches weren’t helping you to stabilize. Your eyes rolled back as you felt close, ‘close to finally cumming.’

"Look at yourself, Y/N," he tells, his voice low and demeaning, well aware you couldn’t look at your self with the way we’re rolled back. "So fucking pathetic and needy for release… Beg for it.”

And so you did, "P-please, Vox... I need it so bad," you begged, your voice cracking with desire. "Please, let me cum."

His laughter reverberated in your ears as he continued to tease you mercilessly. "You want it so badly, don't you?" he asked, his fingers working faster and harder between your legs, more and more shocks divulging from him.

Your mind drifted away from reality as you felt the edge of orgasm getting closer and closer, your body tensing up in anticipation. "Please, Vox!" you cried out, unable to resist any longer.

"Do you understand now?" he asked, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Do you understand your place in this world and how you belong by my side only?"

"Yes, Vox," you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing.

And a simple, “Cum.” was all it took for you to completely let go and the waves of pleasure take your body over….

You winced in pain while observing your reflection in the mirror. Bruises and bite marks adorned your body, and your swollen ass bore the aftermath of his restless assault. Dried tears stained your cheeks.

Then, Vox tenderly stroked your head, followed by a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Love you, babes, but don’t fuck with me like that again"

An ‘okay’ was all you had said before falling asleep.

✮ Velvette ✮

Despite possessing a sharp tongue herself, she has zero tolerance for sassiness or misbehavior. It's strictly 'her way or the highway, bitch!'

A single word out of place, and she'd swiftly grab your face, calling you out and issuing a stern warning to behave, unless you wanted to witness her truly angry.

Naturally, her warnings failed to deter you from persisting in your bratty behaviors; 'it didn't before, so why should it now?'

Turns out getting on Velvette bad side, wasn't as smooth sailing as your moment of unwarranted confidence led you to believe.

You might have casually stroll through her studio, engaging in conversation with her employees, consequently diverting their attention from work.

All this, despite their already tight schedule that you were acutely aware of, thanks to Velvette's hours-long bitching about it.

Nonetheless, you proceeded with your plan. In all honesty, given the hectic schedule leading up to the fashion show, Velvette had minimal time for you. Despite her efforts to squeeze out a few moments, the occasional 30 minutes a day left you unsatisfied.

If she wasn't going to provide the attention you craved, ‘you were determined to seek it elsewhere, easy peezy—‘ or so you believed.

Spotting you getting overly friendly with one of her models, she would forcefully pull you into a changing room, securing your wrist against the wall with one hand while using the other around your throat.

Insult would escape her lips as she vowed to in-still proper discipline in you in a more physical manner if simple phrases like 'I'm busy right now' failed to do the trick.

After leaving distinctive bite marks on your neck and collar, and leaving you with panting breath and puffy lips from an intense make-out session, she would resume her work. However, she would promise to teach you a lesson later that night as she exited the dressing room.

Honestly, among all three of the Vees, she was the only one with the decency not to do you in public.

"Today is already a mess, but you had to make it worse, you ungrateful bitch," Velvette exclaimed before storming out of her office, leaving you alone, bound, with vibrators attached to stimulate your body.

Now, how did it come to this? Let's rewind to 10:30 a.m.;

Velvette had overslept by an hour, throwing her entire schedule off, and in the world of fashion and social media, an hour is practically an eternity.

Despite consistently projecting an image of superiority, she was visibly rattled by being late. Knowing she couldn't control or turn back time, she relied on meticulous planning to leash the day. She's a bit of a control freak, if you hadn't noticed.

After a challenging morning of tackling voicemails and addressing urgent missed calls, Velvette managed to regain her momentum. Things were sailing smoothly until Valentino made an appearance.

Apparently, one of his employees had been shot in the face the previous night, resulting in a disfigurement that rendered them unable to participate in the planned movie.

Clearly frustrated, Valentino stormed into Velvette's studio to bitch about the situation, throwing things around and even ripping apart one of Velvette’s workers. This compelled her to call in a backup model, with rates that would disrupt her budget.

Not only did Velvette find this model too expensive, but she also disapproved of their overly flirtatious attitude.

And that's where you entered the picture, making her already lousy day even more exasperating. You had awakened about 10 minutes after Velvette, disturbed by her loud conversations on the phone.

However, it didn't bother you too much since your morning routine wasn't significantly affected by the late wake-up call. As Velvette's sugar baby and partner, she paid you to prepare home-cooked meals, be there to listen to her vent, and look good. As long as you weren’t the one who’s oversleep, you were in the clear.

In contrast to her hectic morning, yours unfolded at a slow and leisurely pace. You took your time with skincare and haircare, even savoring the breakfast you had prepared while Velvette rushed through hers to catch the elevator to her studio.

Despite disliking seeing her frowning and rushed in the mornings, you had held your tongue, aware that she wasn't in the mood to be told so. Besides, you couldn't help but smile when you noticed she had still laid out your outfit of the day despite her hurried state.

As half past noon approached, you descended in the elevator to her studio, carrying a warm lunch. Knowing she needed some persuasion to take a break from work and eat, even though she paid you to prepare her meals.

When she initially dismissed you upon your approach, it wasn't surprising. That was the usual routine. However, typically, after 15-25 minutes, she'd relent. Well, that was the norm. This time, an hour had passed, and she still adamantly refused to pause.

Bored and hungry, the usual scene of you two enjoying a shared meal and exchanging affectionate words was absent. Normally, you'd be showering her with praise, boosting her pride and motivation with each word. ‘This was how things were supposed to be,’ you thought, yet here you were, seated on a plush satin-covered chair in a corner of the spacious room.

Contemplating leaving altogether, considering nobody in the studio cared about your presence except Velvette, and she was currently too busy to notice. As you prepared to depart, a manicured hand rested on your shoulder.

"Well, hello there, sweetheart. What's a pretty thing like you doing all alone?" inquired the attractive woman with whom you soon found yourself engaging in conversation with. Unbeknownst to you, she was the backup model Velvette disliked but had to call in.

What you did know was that from her flirty attitude, to the fact she was feeling you up and the eye fucking she was giving you, that woman was definitely hitting on you.

You also knew you should have told her that you were with Vel, but after feeling ignored and abandoned since this morning, it felt refreshing to have someone finally pay attention to you.

Around 2:25 p.m., Velvette finally took a break from work, envisioning a moment to share lunch with you and perhaps find comfort in your embrace.

However, that dreamy scenario shattered when she looked your way and spotted 'that bitch Bridgette Bastia' not only flirting with you, her hand around your waist, but also eating away at HER LUNCH.

To make matters worse, Bridgette whispered things in your ear, leading to giggles.

Unlike Valentino, Velvette wasn't one to tear employees apart; she preferred the more elegant approach of firing them.

However, witnessing the girl cozying up to you fueled a desire in her to do something far less refined. She wanted nothing more than stab the chick to death(well, second death).

When Velvette confronted you about the proximity between you and the model, you had the audacity to respond with a cheeky "What's wrong, babes? Thought you were busy," accompanied by a sly expression and tone.

In a fit of rage, Velvette pushed Bridgette away and seized your wrist, forcefully ushering you into her office and slamming the door shut behind you;

"Today is already a mess, but you had to make it worse, you ungrateful bitch. Allowing that cunt to touch you so freely! Are you that much of a whore that you can't stand to not have someone laying their hands on you for a moment?" Velvette spat at you, accentuating her anger with a furious fist slam.

She yearned to make you suffer for intensifying her frustration, but hitting wasn't her style, and mere verbal assaults wouldn't suffice. That's when what she considered a brilliant idea struck her.

Utilizing her clothing transformation ability, she effortlessly rendered you completely exposed and bound with a mere swipe of her finger. Your once classy outfit morphed into an intricate arrangement of tied ropes, forming a captivating star-shaped pattern across your chest, in addition to a blindfold obscuring your vision, leaving you helpless in both movement and sight.

To escalate matters, she procured a vibrator from her office drawer and a ball gag she had used for a recent BDSM-themed shoot.

"You want to play the part of a needy slut, so I'll treat you as such," she whispered into your ear.

Following that, she attached the vibrator to your parts, setting it to medium vibration. It was intense enough to make your body react, but not strong enough to get you off.

"Behave until I return," she stated before departing, leaving you alone and exposed in the secluded offices.

Feeling the sensation of the vibrations consuming you, you clung to the hope that she was merely bluffing and would return soon.

Yet, you were well aware not to rely on that expectation. Once Velvette made up her mind, nothing you could say or do would alter her decision. ‘Knowing her, it wouldn't be surprising if she left you in that room until the end of her workday.’

As time passed the vibrations continued to pulse through your body, you couldn't help but feel a mix of anxiety and arousal. Velvette's actions were surprising but far from unpredictable. She had always been domineering and controlling, but this was on a whole new level.

You couldn't help but wonder how long you would be left like this, 3 hours had already passed by now, 2 more and the day would be over. ‘Did she forget you were in there, or was she intentionally keep you bound and stimulated to teach you a lesson?’

Your mind began to race with thoughts of escape. With your hands tied, it wouldn't be easy, but surely you could find a way to free yourself. The sensation of vibrator was becoming more intense with each passing minute, making it harder to concentrate on your predicament.

As you wriggled and squirmed, trying to find a way to release yourself, the door to the office creaked open. You tensed up, hoping it was Velvette, ready to release you from your captive state.

But instead, it was none other than Valentino, a cloud of red smoke surrounding him, and a smirk appearing on his face as he took in the sight before him.

"Well, well, look who we have here," Valentino drawled with his condescending smirk, his eyes inspecting your bound and stimulated form. "I guess you've managed to piss off our dear Velvette, huh? Serves you right. I've always known you were spoiled little bitch that didn’t know their place."

He sauntered over to you, his black heel boots clicking against the hardwood floor. "Thought you could get away with flirting with another woman right in her studio? You're a dumber than I if you thought she'd let that slide."

He leaned in close, his breath hot and rank against your ear. "She's got a mean streak, you know. You should have just waited patiently instead of pulling that kind of stunt. I’d keep my eyes peeled and my mouth shut from then on if I were you."

With that, Valentino turned on his heel and left the room, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving you alone in the room now filled with smoke with your humiliation and aching body…

About 10 minutes later Velvette stormed into the office, her face twisted in anger. She had received a text message from Valentino, no doubt gloating about the situation he had just witnessed.

Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene before her: you, bound and stimulated, with a look of both embarrassment and arousal on your face.

Velvette's lips curled into a sneer as she stepped into the room, a mixture of anger and amusement playing across her features. "What a fucking mess," she muttered under her breath, crossing the room to stand before you.

"I told you to behave, and this is what happens? Valentino gets a peek at your pathetic state," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She reached down and flicked the vibrators, making you flinch and moan softly around your gag.

"Oh, look at that, you're already soaking wet," she teased, her fingers tracing the contours of the vibrator attached to you. "I can't believe I have to deal with this. And here I thought you were smarter than that.”

Velvette couldn't resist the urge to taunt you further, her fingers gently probing your slick, throbbing intimates. She knew full well the effect it would have on you, and the way you squirmed only fueled her desire to humiliate you.

"You're so wet, darling. It's almost as if you enjoyed having Valentino see you like this," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "I'll make sure to tell him how wet you got from the embarrassment. Bet that moth fucker would love that, and so would you."

Obviously you weren’t into Valentino, and seeing like that you was the last you had wanted. So of course you violently shook your head in didn’t disagreement at the mention of her telling him more about your current interactions.

Thought being rendered Velvette’s pathetic bitch was hot, and an observer only reaffirmed the situation. ‘So maybe him walking in wasn’t ‘that’ unpleasant—‘

Her fingers danced against your most sensitive spots, eliciting strangled moans from you. "You're such a terrible liar, you know that? I can always see right through you," she continued, her voice a mixture of anger and arousal.

Despite your frustration and embarrassment, you couldn't deny the pleasure coursing through you with each touch from Velvette's skilled fingers. Her words and actions were cruel, yet they only seemed to heighten your arousal. As some sort of grace, she had removed the gag from you.

"It's not my fault he came in here," you whimpered . "I didn't invite him."

"Oh, please," Velvette scoffed, her fingers continuing their dance. "You're always looking for attention, always seeking validation from others. It's disgusting." Obviously she knew what she was saying was bullshit but it was fun taunt.

She increased the pressure, your body arching in response. "You should be grateful I haven't given you to him yet. He'd probably enjoy watching you squirm even more than I do."

Her words stung, but they also fueled your arousal. You knew she was right; you did crave attention, and Velvette's treatment of you only made it worse.

"Please, Velvette," you pleaded, your voice barely audible. "I'm sorry. Just let me cum please." Hours of stimulation plus the added stimulation had become to much for you, if you didn’t cum soon you would go crazy.

Velvette smirked at your plea, her fingers slowing down for a moment. "Oh, you want to cum, is that so?" she purred, stepping closer to you. "And what makes you thing you deserve it, huh? After your behaviour today, you’re gonna have to earn it."

She reached down and untying the vibration, removing it from your body altogether. "Now, you're going to eat me out and beg for me to make you cum. If you do a good job, I might just let you."

You felt a mixture of relief and panic as the vibrators were removed. While your body ached for release, the idea of pleasuring Velvette made you both nervous and excited, especially because your climax depended on it.

"Don't disappoint me," she warned, her eyes locked on yours. "I'm not in the mood for any more disobedience."

With a final glare, she stepped back, giving you room to kneel before her. Your heart raced as you watched her unzip her pants, revealing pretty pussy.

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flicking between Velvette's smirking face and the task ahead of you. You could feel the tension in your body, the need to cum be touched overwhelming. But you knew you had no choice but to obey.

Mustering your courage, you lowered your head, your tongue darting out to trace the edge of Velvette's lace panties. The fabric was slick with arousal, and you knew she was already wet for you. She removed the arrival clothing herself as you were still bound.

With a deep breath, you began to lick and suck, your hands in fist to bring yourself some security. Velvette's hands threaded through your hair, guiding you as you tasted her.

"That's it, slut," she hissed, her voice low and dark. "Show me how sorry you are."

You redoubled your efforts, licking and nibbling at her skin, flicking your tongue against her clit. Velvette's breath hitched, her fingers tightening in your hair.

"Fuck, that feels good," she growled, her body arching into your mouth. "But you still haven't earned your orgasm."

You knew she was right, and you concentrated on pleasing her, your tongue working in tandem. Velvette's moans grew louder, her thighs shaking.

"You're doing well, Y/N," she said, her voice a ragged whisper. "But you still have a long way to go."

Velvette's voice was sharp, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled your head back. "Apologize for talking to that model," she demanded, her eyes like ice. "Admit that you were in the wrong,”

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. Saying the words would be humiliating, but you needed relief.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice breathy. "I shouldn't have talked to her. I was wrong."

Velvette's fingers loosened, her eyes narrowing. “Better,” she said, her voice still icy. "Now finish making me come, and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you cum."

You augmented your efforts, your tongue working with renewed vigor. Velvette's moans grew louder, her body trembling.

"You're close," you murmured against her folds, your own arousal reaching new heights, despite being the one getting dominated it was still hot to see her all shaky.

Velvette's body tensed, her moans growing louder as you brought her to orgasm. Her release washed over you, her juices coating your tongue and face.

"Good bitch," she panted, her body shuddering.

With that, Velvette pulled you to your feet, your bodies pressed together. Her fingers found your front once more, teasing you before starting to jerk you.

"Spread your legs," she ordered, her voice harsh. "I want a good view of your pretty body."

You complied, your heart racing. Velvette's hands played you like a fiddle, her gaze locked on your face.

"You're so wet," she said, her voice a mix of satisfaction and anger. "No wonder Valentino was so fucking smug about it."

Your body throbbed, the need for release growing stronger. Velvette's hands moved faster, her gaze never leaving your face.

"Beg me for it," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Beg me to make you cum."

You hesitated, your breath hitching. Asking for her permission felt like a betrayal of yourself, but you needed relief.

"Please, Velvette," you whispered, your voice shaking. "I need to cum. Please let me cum."

Her fingers paused for a moment, her eyes locked on yours. "You're so desperate, aren't you?" she purred, her fingers resuming their pace.

She increased her pace, her hands toying with you with expert precision. Your body ached, your moans growing louder.

"Tell me how much you want it," she commanded, her voice a low growl. "Tell me how much you need to cum."

You hesitated, your face flushing, but you needed her permission.

"I need it, Velvette," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I need to cum so bad."

Her fingers slowed, her eyes never leaving your face. "You better make a good show, slut," she said, her voice tight. "Or I'll make you wait even longer next time."

Velvette's hands going faster, your body arching in response. You could feel the orgasm building, your breath coming in short bursts.

"That's it, Y/N," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "Come for me."

With a final surge, you came, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you. Velvette's hnads never stopped, her thumb brushing against your most sensitive part.

"That’s my good bitch," she said, her voice satisfied. "Now, I think it's time for a reward."

She pulled her fingers from your body, her eyes locked on your face. She leaned in, her lips brushing against yours. The kiss was rough, her tongue probing your mouth.

Velvette pulled away, her eyes still locked on yours. "You'll learn to behave next time, won't you?" she asked, her voice soft but firm.

You nodded, your body still trembling from your orgasm. As much as the experience had been humiliating and degrading, there was something thrilling about it, too.

"Yes, Velvette," you whispered, feeling both exhausted and satisfied.

With that she untied you, dressed you back up and sent you on your merry way to your shared room…

𝐕 Valentino & Vox 𝐕

Is one cock truly not enough for you, greedy whore~

Firstly, what possessed you to believe that engaging in any kind of relationship with both of them was an intelligent idea? Dealing with one is bad enough, but two? Are y’a crazy bitch?! (By the way, the bitch is me, I need these motherfucker to tag team me. Now that this is said, no more interruptions.)

Initially, this situation would be chaotic, not only due to the on and off relationship these two shared but now, you're also giving them attitude? ‘Who the fuck do you think you are?!’

The atmosphere would swiftly shift, with Val embodying his short-tempered self, and Vox grappling with frustration, both using you as some sort of stress reliever as they would fuck you until they were relaxed.

Picture this: Val once again enraged at an employee, Vox desperately attempting to pacify him. You entering the room, trying to innocently retrieving your charger left there this morning—‘nothing too troublesome, nothing to escalate their moods, right?’

Well, not quite. The catch is that your attire was entirely off the mark. Despite it being a Wednesday, the designated day for pink attire as Val had explicitly stated, your outfit missed the mark.

And it wasn't just Val overseeing your wardrobe; Vox had explicitly forbidden overly revealing clothing, especially when walking through the Vees' tower where anyone could catch an eyeful of you.

The burning question on both of their minds, as you discreetly attempted to grab your belongings and make your exit, was: 'Why the fuck were you in that skimpy red outfit?!' (It’s also that fucking radio demon’s color! — Vox)

It wouldn't take long for the situation to escalate into a heated argument. You asserting your independence, claiming the right to wear whatever you pleased, and their response insisting you belonged to them, hence you would dress as instructed. In addition, you would also insults their masculinity and critiques of their chosen attire for the day, as some sort of pay back.

Controlling your clothing marked an expression of their intense possessiveness. Despite its occasional annoyance, you found it fucking thrilling to be both their lover and plaything.

And as you would flip them off and attempting to leave the room, you'd feel a pair of clawed arms wrapping around you, digging into your flesh and forcefully pulling you back in. With that you would end up all tied up, and edge by those two shitheads. Malicious grins plastered on their faces.

If 'dressing like a depraved bitch in heat and act out,' was what you whole heartedly desired, then they would just have to mold you into a well-behaved little thing, one way or another.

Eventually, you'd be so thoroughly overwhelmed and overstimulated that the thought of defying them, or anything thought for that matter, would be far from your mind. But ‘hey, a win is a win!’

The day kicked off on a hot, particularly for your two Overlord boyfriends….

Valentino tenderly woke you with a kiss on your hair, while Vox used tender words to bring you back to reality.

"Y/N, sweetheart, time to wake up," Vox said, your body jerking awake. As you rubbed your eyes, Valentino left a trail of kisses from your shoulder to jaw. "We wouldn't want our sweet Y/N eating breakfast alone," he whispered into your ear.

You pulled away the covers, stood up, and let out a satisfied groan as you stretched. Continuing with your morning routine, you decided to spice things up when having taken a glance at your fully laid out outfit of the day.

Facing your fully clothed boyfriends on the heart-shaped bed, you sensually removed your pajamas, earning a whistle from Valentino and an open-mouthed stare from Vox.

Fully nude, you executed a reverse striptease, putting on your fresh clothes with the same sexed up attitude you just had when shedding yourself of your pyjama.

Once dressed, you completed your look, including jewelry, hair, skincare, and makeup. Slipping away to the kitchen, you avoided the customary morning kiss, leaving your lovers slightly irked.

Your deliberate avoidance continued at the breakfast table, and although they were busy, your actions left them with a slightly sour mood due to the absence of the usual morning ritual.

Meanwhile, you reveled in the small power trip of influencing the moods of these powerful men with such little actions.

Several hours had elapsed, and it was now lunchtime. Knowing Val, he was likely already enjoying his meal, while your TV-headed boyfriend, Vox, was likely too absorbed in his usual surveillance to remember the existence of food.

Being the thoughtful partner you were, you whipped up something delicious and nutritious, heading to the underground watching room before Vox could realize his hunger and order his usual unhealthy fast food.

Despite his argument that the food he consumed you considered ‘shitty’ was quicker and simpler to get a hold of, you knew the toll it took on his energy, sleep, and mood swings. So once you became close enough to speak your mind, you had 'aggressively kindly' nudged him toward a better diet;

As the lift platform halted, holding a picnic basket, you walked the catwalk towards Vox's chair. Catching him fixated on the screens with no food in sight, you leaned in and playfully said, "boo!" prompting a high-pitched scream from Vox, earning a smirk from you and a groggy reaction from him.

However, his demeanor swiftly changed as he received the first kiss of the day from you and noticed the basket in your hand, realizing it was likely a meal you had prepared to share.

Grabbing the basket, he placed it on his desk and pulled you onto his lap by the hips. You both began eating, with you feeding him – a domestic sight only accessible to you and the other Vees.

As you continued to feed Vox, you couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him. You started grinding your hips against his lap, feeling his growing erection beneath you. Your hand slid up and down his thigh, sending electric shocks through his body. He groaned into his food, clearly enjoying the attention.

After you finished our meal, you stood up, playfully caressing the edge of his screen and smirking at the eager expression on Vox's face. "You know what, Voxy? You seem mighty stressed to me, and I feel it’s only right for me to do something about it, right?"

His eyes widened in anticipation, and you could see the hint of a blush on his TV screen. you leaned in close to his ear, your lips grazing the monitor as you whispered, "You wanted that, don’t you?. emphasizing your words by grinding against him once more.

Vox couldn't help but moan softly at the thought of what you had planned for him. His eyes darted around the screens, trying to find a way to distract himself from the tempting proposition, but that did nothing to help his heighten arousal.

As you began to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, he bit his lip to stifle another moan. "I can't believe you're doing this right after lunch," he murmured, his voice trembling with desire. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that, right?"

You chuckled softly, a wicked glint in your eyes as you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. Your fingers deftly undid the final buttons and pulled his pants down, revealing his already hard member. A smirk graced your lips as you teased him by trailing your fingertips along the length of his cock.

Vox's breath hitched, his eyes closing tightly as he tried to maintain control. You leaned in closer, the warmth of your breath causing him to shiver. "You're so hard for me, Vox," you taunted, but soon got to the task ahead.

You eagerly took Vox's length into your mouth, you tongue tracing the vein that ran down the underside of his member. You sucked him diligently, your cheeks hollowing as you bobbed your head up and down, your eyes locked on his. Vox's fingers threaded through your hair, his breath coming in sharp gasps as the pleasure washed over him.

As the sensations built, his hips began to buck, his moans growing louder and more urgent. Just as he was about to reach his peak, you pulled back, a wicked grin on your face. Causing Vox to let out a dissatisfied whine.

So with a giggle, you stood up, you kissed the side of his monitor and quickly took your leave before he could fully register that you had left him panting and desperate.

As he regained his senses, his mood was certainly not the best,— let’s just say he was pissed when he was force to take care of the erection you had caused.

Continuing with your day, it was now a quarter past four, and you knew Valentino was still shooting. With the same mischievous spirit you had when you visited Vox, you headed to Valentino’s studio.

Luck was on your side as they were on a 10-minute break, so Val wouldn’t be bothered by your sudden arrival. In fact, he seemed delighted to see you, welcoming you with a hug that involved all four of his arms.

In return for his affection, you gave him some of yours, expressing it with a soft, sweet, and brief kiss. But of course, the overlord of lust and depravity wasn’t satisfied with such a short gesture, especially considering the state you’d put him in since that morning with your little stunt.

With two arms propping you up and the others encircling you, he pulled you in closer, one hand lifting your chin to bring your lips together. And oh, what a kiss it was.

Your kiss was far from gentle; it was a collision of desire and intensity, fueled by primal instincts and raw passion. He drew you closer, if that was even possible, his hands gripping you fiercely as your lips met with a hunger that bordered on desperation. There was an urgency to your embrace, a need to consume each other completely. Your mouths moved hungrily against each other, teeth clashing and tongues dueling in a fierce battle for dominance—a battle that Valentino obviously won.

His touch was possessive, leaving trails of fire in its wake as he explored every inch of your skin with a roughness that sent shivers down your spine. You responded in kind, your nails digging into his back.

Your kiss was a whirlwind of passion and desire, leaving you both breathless and panting when you finally parted.

As he lowered you down, you felt slightly dizzy, ‘must be Val’s toxins’. It was then that you noticed some staff members had stopped their work just to watch you, and you couldn't help but shoot Valentino a glare after assessing the situation as ‘that bastard knew you were being watch but didn’t say shit so that his employee stopped, even a simple wave from him would’ve have done the trick’. However, he only chuckled in response.

Taking his place in his director's chair, he stared at you intently before patting his lap. “Won’t you stay with papi and watch? After all, you did spend lunch with Voxxy. Won’t you do this for me, cariño?” he asked, his request momentarily distracting you from your thoughts.

It took you a moment to comply, your mind still processing the mention of lunch with Vox. ‘Had Vox told him what you’d done? Probably not, knowing Vox wouldn’t admit to being played like a fiddle by you. Then how—oh yeah, Vox took a selfie while you were feeding him, and he likely sent it to Val.’

With that revelation out of your mind, you settled into Valentino’s lap, one of his arms around your waist while the other had already started traced patterns on your thigh.

As the shoot began, you decided that Valentino should also get some of your ‘special attention’. With that in mind, you started to roll your hips. However, Valentino was quick to stop you in your tracks, his hand on your waist drawing you closer while the one on your throat and another on your thigh roughly squeezed the flesh as a way to say ‘stop’.

You listened to his warning, for a moment... stopping for 5 minutes or so before starting again, earning a hitched breath from the tall moth. His hold became more aggressive, slightly bending forward to whisper in your ear, “You’re really testing my patience, mi amor, and I’d suggest you stop unless you want me to fuck you right here and there in front of everyone.”

But you replied coyly with, “I don’t know what you're talking about,” emphasizing your words with another roll of your hips.

Despite Valentino being a sex maniac, just like Vox, he had grown too possessive to let others see you in such an intimate position, not even as punishment. So his current threat was all bark and no bite, and you both knew it.

He quickly realized that you knew, which caused him to ‘tsk’ and sit back. The man was too prideful to admit you were affecting him to the point where he couldn’t focus on his work properly. So his plan was to wait it out, to wait until the end of the shoot so he could put you in your place.

But by now, you knew him and his work too well. So, 30 minutes before it was over, you got up, informing Val that you had to go on a ‘bathroom break’. Of course, he allowed it, playing the role of the unaffected and non-retaliating.

But the catch that Valentino hadn’t anticipated was, this wasn’t a bathroom break; you had just run away without him noticing, leaving him to take care of his hard one just like you had done with Vox.

You giggled as you sat on your bed, thinking about how he would react when the shoot finally ended and everything clicked. And since you were already long gone, for time efficiency, he would just move on to the next shoot instead of chasing after you.

After all, he was on a time crunch; he probably only had 20 minutes or so of a break to take care of himself, definitely not enough time to find you and fuck you.

It was now 6 p.m., and you were out and about with Velvette, having grown close through your relationships with the two boys. She found you fun, and you could say the same about her. So it wasn’t out of the ordinary when she sent a text to each of them that she was taking ‘their bitch out to party’. As usual, she didn’t listen when they told her not to; she wanted to party with her bestie, and their boyfriends definitely weren’t going to stop her.

So there you were, clubbing hard, singing along loudly, dancing your ass off, and drinking in a manner that was definitely overindulgent, but who cared? You weren’t going to die from it.

As you were chatting it up with Velvette, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you were met with quite the good-looking hellhound. He introduced himself as Marco and thought you were cute. He wanted to see if you could get drinks together, maybe exchange numbers. He was sweet and wasn’t forcing himself on you or anything, so you spoke honestly to him.

“I’m going to level with you, Marco,” you said. “Okay,” he replied.

“You seem like a very sweet hound, but I’m currently in a wonderful relationship with the loves of my life, or is it afterlife?—anyways, what I mean to say is thanks for the offer, but I can’t accept.” You rambled due to the alcohol already in your system, and Marco expressed that he understood and was happy for you.

But then an idea came to mind. “But could I actually ask you a favour, Marco?” you inquired.

“Sure, as long as it’s not too extravagant of an ask,” he replied.

“Never. Anywho, I was wondering if you’d be down to take a selfie with me, nothing too intimate, but you’d be holding me in it, like a really close hug. I want to tease my boyfriends, and that’ll definitely do the trick,” you told him.

He pondered for a second, then a “Sure, why not?” came out.

And so the selfie-taking proceeded. You followed through on your words, nothing but his hands around your waist. You knew that would get another rise from your ‘tv head and moth man’ when they saw your new Sinstagram post.

Were they going to do anything to Marco? No. You’d say something along the lines of ‘I’ll never forgive you’ and give them the cold shoulder if they did. Plus, they’d know this was just teasing, nothing more. If you had intended to make them furious, you would have kissed the guy.

Putting your phone down after posting the selfie with a couple of different pictures from the night, you soon felt it buzz. Looking at the notifications, they were texts from Vox and Valentino. But in your drunk and teasing mindset, you decided to ignore them, just shooting a glance at Velvette, which she understood meant ‘you can text them if they ask about me, but I won’t be doing it.’

She only rolled her eyes at that look but then chuckled at the thought of the state you probably had Valentino and Vox in, because those guys had some serious jealousy issues.

9 p.m. had hit, and you and Velvette had decided you were good for the night. So, calling your driver, you waited by the curb.

“You know they’re going to fuck the shit out of you for that little picture,” she said before taking a hit of her vape.

“Oh, I’m counting on it. That’s why I already left both of them high and dry separately today,” you replied. She looked at you, surprised for a second, then burst out laughing.

“Bitch, you’re crazy! That’s why I like you, though.” With that said, the car had finally arrived, and in about 15 minutes, you were back at the tower.

Velvette had shot you a teasing ‘good luck’ once you both had stepped out of the elevator on the last floor.

You took off your shoes before entering your room. Pushing the door open, you were met with your two boyfriends sitting on your bed, staring straight at you. They must have been waiting for your return.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to grace us with their presence, Val. It’s our little professional photographer," Vox remarks, his tone laced with amusement and spite.

"Oh, indeed, Vox. It seems that truly adore the art, don't they? So much so that they’ll snap a pic at any given opportunity, regardless of who they're doing it with." Val adds, his words carrying a subtle innuendo.

"Oh please, it was just a hug," you retorted dismissively as you turned away from them, starting to change out of your outing clothes.

"Just a hug? JUST A HUG?!!" Valentino's voice rose with indignation. "That mutt was practically fucking you!" he exclaimed. Despite Valentino's tendency to exaggerate, he was jumping to the guns, Marco hadn’t even been groping you, but you refrained from pointing that out.

"That hellhound shouldn’t have been in your vicinity, point blank," Vox added, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Valentino's statement.

"You two are such babies, you should stop fussing over a little selfie already," you scoffed, turning your head to look at them as you removed your last article of clothing.

Retrieving a towel from your drawer, you mentally decided it was time for a shower. In their minds, however, they were planning to make you pay for that picture and for teasing them earlier in the day.

In your mind, you were now going to take a shower, seeking solace in the calming embrace of warm water. However, in their minds, they had already made a silent pact to exact retribution for the audaciousness you had when snapping that picture and your teasing behavior throughout the day.

As you reached for the bathroom door handle, on of Valentino's hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you back towards the bed. His grip was firm but not painful, leaving no doubt that you were not going anywhere until they had made their point clear. Vox stood up and joined him, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he towered over you.

"We'll show you what happens when you play with fire, brat," Valentino growled, his voice low and threatening. Vox nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring Valentino's anger.

Before you could protest or plead, they had you pinned down on the bed, your struggles met with their iron grip. Their faces hovered over yours, their anger palpable in the way their eyes burned with intensity.

Vox and Valentino started discussing strategies on how best to punish you for your transgressions, right in front of you.

"We need to teach them a lesson," Vox declared,"Something... memorable."

"Agreed," Valentino chimed in, tightening his grip on you as you tried to shuffle around "Something... painful."

"Yes, yes, something painful," Vox echoed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "We need to make sure they knows who the boss is here."

In unison, they nodded ominously, their plans solidifying rapidly.

"This is what happens when you toy with us, bébé~" Valentino hissed, his free hand reaching for a belt that he kept nearby. The sound of leather hitting flesh echoed through the room as he brought it down on your thighs, the sting of each blow making you yelp in pain and surprise.

Vox watched with approval, his own arousal growing as he saw the marks forming on your skin. He moved closer, his fingers tracing the lines that Valentino was creating.

"You see this, doll," Vox purred, his voice low and seductive, "you see what you make us do when you behave like a brat. We don’t like hurting you,” a lie. “but can’t just let you do whatever, we do not tolerate petty disobedience, I thought you’d knew that by now."

His fingers trailed down to your chest, playing your now perked nipples. You squirmed beneath their touch, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through your veins.

Valentino paused momentarily, the belt falling limply to the side. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered "Remember this, cariño. We may love you, but that doesn’t mean you got free reins to be a bratty ass bitch."

With that, he released you, stepping back to allow Vox his turn. The television-headed demon's gaze never left your face as he took the belt from Valentino, his eyes flickering with anticipation.

Vox cracked the belt across your ass, the sharp sting catching you off guard. You cried out, your body arching involuntarily as the pain seared into your skin. But then, an unexpected warmth spread through you, a strange mixture of pain and pleasure that you couldn't quite comprehend.

Valentino watched from the corner of the room, his eyes locked onto your reactions. As you writhed beneath Vox's hand, he began undressing, slowly revealing his muscular form. He wore nothing but a pair of black silk boxers that did little to hide his arousal.

Once naked, he walked over to you, his steps confident and assured. He picked up a pair of handcuffs from the nightstand and began to tie your hands behind your back, securing your mouvement firmly. As the cuffs tightened, a jolt of arousal was sent through you.

Vox continued spanking you, alternating between the belt and his open palm. Your skin turned a darker shade, a testament to your punishment. Yet, despite the pain, you couldn't deny the rush of lust pulsating through your veins.

Finally, Vox stopped spanking you, satisfied with the sight of your reddened cheeks. He stepped back, admiring his work, before whispering softly, "Such a bad little thing, aren't you? But don't worry, we won't leave you like this. We're going to give you what you deserve."

Valentino knelt beside you, his eyes glinting with desire. He gently stroked your hair, whispering soothing words into your ear, "It's okay, amorcito. It's all going to be okay. Just let go."

Their words, combined with the physical pain, pushed you further into a state of heightened arousal. You felt your body responding to their dominance, your core throbbing in anticipation.

Valentino stood up, motioning for Vox to join him. They exchanged a heated glance, their shared desire evident. With a nod, they moved towards you, Vox taking your legs while Valentino held your torso. Together, they positioned you on your knees, your ass lifted invitingly.

Valentino reached for a bottle of lubricant from the nightstand, pouring a generous amount into his hand. He rubbed it on your entrance, preparing you for what was to come. Your breathing hitched as his cool touch met your heated core, sending shivers down your spine.

Quickly after, Vox moved behind you, his erection hard and ready. He positioned himself at your entrance, pausing briefly to grab your hair and look into your eyes. There was a mix of fear and lust in your gaze, and he smirked, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you.

With a swift thrust, he entered you, filling you completely. You gasped, your body adjusting to the invasion. His movements were slow and deliberate, each thrust pushing deeper inside you.

Valentino watched intently, his cock equally hard and ready. He practically couldn't wait for his turn, but first, he wanted to see the full effect of their domination on you.

Vox increased his pace, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. His grip on your hair tightened, his other hand holding onto your hip for support. Each time he slammed into you, your breasts bounced enticingly, drawing Valentino's attention.

"Look at them, Vox," Valentino said, his voice thick with desire. "See how much they wants this. How much they needs this."

Vox grunted in response, his movements becoming more erratic. He pulled you back, using your hair to lift your head, and you found yourself looking straight into his cyan-colored eyes.

"That's it, whore," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. "Take it like a good little slut."

Valentino joined in, running his hands over your body, pinching your nipples roughly. His touch was both tender and cruel, eliciting moans from you.

"You like this, don't you?" he taunted, his voice a soft purr. "You love when we’re mean to you, bitch~"

Vox then pulled you up into a chokehold, applying pressure to your throat. You struggled slightly, but the combination of pain and pleasure was overwhelming. Your body arched involuntarily, your climax approaching rapidly.

The pressure on your throat intensified, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Your vision blurred, your world narrowing down to the sensations coursing through you. Everywhere Vox touched felt electrified, every thrust of his hips driving you higher.

"Cum for me, bitch," Vox snarled, his voice hoarse with desire. Valentino continued to play with your nipples with his top hands, as his bottom ones took care your front.

Your release was imminent, the pressure building within you threatening to burst. You mewled, your muscles clenching around Vox, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave.

As you climaxed, Vox continued to choke you, his movements becoming wilder. You felt him swell inside you, his soon reached his climax.

Finally, he came, roaring your name as he filled you completely. He held you in the chokehold for a few more seconds before releasing you, allowing you to catch your breath.

Your breathing was hieratic as you felt your body plot down against the mattress. But to bass for you they didn’t intend on letting you rest.

Valentino stepped up behind you, his erection still throbbing. Without warning, he entered you from behind, his movements slow and deep. The sensation of being filled so so only after your first climax was quite the overstimulating one.

Without warning, Valentino pushed your head into the mattress, your face buried in the soft fabric. You gasped, feeling the sudden loss of control. He spanked you again, the sting mixing with the lingering ache from earlier.

"That's right, bitch," he growled, his voice rough. "Stay quiet. Take what I give you."

His thrusts became faster, his hips slamming into you with each movement. You could feel Vox's semen leaking out slightly, only to be replaced by Valentino's relentless pursuit.

Each strike of his hand echoed through the room, punctuating the sounds of your moans and their grunts. The pain and pleasure merged, creating a symphony of submission.

Valentino's fingers dug into your hips, gripping tightly as he pounded into you. Your body responded, moving with his rhythm, your inner walls milking him with each thrust.

Despite the pain, you couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of being owned, of being taken by these powerful beings. Their dominance over you was absolute, and it excited you beyond measure.

As Valentino neared his own climax, he tightened his grip on your hips, his thrusts becoming more frantic. Your body shook beneath him, your second orgasm building quickly.

"Come for me, slut," he demanded, his voice thick with desire. "Let me hear you scream!" He said as he pulled your hair, contradicting his previous statement about wanting you to be quite.

You complied, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. Your entire body convulsed, your nails digging into the mattress as you screamed his name.

Valentino roared, his release pulsing inside you. He stayed still for a moment, catching his breath before withdrawing slowly.

As he stepped away, you collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily. The room was silent, save for your labored breaths.

Before you could recover, Valentino had wrapped his arms around you, his chin resting on your shoulder. He entered you from behind, his size stretching you wide. Your body trembled, your nerves overwhelmed by the dual invasion.

Following suit, Vox positioned himself in front of you, his erection already hard once more. Without warning, he slid back into you, his length filling you from the front. You cried out, your body protesting the overstimulation.

"Shhh, calm down ‘bébé’," Valentino whispered in your ear, his voice husky with desire. "We're not done with you yet."

Vox started thrusting, his movements slow and measured. Valentino followed his lead, their rhythms meshing perfectly. Your body bounced between them, caught in a vice of pleasure and pain.

They didn't care about your limits, your protests falling on deaf ears. Instead, they reveled in your discomfort, their own desires guiding their actions.

Their faces were etched with concentration, their eyes locked onto yours. They seemed almost hypnotized, lost in the act of taking you.

As they continued to thrust into you, their movements became more synchronized. Their bodies moved as one, their hips slapping against each other. In sync, they leaned in, capturing each other's lips in a fierce kiss.

Tongues tangling, their passion was palpable. It was a display of obsession and possession, leaving you breathless.

But their focus wasn't solely on each other. With one hand, Valentino gripped your hair, twisting it gently. Vox reached around, caressing your chest roughly.

Their kiss broke, Vox shifting his gaze to you. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue delved deep, claiming you as his own.

When he pulled away, Valentino took over, his lips crushing against yours in a brutal kiss. His hands wandered, cupping your face, and then moving down to your neck.

Between kisses, they continued to fuck you, their bodies merging with yours. Their actions spoke volumes - you belonged to them, and you should know better than to fuck with them.

With each kiss, your body grew more sensitive, your mind clouded with lust. Vox and Valentino fed off your reactions, their desire escalating.

"That's it, baby," Valentino murmured against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. "Let go for us." He said as he let his hands wonder down to your front to increased the sensation.

Vox nodded, his thrusts growing more forceful. "Yes, cum for us."

Between kisses, they increased their pace, their movements relentless. Your climax built quickly, your body shaking beneath them.

Finally, you came, screaming into Vox's mouth. Their thrust not relenting as they chased their own orgasm.

As Vox and Valentino neared their climaxes, their thrusts grew more desperate. Sweat dripped from their bodies, mingling with yours. Their gazes locked, a silent agreement passed between them.

With a roar, Valentino thrust deep inside you, his release spilling within you. At the same time, Vox claimed you once more, his cum joining lover’s.

You all panted heavily as they remained inside you, enjoying the aftermath of their conquest.

In the silence that followed, you lay between them, exhausted and spent.

Some ‘I love you’s were shared as you all drifted off, it looks like showering will a ‘tomorrow’ type of task…

Thanks anon for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

You can now commission me!

Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)

[citricacidprince]

...Mable stuck with bill timestuck, you say? I wonder if that would go better or worse than dipper being alone with bill.

Here to mention that I somehow only noticed your signature when it was next to fiddleford, and thought you were (rightly) calling him a prince. It took an embarrassingly long time for me to connect the dots.

Haha you’re not the first person to mistake my signature for actual writing so dw you’re good lol!

And as for my thoughts of Mabel and Bill in a Timestuck AU,,,

I may or may not have written a drabble in a mutuals DMs a few years back about a confrontation between Mabel and Bill and the aftermath of it! I also may or may not have just fixed it up and straight up doubled the word count haha-

Since I’m feeling a tad bit brave I’m gonna post the drabble under the cut for anyone to read along with two doodles I’ve done for it, I only ask that yall be nice to me since I don’t write very often and know I ain’t that good at it hehe-

Also I’m not lying this is like,,, 4707 words… I got possessed to write this haha

Before I begin!!! Important!!!

Trigger Warnings: Choking/Asphyxiation, harm to children, minor descriptions of small cuts and minuscule amounts of blood, verbal planning of commiting a murder/killing

(if I missed any please tell me!)

With that out of the way here's my stupidly long Timestuck AU drabble that's been on my back burner for years! The only thing you really need to know is that the twins time-traveled back after Weirdmagenddon of their own volition. Dipper is with Stan and Mabel is with Ford and Fiddleford. Mabel has been staying with the two for almost a month now and Fiddleford is the only one who knows she's a time traveler.

With the stage set, please enjoy!

💫—————————————🚩

It’s late into the night, Mabel is tossing and turning and can't go to sleep. Her mind is spiraling as she overthinks and worries about Bill, her brother, her Grunkles, everything. So at about 1AM she decides that she’s not going to bed anytime soon and gets up off the living room couch which she has called her new bed while staying with her younger Grunkle Ford and Fiddleford.

Despite it being the dead of night Mabel thought it’d be a good idea to just make something food related in hopes it would tire her out. Also, she figured it would be a fun idea since she knows Stanford is most likely still awake and probably hasn’t eaten in a while. She could make him something easy and sweet, like a batch of cookies, and give them to him as a gift! Who doesn’t like 1AM cookies?! If she doesn��t have the stuff to make that, eh, she’ll figure it out and make something else!

A bonus to this is that if Ford says he’s not hungry, a bold faced lie, she’d use her sweetest and biggest puppy eyes until he ate some. Maybe she could even convince him to go to bed and not stay up till 4AM!

The brunette starts making a batch of cookies in the cover of night, making sure to have plenty enough for Fidd's in the morning, and putting her entire heart and all her worries into the mix in hopes the oven would ease away the stress weighing down her mind.

Sure it took a while, but it would totally be worth it to see her young Grunkle's face light up in shock at the sight of a warm batch of cookies shoved into his face and getting crumbs on his nerdy notes!

Right as she was finishing up wrapping up three separate plates worth of cookies in a napkin with a pretty little bow, for the ✨aesthetic✨ she happily told herself, she hears a pair of heavy boots walk into the kitchen.

The voice of her, now young, Grunkle Ford calls out her name in the quiet kitchen. Just as she had expected, he was awake.

Before the excited brunette could whirl around and surprise Ford with the 1-2 AM batch of cookies she lovingly went and made by hand, his low voice rumbled out, “Could you grab me a mug? One from the cabinet.”

He sounded a little funny, like he just woke up. Mabel smiled as she could already picture Stanford’s bleary and tired face as he goes to make a cup of coffee with the mug he’s asking for. She lets out a small sound of exertion as she pushes herself onto the counter since she’s too short to reach the cabinets otherwise and gingerly opens the cabinet so it doesn’t squeak and pulls out a mug. Based on the small cracks and worn paint on the ceramic it seemed a tad old, the faded words of ‘Backupsmore 1973’ barely legible.

Just as Mabel turns around, about to lightly scold her young Great Uncle for drinking coffee at 2 AM instead of getting some rest, a large hand wraps around her little neck. She didn’t even have a chance to scream as she’s suddenly slammed into the now closed cabinet, the air knocked out of her lungs and her head spinning from the impact, a loud sound of ceramic shattering on the wooden floor echoing through the kitchen and Mabel’s ringing ears

A fearful confusion consumes her mind as she, unsure of what’s happening in her dazed state until she catches a glimpse of Stanford. Gone were the warm brown eyes she’s grown accustomed to, in their place were the sickly yellow slit eyes of a monster she knew all to well.

Bill Cipher.

“Shooting Star, there you are! I think you're getting a tad too comfortable around here! Let's fix that!"

Malice built in her throat as she spat out, her brows furrowed and her brown eyes glaring down his yellow ones, “Bill! You-”

“Ah, so you do know me! I assumed so, but wasn’t quite sure!”

The six fingered hand around her neck pressed a tad harder against the wooden cabinet behind her, making her wince from the pressure.

“Here’s the deal, Shooting Star, you’re being a massive thorn in my side.”

Her back was already aching from the impact of her getting slammed against the cabinet.

“Making Sixer second guess his trust in me with your insufferable kindness and child-like whimsy.”

Her sock-covered feet were slipping and sliding on the wooden countertop, legs uncontrollably trembling as her fingers gripped at Stanford’s large forearm in hopes of steadying herself.

“It was amusing at first but now it’s just annoying. So I need you,”

His hand tightened even more, making Mabel let out a sharp hiss of pain.

“Out of the picture.”

Mabel’s feet no longer are touching the countertop as Bill suddenly pulls her away from the cabinet, easily dangling her little body in the air and effectively hanging her. Panic instantly shoots through her and tears well up in her eyes as her airway is suddenly completely cut off, her little hands grabbing and clawing at her possessed great uncle’s forearm while her legs wildly kick at the air, too short to even graze against Bill’s chest.

Bill’s free hand raises up and idly taps his chin, as his musing over something indecisively, an wide and uncanny grin stretched across the possessed scientist’s face as he loudly questions, “Hmmm… how about… throwing you in the lake! If the water doesn’t kill you the cold air will!”

Mabel started to thrash around even harder, her heart pounding in her chest as fear coursed through every nerve in her body, her flight response in full gear as she tried over and over again to get out of Bill’s grip with no avail.

“Oooh! Or I could just tie you up and bury you in the snow! I hear frostbite is real killer these days!”

Blood was rushing to her ears; she could barely hear a word he was saying. All she could focus on was the panic bubbling in her chest and adrenaline pumping in her veins, screaming at her that she didn’t want to die.

It didn’t take long before her vision began to blur, her clawing hands and kicking feet getting more and more numb and slow with each passing seconds. She could faintly hear Bill say something about ‘throwing’, ‘roof’, and ‘classic!’ before she could feel herself almost completely clock out, vision fluttering in and out as her hand weakly claws at his arm one last time.

Just as she was about to give up completely, the polydactyl hand around her neck suddenly let go, sending Mabel unceremoniously crashing to the floor. She let in a large gasp of air, coughing her lungs out as air desperately tried to fill them once more. The brunette doesn’t even care about the small shards of broken ceramic cutting into her hands or shins, she was trying to make sure she didn’t accidentally start hyperventilating as drool and tears drip from her face to the floor with every sharp breath.

Mabel, disoriented and dazed, manages to glance up through strands of her long and curly brunette hair to see Ford still standing there with those disgusting yellow eyes, which were now staring off to space with annoyance clearly visible in his gaze.

"Geez Sixer, you chose the worst time to want your body back to 'test a new theory' huh?" He quietly mumbles under his breath, looking upset that his fun was being rudely ripped away from him.

Suddenly he stares down at Mabel, who was clutching her throat and panting heavily, brown eyes unable to stop crying. Despite this, despite all the pain and numbness that ran through her, she still found it in her to glare at the dream demon with as much animosity as she could muster while surrounded by ceramic shards and small prickles of blood.

"Well… we’ll just have to pick this up another time, won't we Shooting Star?"

The possessed body of Stanford Pines strolls towards the archway leading out of the kitchen, however before he leaves completely, he stops and whirls around with that same twisted smile Mabel vividly remembers seeing on her possessed brother’s face just a few months ago. "Oh, Shooting Star? Would you be a doll and clean up this mess? Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt now, would we?"

And with one final cackle he left, making his way back downstairs to Stanford’s study, presumably to make it appear like he never left in the eyes of the oblivious scientist, leaving the little brunet alone on the floor to lightly grip her neck, wincing at the bruise that's bound to appear the next day.

She stayed there silently for what felt like hours but was only just a couple minutes, the adrenaline coursing through her veins slowly but surely fading away as the feeling finally came back to her numb fingers and toes, relieved that she isn’t hyperventilating anymore and she can actually breathe.

She eased herself off the cold wooden floor, her little body trembling the entire time.

Despite the feeling of spite coursing through her veins for that awful dream demon, he was right…, she really didn’t want anyone to get hurt… So instead of immediately going to fix herself up she spent the next 10 minutes sweeping up the broken mug and getting all the broken shards of ceramic into the trash.

Curse her and her big heart…!

When she was done it was about 2 AM, and it was now officially time to check the damage.

Before she left the kitchen she made sure to put the plates of cookies into the fridge.

She didn’t really feel hungry anymore.

With a couple of winces and hisses of pain she managed to tip toe herself up the stairs and to the bathroom, making sure she didn’t accidentally wake up Fiddleford by stepping on a loose plank or opening the door too loud. Once inside she gingerly pulls out the old timey medkit from under the sink and sits on the floor.

Well, technically the medkit was modern since it was the 80s…

Wah, Mabel! Not the time!

With a deep breath she gingerly treats the tiny cuts gracing her hands and shins, trying not to cry as she disinfects each cut just like Grunkle Ford taught her to at the end of the summer, plucking out mini pieces of ceramic embedded in her skin with a pair of tweezer like how her Grunkle Stan had taught her at the beginning of the summer (note from her past self, splinters are never fun).

Cleaning and applying band-aids to the cuts was the easy part, most of the bandages would be hidden under her sweater and the winter pants Fiddleford had gifted her during her first couple days staying at the shack.

It was her neck that was going to be hard to hide.

Mabel stood up and got on a step stool to look into the minor, immediately wincing at the sight of her bare neck, dark purple was already creeping in and bruising every bit of her neck. The brunette leaned closer to get a better look and almost whispered out one of the many swears she had accidentally learned from Stanford while living here.

There was a hand bruised into her neck, and it encompassed her entire neck.

She gingerly touched her neck and winced at the dull pain. Guess she wasn’t going to take off her sweater for about 2 weeks now… just 1 week if she was lucky enough…

She tentatively took a step outside of the bathroom and tiptoed down the hallway again, trying to not make a single sound. Just when she got to the steps she heard a door open behind her, causing her to instantly crouch down and hope that she was far enough down the stairs that her body was hidden from sight.

She dared herself to peek just above the top step to see Fiddleford standing outside of his room, stretching and yawning before closing his door and walking towards the bathroom Mabel just left, making the 13-year-old let out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to see her like this.

She knew she should probably tell Fiddleford what happened, but she just couldn’t. Maybe it was that childish fear of getting in trouble over nothing getting to her, or maybe it was the fear that her young Grunkle would be blamed for what Bill did.

Regardless, despite her better judgment, she kept her mouth shut and decided to hide her bruises from everyone else in the house, silently thinking of a way she could somehow protect herself from Bill.

She could practically hear Dipper yelling at her about how bad of an idea this was, but she was too shaken up to think of anything else…

So, she kept with the plan even as she shakily slipped a sweater over her large t-shirt she wore as a night gown and fell asleep on the couch, huddled in the corner in a ball as vivid nightmares haunted her fitful sleep, showing flashes of a possessed Stanford Pines throwing her off either the house or a water tower.

She woke up the next day to the warm smell of breakfast and the soft tones of Fidd's humming a tune in the kitchen, her body absolutely aching and a tad sweaty from the combo of the sweater and the fireplace keeping the room warm.

Mabel winced as she got off the couch. Yep… her back is definitely bruised.

She tentatively walked towards the open archway leading into the kitchen, silently calming her nerves and trying to put a smile onto her face. It helped that Fiddleford is making breakfast, she loves his food.

The kicthen was so empty when she first arrived but the southern man immediately starting keeping the place stocked when it was clear that she was going to stay there for a while. He also insistent on making her a meal 3 times a day since she was a ‘growin’ lil’ girl’. Because of her memories of Fiddleford being ‘Old Man McGucket’ were much more prominent in her brain it was easy to forget that he was once a father, but in those domestic moments when he doted and fussed over her it was clear that he was a good one.

Well, when he was sane that is…

She quickly shook off the bleak memory.

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

She let out a low breath as a wide smile covered her face, her round cheeks rosy as she happily skipped inside.

Fiddleford perked up at the sound of Mabel walking inside, smiling as immediately spoke with a fond voice, "Ey there sweetpea, sleep well?" He idly glanced behind to see Mabel in her baggy t-shirt/sleep gown as well as a sweater on top of that, making him raise an eyebrow as he playfully asks, "Did someone get' cold last night?"

"Just a little bit." Mabel playfully replied back, unable to stop the wince that crossed her face at the sound of her hoarse voice.

Fiddleford, who was already done making breakfast, immediately whipped his head around at the sound. "Honeybee, are ya' alright?"

She lightly coughs into her fist a couple times and passingly remarks, “I’m fine, it's just morning gunk! Just need some water, haha!” Trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Fiddleford still had a suspicious look in his eye as he looked over the little lady before deciding to let her off easy with this one, grabbing a rag and wiping his hands while replying with a quiet, “Alright, if ya say so, sunshine…”

He quickly pours Mabel a glass of water and then grabs a plate of bacon and pancakes. “Fer you, made just how you like it,” Mabel sits down in her chair as Fiddleford places the glass of water in front of her and a plate of pancakes and some bacon that is extremely burnt. “Burnt in a volcano.”

The brunette drinks some water first, happy to note that it actually does ease the pain in her throat! After that she eagerly grabs a burnt piece of bacon and shoves it into her mouth, loving the way flakey black residue smears onto her fingers and the overwhelming taste of what can only be described as ‘BURNT’ fills her mouth. She muffles out, “It’s perfect!” In between bites as Fiddleford chuckles at her antics and makes himself a plate. “Yer such an odd lil’ duck, honeydew! Only kid I’ve ever met who wanna me ta’ burn their meal!”

Mabel immediately shoots back, pointing at Fiddleford with a mouth full of bacon, “Tahts cause ohther peowple are COWERDS!!!”

The lanky man lets out a full on belly laugh as he grabs his plate and sits at the table, the two beginning to talk about anything that crosses their mind.

Stanford wasn’t going to join them for breakfast. He’s usually asleep at this time or buried in whatever notes he was currently writing.

…Mabel feels a little bad that she's kinda happy he wouldn’t join them… Her throat feels like it’s constricting all over again at the thought of those sickly yellow eyes and horrid laughter…

At some point while eating, Fiddleford makes a joke that makes Mabel loudly laugh, the sudden shout of laughter causing her to wince and try to grab at her throat. She stops herself a couple inches short of the grab and quickly puts her hand back down, but the damage was already done.

Fiddleford, concern coming back at full force, puts down his fork and immediately asks with a concerned tone, "Honey, is ‘ere somethin' wrong with ‘ur neck?"

Sweat began to bead on Mabel’s forehead and she tried to immediately brush off the concern with a not so convincing, "Whaaaaat, psh, nah!"

He raises an eyebrow at the clearly nervous little girl. "Mabel, if yer' hurt I'd like to know."

She starts to fidget in her seat, fingers wrapping together and her brown eyes darting away. "Look, it's not thaaaat bad you don't gotta worry about it-"

At the confirmation that she is indeed hurt makes him sit up and shoot back, "Well tha' just makes me MORE worried bout it!"

Unable to come up with anymore excuses Mabel plays with a fork in front of her, eyes locked with her plate. Fiddleford let out a soft sigh and leans closer to the brunette across the table and rests his hand on hers, a kind smile on his face as he gently adds on with that fatherly tone that immediately made Mabel feel better, "Darling, it ain't gonna get better if ya’ don't lemme help. I promise I ain’t gon’ get mad, ya hear?"

Mabel tentatively glanced up at the southern man’s soft green eyes and could tell he meant every kind word.

So, despite her promising to keep her injuries a secret, she takes a deep breath and nods her head, gingerly taking off the thick hand-made sweater to leave her neck and bandaged up arms exposed to the world. The lanky southern man’s eyes seem to grow more horrified every passing second.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-"

Fiddleford jumps up from the table, almost making his plate fall off while doing so, quickly rounding the table and crouching in front of the brunette with green eyes filled with so much worry and horror.

He found himself fussing over the girl who had easily wormed herself into his and Ford's hearts and found himself growing even more sickened at every bruise and cut he found, though nothing could compare to that sinking feeling of dread he felt looking at Mabel's bruised neck.

He cupped the brunette’s face and could feel tears well up in his eyes as he stuttered out a confused, "W-wha'..., Mabel wha' on earth happened-" His heart breaking trying to even comprehend what could have happened to her.

On the opposite end, Mabel could feel her heart swell at Fidd's fatherly fussing, but tried to brush it off the best she could, not wanting him to worry about her.

"I'm fine really! I just, uh… tripped down the stairs…? …Yeah! Didn't want to worry you, haha!"

Fiddleford, who suddenly stopped paying attention to what Mabel was saying, let his eyes looking closer at the girl's neck before they widened in a horrifying realization.

"I… Is tha' a hand…?"

A rush of panic suddenly runs through Mabel as she tries to come up with some excuse to throw him off, something, anything!

"Fidd’s it's FINE! I just… uh… wore a sweater that was too tight…?” Goodness she’s screwed, even she was aware of how unsure she sounded.

Fiddleford still wasn’t paying attention. Instead one of his hands lowered from her rosy cheeks and ever so slightly touched her neck with the lightest of touches. His green gaze was analytical as finger traced down the bruised skin, talking to himself so quietly that even Mabel almost didn’t hear him as he quietly began to count.

“One, two, three, four, five, s-”

The blond cut himself off with a sharp inhale through his nose as the look of worry that had previously graced the southern man's face suddenly disappeared and was replaced with a look Mabel had never seen on his face before.

It was a quiet anger. The kind of anger that's terrifying to witness as it bubbles from deep inside but you refuse to let it show on your face, even as your hands begin to tremble and your vision goes red.

Without saying a word Fiddleford stood up and stayed completely silent, unable to say a word for about 10 seconds while his face was blank and unreadable. Finally, Fiddleford looked down at Mabel and gave a kind smile that didn't fully reach his eyes.

"Sweetie, could ya' stay here a sec? I have something importan' I need tha’… discuss… with Stanferd."

After finishing that statement he gently patted the top of her brunette head and walked out of the kitchen archway, turning the corner and heading up the stairs that lead to Stanford's room, walking with such silent intensity that it kinda frightened her.

After a couple moments of staying frozen in her chair she finally managed to shake off the feeling, realizing she had to stop Fiddleford! As scary as it would be seeing Stanford again after last night's… incident… she couldn't just let Fiddleford go confront Ford without the full story!

She sprang up from her chair and winced at the pain radiating from her back. Yep! Still definitely bruised!

Mabel rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs. She stumbles to a stop at the end of the steps as she sees Fiddleford standing outside Ford's door, just as quiet as he was downstairs. He raises his hand and gives a firm echoing knock and she could faintly hear her young Grunkle respond with a strong, "Come in!"

She hates that she shivers a bit at his voice.

She hates that she's a little bit afraid of him.

Fiddleford doesn't respond and instead just opens the door and then quietly closes it behind him. The door doesn’t close all the way which makes a sliver of light from Ford's bedroom/study shine against the floor in the hallway.

Well... Fiddleford hadn't broken any windows or started yelling, so maybe, just maybe, he's going in there to calmly talk out the problem with Ford? Well, that was more wishful thinking on Mabel's part. She HOPES they will just, talk it out, and no one will get hurt...

A loud crash and shout echoed through the hallway.

A girl could dream can't she?

Mabel sprints to Stanford’s door, tripping over herself the whole way, and yanks open the heavy wooden door as quickly as she could.

When she finally pries it open she’s greeted with the sight of Fiddleford in the middle of trying to choke out Stanford, while Stanford is leaning against one of his smaller wooden cabinets, pushing Fidds away (to the best of his ability) with his foot, clutching his very bloody nose in confusion.

Mabel rushes in and pushes the southern man away from her bleeding Great Uncle to the best of her ability but Fiddleford upon seeing Mabel finally backs off from trying to murder Ford, but the look of pure anger firmly remains on his face.

Ford looks at Fiddleford with pure confusion as he pushes himself off the small wooden cabinet, clutching his bleeding nose all the while.

"F, what on earth has gotten into you!"

Fiddleford stared back with his mouth agape, absolutely gobsmacked, before finally yelling back, "Wha'- what's gotten into ME?! What's gotten into YOU Stanferd Pines!"

Fidds pushed past Mabel and jabbed his finger into the brunet’s chest.

"She's a lil girl?! How DARE you even lay a FINGER on her!"

"F what on earth are you talking about?!"

Fiddleford roughly grabs Ford's shoulders and pushes him to look towards Mabel with a surprising amount of force.

"SHE'S what I'm talkin' bout! Stanferd Filbrick Pines who gave you tha' idea ya' had tha' GODDAMN right to even lay a FINGER on her-"

Stanford couldn't focus on the rant Fiddleford poured into his ears instead his eyes state frozen on the disgusting purple mark staining Mabel's neck.

"Mabel… who-"

Stanford knelt next to the sweet girl who reminded him so much of Stanley in his youth and felt a familiar pang in his chest. That feeling he'd feel whenever Lee came home covered in bruises. That feeling to protect… and to hurt anyone who dares to hurt them.

"Sweetheart… who did this? What happened?"

Fiddleford scoffed. "Ya should know."

Ford shivered at how cold F had sounded. Out of all of his years of knowing him, Fidds had never sounded like this.

Then the meaning of those words finally hit him.

Stanford rushed to stand up and looked back to Fiddleford's furious eyes with his own look of disbelief.

"Y-... You think I did this?"

Fiddleford's eyes didn't change in the slightest.

"Ya'. Ya' I do."

"We've known each other for years, we went to college together, I went to your wedding, you are easily my best friend. Do you honestly think I'm capable of doing something like this?!"

"I used ta'," Fidds crossed his arms. "Now I ain't so sure."

Ford didn't know HOW to feel. This felt like a betrayal but not in the way Stanley's felt. He also felt offended. And hurt. And so many other emotions that were swirling in his chest.

"How? How did you even get it in your head that I had something to do with this!? How could you look at me and even IMAGINE me hurting her?! I can't even imagine myself hurting her! She's-"

"Hand."

Ford froze from his rant.

"What."

"Yer' tha' only one who coulda' done it. How do I know? Hand."

"Ya' always go on an' on about the statistics of someone' being polydactyly. About how different ya' are."

"I want ya' to look at how many fingers are on that handprint on 'er neck, look me in tha' eye, and tell me who's most likely tha' guilty party."

Stanford froze, his face turning white at the realization. He didn't need to turn around and investigate the bruise on Mabel's neck. He now knows it had 6 fingers. When you put all the facts together, one thing is clear.

He IS the most likely person to have done it.

But there's a problem with that.

He DEFINITELY didn't do it.

He glanced back at Mabel, who seemed to be nervously pulling at her nightgown the entire time. After a moment she finally glances up, but after looking into his brown eyes for less than a second she quickly looked back down.

He didn't do it. He knows he didn't.

But if he didn't, why did she look so scared of him?

He didn't do it…

…Didn’t he…?

❔—————————————❓

Now this is a bonus doodle based on an idea I had for the aftermath of this! Stanford is stuck mulling over this in his room and when he finally leaves he notes that Mabel isn't asleep on the couch like usual. So of course he freaks out and assumes she ran away, running all over the house in hopes of finding her. He runs upstairs to Fiddleford’s room and knocks frantically on his door to get him to help him find the missing girl.

Fiddleford opens the door looking annoyed and tired. When Stanford says he can’t find Mabel and that he’s looked everywhere the southern man cuts him off by instantly replying “I know where she is.” That instantly calms down Ford but he looks confused as he asks “You do?” To which Fidd’s opens the door a little bit more to show Mabel asleep on his bed.

Stanford lets out a soft ‘Oh.’ And just stands there, looking awkwardly at Fiddleford for a moment before trying to break the tension with a weak chuckle and asking “Did she want to have a sleepover?” The blond doesn’t even hesitate to reply back, “Yeah. Because she’s scared of you, Stanford.” And closing the door on the brunet’s face.

Stanford doesn’t move for what feels like forever before he heads back to his room, feeling a little sick.

Anywho, I’m done now!!!

I’m happy and sorry you read through all of that, you can leave now! 💥💥💥