#whoops it almost all got smoothed over

[councillor-roland]

In spite of how his voice rose and all the emotions that were coming to the surface, Roland watched Rhys carefully for even the smallest reaction. His expression remained at first mostly unreadable though the vampire noted the clenching and unclenching of Rhys' hands, the stiff nod. The words that followed, though seemingly a dismissal of the whole situation, were not particularly comforting. Roland scoffed. "Is that what you'll say now only to bring it up again the next time we argue?" Roland wouldn't put it past Rhys to needle him like that, knowing him well enough to know it was a distinct possibility at this point. He glanced at the damnable sofa that Rhys rendered pristine in a moment, expression twisting bitterly. Clearly he should've gotten rid of it before now and he might end up doing so anyway given he doubted it would be able to bring him any pleasure now even without the stains.

Rhys turned back towards him and Roland met his gaze, noted the melancholy there, and felt a sort of desperation rising up in him. Would this always be between them now, regardless of what Rhys had said? Would it fester and poison them, and Rhys' beautiful smiles always be tinged with that hint of melancholy when he looked at him? Roland wouldn't be able to stand it, if so, he would have to do something, anything to-and then Rhys' arms were around him. The spiral of worry vanished as soon as it had come up and the desperation melted away as Roland hugged him back just as tightly, pressing his cheek against the witch's hair and closing his eyes for a moment. Amazing how such a simple gesture could soothe him almost immediately yet that's what the hug accomplished. The words might have been muffled but Roland still heard them and he opened his eyes, nodding slightly. "All right." It was soft, all previous rancor having disappeared from his tone. The kiss almost made him smile a little, his lips twitching slightly, before he met Rhys' gaze and focused on him to really listen. There was an earnestness in Rhys' eyes and paired with his gentle tone, Roland could tell he was being sincere and he almost regretted his earlier snap about thinking Rhys might bring it up again to dig at him. The irony wasn't lost on him, however, that Rhys of all people was telling him to let go of the guilt though undoubtedly Roland would find that much easier to do than Rhys.

He waited dutifully until Rhys finished speaking about it and nodded. "It certainly won't do me any favours." Roland agreed, though there was a little more weight to those words as if he wasn't just talking about himself. "But I can let it go if it truly hasn't ruined anything between us. Your forgiveness is the balm that will soothe it all away." Roland did smile a little then, even if he'd never actually apologized or asked for forgiveness it seemed to be what Rhys was granting and he would eagerly take it. He lifted a hand to to stroke Rhys' cheek lightly. "I never want to hurt you like that, unintentionally or otherwise." Roland's voice was tender and sincere. The thought of hurting Rhys was always sickening, it was no wonder he could hardly stand himself for thinking he'd actually done it.

It almost seemed as though they'd moved past all the unpleasantness...until Rhys' clear amusement at the mention of Aneirin and how Roland had handled that situation. It was almost shocking, the lack of sympathy, and Roland felt it like a slap his hand dropping away suddenly from Rhys' face as he frowned. "You find it funny that I've hurt someone I care deeply about? I can assure you it isn't. Of course I did it for you, I would do anything for you, but that doesn't mean it wasn't painful for me." Roland still had a tangle of unresolved emotions about Aneirin and the situation they found themselves in. He hadn't been able to do much about it since Rhys' leaving but Roland wanted to resolve it, somehow, wanted it to be okay even if that seemed impossible. He shook his head and pulled away from Rhys. "I made a true mess of things with him in a way we may never be able to come back from and yet you nearly laugh at the thought. What cruelty." Perhaps Roland was oversensitive given what his last few weeks had been like and Rhys the overarching cause but it still seemed callous and he shot the witch an injured look.

Though his mind was desperate to interrupt, Rhys bit his tongue and let Roland voice his reasonings. Truth be told, he wasn’t entirely sure how he should feel about any of it. He knew that if he were to breathe a word of what he’d seen to Seth or Mateo that both proud members of the anti-Roland workplace fanclub would be beside themselves with yet another reason to dangle Rhys’ questionable taste in men over his head whilst trying to shake some sense into him – no, for now, this remained between the two of them. Well, three if Gwyn was counted which, clearly, he had been. As Roland stepped closer and continued his plea deal, Rhys kept his thoughts firmly to himself, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists to keep himself grounded as his mind replayed the visions on a loop. The awareness of his hypocrisy remained and try as he might, Rhys couldn’t bring himself to be angry at Roland’s rule breaking, not when he was guilty of a similar enough crime of his own. 

The witch remained silent and borderline unreadable as Roland’s volume rose. The emotional suffering in the vampire’s tone was painfully obvious and even at his cruellest, Rhys couldn’t pretend it didn’t resonate with the part of him that always made exceptions for Roland. The questions kept coming and though there was so much he wanted to say, trying to find the words still felt like too gargantuan a task, so Rhys settled for a noncommittal, stiff nod, his gaze dropping to survey the floor as he tentatively trusted his voice. “It’s whatever, Ro. It’s done now. No use moping about it.” Rolling his shoulders back with a weighted sigh, Rhys ran a hand over his hair and dragged his gaze back to the sofa, lifting a hand to finish what he’d started as his restoration magic restored the couch to its former glory in the blink of an eye. He assessed his work for a moment before turning his attention back to Roland and the smile that settled into place as their eyes met again was one tinged with a melancholy. 

There was little space between them left to close but regardless, Rhys needed the comfort and reassurance that only Roland’s presence could provide these days and so not even a flicker of hesitation featured when Rhys finally moved to pull Roland into a tight hug, burying his face against the vampire’s neck for a moment as he tried to will his thoughts into some form of coherency. “Don’t interrupt for a minute,” he mumbled against Roland’s neck, the words slightly muffled, “let me say what I need to say and then you can talk, ‘kay?” He pressed a kiss to Roland’s jaw before straightening up to look him in the eye, the arms wrapped tight around the councilman’s waist squeezing him a little tighter just for a moment as if to show that no real hard feelings remained. “It was a lapse in judgement, I get it. Things were bad, you weren’t thinking straight, I wasn’t here– I get it. Please put it down now, don’t carry that guilt and regret around with you. It’s not gonna do you any favours, is it?” Rhys’ tone was nothing but gentle as he spoke, as if he were addressing the much, much younger members of the coven back home. He was uncomfortably aware of his hypocrisy in asking Roland not to shoulder the burden of guilt but he was hopeful that just this once, Roland would look past the glaring double standard. “You haven’t ruined anything between us. Everything’s okay, it’s all fine.” 

Despite it all, Rhys couldn’t keep his smile from blossoming into one of genuine amusement at the news of things with Aneirin souring and he ducked his head to hide it from Roland’s line of sight the moment he realised just how visible his reaction had been. “That’s a shame,” Rhys managed, sounding anything but sympathetic with the laugh he was holding back remaining painfully obvious in his tone. He glanced back up once he’d regained his composure. “I’m honoured, though. All that for little ol’ me?”

[tonycries]

I'm A BIG Stepper!

Synopsis. Too big? There’s no such thing as “too big”.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, saying it’s “too big”, FÉRAL boys, spítting, chokíng, them being big like REALLY big, cúmplay, oraI (male + fem), Choso’s rings, breéding, víbrators, creampíe, again - REALLY big, kinda mean Choso hehe, true form! Sukuna, dp, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.7k

A/N. When you accidentally choose “thought daughter” and half your synopses are questions WHOOPS.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - “That? M’bigger.”

“Yer killin’ me, doll.” Toji huffs out in ragged jealousy at those slow, sultry noises. “Look at you- just look at how she’s just begging f’me.”

Such cute lil’ whines leave your pretty lips as he works your puffy cunt open with that hot pink vibrator of yours. Soaked, thick - customized to the exact measurements of the achingly hard cock sat between his legs right now.

“B-but-” you gasp, eyeing down at the way your puffy folds were bulging around the toy. “S’barely even ngh- all the way in, Toji.”

“So?” he rolls his eyes. And Toji knows he’s being ridiculous, he knows it’s for his own good to stretch out your gummy walls so that you can take his massive size. But all it takes is another hard caress of that buzzing length against your poor g-spot for him to snap.

Eyes becoming crazed when your jaw falls slack, back arching up like such a slut up against his hard abs as you squeal, “Toji! Oh my god m’close—”

Close? 

Suddenly, Toji can’t take it anymore - he needs to feel you wrapped around himself. 

Now. 

“M’gonna- wait what- ngh!” You’re batting your dewy eyes up at him when he drags the vibrator out with a loud squelch! All at once. Still reeling from disappointment, “Baby, why’d you-”

“Because.” he interrupts, and you keen when you feel the urgent throb! of Toji’s fat tip kissing at your swollen folds. Red and angry, leaking thick precum over your pussy lips in a pretty gloss. So mesmerizing that you almost miss the familiar flex of his thighs, the way his dark brows furrow in concentration. “-this pussy of yours says s’time for the real deal.”

It’s all that’s said before he’s suddenly dipping his girthy head just barely past your first ring of resistance. Difficult.  

“Relax.” he hisses. Pushing in lingering, determined little grinds past each clench, still easy - still patient. For now. “Breathe f’me. Breathe f’me come on, She can do hah- do it, right, my girl?”

Shit, a part of him thinks he should’ve almost waited longer with the vibrator. Because Toji knows he’s big. He knows your cunt is so tight so heavenly he might just pass out right now. Until- 

“Hngh! Toji!” you scramble onto your elbows when you feel his fat head finally bullies past to brush up against your hidden sweet spots. That little divot squeezing past to mark your walls inside. “You promised you’d hah- last longer with the oh vibrator tonight.”

Honestly, a part of Toji was impressed you were still able to form coherent sentences with the way you were being split apart on his monster cock. 

He leans down to nuzzle your neck, “Awww, did I?” Hiking your limp legs further and further up his broad shoulders where he had you folded in half. “I don’t remember, maybe your pussy was jus’ c-calling t’me.”

“You- you liar!” you cry out, and he can’t help but grow impossibly harder. Fighting off that dangerous, feral part of himself that just wants to ram into you like some animal already. Because oh how he loved when you act like you weren’t bucking up mindlessly into the smooth staccato of his hips as he eases his way in.  “Hngh- fuck you jus’ got- oh!”

The stretch - fuck the stretch. You never got used to it, no matter how many times he used that damn vibrator on you. Pushing you to your limits. It’s like he was nudging at your lungs already.

“F-fuuuck-” you can’t hold back your desperate moans, nails dragging reg marks down his biceps almost the size of your head. “Are you- ngh are you at least halfway in, Toji?”

“Nope.” he hums smugly, popping the p. “Though…”

And in a split second, he’s sitting up, with you splayed out so prettily on his fat length. Lips quirking into a mean little grin when two big arms of his help gravity pull you down, down, down onto his thick cock. Inch by fucking inch. 

Turning his head to lick a long, languid stripe up his wrist. Groaning at the sweet sweet taste of your juices forming a sheen on his skin from the little “preparation” before. And fuck you think you feel him grow thicker - angry veins pulsing against every nook and cranny of your cunt. 

Full. So full - and he wasn’t even all the way in yet. 

“Oh- oh my god- fuck you’re so deep.” you mewl, body jolting with the inability to decide between wanting to run away or slam your hips down for more. 

Toji notices - of course, he does - it was always like this, a few tears, a few whines, a few strokes with that pathetic “replica” of his swollen cock to stretch you out. He splays a hand out over your lower stomach, pressing down. Hard. Twitching wildly at that familiar bulge inside you, “M’so much deeper than that stupid toy.” 

It’s all you can do to whimper, strained and utterly fucked out already. “Wh-what?”

“Heh, ya wanna know a secret, doll?” He’s leaning down to chuckle darkly in your ear - sending shivers down your neck, your arched spine, all the way to where he gives harsh thrust. Calculated. Once. Twice. 

This time, not stopping until he was bottoming out. 

Your puffy folds meeting his pelvis in a lewd kiss, his heavy balls smacking against your ass, thick cock settled deep - right where Toji’s been dying to be all night. Toji coos at the way your poor cunt was stuttering and bulging with the greedy effort to take him. 

He plants a sloppy kiss right on your lips, “That vibrator’s made smaller than me.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Gentleman.

Now, Nanami Kento has always been told he looked like a gentleman - everything from his neatly styled hair, to his perfect suits, to the stern reading glasses always at his nose. Nanami Kento was a gentleman - both inside and out. 

Well, except for that massive cock he hid away behind dapper dress pants, of course. 

The one that always got so girthy and angry at the mere thought of not being stuffed inside your pretty pussy. The one that was currently beading hot precum at your pussy lips, forming a lewd little pool from where he was spooning you from behind. 

The perfect remedy after a long, hard day at work - you, his cute lil’ wife. 

“Bad day?” you whisper over your shoulder, Nanami’s nods coming out in feverish little puffs against your heated skin. “Then, I want you to put it in, Ken. All of it, don’ wanna waste time on preparation.”

And Nanami was never one to deny his wife - never one to doubt anything you wanted. But at this very moment, he’s loosening that speckled yellow tie he didn’t have the patience - nor the sanity to remove. Sliding the divot on his fat tip across your clit with a hushed, “Can’t, my love. I promised to not overwork you.”

You huff, “S’not overworking- just ngh- Ken-”

“Don’t.” he warns, hips rutting up lewdly at the mere sound of your voice. Sliding the mess of his glisteningly swollen cock right between your puffy folds. “Fuck- don’t. Jus’ had a bad day n’ this naughty pussy’s gonna make me lose control, darling. Have you calling out of work tomorrow.” He kisses down your neck left hand snaking down to give your cunt a gentle smack! The cool band of his wedding ring burning against your clit, “S’that really what you want?”

And it was meant to be a question to himself more than anything, really. A reminder that you weren’t even prepared yet - not stretched and teased to his heart’s content like usual. A reminder to fucking reel his sanity back before he breaks you. 

But, alas, maybe you’re a genius - maybe you’re just stupid. Because you whine stubbornly, “Well, I hear it’s the best solution for a bad day, so why don’t you?”

In an instant, that’s all it takes for your leg to be stretched up in the air. The cozy bedroom chill hitting your bare cunt - only for a split-second, before Nanami’s achy tip is filling you up. Everywhere. Anywhere. 

“Hold onto this.” his free hand presses his tie onto your shaky one, hip still pushing. Still rutting up in a steady pressure on your snug cunt. “Pull on it if m’going too rough- fuck- fuckin’ choke me I don’t care. Jus’ let me know because from now on…” he trails off dangerously. 

But you’re not left to wonder what the end of his sentence will gift you. No, because you feel it. 

He’s pushing in - nothing like the slow, languid strokes you were used to. No, barely even giving you the time to adjust while your husband just keeps pressing and pressing and-

“Ah! Ken!” you involuntarily tug on his tie when his sensitive slit massages at those syrupy sweet spots insides. “You’re so deep- fuck just fuck me how you want to.”

Nanami’s head feels light, vision getting spottier with each heaving breath he’s taking - maybe from your tightening grip around his tie, maybe from the way you’re squeezing him so fucking tight. But it takes him a few seconds to pull himself together enough to grit out, “Fuck- I want to. Oh, how I want to.” As if to confirm his statement, he’s thumbing apart your sopping slit, groaning at the sight of you drooling eagerly down his cock. “But you’re so fuckin’ tight I can’t ngh- s’this how you feel- fuck! I think m’gonna hafta take y’like this all the time, my love.”

Each word has him speeding up in jagged little pistons. Feeling so mean with the way he was bullying those cute moans out of you. 

“I don’t care- ngh-” you babble, when his fingers roll over your clit. Squirming your hips down to meet his, trying to press up against those neat tufts of blond at his hilt. “-just want you all inside me.”

Shaping your cunt to this shape of him, losing his breath with each and every dense push inside your sloppy entrance. Still stuck not even halfway in yet - but you feel like you’re losing your goddamn mind. 

“You’re so fuckin’ hah- hold on.” And then, your beloved Nanami pushes your leg up even further, craning his neck over to spit. A steady, sinful stream of saliva right onto the bulging mound of where he was sheeting himself in your pussy. Circling your clit, he hums in satisfaction at the mess he’s made, “Now I can ruin you exactly how I want.”

You open up so pliant for him, massaging every bump and ridge along his long, long length while you let him skim past. Being split open so well. So maddeningly. 

Like you wanted to be ruined. 

And just the thought of it is enough to push Nanami over the edge of his sanity - and to push the entirety of his raw, needy cock inside your tight pussy. Finally. Finally bottoming out.

“Ngh- shit-” he lets out a long breath, sharp canines puncturing at the sensitive skin on your neck. Hips stuttering and getting sloppy with each jittery push deeper inside. Even when Nanami feels your hips fucking back into his to meet the brick wall of his toned abs. His twitching balls sensitive against your ass. “Now, lemme tell ya how how it’s been a-” Just slamming his hips into yours, a ruthless depraved cadence. Fingers ruthless on your clit. “-long fuckin’ day without you.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Till m’stupid!

“P-please!” you try - and fail - to pull off his need mouth from your poor, overstimulated cunt. Fingers clasping desperately onto his long, inky hair. “I jus’ wan’ you in me- hah-”

It’s around your fourth orgasm that night when you’re finally crying out in surrender, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks with each high, legs spasming and trying to run away from Geto Suguru’s mean mouth. Your breath catching in your chest when he only hums around your ravaged clit in answer. 

“I dunno, gorgeous.” Geto teases, sloppy tongue darting around your pulsing hole. Stretching. Lapping up each and every drop of your syrupy cunt. “Don’ think she’s ready to take me, yet.”

Fuck, you knew what that meant. 

You knew that meant another few sweet rolls of Geto’s tongue against your clit, another few bullying praises spat into your sensitive cunt while he dragged you through another high - another orgasm that wasn’t on his swollen cock. 

And despite how much you loved the way your boyfriend teased and toyed your needy cunt with his mouth - you needed more. 

So you tug once again on his dark locks, tongue getting loose with delirium, “You’re so mean, Sugu. So what if I j-jus’ wan’ your cock.”

Oh how he loved to have you begging.

At this, his glassy eyes meet yours right from where Geto was still making out with your pretty pussy in a slow, languid kiss. The squelches and suckles ringing in your ears over your own words. His brow quirks, already with the nickname, huh? Interesting. 

“Can’t cum a-as good if it’s not on your cock.” you plow on. Oh, now it’s flattery? How cute. You manage to sputter out while your words don’t even slow him down, “And! And if you don’t-” Ah, Geto muses, this one’s probably the threat. What will it be? Last time it was making him do all the dishes. The time before that it was buying you that handbag you really loved- “-m’gonna go on a sex ban!”

Oh. 

Oh fuck. 

Now, if there’s one thing you know to never threaten Geto Suguru with, it’s a sex ban. But, alas, desperate times call for desperate measures. 

So here he was - face wrenching away from the honeypot of your sweet cunt like it hurt to leave. Eyes wide as he scrambles to meet you, your slick glistening down his gaping lips, his burning cheeks - fuck, he’s never looked prettier. 

“My baby…” Geto purrs into your ear, coming up to graze his lips against your in a messy crash of teeth and tongue. “Gorgeous, you never thought I’d be serious- right? Hah- sex ban my ass. You’re funny, real fucking funny.” But for all how confident he was, Geto was soothing out his words with the slightest tremor. Hastily sliding his furiously leaking tip between your sopping slit. Up and down up and down up and- “-cuz who said I could live another second without being in this cute pussy?”

As if to prove his point, Geto’s sliding his fat head past your puffy folds, stretching out your entrance so taut around his thick cock. 

A big hand of his finds its way onto the small of your waist, and in a split-second Geto has your position flipped so that he’s splayed out on the mattress instead. Your limp body now toppling precariously where you were sat on his swollen cock. 

“Oh.” his pretty mouth falls slack when his hazy eyes lock down at where the two of you were connected. Your pussy lips spread and sucking him up so well. He marvels, “Oh shit look at you. You always take it so well when you’re cockdrunk like this.”

And it’s true - Geto could barely feel that familiar little resistance of muscle. Instead, you’re letting his vein poke at your cunt welcomingly. Bullying himself inside.

You’re keening when an experimental thrust has Geto plunging in even deeper, throbbing veins massaging every nook and cranny of your gummy walls. You could feel him everywhere. And it’s like he could see the strain to take him. To milk him even greedier. 

“S-Sugu-”

“Shhh, this is what y’wanted, right?” he’s breathing, strained - like he’s at the end of his sanity with each inch you’re bouncing down his length. “To be fucked on my cock? No matter how big?”

You don’t even have the ability to respond at this point - just the way he liked it. That smart mouth of yours too drunk to think of anything other than him. To only whine when he pools your salty tears on his tongue, murmuring into your skin, “Now now, ‘nough with the cryin’ hah- you wanted to be fucked stupid- n’that’s exactly what m’gonna do.”

Ah, he loved this part. 

Loved how all those previous orgasms were crashing together to render you barely lucid when he’s shoving his entire cock up into your slutty hole. Glossy lips trembling when he hits the back of your cunt- already? Shit, that last orgasm must’ve hit you harder than he thought. 

That slightly upwards curve of his dick was driving you wild now buried to his hilt. And only shoving himself deeper with each grind that Geto was bucking up to. Until his heavy balls rested behind your ass, neat black happy trail rubbing up against your skin. Until it was impossible to go any deeper.

Your drunken eyes are snapping up in surprise when feeling him grow even thicker inside you, the rough girth shaping out your sloppy hole. He rasps out a chuckle, “Wonder how loose you’ll be after a fifth one, hm?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Make him break!

Now, Choso knew your dirty lil’ tricks, he knew not to trust that sultry curl of your lips when you called out to him. That dangerous little glint in your eyes when you begged him to go deeper, one he almost misses with the way your heavenly cunt was trying to suck him up greedily. Almost. 

Always playing with his sanity. 

Always asking for more. 

“But, baby.” he whines, pressing a concerned little peck to that adorable pout on your lips. Breath catching in his chest when you tug stubbornly on his bottom lip. “I don’t wanna- hah- don’ wanna hurt you, y’know?”

In response, you’re only wrapping your legs around his toned waist tighter, sure to leave sinful little marks at those dimples at the bottom of his spine. “I know what I want- n’ what I want is-” your elastic walls squeeze around his girth. Hard. “-more.”

Choso can’t help but let out a slow, hoarse drag of your name. Dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead when he throws his head back, hips grinding down, down, down-

“Hah! You- oh-” his hazy eyes are flying open when he realizes he’s playing right into your evil hands. Biting his sharp canines down on your pulse - a little warning. “You know what happens when I go all the way, baby. M’not gonna fit- m’gonna lose control. M’gonna-”

“Please?” you hum sweetly.

He was about halfway in now - mouth watering at the way your pussy was spread open so shamefully for him. Already bulging and leaking onto the drenched silky sheets below with the struggle to take him - and you wanted more? 

“Tha’s right.” you hum, and it takes his saturated mind a second to realize he said that out loud. And even longer to blink up and meet your hungry gaze, “I want more, Cho.”

Fuck, and it was so unfair. Maybe it’s the nickname, maybe it’s the way you buck your hips up sloppily, lewd squelches ringing in his ear when you bully his swollen cock just an inch more. 

Maybe it’s just you. .

But that’s all it takes for him to gasp, eyes snapping wider - crazed even - hips stuttering so messily forwards before-

“Fuck, you’re such a little slut, baby.” And before you know it, Choso’s ramming his hips forwards. Letting the loud smack of skin-on-skin sound across the heady air, bruising. Painful, even. “Such a greedy little bitch-” Watching his throbbing length disappear, he’s sure it’ll leave marks - his heavy balls on your ass, toned pelvis against your thighs, fat cockhead hitting at your cervix. “-N’ s’what you’re gonna be treated like.”

It only takes one kiss of Choso’s leaky tip right against the bottom of your snug pussy before he’s cumming and cumming so hard you can almost feel him twitch at your lungs.

Not waiting for you to adjust, not even waiting for his high to bate. no, don’t make him laugh. Just spearing you on his long length, barely even easing your poor, quivering cunt into it before he’s fucking you into the mattress. 

Fully bottomed out now - exactly as you knew would happen.

“No- no no no hold on.” Choso holds both your thrashing legs still with one of his, pushing past that feeble resistance while he finds his rhythm at your gaping hole. “This is- hah-” he groans, voice shot over your wrecked ah! ah! ah! Plunging inside you like he was molding your pliant walls to his shape. “Told you m’gonna break ngh-”

He was massive already - barely even managing to squeeze past and massage your dripping cunt. But oh the sweet overfill of his seed had you keening, scrambling to grab onto the sheets, the headboard, his shoulders to keep even an ounce of your sanity.

“Ngh- fuck!” you whine at the feeling of rope after rope of his thick cum sloshing around inside your plush walls. His veins throb! throb! throbbing! against your sensitive spots to make such a mess of you below. “Fuck- jus’ like that, Cho- keep- hah- keep goin’”

And you didn’t even have to ask. As expected, your boyfriend’s brows after knitting together, pushing your legs so far apart it burned. Abs flexing as his hips moved in jagged, desperate pistons to massage your gummy walls. 

This was what you wanted so badly - the way he always breaks like this.

Always. 

“Y’asked for more n’ you’re gonna get it.” his voice stutters, cracking ever so slightly with each smash into that spongy bundle of nerves. “More- hah!” Letting out a humorless, almost-shrill laugh, “You knew this would happen, huh?”

You’re just batting your lashes deceivingly innocently, pressing a honeyed peck to Choso’s snarl, “I highly hah- doubt-”

“Look at you.” he spits at your bumbling retort, “Can’t even speak.” Two thick fingers coming up to circle the thick globs of seed pooled at your ravaged clit, purposefully grazing against the sensitive nub. “Fuckin’ wanted more and you’re gonna- get it.”

Slamming into you fast. Out of control. 

You open your mouth - no doubt to spit out some other taunt - but before the words leave your lips, he’s shoving his now-sloppy mess of his index and middle finger inside. Forcing the salty taste of his cum spilling out with each thrust, and the cool metal of his thick metal rings. You wanted to break him - and that’s what you’re gonna get. 

“So you hah- better shut up that pretty mouth of yours unless I break the bed again and you along with it”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Twin bitches, twin bitches

“Enough admirin’ me.”  Sukuna chuckles darkly from above you, reaching down to cradle your dazed head with a large, clawed hand of his. “The faster ya get back to doing yer lil’ job, the sooner that pretty cunt can take me.”

And it’s all you can do to heave for air, looking up defiantly at the two massive cocks kissing at your mouth. Barely getting a few breaths in before Sukuna’s hips thrust forwards once again to spear your heavenly mouth one of his swollen lengths. Smirking at the way your glossy lips bulge around him, “Yeah yeah, what? Got somethin’ to say, brat?”

You’re squeezing your soft palm up and down the drenched hilt of his other cock. Managing to gasp out, “I- want you-” Before your mouth is being fucked again like some little fucktoy - by both of them. Over and over. Taunting, “I want- you- now.”

“Now?” And Sukuna sounds genuinely surprised, baring his sharp canines in a shocked grin. “Y’think you can hah- already take me now?” Hissing as he drags your sloppy mouth up and off his sensitive lengths, only to question. “You sure about that?”

This angle gives you the perfect view of his intimidating cocks - massive, painfully hard. Fat tips flushed the same shade of pretty pink, angry and weeping all over your swollen lips. Twin veins throbbing urgently at your hot breath, both swollen lengths twitch so animalistically when you spit. Once. Twice. 

“Heh- you always do surprise me, lil’ human.”

And shit you were goading him into it - toying with him. 

But you didn’t expect that in all of two seconds, Sukuna would be lifting you easily off the ground with two big arms, wrapping your boneless legs around his waist to fit you snugly like a puzzle piece against his muscled body.

“Wh-what-”

“Y’asked, my girl.” he whispers, ragged at what a needy lil’ slut you were being for him right now. His other two free arms aligning both leaky tips at your quivering cunt. “N’ since you’re so fuckin’ spoiled, guess I gotta always hah- give ya what you want, huh?”

“You mean- oh-” It’s right around this time that you can’t think - you can’t even breathe. Can’t do anything but surrender to the two massive lengths bullying past your stretchy ring of muscle. Molding the entrance of your cunt to the shape of his cocks.

“Mmm fuck m’never gonna get tired of this stretch.” he’s groaning throatily, humming with each little half-thrust inside you. Just barely a push and pull. “So wet n- how the fuck hah- are you this tight?”

You scoff, mouth sharp even when it feels like he’s splitting you in half, “I can think of ngh- t-two reasons.”

And then Sukuna has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh - laugh - loud and baritone, the force of his chest rumbling having you slipping deeper and deeper down his massive cock. Losing your barely-there footing with each inch he’s feeding into your needy cunt. 

You sputter, “Ngh- f-fuck you’re in so deep.”

“F-f-fuck you’re in so deep.” Sukuna mimics your moans in a pitch much higher than his own. Giving the fat of your ass a sharp smack! as he massages your way down. “M’not even hah- halfway in yet so ya better buckle up, brat.” 

And it was true - he was still pushing in desperate, purposeful ruts upwards of his hips. Short strokes that you’d never have the king of curses do - unless he was feeling particularly nice. 

Your legs dangle in midair, nails digging into his tan skin with each smack of his heavy set balls with each movement, leaving a smear of precum and spit. Sliding you down so much easier than he thought it would. Down, down, down…

“Ya feel me in here?” you’re gasping at the pressure of one of his sharp nails. Dangerous. Trailing down, down, down to draw an imaginary line on your stomach. One. And another one not too long aways, “And here?” At your cockdrunk little nod, he smiles - dark and wild. “Use your words if you ah- want what’s comin’.”

He feels you milk his cocks even harder at that, like you’re trying to drag out something delicious when you squeal, “Can feel you- can’t feel anything but you-”

The tip of his thick finger dances higher and higher. And he gruffs out, “Well, soon enough m’gonna be- hah here!”

That deep promise is all that runs through your oversaturated mind before Sukuna’s ramming into you - no mercy. Just shoving you down his throbbing cock until he could see them bulge outwards from your supple skin, leaving a lewd little mark right where he predicted it would be. 

Bullseye. 

“Oh fuuuuck, so nice n’ tight f’me.” Sukuna whimpers - he whimpers. Fuck, the feeling of your walls trying desperately to take shape to his cocks so addictive. So dizzying the way he can feel himself rubbing against one another, bulbous veins throbbing in time to an erratic staccato. “So nice and- and-” he’s losing his words now, slurring with each languid half-thrust up into your cervix. “-mine.”

The word seemed to have made something so feral and dark poke its head out of Sukuna’s exterior. Because then he’s dragging you sloppy cunt like he owned her, all the way from his weeping tips down until your clit was scratching against those tufts of pink at his hilt. 

Slamming into you promisingly until you see stars, until you’re cumming. Electricity running through your veins just at the feeling of being so full. 

Fucking you through your high, Sukuna only taunts, “Now this is where the real fun starts.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - NO CONTROL

“Why the- why the fuck-” your gasp is drowned out by the sharp rip! of fabric echoing across your boyfriend’s luxurious childhood bedroom. Pieces of your poor panties currently laying in tatters on its hardwood floor, “-do they make these things so easy access?”

As if they could be anything but easy access. 

Not with the way Gojo had you bent over the nearest desk he could find, your wrists pinned, skirt bunched up, cunt slobbering and already struggling around where he was just dipping his fat head inside. 

Yet, you still manage to hiss over your shoulder, “If- if it’s so ‘easy access’ then why the fuck did you hah- rip it, you fool?”

But ah you should’ve known better than to give Gojo Satoru one of your glares. Because that along with your honeyed insults have him twitching ferally inside you, the curve of his cock jolting perfectly against your hidden sweet spot. Of course. 

“Because.” he gives you a sly chuckle, the very tip of his aching cock dragging along your gummy walls. “You should know this by now.” Nipping at the shell of your ear, “M’so big that even those panties are a problem, sweetheart.”

And oh the smug bastard, he’s pushing into your heavenly cunt in languid grinds. Savoring. Hypnotic. 

You’re gasping when one of his calculated thrusts mashes against your sensitive areas, the slow push and pull having your nails almost digging into the wooden desk. Scrambling onto your very tip-toes to glide your gummy walls against his thick length.

“Toru…” you moan, hissing in warning. “Y-you better be quiet or else your hah- your parents are gonna hear us.”

“Hah! Me? Me?” he cackles, drinking in your bleary gaze, the way your mouth was falling slack with each tempo of his hips. “Think you should be more ngh- worried about yourself, sweetheart.” He’s pressing a hot mess of a kiss one your swollen lips, your shoulders. Down, down, down wherever he could reach down your arched spine, “Besides. We’ll be s-sneaky, m’jus’ puttin’ in the-”

And perhaps for the first time in his life, the great Gojo Satoru is utterly speechless. Words catching in his chest at the sinful sight right below him. 

Your legs spread, shaking. Inner thighs smeared with the glossy sheen of the mess he’s making of your poor cunt. And you pussy- oh fuck, your pussy. With your puffy folds spread, bulging even with the effort to take it just past his fat head. Quivering and struggling with each experimental grind. 

Fuck, it was hard to look at it, too. It made him throb so painfully - it made him grow bigger. 

“Ngh! What the fuck-” you spit at the feeling of that familiar burn, your syrupy walls being stretched to their absolute limits. 

“Shhh shhh- change of plans, sweetheart.” Is all Gojo grunts in response, bending his long, long legs at the knees to bully himself inside easier. Two big arms wrapping around your middle, reaching over to give your clit a determined swivel of his fingers. “M’gonna go about- halfway? Yeah, halfway.”

And yet, he sounds unsure himself. Voice just a pitch higher, breathy, like he was losing more and more of his sanity with each little half-thrust he’s gifting your poor cunt with. 

Just quick, methodical little kisses of his hips to yours, heavy balls smacking against your thighs with each inch your greedy cunt is swallowing up. Milking the absolute fucking soul out of him.

“F-fuck!” you keen when that thick vein of his down the middle massages your good spot. The adorable sound making Gojo’s eyes light up, smirking as he hikes his knee up higher to piston deep into your dripping pussy. Heady with the squelches from below. “Th-this is hah more than- half Toru-”

Fuck, was it? 

Gojo hadn’t even noticed - too drunk on the way you were squeezing his poor, overworked cock so tight. Until it was almost difficult to plunge into your dripping cunt - to split you apart on it exactly the way he wanted. 

But, well, now that he was taking a long, hard look - he was just a bit more than halfway through. Brows raising in delight at the way your hips are pushing back in mindless little swivels for more. 

“Then, I guess-” he trails off, two large hands of his coming to rest at your waist. A disappointed whine rips from the back of your throat when his ruthless hips slow down to a still, pulsing with anticipation. “-might as well finish the job.”

“Oh- what- you fuckin’-” The rest of your sentence is swallowed up in the way he rolls his hips forwards - fully. Inch by fucking inch. Catching in your ring of resistance less than all the way through, but still pushing. Still rutting forwards so animalistically. “Toru—” You whine at the stretch, the pure dizzying feeling of him shaping your cunt to the thick girth of his swollen cock. “S’too big- I can’t ngh-”

Pretty pink lips shut up your babbling mouth, murmuring deeply, “No no no no- no you can take it- you can oh.” Long, slender fingers coming up to roll against your poor clit, loosening your feeble reisstance, “Look at the- fuck jus’ look at the way you want me.” And you’re barely registering the hand smushing your cheeks together in an embarrassing pout, forcing you to look down at the steady, lazy torture of him splitting you apart on his massive cock. “This isn’t even fuck- me. Look at how you’re fucking back. How you want me so badly.”

And, usually, you’d snap at Gojo - tell him he’s too cocky for his own good. 

But it was true. 

You were meeting his sloppy, untimed bounced halfway through. Helping yourself be fucked into that expensive desk. And he’s pushing - so persistent. 

So utterly wrecked when his leaky tip nudges against your spongy cervix, stars behind his eyes when his heavy balls smack your thighs. Unstopping - not until your ass was settled snugly against those tufts of white at his base. Finally, all the way in.

Through it all, he manages to rasp out, “Hey, did ya know the walls in his house are soundproofed?”

“...”

“So why don’t we go a proper round, sweetheart? Or five?”

A/N. I did NOT expect these to get so long but yk what I’m not upset.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[always-just-red]

Hey, a fluff scenario for cuddling with Rafayel? Thank you 🐡✨

This one really got away from me ahaha, whoops. There's also a moment where my fine art degree really leaps out, so look forward to that, everyone. My first time writing for Raf - thank you anon!!

Perspective

Rafayel x Reader 🎨

Summary: You've spent two hours preparing a meal for Rafayel, and he has absolutely no intention of sitting down to it.

Genre: fluff fluff FLUFF!

Warnings/Additional tags: established relationship, cuddling, kisses, lots of intimacy tbh (soft, not spicy!)

| Word count: 2k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Thirty minutes. You and Thomas had spent thirty minutes on the phone trying to figure out where your boyfriend actually was. Half an hour of he’s not with you? and no, I thought he was with you!— back and forth, like a metronome, and it wasn’t exactly the first time, either.

You’re seasoned investigators at this point: called constantly out of retirement for one last job you swear you’re too old for, and yet you know is never going to really be the last. You’ve already got matching t-shirts printed for the tortured agent’s next birthday: ‘Special Unit: Find Rafayel.’ (He won’t find it half as funny as you do.)

Neither of you had heard from the artist since Tuesday, and— it being Friday— he was either in his studio, painting, or definitely dead. It fell within your jurisdiction to find out, so you’d driven here two hours ago, texting Thomas upon arriving:

He's alive!! 🥳🥳🥳

You’re less excited about it now.

Stood at Rafayel’s kitchen island, you lay out the last of the buffet you’ve prepared to try to entice him away from his art. It’s worked in the past: has seen him sniff the air and follow his stomach to whatever you were cooking, like a stubborn stray cat.

“C’mon, Raf,” you call out, because he’s not taking the bait. “Food’s getting cold.”

“Not hungry!”

Your fists ball around the cutlery you’re setting down on the marble; he’s not eaten for three days. You glance up at him across the open space of his home, taking a deep breath through your nose as you watch him scrawl away at his painting. Somewhere in your mind, Thomas is speaking. This is what you signed up for, remember?

Reluctantly, you cross between the rooms, folding your arms as you come up behind Rafayel. “Raf,” you insist again, “come and sit down. Please? You need to eat something.”

“I’m fiiiiiine.” His paintbrush drags viridian over the lower third of his piece.

“You’re not fine,” you huff, and he doesn’t respond. “Rafayel.”

“Rafayel?” he mimics with a chuckle. “You’re mad.”

He’s ‘Rafayel’ in only two types of circumstance: when he’s making you really, really happy, or he’s making you consider the career-leap between bodyguard and assassin. It’s an extraordinarily thin line, and he just loves walking the tightrope.

“I’m not mad, just worried. Can’t you come eat with me? Your painting isn’t going anywhere.”

“It’s not,” he agrees, smoothing out a stroke of paint, “but what about my inspiration?”

“That’ll be waiting for you, too.”

“You think?” His lips curve as he pensively pokes at them with the wooden end of his brush. “I guess you did spend a lot of time cooking, huh? And if you’re really that worried, then…” He spins around with wide eyes. An epiphany. “Feed it to me?”

You stare back, unmoved by the puppy-like expression. He looks cute, yeah, but you’re not falling for it again. This is exactly how he looked earlier, when you’d convinced him to at least accept a glass of water. You’d almost drowned him in your subsequent efforts to actually get it down his throat.

Rafayel mixes three colours on his palette as you relive the ordeal. Like the once-white of his shirt, it’s awash with vibrant greens and blues, some fresh, some days-old. He pauses when he’s done, but you can tell he’s itching to get back to the canvas. “Give me, like… half an hour?” he estimates. The number’s been plucked from thin air. “The food’s gonna be delicious, even if it’s cold. You made it!”

“Raf, I—”

“And how can I even enjoy it if I’m racing to get back here? I wanna savour it, y’know? And anyway…” he trails off, his attention drawn by something above.

“Yeah?” you prompt, glancing upwards. There’s nothing there.

His gaze snaps back. “Sorry, the ceiling was doing something weird. But yeah, anyway, it’s not like you have to— I mean, it’s not like I’m going to— wait. What were we talking about again?”

Not much surprises you these days, but your mouth is still agape. Enough is enough. “Put the paintbrush down. You’re done.”

He nonchalantly returns to the painting. “I’m really not, though.”

You narrow your eyes. Reassess. “You were right about the ceiling.”

“Yeah?” He looks up.

You snatch the paintbrush. “Ha!”

He blinks blankly at you and your eagerly-clutched trophy, unfazed by the moment of triumph. “Cute trick,” he shrugs. He runs a finger across the palette and applies the new colour to the painting with a quick sweep. “What’s next, Miss Bodyguard? You gonna cut off my ha— ow, ow, ow! Hey! Take it easy!”

You’re pinching his ear, dragging him wordlessly to the kitchen, because you're out of things to say.

“Fine. Fine!” he groans as he tries to keep up with you. You release him and he straightens, his face pink, but not as pink as his ear. “You win! Let’s just get this over with, yeah?”

You stop dead in your tracks, then turn with a look so cold he couldn’t melt it with all of his fire.

“I mean— ahaha,” he laughs nervously, rubbing his neck. “It smells amazing, cutie. You’re amazing. I can’t wait.”

…

Rafayel sits back on his stool, still staring at his painting. The mood is different from earlier. There’s no more restlessness or impatience; he isn’t in a rush. He’s humming a soft song you’re almost certain you’ve heard before, but you can’t quite place the melody. It’s pretty, though: the sort of tune one might recall from a childhood music box, or maybe even a dream.

There’s a clink as you stack two finished plates. Then another. And another.

“Don’t,” Rafayel says quietly, catching your hand before you can collect the plate nearest to him. “I’ll do it later— promise. Sit with me?”

You were never going to say no, but his hands are on your hips before you can say yes, and he’s turning you gently— pulling you up onto his lap. You smile as his arms wrap around you, keeping you from slipping, and he’s warm as you relax back against him.

“What do you think?” he asks, staring out over your shoulder.

Your gaze follows his to the painting, still waiting for him. “It’s okay.”

“Oh yeah?” You can feel him chuckle before it reaches your ears.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a smile, shifting to face him as much as you can. “Kinda pales in comparison to my favourite masterpiece. This one,” you poke two fingers to his chest. “Right… about—” they walk higher, “—here!”

You boop his nose and he immediately scoffs, his face going red. “Sheesh,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eyes. “That was lame.”

“You’re blushing.”

“Am not!”

He squirms as you laugh and try to touch his cheeks; they’re going to feel hot, and he’s a sore loser. His hands don’t manage to capture yours, so they settle for finding your hips again, swivelling you around until you’re trapped by his embrace. You’re both one misjudged move away from toppling to the floor, so you let him keep his victory. What’s left of his dignity, too.  

Your laughter rescinds like a tide, but the quiet is far from empty.

“C’mon,” Rafayel tries again. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, nudging your head, urging you to look forward. His hair is feather-soft on your skin, and he peppers chaste kisses along the line of your jaw. “Tell me. What do you see?”  

You hum contentedly. “A painting.” You’re not thinking about it at all; your eyes are closed.

“And?”

“A plant. A sofa. Some curtains,” you recall.

“You know what I meant,” he grins against you.

You lean back with a sigh, no longer supporting your own weight, but sinking into him with trust and begrudging compliance. It’s not bad, as surrenders go. He gives you a squeeze of encouragement and your head rolls back, stopping at his shoulder. His breath is skirting over your cheek, just barely.

You open your eyes and really look at the painting.

“It’s beautiful, Raf,” you murmur. It is; it was always going to be. “Everything you do is beautiful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, “I know.” But he wants more. “Does it make you think of something, maybe? Anything?”

There’s no right or specific answer. This isn’t remotely your field of expertise, and you’re oceans apart sometimes, so he has to outstretch a hand. Two viewpoints. Two sides of a coin; you never should have seen each-other.

Your life is hunting monsters, and his is finding beauty in a world where they exist. It’s not what you see, it’s how you see it. Crimson to him is a sunset; to you it’s blood.  

Something in you aches as your eyes roam over his latest work. He won’t tell you what it’s meant to be, not really: that’s a private understanding between him and the canvas, his heart and every stroke of paint. Does it make you think of something? Though the marks are fixed, they’re somehow fluid. The emerald tones are marred by shadows, as though something’s lurking beneath the surface, but there are traces of white, too. Light: shimmering.

“Reflections,” you finally answer. “Scattered to anonymity by a now turbulent lake. They belonged to something else, once, but they’ve taken a new shape— a restless and ever-changing identity— and no-one knows what it is, let alone what it was.”

With a satisfied smile, you close your eyes. That ought to keep him quiet for a minute.

Sure enough, Rafayel is silent. You don’t have to see his crystalline eyes to know they’re set on the painting, soaking it in with a new perspective. His favourite perspective: yours.

You have never been strangers to each-other. Two sides of a coin are still the same coin.

With a light laugh of surprise, he plants a kiss on your shoulder. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me.” He’s nuzzling into you again. “I know I can be—”

“A pain in the ass?”

He laughs louder. “I was gonna say eccentric.”

“Oh…” You draw air through your teeth. “Yeah. That’s what I meant.”

Your voice is humourless, your face plain. It lasts all of two seconds, and then the charade is falling to pieces; he’s nibbling at your ear, your neck, and it tickles mercilessly. You giggle, but you don’t try to escape. The punishment fits the crime, and who are you to deny him his justice?

You’re quickly running out of breath, so Rafayel ceases his assault, letting you get it back. “Can I look at you now?” you ask.

He clicks his tongue. “I’ll allow it.”

You shift and he lifts you a little— helping you twist around to face him. He smiles fondly as he links his hands behind you, stopping you from falling as you lean back to enjoy the view. It’s the best kind of smile: one that reaches his eyes and makes them sparkle, like the water in the painting, but infinitely more pretty.

You want to feel that smile on your lips, so you lean in and kiss him.

It’s tender and perfect and when you’re done, you snuggle closer, wrapping your arms around him and nestling like you’ll be staying there for a while. You can hear his heart, and though a part of it is in his painting, the rest is with you. Always with you.

“Shouldn’t you get back to your work?” you ask as you think of it, smiling into his shirt. He won’t— not tonight.

“Nah,” he says, running his fingers through your hair. “It can wait.”

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine meeting Rob Lucci again on Egghead Island

Warning: Contains spoilers! If you aren't caught up in the Egghead arc and don't want spoilers, don't read.

Rob: [tied up and unconscious on the floor of Vegapunk's lab]

You: [glaring at him from the other side of the room]

Stussy: Oh my, that's quite a scary look. It's almost like you know him.

You: I do know him, or at least I thought I did... A little over two years ago I lived on Water 7 where I worked for an engineering firm, and had a life, and a boyfriend.

Stussy: {looks shocked and points at Rob] Was he your boyfriend?

You: Yup, but I got transferred here shortly before he tried to kill Iceberg, who is my adoptive father. We used to exchange letters, and then one day they just stopped, and then three weeks later I got a letter from Iceberg that explained everything.

Stussy: That must have come as quite a shock.

Kaku: [wakes up] what the? [looks around, before cringing away when he notices you] oh dear.

You: [glares] Is that all you have to say to me?

Kaku: Listen, it was just a job, it wasn't personal.

You: Really? Because trying to murder members of my family feels really personal to me, buddy.

Kaku: [Nods to Robin] Technically, she shot Iceberg.

Robin: I shot him the first time, and I didn't feel I had another choice because you were threatening my friends and I didn't know what to do.

You: The second time was Blueno, and then you and Rob beat Paulie, and then left both Iceburg and Paulie tied up inside a burning building!

Kaku: we did do that, didn't we...

You: not to mention Rob played with my feelings by pretending to be a loving boyfriend.

Kaku: I swear that wasn't pretended Lucci really does love~

Rob: That's enough, Kaku.

You: You can talk! Why am I surprised, everything was a lie, wasn't it?

Rob: .... not everything [looks up at you, clearly pouting that he's being admonished]

You: I don't believe you.

Rob: ... can we discuss this in private, please?

You: no, we can't, I do not want to be alone with the World Noble's attack dog.

Rob: I'm a cat.

You: Excuse me?

Rob: I am a Zoan-type devil fruit user, the Neko Neko no Mi, Model: Leopard, specifically.

You: I don't care, because then you're just plain bad at being a cat.

Rob: Bad at being a cat!

You: yes, because if you knew a damn thing about cats, then you'd know you don't ever actually own a cat, you just live with one. They don't listen, they don't obey, and they most certainly don't respect you. So, I suppose, you were good at being a cat when it came to me, but bad when it comes to the world nobles.

Rob: That's not true...

You: save it, I don't want to hear your excuses.

Rob: [Takes a deep breath] They're not excuses, it's true I got close to you in the first place because of Iceberg, but I grew genuine feelings for you once I got to know you. I know I hurt you, it's why I stopped writing you after what happened in Water 7.

Nami: And because his ego was bruised because our captain whooped his ass.

Kaku: He was also in a coma for like a week afterward.

Rob: I figured by then you would have already had word from Water 7 of what happened, so I didn't want to rub salt into the wounds by trying to stay in your life, and that a clean cut was best for you.

You: [remembering that Iceberg had said he wouldn't be upset with you if you elected to stay with Rob] ... Where is Hattori?

Rob: what?

You: Where is Hattori?

Rob: He flew away when Stussy attacked.

You: I'll go get him...

Rob: [smirks[ thank you, I'm sure he'll be happy to see you again. Although he might not recognize you, you've glowed up since your Water 7 days. [winks]

You: [rolls your eyes] I know single life suits me, so save your smooth talk tough guy, it doesn't work on me [lying].

Rob: uh huh

You: [feels your cheeks heat up as your heart flutters, and you avoid eye contact with Lucci] Whatever, I'll go look for your bloody bird.

Rob: [eagerly watches the door slide shut behind you] It's still there

Stussy: What's still there?

Rob: I believe most people call it, "a spark between us'.

Nami: [dramatically gags]

Kaku: Dude, they always liked Hattori more than you, don't go getting a head of yourself.

Rob: [kicks him] zip it.

Stussy: [sighs] men are so stupid.

Robin: [nods in agreement]

Shaka: [judges in silence]

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[runa-falls]

scratches and bites - 3

pairing: miguel o'hara x reader

warnings: explicit 18+, use of demeaning names, biting/marking/scratching, use of venom, a small amount of blood, unprotected sex, creampie (whoops), cumplay (whoops 2x), slight size kink (whoops 3x), bondage (0-0), feelings (bleh), needy wittle miguel :P

a/n: uhhh, this may have gotten away from me -- went from 1k to 4k real fast (or slow bc i'm a slow writer hehe)

summary: miguel o'hara is a grumpy man and you make him grumpy. you regularly go against his orders, create chaos, and invite danger. this is what happens when he's had enough.

w/c: 4.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist

----

“Clean-up crew is on the way. You,” He points sharply in your direction, “come with me.” He roughly passes by you, purposely clipping the edge of your shoulder.

You sulk slightly and follow him into the portal, mood effectively ruined. 

Everything worked perfectly in your eyes. You were able to save the family and a few people inside the building. You even had time to pick up a free hotdog.

“It’s on the house for you, Spider-Woman! Thanks for saving the day!”

“Aw, thanks, dude.” 

Of course, before you could take a bite of your well-earned lunch, O’Hara’s hulking figure was standing over you. He’s angry. 

Gwen wisely scurried off before you all got to the portal and Jess had better things to do than deal with whatever was going on between the two of you. So you’re effectively alone now. Great.

“The fuck did you think you were doing out there?” Miguel’s voice booms off the high ceilings of his office as he leads you toward his desk. He has this pretentiously slow platform that he loves to use to look down on people. You feel like a student that got called to the principal's office. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed–or worse, gotten someone else pulled into your fucking mess.” 

You roll your eyes as soon as he passes, “Oh, come on O’Hara, you were about to bail on a car full of people and left a bunch of workers in the crumbling building because nothing is more important than your dumbass box of scraps and wires!”

He turns stiffly, jaw clenching at your words, but his eyes roam to anything else in the room but you. Like always. “You know we’ve been looking for that equipment for months. If we have any chance to hold back this multiverse annihilator even a few days, we’re gonna take it.” Miguel is as curt as ever, stance stiff as he tries to pretend he’s unaffected. Like he’s convincing himself he’s doing the right thing. And what you did was wrong.

“There were four of us out there, Miguel,” His eyes briefly meet yours at the sound of his given name. Something he has rarely heard you say since you’ve been in Nueva York. “The package was barely a struggle for one of us! You’re telling me we needed four hands to locate and retrieve that shit?” You gesture over to the crate resting on his computer platform. 

He sighs like he’s tired of hearing your voice. Tired of being in the same room as you. His hand smooths over his face, “That’s not the point, Kid.” You could feel warmth blooming inside of your chest at his choice of words. It’s demeaning, and he knows it. As much as you hate him right now, you’re also loving this. You’re finally getting the chance to express all the frustration he’s inspired in you. And it’s satisfying to watch him get all wound up because you actually made the right move. He just can’t admit it.“What you did was beyond idiotic. You could’ve–”

“Well, I didn’t. And I’m not a fucking kid.” You spit out the words. His eyes immediately darken as you raise your voice. Bright cherry to rich blood.  

Miguel rolls his shoulders back from annoyance and briefly closes his eyes. Irritated. You seem to always irritate him. His jaw is tight, and right under his full top lip you can almost make out– “What did I say about interrupting me?” He’s seething, head tilted slightly as pushes away from his desk and off the platform to you. 

His deep voice is so low that you swear you can feel it surrounding you, vibrating the warm air that clings to the thin treads of your suit. “You’re so…” His fists clenched tightly and tension rolls off of him, crashing into you like a wave. “Difficult.” You try to stay brave and hold your head up, unwilling to cower under his superficial anger. “So fucking irritating.” 

This is getting nowhere.

“So that’s why you called me in, hm?” Your voice comes out more breathless than you intended, but really, it’s his fault. This whole time he’s been inching closer and closer to you, taking up all your space. “To call me petty names? Tell me all the things that are wrong with me?” You have to crane your neck to maintain eye contact with him, he’s so close. 

“No.” He drawls the word, his voice deep and muffled. Then you realize. His fangs. The stark change of the air in the room was enough to make your breath hitch. You suddenly feel trapped. 

“I brought you here,” There are only a couple of inches separating your chest from touching his and you swear you can feel his body heat radiating off of him, almost simmering under his suit. “To teach you a lesson.” He leans down slightly, closing in the height distance between the two of you. You haven’t been this close to him since that night. 

“W-what kind of lesson?”

“The kind that’ll persuade you to follow the rules.” Your knees nearly buckle as each word is lightly whispered next to your ear. He keeps his hands to himself, but it still feels like he’s wrapping himself around you. “To listen to me. Like a good girl.” Just as your body begins to mirror his and lean into his space, he backs up and strolls back to his desk. 

Your eyes instantly lower and stay locked onto his spotless steel floors as you listen to him slowly walk away. You feel your face heat in embarrassment as you become more self-aware of the way your body reacted to him. He hadn’t even touched you. 

“Come here.” Your head tilts up slightly at the sound of his voice. He’s sitting back on his desk chair, legs spread confident and inviting as he watches you watch him through hungry eyes. He can tell your mind is brimming with overlapping thoughts as you decide whether to listen to him or not. 

Some part of you worries you’re being lured into a trap. That O’Hara, one of the least genuine people you know, is playing with you. But your body doesn’t really seem to care, already moving until your ankles meet the edge of the barely floating platform. The air around you is cool and empty without his presence. Your body craves more of  Miguel’s natural heat.

“...Closer.” You shuffle over until you’re a couple of feet away, fingers twisting together with uncertainty. He’s looking at you, leering at you. Virtually devouring you with that scarlet stare of his. If he wanted, he could reach over and pull you closer, eliminating the space between you, but he decidedly doesn’t, clearly wanting you to come to him. 

“Don’t worry, honey, I don’t bite – oh wait,” He grins at his own joke, fangs proudly poking out from under his plump lips. You don’t realize how hard you're biting your lip until it starts to seriously sting. Your teeth release your aching lip and his gaze follows the action before meeting your eyes. 

“Unless you want me to.” You haven’t uttered a word in a while and you don’t really want to. You’re completely content to continue to soak in the words that slip from his tongue. “Do you?” 

Yes.

“Do I…”

“...want me to bite you.” He openly runs his soft tongue over the contours of his fangs. 

Yes.

“B-bite…?”

“Mhm. Make you all numb and pliant for me?” He finally reaches over and gently tugs you closer by your arm. You let him. “That what you want, hermosa?” Your body slots seamlessly in the space between his thighs. His face cradles perfectly into the crook of your neck. You sigh, subconsciously leaning closer as his tender lips hover sweetly over your covered throat. 

He whispers, barely audible against your skin, “Promise it’ll only hurt for a second.” 

Yes.

“Yes.” 

He doesn’t waste any time. 

A hand drifts up your arm to the flexible collar of your suit. He tugs it down lightly, revealing your bare skin to the cool air. It’s not enough for him. With a hushed tear, he uses a claw to split the fabric down to the top of your shoulder, giving him more access to your body. He pushes your hair back and nudges himself closer to you, nose nestling where your neck meets your shoulder. He breathes you in. “Sweet.” His voice barely carries with how soft he says it.  

The balmy heat of his breath sweeps along the side of your neck before his lips finally connect. His hands trail against your waist, slowly caressing you as he slowly presses kisses into your skin, trailing his lips down until he finds the spot. You tilt your head to the side as you feel the light scratch of his fangs. 

“Hold on to me, baby.” Your gloved hands grip his thick forearms. He bites down. 

It hurts in the beginning like you thought it would. Like he said it would. You try to disguise your wince, but you can’t stop the way your body flinches at the sensation. It’s intense, the sharp pain, and it spreads, traveling down from your neck to your toes. 

And then, something clicks. It vanishes. That ache gets replaced with an endless warmth that relaxes every muscle in your body. Your hands, once clenched around Miguel, begin to loosen so the only thing that’s holding you up is him. 

Everything touching your skin feels amazing. The heat of his hands. The suit that's starting to slowly fall down your shoulder. 

Your eyes glaze over with pleasure as you watch him pull away from your body to look at you. His tongue pokes out, swiping over his bottom lip to collect the mixture of residual venom and your blood. Are you bleeding? You lean closer and your hands reach out for his shoulders. 

“That good, hm?” Even his voice feels good. 

You use his solid form to keep you steady as you boldly crawl onto his lap, “Really, really, good.” He hums and you feel his chest vibrate against yours. His arms easily wrap around your form as he waits patiently for you to get comfortable on top of him.

In this moment you realize how this will change everything. And you’re not talking about the bit.-- Ok, not just the bite. 

It’s seeing him like this that flips your world. Feeling his touch. The gentle way he holds you against him and the patient way he lets your fingers trail down his strong chest until you’ve decided you’ve had enough. He makes you feel special. Wanted. Everything that you’ve craved since you followed him here. The same thing he offered you before taking it away. 

So you’re scared. You don’t know if you could ever let this go because you know you’ll always yearn for moments like this. If he pushes you away again…

The fog in your head dissipates and it’s like you’re waking up. You catch his eye and his brows furrow. He senses something’s wrong. His hand cradles yours and gives you a comforting squeeze. 

“What is it?” 

“Don’t leave me.” 

“What do you mean?” His eyes are sincere as they try to read your crestfallen expression. 

“Just…” You exhale slowly and rest your forehead against his shoulder. “Don’t do this then walk away, Miguel.” Your words hang in the air for a few seconds as he takes them in. 

Great, you ruined the mood. “Look, Miguel, I–” He softly lifts your head and leans in to press his forehead against yours. You’re so close he could probably feel your eyelashes brush against his cheeks. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere.” He draws you in and kisses you deeply, taking your breath away with his tender touch. It feels like a promise like he’s signing the dotted line of your heart. “I’m yours.” It’s whispered against your lips when he pulls back and you can help the grin that sprouts from his words. He matches it. 

“Yeah?”

You’re pulled back in, “Mhm…” Muffled, but absolute. 

Kissing Miguel is exactly how you imagined it to be: addictive. 

Maybe it’s the residual venom left on his tongue, but the way he moves against you, mouth and body, makes your legs tremble. Makes you ache for him.

You melt against him, drunk on his taste and leaning in for more. His hands go from cradling your face and delicately tracing your neck to massaging your thighs, hands practically draping over you with the size difference. 

He delicately licks into your mouth, greedily taking in every aspect of your taste. Your lips vibrate excitingly when his tongue brushes against them, they’re super sensitive from how long he’s been working them. 

You feel him under you, nestled achingly against your ass. He throbs eagerly every time you let out a breathless sigh or a muffled moan. You’re no better. You swear you already have a wet spot ruining your suit from all the times he ‘accidentally’ grips his claws into the curve of your hips.  

You whimper quietly when you feel the sharp point of his fang drags ever so slightly across your bottom lip. As he moves downwards, it delicately tugs at it, briefly revealing the bottom row of your teeth before releasing it. He moves his mouth along the line of your jaw and then focuses on the sensitive bite he left to bloom red and purple on your neck. 

With his hands back on your waist, he starts to lick up the small droplets of blood that were staining trails down your shoulder. It stings wonderfully as he laves against it, cleaning the red off your smooth skin. You can’t help but to cry out as he begins to suck at your sensitive skin, it’s a bit more intense than you were expecting, but it feels really good. He blows cool air on it when he releases your skin, soothing the new mark he’s left on you. 

His mouth is back on yours, letting you taste your own blood as your tongues intermingle with fervor. Fingers tug at the front of your suit to pull you impossibly closer as your teeth nash against one another. You hear a faint rip between you as his grip tightens and pulls at the stretchy material. Your skin quickly reacts as the cool air wraps around you, arms prickling with goosebumps and nipples tightening into hard buds. 

You both pull back and look down at the damage. Your suit is split down the middle of your torso, revealing everything from your heaving chest to your belly button. Your body ignites with heat when you notice how his crimson eyes drink you in. A soft growl vibrates from his chest. 

“Miguel, this is the only suit I have.” 

“My bad.” Zero remorse in his voice. Asshole. 

He abruptly grabs both of your wrists and pulls them behind you with one hand causing you to arch your back, inevitably giving him a better look. “God, you’re sexy.” His other hand slowly molds over your waist and smooths it upwards to grasp your tit with a playful squeeze. Using his gloved thumb, he teases the soft peak of your nipple, flicking it once just to hear you gasp. He does it once more, grinning (with his fangs cutely poking out) when you react the same way.

“Miguel…” You whine out, pouting at his teasing. 

He idly drags his claws down your stomach, enjoying the way your breath hitches when he gets closer to your center. “You always go without a bra under there?”

“It’s a tight suit.”

“It is…” His hand trails down to your inner thigh and you shift slightly, leaning back so he can touch exactly where you need him. He gets the hint and gently cups you over your damp suit. “And here…?”

Your bottom lip tucks into your mouth as you look up at him, nodding softly. “And there.” 

You’re suddenly being carried by Miguel, weight supported by his strong arms. You have to quickly wrap your arms around his neck to keep yourself from falling backward. He hurriedly takes you over to his desk and sets you down at the edge of the waist-level table. 

He is so tall that you struggle a bit to keep your hold around his neck so you settle your hands back on his chest. You push at his firm figure and sit back to fully take him in. “And how about you?”

“Me?”

“Do you wear anything under that unbearably tight suit?”

“I do, actually. Wanna see?” 

You’ve heard the rumors of Miguel’s nano-suit, but you’re still perplexed when he grabs his interdimensional watch from the desk next to you. He clicks a couple of holographic buttons and you watch in awe as his suit seems to dissolve off of him, one particle at a time, like it never existed in the first place. The fading red and navy reveal his perfectly muscled body, somehow making him look even bigger in front of you. 

He did, in fact, have some briefs on under the suit, but it’s what’s under it that catches your attention. Your thighs clench together as you watch him set down the timepiece, his arm unintentionally flexing under the dim lighting.

Miguel returns to you and you spread your legs slightly so he can stand directly in front of you. You slowly reach out to him, palm to the skin, and soak in the natural heat of his body. You can feel his heart beating under his chest, slow and steady. 

“You’re hot.” 

He has that teasing grin back on his face, “Am I?”

“I mean…warm.”

He shrugs, “Us Spiders run hot.”

Miguel moves your hand off of him and sets it on the table before pushing his body closer to you, making your legs push out further. He leans in so close that you have to slowly tilt your body back with him. “Bet you’re warmer.”

 He shifts your body further onto the table and then starts working on the rest of your suit. It tears easily from your body, scraps falling to the floor until you’re fully bare in front of him. You pant as you watch him and feel your center pulse in reaction to his rough handling. “There we are.” His voice is soothing, but his eyes flash dangerously. You arch your back slightly as his claws scrape lightly over your stomach to your most sensitive area. You don’t even have to look down to know you’re dripping, you can feel it all over your inner thighs. 

His fingers glide over your glistening lips, spreading your eager wetness leisurely. His claws are gone. You watch his face as he stares at his actions, his hungry eyes dark with lust. You both groan when one finger dips in, pushing gently against your entrance. You’re practically gushing around him as he starts to move, wet sounds accompanying each thrust. A string of slick follow his hand as he pulls away and it drips carelessly on your flushed thigh. With hooded eyes, Miguel holds up his dripping finger, “Open.” You suck on him enthusiastically, holding his gaze as it’s slipped into your mouth. “Fuck.”

His briefs are shoved down his muscular thighs before you can look down and you’re shoved roughly onto your back. You feel his claws dig into your thighs as he spreads you out for him, pushing them back until they're next to your waist. His warm hardness slides against your weeping pussy, covering him in slick as he prepares himself. 

Your breath hitches as his cock pushes inside of you, nearly stretching you to your limit. You try your best to take deep breaths, but it’s hard when you can literally feel each inch sinking into your body. A throaty groan rumbles in his chest as he feels you involuntarily clench around him, invariably sucking him in further. His eyes are almost glowing with how bright red they are. “Relax for me baby, I’m almost in.” 

Your thighs tremble under his hands as he continues to plunge in deeper, unable to keep up with all the stimulants surrounding you. The feeling of him dragging against your walls is exquisite and you can barely hold yourself back from cumming right there. 

Then he starts moving. 

His hips drag back, pulling almost all the way out before he buries himself back inside of you. Your head tilts back with pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut, you can’t even tell what you’re holding on to. He keeps this slow pace, body nearly engulfing you as he hovers above. A moan follows each thrust as he fucks you into his desk.  

When your eyes are finally able to flutter back open, you meet his stare. You quickly attempt to hide your face with your arm, too embarrassed to hold eye contact with him while he’s using your body like this. He doesn’t like that. 

Your wrists are forced above you and then expertly webbed together to hold them there. His red webs pulse hot around your wrists. Unlike the traditional webs that tend to feel like cool lace, his are warm, like fingers wrapping tightly around your wrists, almost thrumming with soft heat in a way that makes them feel alive. 

You yelp when his hand tugs sharply at the hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your gaze as he moves over you. “Look at me, baby.” You listen. He begins to aim his thrusts upwards into you, nudging against that special spot inside of you. And as hard as you try to keep looking at him, your eyes inevitably roll back as he hits it so precisely. You faintly see stars. 

You cry out as heat blooms your center and your thighs close around his hips, tightening as a spark swarms in your lower belly. “That’s it, baby,” He speeds up, feeling you start to clench around him, “let go.” 

Your vision blurs when your climax blasts through your body. Hot tears spill from the intensity of the feeling, creating hot trails of wetness over your cheeks. “Such a pretty little thing." He wipes them away lovingly. Your body jerks with pleasure and Miguel has to hold your waist down as your back starts to arch off the desk. 

He doesn’t stop. If anything, he starts fucking you harder, letting his body weight hold you in place as he chases his own high. You whine against his neck, skin sticky with sweat, as he roughly ruts into you. “Be mine, baby, and I’ll take care of you forever.” His claws dig into your web-pasted wrists as he works himself into you, post-orgasm slick smothered carelessly over the both of you. “I promise.” He whispers breathlessly next to your ear.

“Please.” The word is nearly stuck in your throat as he continues to take everything your body is willing to give him. He’s basically grinding his cock into you now, wanting you as close as possible for these last moments. You barely hear it but he whimpers against your shoulder as he starts to draw closer to his climax, desperately rutting his hips against you. 

With a choked-out groan, his movements grow sloppy and he thrusts deep inside of you a few more times. You feel the warmth of him as he spills inside of you, filling you up to the brim. He’s panting above you, body weight nearly smothering yours. You love it. 

He slowly pulls out once he’s calmed down, eyes locked onto your leaking center that’s full of a mixture of you and him. His fingers lovingly spread his cum over your pussy and you flinch as he slides against your sensitive clit. You give him a look of disapproval which he ignores as he pushes his mess back inside of you. 

“Will you let me out of these now?” You pull at the webs, still holding your arms above you.

“Hm…I think I’ll keep you there for a little bit longer.”

–

His office is like a bat cave when you’re barely dressed. There’s a slight breeze in the office (you have no clue where it’s coming from) that’s making it particularly drafty. You force Miguel to huddle over you like some oversized puffer jacket as it was his fault the only clothes you came with are lying on the floor in scraps.

“How am I supposed to leave when my suit is in tatters?”

His arms hold you tighter, “You aren’t. You’re staying with me.” 

“Miguel, people are probably looking for us by now.”

“I don’t care.”

“Miguel.”

“Alright, fine. You can borrow one of my nano-suits, but we’re going to my place.” 

“Dude, you’re like 6’3”, how am I supposed to fit into one of those?”

He tsks, “Really? You’re calling me ‘dude’ after all of this?” He grabs his watch again, scrolling through some settings. “It’s nano-tech, sweetheart, it fits what I want it to fit.” He dials the size down, letting you watch as the hologram shrinks to display your general size. “And I’m 6’7.” 

-----

taglist: @deputy-videogamer @syd-vixious @bachirasbasics @danaeaurelia @reuxxi @halparkebitch @kittekat420

[missrosiesworld]

Starlight Flutters

Here are some cute headcanons for Billy Kid when he has a crush:

Starlight Hero Persona: Billy adopts a more heroic persona around his crush, often quoting lines from "Starlight Knight" and trying to emulate the show's protagonists.

Billy: "In the name of justice, I vow to protect you! No harm shall come your way while I'm around!"

Crush: "Are you quoting Starlight Knights again?"

Billy: "Maybe, but I mean every word!"

Over-the-Top Gestures: He tends to make grand, dramatic gestures to show his affection, like showing up with a bouquet or performing a flashy stunt to grab their attention.

Billy, arrives with a dramatic flourish, bowing slightly: "For you, a token of my admiration!" hands over a bouquet of holographic flowers.

Crush, laughs, clearly amused and touched: "You didn't have to go all out, but thank you!"

Billy, his voice warm and sincere: "Anything for my favorite person."

Nervous Energy: Despite his confident exterior, Billy gets nervous around his crush. He fidgets with his hands and his voice may rise a notch higher when he's excited or flustered.

Billy, fidgeting with his hands: "So, um, do you... like movies? I mean, of course you do, who doesn't, right?"

Crush, smiling: "Yeah, I do. Got any recommendations?"

Billy: "Oh, totally! I've got a list! Uh, maybe we could watch one together sometime?"

Show-Off Moments: Billy loves to showcase his skills, especially with his custom-made revolvers, "the girls." He might challenge others to friendly duels or display impressive marksmanship to catch his crush's eye.

Billy, pulls off a perfect trick shot: "Not bad, huh? Just a little something I picked up from Starlight Knight."

Crush: "Wow, that's impressive! You're really good."

Billy, trying to act casual: "Oh, it's nothing. Just, you know, a hobby."

Special Attention: He gives special attention to his crush, remembering small details about their likes and dislikes. Whether it's their favorite snack or a specific hobby, Billy tries to incorporate these into his interactions with them.

Billy: "I remember you mentioned liking spicy food, so I brought you this hot sauce. It's got a kick, just like you!"

Crush, surprised: "You remembered? That's so sweet. Thank you, Billy."

Billy: "Of course! Anything to see you smile."

Protective Stance: Billy becomes protective of his crush, always positioning himself in a way that he can keep an eye on them. He wants to ensure they're safe and will step in if he senses any danger.

Billy steps in front of his crush: "Hey, stay close. I’ve got this covered. No one's getting past me."

Crush: "You don't have to do this, Billy."

Billy: "I know, but I want to. It's my job to keep you safe."

Clumsy Sweetness: When Billy gets flustered, he can become adorably clumsy, sometimes tripping over his own feet or dropping things. He laughs it off, hoping his crush finds it endearing rather than awkward.

Billy, stumbles slightly, almost dropping a package: "Whoops! That was... not supposed to happen."

Crush, giggles: "Are you okay?"

Billy, laughing nervously: "Yeah, just distracted by... something, or someone."

Secret Glances: He often steals glances at his crush when he thinks they’re not looking. 

Crush, catches Billy staring: "What is it? Something on my face?"

Billy, his voice faltering slightly with a hint of nervousness: "No, no! Just... admiring the view."

Crush, teasingly: "Smooth."

Confiding in Nicole: Billy confides in Nicole, seeking her advice on how to approach his crush. 

Billy: "Nicole, what do I do? I can't stop thinking about them, but what if I mess it up?"

Nicole, smirking: "Just be yourself, Billy. And maybe tone down the Starlight Knight lines a bit."

Acts of Service: He goes out of his way to do small, helpful things for his crush. Whether it's fixing a malfunctioning gadget or finding something they’ve misplaced, Billy is always eager to lend a hand.

Billy: "Hey, I noticed your bike was making a weird noise, so I tightened the chain and oiled the gears."

Crush: "You did that for me? Wow, thank you so much!"

Billy, rubbing the back of his neck: "It's no big deal, really. I just wanted to help."

[almostempty]

What’s Love Got to Do with It

(oberyn x f!reader)  wc: 4.6k | other fics 

note: hey y’all it’s me ya gurl, here to defile another prompt with a silly idea <3 Sooo, from the three brain cells that brought you fuckboy!joel and divorced dad rock dilf!joel 🫡i now humbly present …. Frat bro Oberyn, Aka The Red Viper, aka the Prince of Pong, aka the Slut of Delta Psi (i did steal the frat name from the film Neighbors—in which they do sing a line from Creed in their frat chant, so in some twisted way, they’re kind of all connected right??) 

I fear this may have just been funny to me so feel free to skip, but thank you to everyone who tolerates my shenanigans <3. 

ANYWAY, The lovely @baronessvonglitter bestowed upon me Oberyn x What’s Love Got to Do with It for fucktober (happy belated bday babe) but naturally, i made it weird. Thanks to @sunshinehaze1 for reminding me that modern AUs exist when I got scared of the GOT universe and to @auterdelabre for reminding me that the answer is always fuckboy. Don’t blame them for anything else.

Summary: You attend a fraternity toga party, and you catch the eye of Delta Psi’s notorious Red Viper. He shows you how he got the nickname and then he shows you something else he’s known for. 

tags/warnings: explicit 18+ smut, alcohol/partying, gratuitous flirting, piv, fuckboy behavior aka on to the next one, infidelity, i couldn’t bring myself to write his dialogue in frat bro™ –aka i didn’t fully commit to the bit bc that man just had to be smooth and had to fuck no matter what universe i put him in, apologies if that ruins your immersion in my pwp, per usual: no y/n, f!reader is able bodied otherwise no specifics, unprotected piv as if it’s no biggie because it’s fiction (don’t do that irl), no beta/limited proofreading sorry for all mistakes 

“Oh my god, that’s him!” Your best friend shouts into your ear as you walk down the sidewalk. You blend into the sea of toga-clad college kids, sandals slapping against the pavement. Liv leans on you, pointing out the guy she’s talking about. You can hear the music pouring out into the street and people inside yelling and chanting over someone doing a keg stand or something equally as exciting and alcohol-related, you assume. 

The guy she pointed out is leaning casually against the banister, letting some ripped blond dude entertain him on the porch. “That’s the guy your roommate was talking about?” you question your friend. Liv agrees with a smile as you walk towards the front steps. 

Everyone else on the porch looks like a frat bro wrapped in a wrinkly bedsheet, but for some reason, he seems almost godlike. He’s luminous under the warm lights. As if he knew you were checking him out, he turns his head just as you walk past, and his eyes sweep over you, making your face hot. Something sparks between you before he turns away, taking a swig of his drink. 

Liv had given you a rundown on what to expect at your first Delta Psi party. You had argued that you knew what college parties were like. You transferred this quarter as a senior, and you just didn’t have Greek life at your other school or your best friend to convince you to go out. But now, you’re here, dressed up and entering a party that really does feel a little more intense than the ones back at your small-town university. 

Liv’s roommate had given you the rundown on the guys she knew in the fraternity, but you didn’t pay much attention to her descriptions. You figured there was no way a Brad, Dylan, Connor, or a Brent would actually be hot. And then, when she started with the ones with nicknames, you completely checked out after Viper and Rooster. It has to defy the laws of nature for a frat bro that goes by Rooster to be able to find your clit—even if he IS hot. 

Yet, now you realize you might be eating your words because you get it. You were too quick to judge, whoops. “Which one was that?” you ask in Liv’s ear as you both make your way through the people sloshing drinks and dancing. 

“Viper!” 

You can’t help the immediate grimace that emerges on your face. “That’s so douchey!” you shout back over the noise before she pulls you down a hall toward that kitchen. She leans in close to your ear, telling you that her roommate swears she got the best head of her life from him. “No fucking way,” you argue. 

“Way,” she smirks back. “He’s got a girlfriend now, though. They’re, like, totally in love, it’s all over social media.” She mocks puking at the idea, and you share a laugh.

You explore the party together. The house is huge; one room on the main floor is blasting EDM, and another is blasting top 40 hits. There are a couple of beer pong tables in the backyard and a detached garage filled with stoners on old couches giggling to themselves. You know that Liv is itching to park her ass on one of those sofas and find a girl or guy to whom she can woo with her French inhale and makeout with for the rest of the night. 

But, she’s a loyal ass bitch who wouldn’t abandon you. You circle back through the house. You spend a little while dancing together and taking your time to see if there’s anyone else who catches your eye. Nobody really sticks out to you in the first room until you catch his eyes again. You have to do a double-take as you circle your waist and roll your body against Liv. 

He’s semi-shrouded in the corner; with the dim lighting and the packed house, it would be easy to miss the two of them altogether. But when the girl clinging to him turns around to grind her ass against him, he locks eyes with you, and you swear that fucker winks at you before a group of girls prance into the room, shouting oh my god, it’s our song! You try to shake it off. You were definitely just seeing things with the lights. 

You signal to Liv, and she follows you into the other room. You dance together a bit longer. She offers you a swig from her rhinestone-encrusted flask, but you turn her down, staying sober tonight. You feel euphoric enough with the strobe lights and the thrumming bass from the EDM remixes blasting in the room. 

You turn down a few wasted white dudes who try to dance up on the two of you. Too drunk. Not your type. Too handsy. You’re not afraid to punch a man in the throat or the nuts if they don’t get the hint, but they back off when you give them a gentle shove and a shake of your head. The most recent suitor is turning and scoping for another girl to approach when you see him again. 

He’s moving towards you, looking right at you, but there’s no girl on his arm–or crotch, now. For some reason, it makes you feel too hot. You’re sweating from the dancing anyway, so you ignore the electric look in his eye that makes your clit twitch and grab Liv’s arm to make a dash for the backyard to get some fresh air. 

You debrief with each other and come to an agreement. You tell Liv to do her thing, urging her to head towards the couch with the skater dude wearing the toga made from a dinosaur patterned sheet and the high-top vans. She agrees to text you if she plans to relocate or wants to leave before you finish taking another lap around the party. 

You sort of lie to her, claiming someone inside caught your eye. They did, but you aren’t planning to do anything about it. Instead, you part ways and head back through the house, past the pledge posing as a bouncer at the front door, and onto the front porch. The music is still loud, but it’s quieter out front. People still trickle in and out of the party. You stare out at the night sky, searching for the moon. In your own little world, you’re basking in your own peace. 

“I haven’t seen you here before,” a rich, velvety voice washes over your shoulder. It should make you jerk away, give you goosebumps, and raise your hackles. But, instead, the interruption stirs liquid heat in your core and makes your nipples hard. Because it’s him. 

You turn your head and confirm. He’s so close to you. 

“You know every girl here?” you challenge him. 

“I know the ladies and gentlemen that pique my curiosity,” his voice is so smooth. He’s a charmer, for sure. He offers you a drink, holding out two plastic cups in one hand. The size of his hand does make you tingly, but his smile falters when you shoot him one of your signature dirty looks. 

Before he can ask about the look, you take one of the cups, give him a cloyingly sweet smile, and pour it out over the railing into the grass below. The tail of his brow quirks, and he gives you a sly smile that widens into a grin and a full-chested laugh. “Oops,” you mock. 

“You’re a bold woman,” he muses, “I like that.” 

He doesn’t back down after you toss out his drink. He doesn’t take it as a rejection. He understands when you explain you don’t take open drinks from strangers at a frat party, but you roll your eyes hard when he gloats about not needing tricks or drugs to find a lover. 

He banters with you as he downs the remaining drink. He’s quick, with sharp wit and a devious smile. You can’t keep your eyes off his exposed chest, his arms, his neck, his eyes. It’s still confusing how he can look so regal, whereas everyone else in the party looks a little…goofy? Cliche? He pulls you back to the present, asking for your name before he gives you his. 

“They call me ‘the Red Viper,’” he gives you a provocative grin like he knows exactly how hot he looks, even with a bedsheet draped over his shoulder. 

You play into his hand, “Is that some kinda of euphemism?” Feeding his ego with a suggestive arch of your brow. Maybe you’re bold, but you don’t think he’s the type to be deterred by a confident woman. In fact, it seems to make him glow even brighter.

His voice lowers, dripping with an enticing challenge, “Are you looking to find out?” he asks. 

His jaw quirks, and you’re mesmerized watching him suck at his lower lip. It looks so perfectly plump and kissable, curling into a smirk as his eyes gleam with mischief. “Come,” he beckons for you to follow him deeper into the party. 

“I thought you had a girlfriend,” you say stiffly, remembering what Liv had said as you walked in. He looks at you curiously before shaking his head lightly. 

“You mean Cora? From earlier? She’s not my girlfriend. We were just dancing.” 

“No,” you shake your head, “I heard it’s all over social media. That you’re loved up.” 

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me?” he gives you that cocky smile that absolutely shouldn’t work but somehow makes you feel warm like you’re laying on the warm sand on a beach listening to the waves crashing. You don’t say anything else, and he leans in a little closer, “What’s love got to do with it?” he asks huskily. Dangerously. 

It makes you shudder with something warm and twisted. 

“Now,” he guides you gently but firmly, “Come.” You need him to stop saying it like an order before you do. 

You let him walk you through the party. Weaving through the boisterous crowds. They part easily for him, clearing a path like he’s royalty. 

“They call me ‘the Red Viper’ because I’m lethal at any game involving a red Solo cup.” He murmurs it into your ear like it’s a sexy secret. 

You laugh brightly at that, giving him a gentle shove. “That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard!” 

He gives you a coy shrug. “It’s the truth.” He leads you into the backyard, towards the beer pong tables. “I’ll show you,” he says just for you to hear. The string lights illuminate the yard in soft light; however, the mood is anything but romantic, with the drunk cheering college kids taking their drinking games very seriously. 

You watch, amused, as one team high-fives each other over their trick shot. At another table, both teams heatedly argue about “house rules.” 

“It’s the prince of pong!” one of his fraternity brothers shouts across the lawn. He gives you the most dramatic I told you so glance, and you mouth “lame” back at him. He calls ‘next game,’ and as if he were their lord, one table immediately clears out, forfeiting in a demonstration of fealty. 

“Ladies first,” he offers once he’s set up all the cups to his liking. He’s so arrogant about it, and it shouldn’t turn you on, but it absolutely does. 

You grin across the table at him. “You’re on.” 

He’s merciful at first. You land a few cups, giving you enough confidence to talk shit and tease him. But it rapidly becomes apparent that he’s a man of his word as he easily picks off every cup on your end of the table with precision.  

Despite your rapid descent towards a loss, you eat up his charm. His magnetic energy. He makes the rest of the party disappear when he looks at you. It makes your heart tingle and your pussy flutter. He’s a gracious winner, only gloating a little as he reracks the table and offers it up to other party-goers. 

“Alright, Viper, you won. You can retain your title.” You admit defeat as he slinks up close to you, ushering you along to the side of the house, only a few steps away but more secluded from the rest of the party. 

“And now, will you allow me to claim my prize?” he asks in his smoky, deep voice. 

Despite his clear intentions, you feign confusion as he wraps one wide hand around your waist and tilts your chin towards his face with the other. “I didn’t know we were playing for stakes,” you smile brashly. Your skin blazes under his touch and his seductive gaze as his eyes drop to your mouth. 

He starts to dip towards you, but you swerve away from him. It’s on the tip of your tongue to ask again if he’s in a relationship. He growls softly, almost a purr, next to your ear. “What’s wrong, my lady?” he murmurs. The intimacy of it is heady, and your surroundings fade. 

You want to take whatever he’s offering, no questions, so instead you whisper, “Tell me your real name.”

He sighs softly before giving in and telling you his name. 

“Oberyn,” you repeat back, “that’s unique.” 

He starts muttering about how he’s an international student, but you’ve got all the info you needed. Now you don’t have to add a guy named Viper to your mental list of hookups. 

“I like it,” you cut him off before slotting your mouth against his and making up for ducking out of his last attempt at a kiss with your eagerness. He wraps his arm around you, and you’re transported. One large hand presses against your lower back, urging your hips toward his, and the other cradles your jaw, giving you a sense of stability as he matches your ferocity. 

You briefly wonder if you’d have melted if he wasn’t holding you so tightly before your thoughts are consumed by the sensation of his lips against yours and his tongue running along yours. It’s not a kiss you would’ve expected from a frat guy. It’s romantic and passionate, and you feel your body rolling against his, caught up in the sensation and intensity. 

You keep going, letting yourself enjoy the moment, eating up the flavor of him, the scent of him, and the throbbing intensifying between your legs. You slip one of your hands along the back of his neck into his soft hair, and he groans into your mouth. It makes your knees weak. 

You chase his mouth as he pulls back and looks into your heavy-lidded eyes. Sharing the hot air between you, it feels like a current is looping through your bodies, buzzing with need. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” he urges in a gravelly whisper. You can feel him hardening against you. His hand on your back is firm, keeping you flush, pelvis to pelvis, making you nearly dizzy. However, his hand on your jaw is gentle, brushing his thumb along your cheek sweetly. You still can’t help goading just a little. 

“What for?” you ask playfully. 

“To fuck.” 

It makes your cheeks hot. Maybe there should be red flags popping up in your mind, but you don’t care. He likes a bold woman, and you like a direct man. 

“Unless you’d rather do it in the grass here,” he tilts his head toward the ground. You act like you’re considering the option seriously, making him laugh before he releases you from his arms. “Don’t tease,” he says with a severe look, “It wouldn’t bother me.” 

Me either, you consider before deciding not to say that part aloud. You tell him to take you to a real bed, and he does. Swiftly guiding you into the house and up the stairs, past the pledge guarding the rooms, and into his bedroom. He spins around, pinning you against the door for another searing kiss. It’s more urgent this time. He’s quickly moving to your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down your tender skin as you both greedily run your hands along each other’s bodies. 

Before you can get your hands under his toga, he’s detaching from you and sinking to his knees. He moves efficiently, bunching up your toga and asking you to hold it. Then he’s hovering his hot mouth over your mound before kissing you over your lacey panties. 

“Mmm,” he hums into you and traces the crease of your thighs with one hand, following the line until he’s softly running his fingers along the edge of your panties, the tips of his fingers barely dipping beneath the hem as he moves towards your core. You watch, staring down with your mouth parted as he holds your gaze. 

He teases you, running his fingertips along your seam over the soaked fabric, tapping and teasing at your swollen clit through the fabric as he watches your needy expression morph into frustration. You shift, spreading your legs wider, but he stops you with a large hand on each thigh. 

“Hold still,” he orders, and you feel compelled to listen. He pulls your underwear down and off of you, then hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, spreading your cunt open. “That’s better.” 

You can’t tell if he’s talking to himself or to you. You don’t have a chance to ask before he’s burying his face into your soft, wet pussy. Your breath hitches at the sensation and one of your hands flies out to grab at the door frame to steady you, while the other one digs into Oberyn’s hair. 

He’s unbothered by your dramatics. Oberyn moves with enthusiasm, drawing his tongue along your slit and pressing into your sex with his jaw. His facial hair tickles at your tender skin deliciously and his nose grazes over your clit as if his face were molded to maximize your pleasure. He changes his strategy, mouthing at your clit and sweeping his tongue over it like he’s making out with it, with the same passion that he kissed you with outside and a moment ago. 

You can feel it starting to build. Your hip flexors straining and thighs starting to tremble as your breathing gets quicker and more shallow. Closer and closer and closer. He’s perceptive and diligent. Repeating the same tricks that make you moan and dig your fingers into his hair. 

You’re stuck on the precipice, so close but not quite there. Your eyes roam around the dimly lit room, the bed, the bookshelf, the tapestry pinned to the wall, the collection of cologne bottles lined up on the desk, the mirror on top of the desk–pointing right at the bed. 

It starts to frustrate you. Not the decor choices, but the tension and the building pressure. You squirm slightly, hoping the smallest adjustment will somehow bring everything into a sharper focus. You let your eyes close, letting the roar of the party downstairs fade, focusing on the pressure and warmth of Oberyn’s mouth. 

More, more, more. 

It’s all you can think as Oberyn stays dedicated to getting you off on his tongue. He sucks firmly at your clit before releasing you with a slick sound. He hovers, mouth fanning warm air over your core looking up at you. His eyes are lit with hunger.  

“More?” he asks in his deep, rich voice. 

You can’t tell if you were chanting out loud or if he’s somehow reading your mind. “Please,” you respond with a needy edge, “more.” You catch the sparkle in his eye and the flash of a grin. He works you up again, towards the brink, relishing in your responses as you whine with need as he resumes holding you in a purgatory of pleasure.

Mercifully, he does give you more. Oberyn grips your thigh with one hand, steadying you, while he swipes two fingers along the length of your pussy once, twice, coating them in your arousal before plunging them inside of you. The increased pressure and friction from his fingers pumping into you causes you to moan. It’s a lower register than your breathy panting from earlier, layered with satisfaction as you can feel the anticipation starting to crest. 

“Don’t stop,” you beg, “I’m so close.” 

He doesn’t stop, groaning at your words, rumbling against you. That snaps the tension and you cry out his name and a string of curses as your orgasm hits. He doesn’t slow down when your cunt contracts around his fingers and he doesn’t lose focus when you shake and writhe against mouth. Not until you’re pulling him off of you, oversensitive and wrung out.  

Oberyn stands, wiping at his chin before pulling you in close for another breathtaking kiss. He walks you back toward the bed and you fall into it, pulling him with you. You tangle together, frantically, you want him inside of you now. He laughs softly against your hot neck, sensing your frustration. 

“Shh,” he murmurs as you huff with defeat. He moves deftly, braced over you with one arm, and freeing his cock with the other. Your hands stroke up and down his shoulders and back, and you hook one leg around his hip, encouraging him. “You want me to fuck you now?” he asks and you whisper a yes that turns into a gasp as he runs his tip through your soaked center. “And how do you want it?”

“Hard.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, sinking into you deeper and deeper, and pulling back, all the way out, then all the way in. “Fuck,” he says to himself as he sets a quick pace, slaming his hips into yours making the bedframe creak with every thrust. If the noise from the party didn’t drown everything else out, you might be embarrassed to have strangers over hear, but you would be surprised if anyone could hear a thing. And, even if you were louder than the party, you could care less about being caught as Oberyn fucks you into the mattress. 

“Harder,” you goad him, hoping for more. To your horror he pulls out of you completely, but you swiftly find yourself flipped onto your stomach as he lifts your hips and enters you from behind. You press back, meeting his thrusts, bouncing off of his hips until he presses his palm between your shoulder blades. He forces your chest into the mattress, holding you still so he can fuck you like he means it, with enough force that all you can do brace yourself and ball your fists, twisting the bedding between your fingers. 

With your cheek against the bed you can watch your reflection in the mirror. It’s hot, even with your togas draped and bunched up, you look good together. It makes you grin. He catches you looking and turns, meeting your eyes in the mirror before watching your bodies. He grips your hips firmly and you can barely keep your eyes open to watch as he continues. 

He overwhelms you with his stamina, keeping up a pace that has your mind feeling blissfully fuzzy. He says something else before folding over you and slipping his hand around towards your clit, determined to feel you come around his cock. You’re so close already, it’s only a moment, a few more thrusts, before shuddering beneath him. He tries to fuck you through it, but you clench and constrict around him so tightly that he pulls out while you’re still moaning. 

You can hear the slick wet sounds as he strokes himself, cursing under his breath again, before you feel the warmth as he comes across the swell of your ass and your fluttering cunt. You sink, dropping your hips and relaxing onto the bed while he catches his breath. Oberyn squeezes at your thighs, offering praise you don’t quite hear, then he’s slipping off the bed. He cleans you up with a towel, but you remain still for a little longer, enjoying the satisfaction and the sweet ache from the intensity. 

“Take your time,” he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder. It’s gentle. You murmur a thanks at him before breaking into an airy giggle. It makes your ribcage shake, bouncing slightly on the mattress, realizing that Liv is going to die when you tell her you can confirm her roommates story. Oberyn doesn’t question your reaction. 

He pauses to readjust his toga and his hair in the mirror. Once seemingly satisfied, he turns back towards you, watching you sit up. “I’ll see you out there,” he says with a smile before he slips out of the room. 

You linger for just a little. Allowing yourself the privacy to revel in the sweet satisfaction of the post-sex chemicals flowing through your body. You let yourself grin while you check your phone to see where Liv is at. 

You take another minute, using the mirror to fix your own appearance, aiming for a slightly less obvious version of I just got railed, before meeting your own eyes. For a sobering second you remember you didn’t get a real answer about if he has a girlfriend. He sure as fuck doesn’t act like it, you decide. You shake off the thought. 

He might be a frat bro, he might be a piece of shit, all you know for sure is that he is hot, a good kisser, and he knew how to make you come. Three things you didn’t think you’d find in one guy under this roof. You give yourself a final onceover before heading out of the room and down the stairs. 

You don’t see Oberyn in the first few rooms you pass. You keep looking; he couldn’t have gone far. You’re barely finished that thought when you spot him in the kitchen. The sight makes you stumble, shooting a hand out to the wall to catch your balance. 

He’s leaning casually, with his hip against the counter, as a starry-eyed girl looks up at him, giggling flirtatiously, as she lays a hand along his bicep. 

It’s in slow motion. The way he looks at her hand, the way his eyes trail along her arm, over the curve of her breasts, and down her legs before flitting back to her face with that same sinful smirk you just fell for. 

Your shoulders drop. It’s not like you were planning your wedding or that you even thought a date was on the table—but you didn’t think he’d be on to the next girl before you made it down the stairs. 

You start to recenter yourself, reaching to check your phone again before you look for Liv. 

He sees you before you can mind your business and plan your next move. Catching your eye through the doorway. Before you can formulate a reaction, you’re stuck, held in his gaze. He winks at you again, only this time there’s no question if you were making it up. He winked at you and despite everything, it makes your whole body tingle. 

“I saw that!” Liv shouts into your ear, wrapping an arm around you. “You have to tell me what the fuck that was about. But first can we please get pancakes or cheese fries?”

You don’t bother turning back for a second glance as you follow Liv toward the front door. 

You must understand though the touch of your hand

Makes my pulse react

That it's only the thrill of boy meeting girl

Opposites attract

It's physical

Only logical

You must try to ignore that it means more than that

Oh, oh, oh

What's love got to do, got to do with it?

…..

tags for babes, but no presh:

@lovely-vamp-princess

@gothcsz

@auteurdelabre

@adoreyouusugar

@swankyorange

@itwasntimethatdidit40

@ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy 

[seouljazzbar]

candy drip (m.)

about— seunghan is a greedy little munch

author's note— just something light, i can’t stop writing about pussy worshippers :(

warning— just a lot of oral and fingering (f. receiving), and a pinch of ass play! technically sacrilege since they get it on in a church bathroom whoops 18+ MDNI!!!

word count— 1.3k

It was your fault, technically. You were the one who got bored during Sunday service with Seunghan's family, and you were the one who started whispering about what you would do to him if you weren't in the middle of the sermon. But you were, and Seunghan kept reminding you of that fact, alongside the fact that his parents were just a pew away. It still didn't stop you from rubbing his thigh just a tad too close to where you really wanted to touch. From the outside looking in, you were just caressing your boyfriend inattentively. It almost looked sweet. But it wasn't sweet to Seunghan, who was whisking you away to the bathroom after approximately thirteen minutes of incessant touching.

Your hips wouldn’t stop bucking against his hand, but that only spurred him on more. “Hurry.” You buried your head in the crook of Seunghan’s neck, trying your hardest to muffle the moans that your teeth in your lip were barely holding back. His fingers slipped along the outside of your pussy lips, gliding to your clit before slapping it roughly. Your teeth sunk into his shoulder, bottom lip not cutting it anymore and you knew you were playing with fire. Anyone could walk into the bathroom at any moment, and they’d see your boyfriend playing with your pussy. You could feel his boner pressing against the underside of your thigh, mocking you as Seunghan rolled his hips forward to taunt you. “Please, Hannie, give me something. Wanna be full so bad.” 

He let out a shaky moan at your horny induced anguish, his lips finding yours mindlessly in a searing kiss. You felt pathetic, begging him for something you knew he was gonna give you– but you were impatient, bratty. Selfish. He loved how wild you were, how insatiable you were. His lips drifted to your jaw, then your neck, kissing hard enough to leave his signature in bruises all over your delicate skin. Your blood ran scorching hot as his thumbs toyed with your nipples through your shirt, static current running through your veins as he tortured you. “Want me to fuck you, baby doll?” He was getting off on this, a sick sense of pleasure inflating his chest at the sight (and feeling) of you squirming over nothing. “Mm? That what you need?”

The noise you let out was strangled, like you were throwing a tantrum over his refusal to give in just yet, and it only goaded him. He laughed in your face, a dark chuckle accompanied by a stiff slap to your ass. “Seunghan, please. Please.” You maintained eye contact with him as you reached for his hand, guiding it to your lips to suck on his fingertips. His weakness. “Please don’t make me wait anymore.”

“Oh, baby, you know that’s not how this works. I asked you a question, and you’re being a very bad girl not answering me.” 

He takes his hand back from your mouth, snaking down to your clit to rub just lightly enough to drive you crazy. It leaves you speechless, struggling to get the words out as you press your nails into his shoulders. “Please…. Hannie, please fuck me.” You finally say, moving your hips against the tip of his cock as you moaned. “I want you to fuck me, need it. Need you inside of me so bad.”

Seunghan, a man of few pleasures, was finally satisfied. He’d made you beg enough and it had finally satiated him, his sadistic streak cooling off as you looked up at him with your big, round eyes. He spun you around, lifting up your skirt as you rested against the sink dopily. His wet fingers spanked the smooth surface of your ass cheeks until he felt the heat rising to the top of your skin. God, he would never get enough of your ass. Especially the view of your arousal dripping between it from behind. “Gonna let me eat you out, or are you too impatient for that?”

Your hips wiggled frenziedly, trying your best to remind him what it feels like to have you squelching around him; but he was too focused on the stickiness dripping all over his fingers. He dipped his head down, sticking out his tongue to lick up all you had to offer. “Oh, baby, you taste so goddamn good.”

“Mmnh,” You weren’t sure how much more you could take, your knees buckling as he spread your ass cheeks apart for better access. “Seung– fuck! Seunghan, please. I’ll do anything, just fuck me already.” Any concerns about sounding downright pitiful went down the drain ages ago, only caring about getting your cunt stretched out. 

“Oh, c’mon, baby, I wanna taste you first.” He slurped away at the mess between your legs noisily, darting his tongue as far into your hole as it could reach. “Will you let me? I promise I’ll fuck you just as soon as I’m done.”

He drew back just to spit on it, purely out of habit seeing that you were dripping enough slick for him to lap at. One of your arms wrapped around to shove his head even deeper, causing him to snicker at how easily you folded to his every whim. Your other hand was occupied with grabbing onto the edge of the sink, knowing that you could slip at any time. You rolled your hips against his mouth faster while he sucked, nuzzled, licked and swirled your clit. He was torturing you in the best way possible, milking you for all you could give him.

“Wanna cum.” You whimpered, “God.”

He chuckled, flicking his tongue side to side before straight up sucking on your clit. “No, it’s Seunghan.”

You could feel your body tense up when he inserted two of his long fingers inside your dripping cunt, then another in your puckered ass hole until you flopped against the countertop. He still didn’t stop though, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit as his fingers pumped ruthlessly in and out of your holes.

“I could eat you out all day. ‘Til I’m covered in you.” He groaned before slipping his fingers out and looking up at you, your juices dripping down his chin pornographically. 

Seunghan dipped his head between your legs again, forcing his tongue into your wet cunt as he licked, slurped and sucked your clit, tasting your sweet juices all over again like a rabid animal. He was a liar, a big fat liar who wouldn’t be fucking you any time soon. Seunghan just loves watching you cum. Even if he doesn’t get anything out of it, he’ll do anything to make you writhe over and over again.

And the thought of you trembling above him was the finish line he chased as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, speeding up with a low growl as he sunk his fingers in all the way past to knuckle, your velvety walls hugging him perfectly. You weren’t even trying to cover up your cries of pleasure anymore, letting your moans echo against the walls for everyone to hear. “You okay, baby?”

“Hannie,” You squeaked, your climax rolling over you in iridescent waves. You couldn’t hear anything as you rode the pleasure out until the very end, Seunghan’s arms wrapping around you to make sure you didn’t slump into a puddle on the floor. His hands wrapped around your mouth just in case anyone happened to walk by while his fucked out girlfriend screeched in pleasure. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Once you landed back on Earth, Seunghan glanced up from his spot between your legs and offered you a bashful smile. “So… how was it?”

You blushed in embarrassment, trying your best to ignore his cocky smirk, “It would’ve been better if you’d actually fucked me. But it was alright, I guess.” You smiled down at him, knowing that he’d take the bait.

He rose to his full height, kissing you so you could taste yourself in all of your glory. The stickiness of your arousal didn’t bother you at this point, not when your makeup had already been ruined from tears of pleasure. “Alright, fine, I’ll bite. But not here… I think we can make do in the parking lot.”

[chiriwritesstuff]

The New Girl in Tinseltown - Chapter 2 - Devil's Advocate

A Dieter Bravo x Actress! Reader PR Marriage AU

Previous Chapter │ Series Masterlist │ Next Chapter

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: A look into Dieter's point of view at the night of our fated trip to Vegas. How does America's favorite Bad Boy™ end up married to America's New Sweetheart™?

Chapter Warnings and Tags: (Not So) meet cute, PR Relationships, what happens in Vegas ends up in the headlines, Dieter just does not give a FUCK, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, a look at the inner workings of Tinseltown and the sleaziness it comes with, Dry Humping, A hell of a lot of dirty banter, is that yearning?, mentions of devious deeds by sleazy people in show business, our loverboy makes a 'Pride and Prejudice reference, SLOW BURN WE DONT KNOW IT, this is unhinged, no use of y/n, No beta we die like men!

Word Count: 8K (whoops!)

A/N: I know, I know, I KNOW. I promised the release of this chapter weeks ago, but I got struck by the not-covid-but-felt-like-covid virus and managed to get myself into the biggest writing slump. I really do apologize for that, and I want to give a big thank you to everyone who stuck around and showed and shared love and support for the first chapter and this series! I can confidently say that the writing slump has finally passed, and we can finally get this crazy show on the road...

An (almost) year before that night in Vegas.

“Dieter, I'm expecting you to be on your best behavior tonight."

Dieter scowls at his publicist while his groomer diligently applies yet another round of pomade in an attempt to tame his unruly curls. "Define best behavior."

"They're about to launch a new girl into the circuit, some unknown that the studio thinks will become the next girl next door," his publicist responds, tapping away at his MacBook. "She's a genuinely sweet thing, all doe-eyed and untouched by the suits. Apparently, she's so sweet that Feldman-"

“Let me guess,” Dieter deadpans, "Feldman wants to fuck her," he rolls his eyes at that, slightly curious at the prospect of fresh blood. "Why am I not surprised?"

"That's not the best part," his publicist quips, his eyes locking with Dieter's over the rim of his laptop. "The studio wants to protect their asset, so much so that they hired-"

"No fucking way, they hired the Shark for this broad? What? Does she have beer-flavored nipples or something?" Dieter exclaims, his curiosity piqued. "Is she really that sweet?"

His publicist's mouth quirks into a small smirk. "The sweetest, most fucking forbidden fruit, my friend. So sweet that the Shark doesn't want you within ten feet of his client."

"Oh yeah?" Dieter replies, his eyes raised.

"Hell yeah. He tried to corner me earlier, warning me to keep my client's - and I quote - Dirty fucking paws off of his Doll-"

"Doll, huh? I bet I could tap that," Dieter challenges, his chest puffed out.

Dieter's publicist chuckles to himself, shaking his head. "Dieter, I know you believe you're God's gift to the masses, but trust me, this Doll? She's a bit out of your league."

Dieter leans back in his chair, a sly grin forming on his face. "Out of my league, huh? That just makes it more interesting. The thrill of the chase, my friend."

His publicist raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "Dieter, I've seen you chase plenty, but this Doll is different. She's not like the others. There's an innocence about her that even your charm might struggle to crack."

Dieter smirks, undeterred. "Well, we'll see about that. The forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest, doesn't it?"

The publicist lets out a resigned sigh. "Just remember, Dieter, not every fruit is meant to be plucked."

"What is this event even for?" Dieter counters, appraising himself as his stylist smooths the fabric of his suit, a deep emerald green number with a crisp obsidian button-down. He pouts at the mirror, glancing at his publicist and his agent behind him. "It's not the Nickelodeon Kids Choice Awards again, is it?"

"Why? So you could be caught doing blow off a toilet bowl seat like last year? I'm still doing damage control for that, you know," his agent deadpans. "You're in luck; it's the MTV Movie Awards-"

"... and this is Doll's debut, huh? Is she up for an award or something?"

"Several, actually. Surprisingly, her last film gained quite the following-"

"... let me guess, it's some rom-com," Dieter interjects, a hint of disinterest in his tone. "What are the categories?"

"Three, to be exact." His agent smirks into his cognac. "Best Female Lead, Female Breakout Star, and Best Kiss-"

"Best Kiss? Seriously?" Dieter retorts incredulously, his eyes widening. "What's the name of her movie? I might need to see it for myself-"

"Dieter, level with me. Are you gonna keep your dirty fucking paws off of the Shark's asset?" his publicist sighs, giving him a stern look. "As much as I want to shove my foot up his fucking ass, I don't have the energy to have him breathing down my back the entire fucking night-" he looks off into Dieter's direction, who is currently on your Wikipedia page. He frowns. "Dieter, do you hear me?"

"What?" Dieter snaps, slamming his phone onto his seat.

"Can you manage to be on your best behavior tonight? Stay clear of-"

"No. I mean, sure, fine, whatever-" Dieter interrupts, his tone dismissive.

"Dieter-"

"I heard you! I promise to stay away from her, but the real question is, are you able to keep her away from me?" He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

The (not-so meet cute) at the MTV Movie Awards.

"Dieter!" you shout, hastily making your way toward him, clearly a few drinks in. "Surprised to see you here!" you shout excitedly, a little wobble in your step as you approach him. 

You adorn a sleek silver gown, your hair elegantly swept to one side, and your radiant face contrasting vividly with the venue's intense lights. Dieter finds himself momentarily breathless as he gazes at you, captivated by your ethereal presence, akin to an angel descending into the depths of hell. "Fuck me," he murmurs under his breath as you draw near, the collar around his neck suddenly feeling constrictive as he nervously swallows. "What the hell? I never get nervous around women," he mutters to himself, his eyes tracing the entirety of your figure. His pants grow notably tighter, his attention fixated on the hypnotic sway of your hips.

He greets you with a nervous smile as you come face to face, tenderly planting a kiss on your cheek. His eyes close momentarily as he savors your delicate scent, a sensation that electrifies his chest and courses through his veins, prompting his hands to instinctively caress the back of your head as he subtly tries to capture another whiff. A subtle sense of pride swells within him as he notices the blush unexpectedly blooming across your skin, its warmth cascading down your cleavage.

Forbidden fucking fruit indeed. 

"Doll," he attempts to say smoothly, a hint of nervousness lacing his voice. "I've heard so much about you. Congrats on your wins tonight; they're truly well-deserved!"

"Really?" you suddenly squeal, and Dieter feels like he could get lost in your energy. It's pure, sweet, and so inherently innocent—the childlike wonder of being thrust into the limelight, untarnished by the sleazy underbelly of Hollywood. He can't help but internally frown, foreseeing the inevitable vultures in suits trying to get a piece of you. Their insatiable hunger for new, sweet flesh is something he knows all too well.

"Well, yeah, Doll, you killed it, as expected. Winning tonight and sweeping all your nominations was a given," he muses, casually leaning against his chair. As he leans towards you, a subconscious desire prompts him to take another whiff of your perfume, desperately trying to commit its essence to memory amid the haze of his coke-induced high. He can't resist burying his nose in your hair, eyes closing as he takes you in once more. 

"Dieter-" you question his sudden boldness, a nervous chuckle escaping you. 

"I'm sorry, baby-" he moans into your neck, his hands traveling down the length of your back. "You must tell me what the name of your perfume is, its divine-"

"Oh," you laugh as Dieter pulls you into him tighter, groaning as his hands travel dangerously close down your hips. "It's 'Missing Person' by-"

"Doll," a voice emerges from behind the two of you, accompanied by a stern clearing of someone's throat. Dieter's expression darkens as he recognizes the owner of the voice, but not before planting one final teasing kiss against your throat. With a smirk playing on his lips, he straightens up and turns to confront the perpetually annoyed yet annoyingly handsome face of the man Hollywood dubs 'The Shark'- also known as the most ruthless of publicists in all of Tinseltown, protecting his clients with an iron fist so strong no one ever thinks of crossing him.

Unless they wanted a cease and desist letter shoved so far up their assholes... without any fucking lube.   

Dieter gets it, though. If he were in his shoes and he had a client like you? All sweet and pure with the face of an angel but a body curated by the Devil himself?

Well, he would fuck your brains out and make you forget your name first, but that's beside the point. The point is, he gets it, he really fucking does.  

"Well well well," Dieter croons as he holds his hand up towards your publicist. "It's been a long time, Shark. Tell me, did you have to call ahead to make sure that some poor bloke's mangled testicles made it onto your plate for tonight, or did you rip someone's balls off fresh on-site?" he snarks with the raise of his eyebrow, shaking his head as your publicist stares at his outstretched hand in greeting. Dieter scoffs as he retreats his hand, placing it on his hip.  

"Bravo," Your publicist grits through clenched teeth as he tries to appear as unbothered as possible. "Aren't you a little old to be here tonight? The rumors aren't true, you know. Fucking girls close to half your age doesn't keep you young, but I suppose it makes sense, considering a woman your age would know better-"

"Shark, I won't tolerate you talking like that in the presence of an actual earth-bound angel. Just because she's young doesn't mean she doesn't know right from wrong-" Dieter retorts, flashing you a smoldering smile. "... you know how to handle yourself, don't you, Doll? You don't need some uptight prick telling you what you can and cannot do, right?" he winks, a slight puff to his chest.

You visibly shiver at his cheeky insinuation, nodding. "Right," you breathe, taking a hasty gulp of your champagne. "I'm 29 years old, I don't need you defending my 'honor' like I'm some virginal maiden-"

"Well, when my client has far too many drinks in her and doesn't understand the kind of man she's in the presence of-"

"The Devil, right?" Dieter exclaims, pointing to himself. "A no-good washed-up actor who fucks anything with two legs while high off my rocker, who just so happens to be good at what I do with the Oscar in my shitter to prove it? Don't you think she knows all of this? My bare ass isn't on the front page of TMZ weekly because I'm a nobody, baby."

"Oh my god, Dieter," you gush, clapping your hands together. "I loved you in-"

"Doll," your publicist interrupts, a firm hand on your shoulder. "You have that meeting with Favreau at the Beverley Hills in 30 minutes. As much as we would love to stay and chat... we have our jobs to get to, right Doll?" your publicist says to you sweetly, his hand grazing your arm. He clears his throat, nodding at Dieter. "Bravo, it was stimulating, as always," he deadpans with a hint of finality, pulling on your elbow like a lost puppy on a leash. Dieter swallows as he witnesses your light dimming from your face, a small frown on your face as you try to remain cordial, a fake smile etched on your face.  

"It was nice meeting you, Dieter," you almost whisper, pulling him into one last hug. "... maybe we'll just run into each other again soon?" You quickly whisper in his ear, and the thought of the two of you meeting up in secret thrills him to no end. His dick certainly twitches at the prospect. 

Dieter takes one last whiff of your scent, his eyes closing as he wills the time to stand still, not wanting to lose the warmth radiating from your aura. He presses one last kiss on your cheek, his fingers caressing the spot as he gives you a genuine smile.  

"... it wouldn't be soon enough, baby."

He gives The Shark one last salute, flipping him off once his back is toward him. “Fucking asshole cockblock,” he mutters to himself, patting his suit pocket for his little baggie of E. He pinches the baggie between his fingers, looking at its contents in silent contemplation.  I guess if I can't get the girl, at least I can get the high, right?

The morning after.

Dieter is face down on his sofa in his boxers and his robe, groaning from the after-effects of his debauchery just a few hours before. As if his skull is splitting into two, he winces as he turns himself onto his back, staring aimlessly into his ceiling as his iPhone suddenly starts to go off from under him.

Sighing, he blindly reaches for his phone, one eye open as he squints into the tiny, shattered screen.

TMZ NEWS FLASH! Up-and-coming Actress who swept MTV awards show last night being groped by Resident Playboy Dieter Bravo? Her publicist sweeps in to save our New "It" Girl in Tinseltown from the grasp of the Devil himself-

Dieter scoffs as he swipes the notification away, his eyes scanning the next headline.

AP NEWS ALERT: Dieter Bravo seen kissing Rising Actress at MTV Movie Awards last night, is a new romance brewing between the Fresh-Faced Actress and Playboy Lothario Dieter Bravo?

"Dieter," his publicist groans as he walks into the room, picking up a crumpled pair of boxer briefs off the sofa, and throws himself on it, pinching the space between his eyebrows as he shakes his head. "What the hell did I tell you? Stay away from The Shark's client, don't grope her in front of him! Can't you just listen to me for once?"

"It was innocent! I kept my hands at a respectable distance from her ass," Dieter retorts, throwing his phone across the room. "I didn't even make a move—"

"That's not the point, Dieter!" his publicist spits back, pulling out his phone. "Do you realize how much this guy despises you? I'm good at my job, but The Shark? I can't go against a god—"

"You're making him out to be some untouchable—"

"...because he is untouchable, Dieter! Do you even know he's buddies with Feldman? After learning about your stunt last night, he's considering pulling you from the project."

"Please," Dieter scoffs, rolling his eyes. "They need me more than I need them! I'm practically doing them a favor, signing on to this fucking movie. They're not going to pull Dieter Bravo from a sinking ship! It's just scare tactics!"

"Yeah, well, you know what they say. The pussy is stronger than god, right?" his publicist replies, scrolling through his phone. "Feldman didn't appreciate your hands on his girl, and now he's out for blood. I warned you about this, D. Is some girl worth losing a multi-million dollar contract? Do you want to go back to doing 'surprise guest star' roles on cable TV? I heard they're thinking of rebooting 'Suits', it might be a good fit for you-"

"So what do I need to do then?" Dieter fires back, a joint between his lips. "I assume I'll be needing to make a public statement or some shit? Keep the old bastard happy?"

"It's funny you mention that D. I have an email from The Shark himself, with a list of what he wants you to say in your statement, promising he'll back the fuck off if you promise to not go within ten feet of his asset-"

"Have you ever heard of 'Missing People' perfume?" Dieter suddenly asks, taking a hit off his joint, his eyes following the thick plume of smoke as he leans back into the sofa. "Missing... Woman?" he mumbles to himself absentmindedly, licking his lips. "Fuck, what did she say it was? I need to stop going to these things blitzed out of my fucking mind-"

"Dieter, focus. Are we releasing the statement or not?"

"MARCUS!" Dieter calls out for his PA suddenly, ignoring his publicist as he grabs the phone out of his hands. "MARCUS! I NEED YOU!"

"Yes D?" Marcus responds as he rushes into the living room, pulling a fresh pack of Kitkat out of his back pocket. "Did you need a snack?"

"Have you ever heard of 'Missing Someone' perfume?" he asks once more as he pulls up the Safari app on his publicist's phone.  

"You mean 'Missing Person' by Phlur?" Marcus quips, picking up the stray pieces of discarded clothing strewn randomly around the room. “One of my favorite actresses just became the spokesperson for that perfume, swears by it-“ 

“Missing PERSON, that’s what it was!” Dieter shouts, tossing his publicist's phone back at him. “Marcus, you’re a fucking godsend! I knew there was a reason why I kept you around! Could you do me a small favor?”

"What do you need, D?" Marcus asks eagerly, his hand perched on his hip. 

"I need you to buy me 'Missing People'. A couple of bottles, at least."

"How many is a couple?" Marcus asks with a nervous chuckle. "Five? Are you giving these out as gifts or something?"

"Maybe I could call Chriselle, and tell her you're interested in the company, there are more scents suitable for men, D," his publicist says casually, pulling out his laptop from his messenger bag. "I ran into her at Erewhon the other day, she's a big fan of your work, and couldn't stop talking about Cliff Beasts... Now, about that statement-"

"Fuck asking, just go to Neimans or Sephora or something and buy out their entire stock. Lotions and body wash and candles if it comes in that scent, too, Marcus. Go to all of the fucking Sephoras if you need to."

"... the entire stock? D, what is this for?"

"Do I pay you to ask all of these fucking questions? Don't worry about what I'm going to do with it. Just get it in my hands by the end of the day, do you think you could swing that?"

"... yes?"

Dieter takes another drag out of his joint, nodding aimlessly. "Great. Also, stop by Blicks on your way back. I need an entire arsenal and the biggest canvas they have. New brushes, too! Set up my studio and put the 'Missing People' in my bathroom, and I'll want my usual In n Out order, too."

Flustered, Marcus pulls out his phone and starts typing Dieter's requests on his notes app. Running a nervous hand through his hair, he looks at his boss once more. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Get the fuck out of my face and get to work, Marcus. Chop Chop!"

His assistant nods and scrambles out of the living room, tripping on the corner of the area rug on his way out. Dieter's publicist raises his eyebrow at the display, shaking his head as he types away on his laptop. "You know, you could be nicer to him, D. He tries hard to cater to your every fucking whim and fancy... now, are we gonna release that fucking statement or not?"

"What statement?" Dieter asks absentmindedly as he pulls out a small baggie from his robe pocket.  

"The one where you say that you had a little too much to drink and that you didn't mean anything by groping Doll at the Movie Awards, and that you're really sorry and will be donating a couple thousand to a women's shelter-"

"... and this will make The Shark happy? and Feldman off my ass?" he replies, rubbing his gums as he smiles to himself. "I'll be able to stay on the project?"

"You can start packing your bags, yes. Filming starts in a week for the next few months in Europe. It'll give this whole Movie Awards nonsense some time to blow over."

Dieter considers this for a moment. He sticks his tongue out in contemplation, coming to the unsettling realization that he hasn't been in a major studio project in the last few years. He needs this job more than they need him, and deep down, he knows this. He takes one last drag out of his joint, flicking the roach away as he turns towards his publicist.

"Release the fucking statement."

His publicist nods, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Good," he murmurs, genuine relief softening his features. "I can't handle you out of work for another month, not after the fucking pandemic... What's the deal with all that perfume, anyway?"

"What?" Dieter replies absentmindedly, scratching his beard.

"The stuff you made Marcus buy in bulk," his publicist clarifies.

"Forget the perfume. Do you still have those photos I sent you?"

"I've got them, but I haven't checked them out yet. Why?"

Dieter gestures toward the laptop. "Why don't you take a look?"

His publicist eyes him warily, opening the email. His expression shifts to shock as he glimpses the contents. "Is this—"

Dieter nods, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Yep."

"This is huge, Dieter. How did you even get these? They're screwed if this ever goes public—"

"That's why it's payback time. A little warning shot," Dieter interrupts, leaning forward eagerly. "We leak the photos. Anonymously, of course."

"Dieter," his publicist warns, "If they trace it back to you—"

"I'll take the risk. They messed with the wrong guy," Dieter scoffs, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "These amateurs think they can get away with it?" he mutters to himself, then clears his throat. "Remember our motto?"

"Nobody fucks with Dieter Bravo."

Dieter leans back on the sofa, nodding. "That's right. Nobody fucks with Dieter Bravo."

Six Months later.

"Hi, I'm Carol Cobb!"

"... and I'm Dieter Bravo!"

"And we are doing a Wired Autocomplete Interview!"

"Alright! Is Dieter Bravo..." Carol energetically rips the first sheet of paper off her card, a playful smile spreading across her face as Dieter looks attentively at the camera. "Is Dieter Bravo dead?!" She bursts into laughter, smacking Dieter with the card, who simply shrugs. "Wow! Why would they hit us with that right out of the gate?"

"Not dead yet!" Dieter exclaims, pushing his signature glasses off his face while gazing into the camera. "Got close... several times," he adds with a pointed smirk.

"...and we are very much thankful for that!" Carol shouts. "Shall we move on to the next one?" She tears the next slip of paper, her eyes widening as she reads, “Is Dieter Bravo secretly married?!”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a secret if I spilled the beans now, would it?” Dieter smiles conspiratorially, rubbing his chin in contemplation.

“I can't imagine you ever settling down,” Carol muses with a smirk. "It seems unnatural, like going against the natural order of things, like sea animals on land. Dieter Bravo, settled down with one girl? Hell would have to freeze over before that ever happens," she teases.

"I think it could happen," Dieter says matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest as he settles back into his seat.

"What could happen?" Carol asks, her curiosity piqued.

"Settling down. Getting married, perhaps... even starting a family," Dieter replies thoughtfully.

"It would take quite the woman to make 'The Great Lothario' change his ways. Seems like an impossible feat," Carol interrupts, chuckling. "A woman who can stop the great Dieter Bravo from his manwhoring ways? Maybe someone who lives under a rock and doesn't know about your reputation."

"Actually," Dieter interjects, a hint of excitement in his voice. "I think I've met someone recently who's made quite an impression on me."

Carol's eyes widen in surprise. "What do you mean, you think you've met someone? Who is this mysterious girl that's captured your attention, D?"

"Well, she's an actress-"

"Of course," Carol quips with a knowing smirk.

"... she's new. I had the pleasure of meeting her at the MTV Movie-"

"You're not talking about Doll, are you? The woman you groped after meeting her for the first time? Someone even said that they caught you sniffing her! Who does that, Dieter?!"

"I am a connoisseur of all things exquisite and beautiful, ma chérie. She smelled absolutely divine, and I swear her scent lingered on me for days after, I swear, just let me nuzzle my face in between the valley of those luscious tits-"

"God, D. I think they're gonna have to edit this shit out!" Carol mutters, looking embarrassed by Dieter's boldness. She leans towards Dieter. "I thought you signed some embargo with The Shark promising you wouldn't mention her," she whispers in his ears. "Even I wouldn't think to fuck with him-"

"Well, Feldman was my main concern, and now he's facing jail time for all of those underage claims and those leaked photos, so fuck it!" Dieter counters, knowing damn well he worked behind the scenes for it to happen, leaking a few photos he had stored away on his iCloud, kissing himself on the mouth knowing it would come in handy sooner or later.  

AP NEWS ALERT: Hollywood bigshot arrested for leaked inappropriate images from an anonymous source of various actresses, denies all allegations of misconduct.

One asshole down, one Shark to bury next, he thinks to himself, chuckling at the thought. "Besides, I can't get her out of my fucking mind! I've never felt this way about a woman before, Carol, I mean it this time!"

"I mean, she's undeniably beautiful," Carol agrees, "but she's still new to the industry. They've been typecasting her in those romcoms with whatshisname, but I've heard she's pushing for more challenging roles—"

"Cut!" The director's voice slices through the air, his eyes narrowed at them both. "This interview is about promoting Cliff Beasts, not discussing Dieter's love life with some woman."

"Hey, that 'woman'? She's my future wife, so watch your damn mouth," Dieter snaps back, his tone defensive.

"Whoa, D, hold on. Future wife? You barely know her!" Carol interjects, her hand pressed against her chest in disbelief. "Take it easy, baby. Get to know her first, at least."

"It's gonna happen, Carol. I can feel it in my damn bones. I was drawn to her the moment I laid eyes on her," Dieter insists, his confidence unwavering.

"Listen, Casanova, I don't care who you think you're gonna marry, but we're on a tight schedule here!" the director interrupts, frustration evident in his voice. "Stick to the damn questions, and no more talk about your little 'girlfriend.'"

"Fine," Dieter mutters, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of water. "But do me a favor—don't cut out the part about her assets. It'll bring in views like crazy. I did you a favor there."

The director waves him off as he storms away. "Remind me why I took this job knowing this idiot would be here," he mutters to himself, heading back behind the camera.

The day of the (not so thought out) wedding.

Dieter is anxiously bouncing his leg, biting his pinky nail as his groomer meticulously applies another layer of concealer under his darkened eyes. "Jeez D, have you been sleeping at all lately?"

"What?" Dieter asks absentmindedly, running a shaky hand through his curls. "Yeah- I've been sleeping, why?"

“Your under-eyes, D. They’re darker than my fucking soul, man. Didn’t I tell you to lay off on the sauce? I’m on my fourth layer of concealer-“

“It’s nothing,” Dieter says dismissively. “Just… have you ever been in love?” 

"Sure I have," his groomer replies, a small smile on their face. "That's why I'm married, silly. Why?"

"Say you like a girl, and you think that this girl might be interested but then TMZ posts leaked photos of said girl and some beefed up Hollywood hunk "canoodling" with each other while filming their movie together in Canada-"

"This is Doll that we're talking about, correct? The one you groped at the MTV Movie-"

"I DIDN'T GROPE HER!" Dieter exclaims, groaning as he sinks further into his seat. "Why does everyone keep saying that? I was simply giving her a friendly, yet casual hug when she APPROACHED ME-"  He huffs like a petulant child, his arms crossed around his chest in defiance. "Anyway, I thought, after I desperately tried to shoot my shot, let my intentions known in that 'Wired' Interview with Carol, that she would contact me, you know? Maybe slide into my DMs-" 

“Slide into your DMs?” His groomer scoffs, plucking a stray eyebrow hair with their tweezers from his face as he dramatically flinches, narrowing his eyes at them. “You flat out said you wanted to smother your face in the ‘valley of her luscious tits’, I would be surprised if she hasn't filed a restraining order against you yet... Let me give you a bit of advice: Girls want to be romanced, not objectified! ... have you ever had a 'real' girlfriend before, D?"

"Hey! I've had girlfriends, alright?" Dieter groans, frustration evident in his voice as he clenches his fists. "Just because they didn't stick around afterward doesn't mean it was all my fault, okay?"

"The girls you hook up with during your benders and then discard once the high wears off don't exactly qualify as 'real' girlfriends, D! Let's be serious here!"

"That's what I'm trying to be," he whines, "I'm trying SO HARD to be serious for once! I can't get this girl out of my head, and it's been what? Almost a year since I've met her? I can't get my dick hard when I'm with anyone else anymore, I don't want to take drugs, it's like I'm fucking broken or something! ... and now she's off fucking Joe Hollywood over here like I'm not bleeding my fucking heart out for her-"

"Wait, you mean to tell me that you're actually sober right now?"

"Well, yeah. The last time I took something was before filming Cliff Beasts, I thought you knew that. Anyway, it doesn't fucking matter. All of that and she doesn't even notice me."

"Well, I would tell you that if you had bothered to read TMZ this morning instead of sulking, you would know that there are split rumors between this girl and Hollywood neanderthal," His groomer retorts, a shit-eating grin on their face. "It was over before it even began. I mean, I've heard for such a massive man, he has quite the tiny di-"

Dieter perks up at that. "Say that again."

"They've broken up. She's back on the market, silly goose."

"So that means-"

"That means that I'm going to groom the shit out of you and help you out by making her realize just what she's missing out on, D." His groomer replies, massaging his scalp as they make eye contact through the mirror in front of them. "You're lucky that I consider myself a hopeless romantic. If you promise not to break her heart, I'll help you get the girl, ok?"

"Shit, do you think she'll like me?" Dieter says nervously, fidgeting in his seat.  

"Obviously," his groomer replies cryptically, a smirk forming on the corner of their mouth. "I may or may not have some intel from another groomer friend of mine about their supposed breakup."

"Oh?" Dieter perks up, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. "... and what would that intel be?"

"Oh, you know. Someone might have asked their stylist if they think you'll be attending tonight, how she kept trying to be sly about it."

"Doll asked about me?! Are you serious?" Dieter's excitement is palpable.

"Well, according to my friend, the reason why they broke up was that someone might have moaned your name while being eaten out by 'Joe Hollywood' the other day-"

"No fucking way!"

"She's into you, D! I would say that your little ploy during the 'Wired' interview worked more than you think, bud."

Dieter nods, taking the biggest sigh of relief as he settles in his chair. "One last thing, do you groom just the top half of me, or are you open to grooming other places?"

"What do you mean?" his groomer cocks their head to the side.  

"Shit, well... are you open to grooming my nether regions? It's been a while since I've been with a woman, I'm almost full caveman down there-"

His groomer tsks, pulling out their phone. "Dieter, as much as I love you, I don't love you that much. Let me call someone for that, ok?"

A few hours later, on the red carpet.

"Dieter," his publicist says under his breath as they walk down the red carpet. "The cameras are this way, why are you so distracted?"

"I'm looking for someone," Dieter replies as he winks at the sea of paparazzi, flashing them a peace sign as he walks toward the venue's entrance.

"Well, who are you looking for?" His publicist replies impatiently, looking down the red carpet.

"Doll, obviously. Do you know if she's arrived yet?"

His publicist rolls his eyes, sighing. "She arrived about five minutes ago, don't you see her?"

Dieter inhales deeply, his gaze scanning past the vibrant red carpet until it locks onto yours. His breath catches in his chest, surprised by the unexpected connection. You appear taken aback at first, but swiftly compose yourself, subtly angling your body towards him with a seductive smile playing on your lips.

"Holy Shit..." Dieter's mind races with excitement. "She really does want me."

Filled with newfound confidence, he playfully purses his lips in your direction, sending a cheeky kiss your way as his eyebrows wiggle in amusement. A flush of color blooms across your cheeks in response, catching his eye. But as he revels in the moment, he notices The Shark's gaze narrowing in his direction, a whisper passing between him and you.

That's fucking right Shark.  I'm coming for my girl, and there is nothing you can fucking do about it.  

Later, Dieter observes you from across the room as you sit at your table, alone, nursing another glass of champagne. He notices how you try to avoid meeting his gaze, despite catching you stealing glances at him throughout the night when you think he isn't looking. It surprises him to see you being so reserved, so quiet, especially without The Shark hovering around you like a protective dragon guarding its treasure.

What's gotten you so down, babydoll?  he muses, leaning back into his chair. As if you could read his thoughts, your eyes meet from across the room once more, and you quickly look away, smiling to yourself at getting caught looking.

Dieter senses the moment's significance, his heart racing with anticipation. He knows he must seize this opportunity, the perfect moment to step forward and break the barrier between the two of you. With a determined smile, he decides it's time to make his move.

As he rises from his chair, Dieter's confidence swells, fueled by the intensity of the moment. With purposeful strides, he crosses the room, his gaze fixed on you, the anticipation building with each step. This is his chance to bridge the gap, to finally reveal the feelings he's kept hidden for so long.

He draws in another deep breath as he approaches you from behind, mustering his most seductive gaze as he leans in towards your exposed ear, his warm breath grazing your skin.

"I can't help but notice that you've been eye-fucking me the entire night."

He groans softly as he takes a seat in the chair beside yours, hoping to conceal any nerves as he attempts to exude charm. "I guess my little ploy of trying to get your attention with that 'Wired' interview worked out in my favor-"

You respond with a subtle smile, your fingers gracefully tracing the edge of your champagne glass. How does something as simple as that manage to rile me up? he wonders inwardly, returning your smile.

"You know," you say softly, a chuckle escaping you as you shake your head in disbelief, "There are more normal ways to get a girl's attention-"

The longer Dieter spends in your presence, the more he feels himself on edge, the tension mounting with every passing moment. His pulse quickens, and he can't ignore the growing semi in his suit pants. It's astonishing how much you affect him, like a siren calling out for him while lost at sea, lying in wait, ready to bring him to absolute ruin. 

Fuck. Keep it cool, Bravo.

"Ah, but you're America's Sweetheart, and your pitbull of a publicist won't let me near you, I had to let my-" he gulps at the sight of your ample bust, licking his lips in anticipation, "... intentions very clearly known."

"Well," you breathe, chest heaving. "I don't know if it's 'clearly' known," your voice drops to a whisper, like a secret that is shared only between the both of you, two lonely souls amongst a sea of chaos. "I think you're just going to have to spell it out for me."

Dieter, sensing victory, leans back triumphantly, spreading his legs as he subtly encloses you within his space. His dark, smoldering gaze meets your thinly veiled attempt at your best innocent doe eyes... but Dieter sees right through it. He grins widely, reveling in the knowledge that he's the cat about to get all of the cream—your cream.  That's right, babydoll, I've finally caught you, and I'm never going to let you go.

He laughs at the sight of you, his chin motioning to your breasts.  "Do you want to have sex with me, Dollface?"

Your eyes widen, and a small gasp escapes your lips, as you search his gaze, trying to decipher if he's just bullshitting or if he's actually fucking serious.  I'm serious, alright, he chuckles to himself. "If I miscalculated this fucking thing that's going on between us, tell me and I'll fuck off, leave you alone-"

"What if I don't want you to fuck off, and want to tell you that I'm this close to being plastered and that all I kept thinking about tonight is you railing me with that huge cock we both know is aching for me in some deserted hallway-" you challenge, picking your champagne glass for good measure, downing its contents in one swig.  For courage, he thinks. "I would beg to ask you... what's taking you so damn long, Bravo?"

WhatsApp chat between Dieter & Marcus: Dieter: Hey Marcus, are you still in the venue? Marcus: Yes! With your publicist. Did you need something? Dieter: This party blows. Can I borrow your car? Marcus: Oh, did you want me to drive you home? The party just started, Dieter. Dieter: I can drive myself back, stay for the party! Catch a ride with the suits afterward! Get shitfaced, you're officially off the clock! Marcus: Seriously? Do you know how to drive a stick? It's my baby, I don't know if I feel comfortable with you driving it, are you high right now? 🤦‍♂️ Dieter: No, for the last time, I'm fucking clean, man. Just do me a solid and let me borrow your car, I swear I'll give you a fucking raise! What do you want for one night with your baby? Tell me, I'll give you anything! Marcus: Fine. Just tell me what you did with all of that fucking perfume, there"s a bet going on and I would like to shove it in your publicist's face that I know! Dieter: Seriously man? That's all you want? Marcus: Do you want my keys or not, D? Dieter: Fine. I took the fucking perfume, doused my entire bedroom in it, and fucked myself smelling it thinking about Doll. Dieter: Is that enough of an explanation for you? Come the fuck on, man, I need your car! Please! 🙏 Marcus: 🙌 Meet me at the lobby in five. 

"So tell me," Dieter shouts as he peels out of the parking lot, laughing at the delighted squeal that escapes your lips as you throw your head back, your arms raised upward as he turns quickly into the streets of Los Angeles. "How often did you think about me, babydoll?"

You boldly reach over to cup his erection, your small hand wrapping around the tip of it. "As much as I reckon you thought of me, Bravo. Tell me, how often did you come, alone in that massive bed of yours, to the thought of your cock thrusting into my tight pussy?"

"Fuck baby, do you want me to crash this car? It's not mine, you know?"

"Answer the fucking question, Bravo."

"Baby, if you only knew how much I fucking came just thinking about your tits... I don't think you know just what exactly you got yourself into, little girl... but I'll show you just how I thought of you coming on my fat cock, giving me absolutely everything-"

I've been hungry for you, baby, and I'm going to feast on every inch of your body, just you fucking wait-

He cackles like a madman as he peels into the dwindling streets of LA. "Are you hungry, Dollface?" he yells, almost running a red light, his eyes fixed on the glowing In n Out sign in the distance.

"I shouldn't, I have that screen test next week-"

"Fuck the screen test!" he shouts. "The night is young, and you are gorgeous. Let Dieter take care of you, baby... while I still have you in my grasp. I ain't gonna waste a moment I have you in my orbit!"

He pulls into the In n Out parking lot, cutting the engine, and pulls you into his lap, his face immediately diving into the valley between your breasts. "You can suffocate me with these tits and I would die a happy man," he mumbles against your skin, his growl reverberating throughout your entire body like wildfire. "What do you say, Doll? Would you do me the honors?"

"Fuck Dieter," you moan, tipping your head back in pleasure as his tongue teases the edge of your dress covering your breasts. "Grab my tits," you beg, grabbing his hands for good measure. Dieter wastes no time as he grabs the back of your head, pulling you into a kiss, his tongue licking along the seam of your mouth, begging for entrance.  

"Open up for me, baby girl. Let Dieter taste you-" he pleads, and you pull away with him, your hair wrecked and lipstick smeared. Dieter imagines he looks as wrecked as you do, his pupils blown and chest heaving. You pull him into another kiss, sighing into it, your mouth opening slightly. Dieter takes this as a sign to devour you completely, your tongues fighting for dominance as you begin to rock your hot pussy against his thick cock.

"I want to ride you into the sunset, D," you whisper, pulling at his curls harshly. "Are you gonna give me what I want? Or am I going to have to find someone else to do it?"

"Fuck-" Dieter pants, his gaze reaching yours, his mouth agape in awe. "How in the fuck did I get so fucking lucky-"

"Grab my tits, D," you ask once more, moaning and throwing your head back, biting your lower lip as you grind on his throbbing erection. Dieter quickly obliges, his large hands engulfing both of your breasts. His fingertips graze the edge of your dress, the hardness of your nipple pressing into the middle of his palm, and he swears that if he were to be struck down dead right at this moment, he would die a happy man.  

"Shit, I knew that your tits would feel amazing, but you are so fucking soft-"

"Oh yeah?" you tease, your teeth grazing the shell of his ear. "I'm soft in other places, too." You whisper in his ear, and he swears he feels the ghost of your smile as he moves his hands back on your hips, his fingertips squeezing the softness of your ass as he angles his dick where he imagines your clit to be, thrusting into your hot, wet heat. "Fuck, so goddamn soft-" he groans, his tongue licking a wet stripe along the tops of your breasts. "You're fucking everything I never knew I always wanted, baby girl," he praises you honestly, cupping your cheek as he pulls you into another kiss, groaning as your tongue dances with his, leaving him breathless.  

"Am I?" you pant as you wrap your arms around his neck, your pussy dragging along the thick outline of his cock. "You talk like you want to marry me or something-"

"... oh, but I do want to marry you, breed you, keep you locked up in my mansion... you have no idea just how much I've thought about you, these last few months-"

"Dieter! My Man!" someone shouts in the distance. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he yells back, "I'm about to fuck this beautiful woman in an In n Out parking lot, what are you doing here?"

"Fuck, can I take a pic, man?" the fan shouts as he approaches the convertible.  

"Don't you see we're a little preoccupied?" you shout at the fan, flicking him off. "Get the fuck out of here!" you shout.

The fan quickly takes a shot of the both of you with his iPhone, a half-hearted apology mumbled out of his mouth as he quickly runs back inside of the restaurant, probably to the group of men who are completely unaware of the two celebrities dry-humping the fuck out of each other in their wake, eating their double-doubles and sneaking sips out of a cup filled with some cheap ass vodka, fist-bumping the night away.

"Are you gonna come in those Gucci pants of yours, D?" you tease, your pace quickening as you ride his dick relentlessly. "How does it feel having America's Sweetheart getting you to come in your pants, baby?"

"Fuck," Dieter pants, his hand wrapping around your neck as he pushes you against the steering wheel, angling the tip of his cock against your clit. "How does it feel to get fucked by The Devil, sweetheart? Your pussy is begging me to just rip those fucking panties off and just claim you, right in front of all of these fucking people-"

You shiver at that, a choked curse and his name out of your mouth as he sees the entirety of your body begin to quiver and shake.  

"Don't fight it, baby, I know you fucking like the attention, I know you want everyone to see how much of a bad fucking girl you are inside... but don't worry, Dieter knows, and I'll help you show them," he pulls you against him harshly, your chest pushed up against his, as his teeth sink at the hollow of your neck. "I'll get the world to see just who you really are, baby. Let me show you the way-"

You scream as he thrusts into you once more as he rips your orgasm out of you violently, crying out into his neck as Dieter explodes into his Gucci trousers, the mixture of your slick and his thick cum making an absolute mess of his loaned suit.  

I guess I'll have to pay for these, Dieter thinks to himself as he cradles your shaking form into his arms, licking away the salty tears running down your face. "You did so good, Doll, don't cry-" he whispers, stroking the back of your head as he tries to get you to calm down. "What do you need, baby?"

You lie quietly against his chest, your breaths falling into rhythm with his, as he assumes you're simply gathering your thoughts. "Baby," he pleads softly, his hands tracing soothing paths along your exposed back. "Please, say something—"

"Marry me," you whisper against his chest, the words barely audible but filled with undeniable certainty.

Dieter freezes, his heart skipping a beat at your unexpected words. For a moment, he's speechless, his mind racing to catch up with the sudden turn of events. Slowly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

"What did you say?" he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid that speaking any louder might shatter the fragile moment.

You lift your head, meeting Dieter's stunned gaze with unwavering determination. "I said, marry me," you repeat, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. "Let's take this car and drive it to Vegas, get married by some overweight Elvis impersonator, and book the honeymoon suite at the Cosmo... I don't care how we do it, but let's get fucking married, D!"

Dieter's mind whirls with a mix of emotions—astonishment, disbelief, and a profound sense of joy. He blinks several times, as if trying to confirm that he's not dreaming, before a wide grin spreads across his face.

"Oh, my God," he breathes, his voice trembling with emotion. "Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes."

Taglist:@yxtkiwiyxt @skysmiller @picketniffler @readingiskeepingmegoing @islacharlotte @drewharrisonwriter

@missladym1981@amyispxnk@thespookywookies@stevie75@mysterious-moonstruck-musings

@daydream-believer19@survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @gobaaby-blog-blog

[darcydarlingdabbles]

Epilogue

Human Hotel Trip ~ Part 7/7 ~ 6.2 k

Hazbin Hotel ₊⁺⋆ Charlastor ₊⁺⋆ EventuallyVERY Explicit

Part 1 ⚜️Part 2 ⚜️ Part 3 ⚜️ Part 4 ⚜️ Part 5 ⚜️ Part 6 ⚜️ Finale

// A few months after the trip to Earth that changed everything, Charlie and Alastor are still working out the kinks of their newly defined relationship. Well, Charlie is. Alastor has his fully figured out. //

⊹❀⊹❀⊹✨⊹❀⊹❀⊹

Charlie Morninstar’s brow furrowed in concentration as she hunched over her desk in the dim back office. 

Her crayon scratched against paper, leaving a hot pink streak over her next lesson plan, her tongue darting out between her black lips. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, the sound echoing in the after-dinner quiet of the Hazbin Hotel. 

“Come on, brain!” Charlie muttered, digging her fingers through her hair, before rolling up her sleeves and flexing her cramping fingers. “These sinners are counting on us to keep them on the path to redemption!” 

Her gaze drifted to the bright mug with its cheerful ‘Oh Deer’ barely readable in the low light—she’d forgot to turn the overheads as it got darker and dark out. Charlie reached for the coffee absently, then winced when the stone-cold liquid hit her lips. 

“Whoops,” she chuckled, how long she’d been fixated on her lesson plan. 

But, as the coffee hit her tongue, Charlie made a soft sound of contentment. It was just right—not too sweet this time, and just the way she liked it.

Alastor had finally figured out the balance between his bitter preference and hers. 

She could picture him now, almost, up in the radio tower that was his private domain. His voice was smooth as silk as he broadcasted to all the denizens of Hell every night. Part of her longed to tune in, to hear his charismatic tones in his element. 

But screams punctuated his shows and made her shudder. 

Charlie sighed, turning back to her papers and plans, thinking it was better that she could pretend he was just playing music up there. 

The blonde picked up her crayon again with renewed determination. She sketched out team-building exercises and self-reflection activities. Tomorrow was another chance to help lost souls find their way—and she wasn’t going to let them down. 

Charlie leaned back after a few hours or so, stretching her arms above her head with a soft groan, when the silence of the room was suddenly broken with the familiar crackle of static. 

“Hey, Al.” She hummed without turning around. A smiled tugged at her lips as she felt his presence looming over her shoulder. 

“My dear, were you expecting me?” Alastor asked playfully, his radio host’s voice bright and gleeful. 

Charlie opened her mouth to say yes, that he always managed to find her before either of them retired for the night—when she caught sight of the clock on the wall. “Uh, no, actually. Isn’t your broadcast still going?”

“Indeed, it is,” Alastor replied smoothly, just as she felt deft fingers smoothing out the mess she’d made of her hair over the last few hours. “A delightfully improvised jazz number is currently serenading our listeners.” 

Eerie green flames sprung up around the ‘Oh Deer’ mug, making her heart skip a beat. But before she could voice her concern, the fire vanished as quickly as they appeared. 

And steam rose in little spirals from the now piping hot coffee. 

“Thank you, Al,” Charlie breathed, touched by the little gesture. 

She reached for the mug as soon as he released her tamed hair. The warmth of the rich coffee spread through her, chasing away some of the weariness that had settled into her bones. 

“My pleasure, darling.” Alastor purred, his fingers curling around her shoulders as she felt a gentle nuzzle against the side of her head—something he would never admit to, but he did all the time. “Though I must tsk tsk at you working so late. What would your father say about such poor time management?”

Charlie rolled her eyes at the teasing lilt in his voice. “Because I have to get these lessons right—souls are at stake here.” 

Alastor chuckled at her ear, sending shivers down the back of her neck. 

In a blink, he was perched primly on her desk, sweeping her papers out of his way with a flash of his shadow tentacles. 

“Now, really my dear,” He said, folding his hands neatly over his knee as he leaned close. “There’s no need to over exert yourself for some lowly sinners.”

“Alastor,” Charlie scowled, but before she could launch into her usual defense of redemption and how every soul was worth saving—when he held up a hand, his perpetual grin widening. 

“Because,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Your fumbling first efforts have succeeded once before, have they not?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence…I think.” Charlie said as she leaned back slightly from him. 

For some reason, her heart warmed just a bit at even this backhanded compliment. The Radio Demon was rarely straightforward, but she was learning to read between the lines. 

And, in his own twisted way, this was probably Alastor being supportive. 

Charlie nearly jumped as she felt something brush against her legs. She looked down to see Alastor’s shadow pulling up a stool behind her. Before she could react, she felt his microphone staff was pulling her legs out from under her, making her sit back. 

“Come now, take a break.” the demon insisted, his voice a mixture of concern and command. “Even the Princess of Hell needs a rest.” 

Charlie huffed, gripping the stool to sit up a little straighter. Alastor’s smile took on a smug glint as she relented. 

“Alright, Al, why are you trying so hard to get my attention?” she asked with a hint of suspicion. “ I mean, if I didn’t know better I think you were…well..” She trailed off, her cheeks blushing a brighter pink. 

The thing with Alastor, was there was always a thing with Alastor. 

He never outright said what he wanted, and even when he showed up at her room in the middle of the night—sometimes it was just to sleep next to her. 

Other times, he wanted more. And Charlie wanted a lot more. 

In a blink, Alastor vanished from the desk in front of her. She looked around the room for his tell-tale darkness, almost feeling like she should apologize. The only constant in the demon’s behavior was that calling him out on his escapades made them stop cold. 

“Al, wait—” 

Long fingers curled around Charlie’s waist, pulling her back against his chest in a delightfully familiar way. 

Instead of asking, she leaned back into him, relieved when she felt the brush of his cheek against her temple. 

“To speak plainly,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “It is becoming increasingly difficult to capture your attention these days.”

Charlie shivered delicately, wrapping her arms around his and grabbing the sleeves of the Radio Demon’s coat. “If you’re frustrated, we can—” 

“Your little hotel has become quite the attraction for all of Hell’s wretches these days, hasn’t it?”

Wait, was he jealous of the time she spent with the residents? Was that what this was about? 

“Our hotel,” Charlie corrected firmly. “This is our hotel, Al, and we should both be proud—” 

Before she could continue her rant, Alastor vanished again. Charlie turned towards the empty room, only for the dapper demon to re-materialize directly in front of her. 

The blonde was forced to lean back on her elbows, gripping her desk as he invaded her personal space. 

Charlie had to admit that she lost whatever the hell he was saying when he was this close, leaning over her with his hands neatly behind his back. Something about ranting about the constant stream of sinners seeking redemption—while her mind was preoccupied with how her legs had to part to accommodate Alastor’s sudden proximity. 

“…and the cacophony of those pathetic little dance parties that Angel Dust likes to throw is deafening. I must say, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to focus on my own endeavors with all the—” 

Charlie felt a lightbulb click on over her head. 

Alastor’s incessant chatter, his need to be close, his complaints. He was trying to tell her…that he needed her. And he was terrible at it. 

Charlie reached up to slide her hands under the lapels of his scarlet coat, causing the man to stumble mid-sentence. Before he could react, she wrapped her fingers in Alastor’s suspenders and pulled down to his level to press her lips against his. 

The kiss stunned Alastor into silence, just long enough for Charlie to worry that she had indeed misread this situation, when the switch flipped and Alastor melted into the kiss. 

His arms wrapped around her, pulling himself closer as he returned affection with a fervor that took Charlie’s breath away. Alastor’s ears, which had flattened in shock, slowly lifted into a relaxed position. Her fingers carded through the hair below them with a smile. 

“Al,” she murmured, her voice soft and sweet for him. “If you need something…you can just ask me.” 

Alastor’s left ear flicked before his vulnerability was covered with his usual smirk and a flourish. 

“Dear girl, I assure you that I don’t need anything from anyone,” he protested, his voice carrying its usual lilting cadence. “I am entirely self-sufficient, as always.”

Charlie raised a playful eyebrow up at him, glancing at his arms caging her against her desk still. 

Alastor’s grin widened, leaning in closer to get to her ear. 

“However,” he purred. “I came to extend a special invitation. To my Radio Tower, after the broadcast.” 

“But you don’t allow anyone up there?”

“Yes, yes,” Alastor interrupted with a dismissive wave. “But you are not just anyone, and I wish to give you a…private preview of a new record I am working on.” 

Charlie’s expression mixed with curiosity and concern. “It’s not…more screams of tortured sinners, is it?” she asked hesitantly. 

“Far from it, darling.” Alastor laughed, the sound coming out of him like a hum more than a crackle of his usual static. “I promise that you will find it quiet...interesting.” 

Charlie bit her bottom lip. As tempting as the offer was, she couldn’t help but feel just a little bit wary of what he had in store. They had very different definitions of what was interesting...or horrifying. 

Still, the eager glint in Alastor’s crimson eyes was hard to resist. 

“Alright,” she agreed. “I’ll come up after your broadcast.” 

“Splendid!” Alastor clapped his hands together, his face lighting up and his grin stretching impossibly wider. 

Before Charlie could say a word further, the demon leaned back in to steal another kiss. Then, with a wink, he melted back into the shadows. 

“Until later, darling.” he said as his voice fading into echoes as he disappeared, leaving Charlie with only the lingering warmth of his kiss. 

And, to wonder what exactly she had gotten herself into. 

The princess sighed and shook her head, returning to her papers across the desk. 

⊹❀⊹❀⊹✨⊹❀⊹❀⊹

Charlie made her way to the far side of the highest floor of the hotel, but still hesitated at the door to Alastor’s radio tower. His broadcast had just ended, and his smooth voice still danced around in her mind. 

Though he had invited her up to his tower—she hesitated at the door. 

It felt forbidden. Even if they had been close as two people could physically be, there were still things she didn’t know about Alastor. And she certainly didn’t know what he was up to. 

But, after Charlie had hyped herself up, she reached up to to knock on the door to his tower. Only to find it was unlocked. The door creaked open slowly, like a haunted house beckoning her on to the staircase that spiraled up into the dark. 

Just as the Princess reached the bottom step, Alastor materialized before her with his ever-present grin. Comforting and unnerving all at once, but still making her jump. 

“Darling,” he purred, despite the fact that he hand to grab her arm to keep her from stumbling. “Shall we?” 

“Oh, yes!” Charlie said, her tone brightening as he kept her hand. “I still can’t believe you invited me up here, Al.”

“You should indeed consider yourself part of an incredibly exclusive club, as I would eviscerate anyone else who dared come up here.” 

Charlie gave a little awkward laugh. But part of her knew Alastor wasn’t joking. 

They ascended the winding stairs as he kept her hand, Charlie’s anticipation building with each step. Alastor’s radio tower had always been off-limits, a mystery she’d longed to unravel.

As they reached the top, Alastor dramatically swept open the door. “Welcome to my sanctuary, darling.”

 The space was intimate, nothing like the grandiose room she’d imagined. Deep crimson walls were adorned with black accents, creating a cozy atmosphere she hadn’t expected from the Radio Demon.

“It’s... beautiful up here,” she breathed.

A lime green fire crackled in the fireplace, casting an eerie glow that reminded her of the bayou in his hotel room. Another place she’d only rarely seen—Alastor always visited hers. 

Charlie’s gaze was drawn to the wall of windows, offering a breathtaking view of Pentagram City’s deep red night time sky, just before the stars came alive. “I’ve never seen the city like this before.” 

Alastor sidled up behind her silently, but his breath was warm on her neck. “It’s quite the sight, isn’t it? A blend of beauty and chaos.”

She turned to face the demon, and was surprised by the softness in his gaze despite his grin. 

Maybe it was how personal this space was. Having Alastor share a part of himself no one else had ever seen. Charlie softened to him in turn. 

“Thank you for showing me this,” she said softly, reaching for his hand. “I know it means a lot to you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, my dear.” Alastor’s grin widened, a hint of genuine warmth creeping into his expression. “Now, shall we make ourselves comfortable?”

Charlie nodded, still taking in the intimate surroundings. Alastor guided her further into the room, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back.

“Can I offer you a drink, my dear?” Alastor asked, gesturing to a small bottle of deep amber liquid. “My personal favorite whiskey, aged to perfection.”

“Of course,” Charlie smiled, always eager to share more with him. 

As Alastor poured two glasses, Charlie’s attention was drawn to the bookshelves lining one wall. Her eyes widened as she approached, fingers trailing along the spines, wondering what Alastor was reading. 

“Curious kitten, aren’t you?” Alastor chuckled, handing her a glass. 

“Sorry!” The blonde jumped guiltily, feeling her face get pinker. What did he just call her?

“It’s fine darling, I was teasing.” He smirked as he tilted his whisky back to his lips. To Charlie’s rapt attention. 

She cleared her throat, looking back at the bookcase to seize on any distraction. “Is that…a real crocodile skull??”

“An alligator, but, yes, it is indeed real.” Alastor’s grin widened. “A momento from my mortal life.” 

Charlie nodded absently, tilting the glass to her lips—the smokey flavor warmed her throat right down to her core. Alastor was watching her, his expression greedy. 

“Come, my dear. I’d like to show you where the magic happens.” He hummed as he gently steered her towards the expansive broadcast control panel. 

Alastor’s fingers curled over her shoulders, applying enough pressure to seat her at a piano bench before the desk. Her eyes widened as she took in the array of buttons, knobs, and switches all before her. 

“How do you keep track of all this?” Charlie tried to keep her enthusiasm from bubbling right over. This place felt like it should be kept quiet unless he was on air. 

Alastor chuckled, sliding onto the bench beside her. “Practice, decades of it.” 

Charlie couldn’t help but be impressed—the only piece of equipment she recognized was a record player in the corner. Though it was far fancier than any she had seen. 

Though it did remind her of something he said before. 

“So, what was that about a song you wanted to show me?” She turned to him so quickly, her blonde hair swayed behind her. 

“Ah yes, of course! I’m delighted you remembered.”

He reached over, his lengthy arm easily spanning the distance to the record player. With a flourish, he selected a vinyl and set it on the turntable.

As the needle touched down, a sweet melody filled the air. It was soft and lilting, almost like a lullaby—not the kind of music she’d expected from Alastor at all.

Though her brow furrowed as a familiar note was struck. 

Suddenly, recognition dawned on Charlie’s face. “Wait a minute,” she gasped, turning to Alastor with wide eyes. “This is the song you played for me on the last night of our trip to the hotel!”

Alastor’s smile grew impossibly wider, a mix of pride and something else Charlie couldn’t quite place. “Indeed, it is, my clever girl. I’m impressed you remembered—as you were more than half asleep at the time.” 

“How could I forget?” Charlie felt a warmth spread through her chest at his praise, and the memory of cuddling up to him on that balcony. “It was a beautiful.” 

Alastor nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. “It is. However, it is far from complete. Merely a melody, lacking harmony or accompaniment.”

 “Oh? What are you planning to add to it?”

A wicked smirk played across Alastor’s features, sending a shiver down Charlie’s spine. Without breaking eye contact, he elongated his  hand, reaching for the control panel.

“Allow me to demonstrate,” he intoned, his fingers hovering over two sliders. 

Charlie watched, transfixed, as Alastor began to slowly push the controls upward. Her heart raced with anticipation, wondering what new element he was about to introduce to the hauntingly sweet melody.

Soft sounds filtered through the speakers, growing steadily louder. Breathy pants, a low groan, a mumbled word she couldn’t quite make out.

Charlie’s confusion only grew, worried that she was going to hear some tortured screams—when a clear sound cut through the air.

 Her own voice, unmistakable, whining out a name. “Al... Alastor~”

She whipped her head towards the Radio Demon. “Is... is that me on the recording?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. A terrible thought struck her, and she felt her stomach drop. “Were you... were you recording us together?”

Alastor’s grin stretched impossibly wider, his sharp teeth glinting in the soft light. But then he spoke, his voice smooth as silk. “Oh Heavens, no, of course not, my dear.”

Charlie exhaled shakily, relief washing over her. But confusion quickly took its place. “Then what...?”

“This, my darling, is merely an imitation of the sweet sounds you make for me. I’m quite talented at replicating what I’ve heard, you see.” Alastor chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent shivers down Charlie’s spine. “Alas, any discerning ear could tell the difference.”

Charlie’s mind reeled. 

“You…so you recreated my voice, I mean, my sounds…while we were…?”

“Yes.” Alastor’s scarlet eyes glinted with satisfaction. 

Charlie felt her face grow even hotter. It was mortifying to hear herself like this, and yet... a small part of her couldn’t help but feel flattered. The idea that Alastor had paid such close attention, had committed her most intimate sounds to memory...

“I... I suppose it is impressive,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “In its own way, but, Alastor—” 

“You needn’t worry, my dear, I assure you.” Alastor said as he leaned in, his arm sliding around her back. “I would never dream of sharing such, intimate sounds with anyone else.” 

Charlie’s breath hitched as his pointed fingers deftly untucked her shirt. His touch was cool on the skin of her hip, because her entire body was flush with heat. 

“You promise?” The princess asked softly, biting over her bottom lip. 

“Of course,” Alastor soothed, his fingers drawing circles now over the small of her back. “And, should you ever permit me to record during one of our…encounters. I can assure you no one else who heard it would live to tell the tale.” 

Charlie gaped. 

The idea of being recorded was both terrifying…and secretly thrilling.

Alastor’s knowing smirk told her he was well aware of the effect he was having on her. His fingers traced lazy circles along the base of her spine, and his nose was starting to nudge along her cheek. 

Charlie bit her lower lip, fighting back the impulsive answer she wanted to blurt out. 

Alastor was just waiting, ever so patiently, his lips and teeth grazing her ear with not near enough pressure for her liking. 

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Charlie whispered, “Do you promise? Promise you’ll never share any recordings. Or the imitations?”

 “My dear Charlie, you have my word.” Alastor pulled back slightly, meeting her eyes. His grin softened into something almost gentle. “And as you well know, I always keep my word.”

Charlie bit her lip for a moment longer, feeling a jumble of vulnerability and exhilaration at the idea. 

Until she finally nodded. 

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

Alastor could not contain his delight when Charlie acquiesced to his request. He surged forward, capturing her lips with his own. 

The darling girl leaned into him at once, as she always did, her arms thrown around his shoulders. Alastor slid his arms around her waist, his shadow tentacles helping ease her into his lap, thrilling at the familiar feeling of her thighs caging his on the bench. 

Charlie shifted closer to him as their lips drag together. Wriggly little thing she was. 

Alastor’s hand slid up along her back, long fingers cradling the back of her skull to keep her still—so he could let his razor-sharp teeth graze her bottom lip. Earning him a delightful gasp from the Princess. 

Reminding the demon to send a tentacle up along the console and set the recording going, greedy to capture every sound. 

He hardly minded when either of them were a tad too enthusiastic with their kisses. He thrilled whenever her fangs met his flesh, but she didn’t enjoy the taste of blood as much as he did. 

Alastor held Charlie where he wanted her as he worked his mouth down the column of her throat.

He popped open the black buttons of her white shirt as he made his way down her collar, knowing that despite her distaste for blood—Charlie loved the marks he left on her. For as long as they lasted. 

Alastor ducked his head to suck a mark into the crook of her pale neck and shoulder, eliciting a quivering moan from Charlie that sent shivers through the Radio Demon. 

Her slender fingers found their way up under his coat, dragging along the line of his suspenders as he worked his lips and teeth over the bones of her collar. Alastor rolled his shoulders back, flicking his wrists to drop the red fabric in a pool behind the bench, without pulling his attention from the task of undressing Charlie. His long fingers made quick work of the rest of her buttons to revel in the white skin beneath. 

Charile was undoing his bowtie and sliding it from his collar as he dragged his nails along her silky torso. 

Alastor had been concerned, preoccupied, that he might hurt her with his sharp claws and sharper teeth—but practice had built his confidence in his ability to touch her softness without hurting her with his pointed edges. 

He drew his fingers down the contours of her body, dragging a single claw up from her belly. With just enough pressure, he sliced the fabric between the cups of her bra. 

And the garment fell away from her body. 

Charlie gasped as cool air hit her skin, pebbling her nipples before his darkening eyes. Just so he could hear the indignant way she said, “Alastor!” 

He hid his smirk by taking her entire breast into his mouth. 

He sucked her tenderly, so she could feel the edge of his teeth grazing her flesh, leaving marks that wouldn’t last until morning. 

“Alastor,” Charlie huffed, making his grin widen over her skin. “You ripped my bra.” 

The demon just chuckled against her chest, clearly more intent on worshiping every inch of her than addressing her transitory concerns. 

Charlie was not mollified. He felt her give an irritated tug at his hair. 

Alastor pulled back with a drag of his tongue. “Yes, love?” He cocked an eyebrow, mischief quirking his lips. “I’ll mend it later.” 

Her breath caught at the endearment, but he distracted her by lavishing his attention on her  breast. 

Alastor flicked his red thumb over her nipple, feeling the way Charlie shivered and goosebumps erupted over her skin. Her hands were back to threading through his hair and ruffling it up. 

His ears flicked with anticipation. 

Charlie was distracting him from her chest with the teasing of her fingers. They had always been, sensitive, but he had never realized  until the princess discovered his weakness for having them petted. 

Alastor would only allow her to stroke him like a contented house cat—forgetting his ministrations and the sounds he was trying to pull her. His own moan was muffled in the valley of her breasts. His forehead pressed against her rabbiting heart. 

So…distracting. 

With a rumbling growl, Alastor lifted Charlie up by the hips, depositing her back on his broadcast desk. As he sent the bench seat tumbling with his heel.

The rest of her clothing vanished with a flash of his shadows. He’d shred them in his impatience otherwise—and he caused a delightful little yelp from his Princess. 

Alastor locked eyes with Charlie as his fingers curl around her milky thighs and push her legs apart. Smirking from ear to ear as he ducked his head to drag his tongue through her slick folds. 

Sweet thing that she was, practically trilling under his mouth. 

Her fingers scrabble over his head, before finally grabbing onto his branching antlers. Alastor’s answering moan reverberated against her pussy, causing her hips to cant to his tongue again. 

“Al, what…” His ears turn towards her, but he refuses to give up his treat just yet—until she insisted with a tug on his ear. “The controls, I don’t wanna, lay on them and—” 

Alastor growled, promptly shrouding the machinery in a dark shadow. 

“Darling,” he chided, his voice smooth despite the slick coating his lips. “Quite rude to interrupt a man while he’s eating.” 

“You did not just—” Charlie’s entire face was consumed with the most brilliant shade of red. 

“I did.” Alastor smirked, shamelessy, before returning to his meal. 

The blonde is a trembling mess beneath his tongue. Her hips jerked up against him, because she just couldn’t stay still the closer and closer she got to the edge. 

His antlers were growing under her grip. Wildly now. 

Alastor didn’t lift his head from sucking on her clit as he summoned his shadows. The tendrils wrapped around her hands, giving something safer to hold on to as his hands held her open. And still. 

Charlie’s musical pleas filled his ears, begging so sweetly for him, because she was so close. 

Without pulling away from her, Alastor conjured another tentacle to squirm its way up between them. Charlie’s hips bucked desperatly as the tip of the shadow found her entrance, fucking into her fast and shallow as he worked her clit. 

Charlie arched off of Alastor’s desk with a cry as she came. 

The way she said his name had him shuddering above her, fingers clawing into the wood either side of her hips. 

His lips curled into a satisfied smile as he pulled away from her clit, knowing the little numb was sensitive with her release, but his shadow tentacle continued to work her, drawing out every last shiver and whine of pleasure. 

Until Charlie fell limp against his desk. 

Alastor hummed as he leaned over the Princess, pressing tender kisses to her temple and along her cheek. Her heart was pounding against his chest. 

The demon smirked against her lips. 

Charlie gave a little whine into his mouth, reaching for him like her limbs were drenched in molasses. 

Alastor ducked to her hand to meet her touch. His lips and teeth skimmed her palm, her wrist, letting her trail idle fingers over him as her body calmed. 

When she tugged at his blood red shirt, he hesitated for only a moment, before pulling it off. 

Scars littered the Radio Demon’s torso. The most prominent of which the Princess had seen that first night they were together. The slash across from an angel’s blade, still tinged gold from his brush with the divine. 

Charlie’s eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, to his continuing relief, and she bit into her black bottom lip. 

“Again?” she whispered, her voice just loud enough to be heard. 

“Again.” Alastor’s grin swelled with his ego. 

He loved it when she asked for more. When she surrendered her self so completely to his touch…to the pleasure he gave her. 

Alastor pulled his tentacles back, and flipped Charlie onto her stomach, caging her in with his arms as he pressed his chest against her back. 

“Al…” Charlie started a protest, only to give a squeak of surprise as he conjured another tentacle. “…fuck.”

He purred, pushing her hair aside to expose the nape of her neck. “Yes, darling, that is indeed the idea.” He leaned down to press a soft kiss to the bite he’d left earlier, just as the second tentacle joined the first—plunged deep inside her. 

Charlie grabbed for his wrist and clinging to him as the two tentacles worked along her inner walls. She mewled beneath him, her hips bucking back, and her ass rutting against the straining fabric of his pants. 

Alastor was achingly hard. But he held back, because he wanted to swallow every sweet mewling cry she gave. His clenched teeth pressed against her neck as she squirmed so enticingly beneath him as she neared another peak. 

He panted against Charlie’s ear as her legs trembled until her hips stuttered and faltered. Rewarding Alastor with her most exquisite sound yet—her pleasure, dripping down her thighs onto the floor in front of his desk. 

“Good girl,” Alastor crooned a litany of praises into Charlie’s neck. 

✧✦✧✦⚜️✧✦✧✦

The console’s red light blinked in time with Alastor’s pounding heart, recording every sound and sigh that escaped Charlie’s lips as he heled her close. 

He kept his arms around her, his chest pressed to his back, her  head nestled into the crook of his shoulder. It took longer each time for Charlie to recover. But he was happy to wait—getting her like this, just for him, was as satisfying to the demon as getting off himself. 

Charlie panted softly, her golden hair spilled over him like a waterfall, tickling under his chin with every gentle stirring. 

He tasted salt on her cheek when he kissed it. And her pulse fluttered under his lips. 

As Alastor let her doze against him, he couldn’t help but trace his fingers over her hips, her waist, rounding her breasts, and carefully avoiding her delicate core as she recovered. Marveling at how she responded to even his feather light touches. And lingering kisses when she turned her head to him and demanded them. 

The demon tilted his head back with a smirk. “Another?”

Charlie shuddered delicately in his arms, pulling a chuckle from the man’s chest. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Al,” Charlie whined, her movements even more sluggish as she tugged at his hair. “You’re…you’re gonna wear me out before you even fuck me.” She lamented so prettily, he almost gave in then and there. 

But Alastor kept his grin as he dragged his fingers over her thighs. “Sweetheart,” he drawled. “ You know that outcome will suit my fancy just as well.” 

The Princess whined throatily in protest.

She wriggled in his hold, squirming until Alastor had to help her turn in his arms and settle back on his lap. 

Charlie looked absolutely, deliciously wrecked. Her makeup smudged and her eyes dilated with want and her hair a mess as she threw her arms around his shoulders. 

“Alastor,” she began plaintively, her voice low and desperate as her lips nudged insistently at his chin and along his jaw. 

“Yes, darling?” He responded with a teasing lilt, even as his hands slid down the curve of her back. 

“Please?” The Princess begged, and Alastor shuddered. He so loved it when she begged so prettily. 

“Please…what, my dear?” He grinned his widest grin. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific in your request.”

Charlie let out a groan so exasperatedly that Alastor nearly broke and laughed at the sound of pure frustration. 

The Princess gripped to his shoulders, and he tilted his head as she turned around and glanced at the blinking ‘Record’ button on his console. 

Alastor cocked his eyebrows up as he waited. 

“Al…” Her voice was just above a whisper, her hand cupping his cheek as heat erupted across hers. “Take me back to bed and fuck me, please.” 

⊹❀⊹❀⊹✨⊹❀⊹❀⊹

Alastor’s smile was instant and predatory—like he was going to ravage her right there all over again. And Charlie’s heart fluttered in her ears, unsure of which she wanted more. 

“As you wish.” 

His arms wound tighter around her, and they were swallowed up in his deep shadows. Charlie gasped as she felt cool air on her skin, and the soft satin of her bed on her back.

The Princess pushed herself up on her weak arms, searching for him in her dark bedroom, the only light coming from the black sky outside, littered with scarlet stars. 

“Al…” She hummed as her eyes adjusted, and she finally caught sight of him. 

Alastor’s clothes had been left behind. And Charlie had another moment to just admire the tantalizing sight that was usually concealed under so many layers of fine clothes. The slim contours of his torso, his grayish skin littered with marks she wanted to memorize with her fingers and lips, if he’d ever allow it. 

Though, right now, she’d be happy to just get her mouth on his straining cock. He never allowed that. 

“Had your fill of staring, darling?”

Charlie’s gaze snapped back to the dark-red sclera and scarlet irises above his wickedly gleaming teeth. 

“Never,” she decided, already reaching for him, pulling him down on top of her. 

Her fingers curled into his hair at once, her body cradling his, eager to have him impossibly closer. Inside her. She needed Alastor like she needed to breathe. 

And seemed to finally have sympathy for her plight. 

He kissed her just as desperately, groaning against her when the length of his cock raked against her soaking folds. 

“Al….” Charlie arched her back off the bed, ready to plead with him one more time, but it seemed even Alastor had enough teasing at last. 

Finally, he slid inside her with a shuddering groan, and Charlie curled her legs around him to feel every inch. Alastor’s long fingers sunk into the bed on either side of her head. As her fingers tangled in his hair. 

Though he’d worked her into damn near a frenzy, she couldn’t bring herself to rush Alastor now. His movements were deliberate, each thrust sending waves of pleasure cousing through her tingling nerves. 

Charlie clung to him as they moved together. His eyes were so bright red they were glowing in the dark as she felt the sweat beading on his brow and the tension in every muscle as he held himself back—savoring every moment. 

Just as she was reveling that she could hold the Radio Demon so close. Not the demon, but the man underneath it all, who let his smile slip as he kissed her with ragged breaths. 

His hips stuttered, every movement more desperate and wild as her hands found his ears again—only to feel the familiar weight of a tentacle slithering between them. 

The shadowy appendage didn’t just find her clit. It thrummed against her frazzled bundle of nerves, drawing pleasure from her one last time. Coaxing her to giving in one last time. 

Her head fell back into the pillows as Alastor found his release with her name on his tongue. 

After, might just be Charlie’s favorite part. A pile of limbs just panting in each other’s arms, a mess of sweat and sweetness that she craved. 

When it felt like Alastor was at his most sincere. 

He fell back onto the disheveled pillows, his arm draped over his eyes, his chest rising and falling slower and slower. And hardened his smile finally faded to nothing but softness. 

Charlie inched her way back to him, curling into his side. “Will you…stay with me tonight?” She asked faintly, drawing her finger under his chin and over his skin. He sometimes left before dawn or right after she fell asleep. 

Either way, she missed him at once. 

Alastor lifted his hand, his red eyes fixed on the canopy of the bed. “Of course I will…for as long as you’ll have me.” 

Charlie beamed like the sun had risen at the witching hour. 

“Better get comfortable.” She said as she pillowed into Alastor’s chest. “Because I’ll always have you.” 

Alastor chuckled, and she could hear the smile return to his voice as he murmured. “Yes, my dear.” 

⚜️ Thanks for Reading ⚜️

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

First of all - CONGRATS!!! 🥳

and while I'm here, can I also request S&🪶 please? (i'll leave the rest up to you)

YOU'RE AWESOME! 🖤

Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy what I came up with (incidentally, this also works as a @subeddieweek entry, whoops 😅🖤)

I'm celebrating 1k followers - requests are open!

A matter of control

Rated: E

Words: 990

Tags: Dom!Steve, Sub!Eddie, bondage, blindfolds, overstimulation (or the attempt at it), they're idiots your honor

“Here we go,” Steve murmurs. He lets the ends of the silk rope glide through his fingers, admiring how the black fabric shimmers against the pale skin of Eddie’s wrists. “You still good, baby? Too tight?” 

“I … no.” Eddie shakes his head, trying to wiggle his way out of the blindfold - black silk to match the ropes. Steve watches how he bites his lip when he realizes it won't budge, how he darts out his tongue to sooth over the spot, and smiles smugly. “Just … not sure this was my best idea.” 

He tugs on the ropes tying his wrists to the headboard. Steve makes a low shushing sound, cupping his face with both hands, and Eddie goes very still. 

“Hey, it's okay,” Steve says, voice gentle but firm. “I gotcha. You know that, right?” 

Eddie nods, a jerky flutter of movement. 

Steve smiles, running the pad of his thumb over a flushed cheekbone. “Say it for me?” 

Eddie gulps and shivers under his hands, but he relaxes. “You got me,” he rasps. 

“That's right, Eds,” Steve coos, leaning in for a long, filthy kiss. He doesn’t pull away until he feels Eddie go boneless and pliant under him, and when he does, it is to a whine of protest. “Wanna keep going?” 

Eddie nods frantically, then remembers he's supposed to use his words. “Fuck, yes. Stevie, please-” 

“Okay,” Steve says, silencing him with another kiss. “Okay, baby.” 

He kisses and nips his way down Eddie's jaw and neck and chest, making sure to keep it light and teasing - he still has a lot planned. Only when Eddie’s breathing quickens and he starts squirming does he stop and pull away. Eddie whimpers at the loss of contact, straining against the blindfold. 

“Stevie? What’re you-” 

“Patience,” Steve admonishes, opening the nightstand drawer and pulling out the object he hid there. Then he runs the tip of it along Eddie’s side, one smooth drag from his armpit and over his ribcage, all the way down to his hip. Eddie yelps and almost jolts off the mattress. The headboard creaks. 

“Jesus fuck- … Is that a fucking feather?” 

“Clever, aren’t you?” Steve praises. He makes the feather paint a wide arch over the dip of Eddie’s hip bone, then drags it back up to his chest. Eddie lets out a snort. A rather loud, rather unsexy one. “Everything okay?” 

Eddie gives a weird, nasal kind of squeak. His lips are twitching, and Steve realizes he's desperately trying not to laugh. 

“Eddie?” he asks, momentarily stopping his ministrations. “What's wrong?” 

“Fuck,” Eddie wheezes, nostrils heaving. “Okay. Okayokayokay, this is not- … So, here's the thing, I'm sorta ticklish.” 

Steve chuckles. “Well, good. If you weren't, this wouldn't work.” 

The tip of the feather traces the spider tattoo and Eddie lurches. 

“You don't understand,” he pleads. “Not just a little ticklish. Not the cute and sexy kind. More like the full-body-spasms-and-laughing-fits kind. I can't control it, man, I'll-” 

“Eds,” Steve says gently, putting a hand on his chest to push his squirming body back into the mattress. “Don't you think you’re being a bit dramatic? This is what it's all about, right? Stepping out of your comfort zone?” 

Eddie hesitates. Steve knows he's blinking furiously behind the blindfold, even without seeing his eyes. 

“I guess …” 

“See?” Steve murmurs, dropping into that low rumble that does things to Eddie. “Now … I want you to be nice and still for me. I know you can do it. Long inhales and exhales, follow my voice.” 

Eddie does, letting Steve guide him into a pattern of deep, relaxed breaths. When Steve starts tracing the feather over his naked skin again, he whines and twitches, but not as violently as before. Steve keeps it up, covering him in praise and gentle commands while he crawls further down, ghosting the feather over Eddie’s hip bones, his thighs. Eddie's breaths turn into little whimpers and his hands twitch in their bonds, but he holds still, letting Steve’s voice settle over him, sweet and soothing and thick as honey. 

Until the feather touches the inside of his knee and Eddie’s leg jerks as if zapped. Steve is faintly aware of a foot connecting with his temple, a firework of pain erupting behind his eyes, and then all goes dark. When he comes back to himself, he's on the ground beside the bed and Eddie’s voice is a high, panicked babble somewhere above him. 

“-vie, I'm so sorry, please say something. Oh my God, did I knock you out? Are you unconscious? Please don't be unconscious, I don't want the kids to find us like this, Henderson would never let us-” 

“Jesus,” Steve groans into the carpet. His heartbeat is a jackhammer in his skull and his ears are ringing. “You kick like a horse. Why don't you just kill me? Be done with it.” 

Eddie laughs, breathy and relieved and just a little cheeky. 

“Now who's being a bit dramatic, big boy? And besides, I warned you.” 

Steve huffs, finally picking himself off the floor and clambering back onto the bed. Eddie jumps slightly when the mattress dips, but eagerly turns his head in Steve’s direction for another kiss. 

“Alright,” Steve grouses. “Message received. No more feathers.” 

“Glad we agree,” Eddie hums, arching into the touch of Steve's lips tracing more kisses down his neck and chest. “Now get this thing off me so- what are you doing?” 

Steve, who has just started swirling the tip of his tongue around one hard nipple, stops and grins. 

“Ah-ah,” he chides, pushing Eddie’s legs apart and crawling further down, breath ghosting over the tip of his flushed cock. Eddie gasps and twitches under his hands, but this time, Steve's hands hold firm. He's not making the same mistake twice. “I said no more feathers. I did not say I was done with you. Now be a good boy and hold still.” 

[akumastrife]

might drown in these tides between us // AFTG (Selkie/Pirate AU)

Rating: Mature (canon typical violence, drinking and drug use, smut in later chapters, mentions of past abuse.) Fandom: AFTG/The Foxhole Court Pairings: MattNeil and Andreil (background: MattDan, Rennison, Allison/Seth, maybe I'll throw kevin in there idk the devil's been speaking to me.) pirates love sharing booty ok this ship's open relationships are vast Word Count: CHAPTER 1 (out of????) 3.7k {Read full chapter on AO3 and subscribe for future chapters!} Summary: Neil's spent too long running and hiding, too long lying and pretending, to ruin it all with a stupid bout of carelessness. He should run, but with one foot on land and the other in the sea and his skin pulling too tight wherever he goes, he's running out of options as his past gets closer to catching up to him. Or: The Selkie!Neil AU that got away from me. Written for the @aftg-paranormal event =3

“Crossbow!” Dan roars over the ringing canon fire.

“Not for long,” Allison throws back. She lunges over a sliding box and scoops up a rifle out of Renee’s hands. “Seth!” She shouldn’t’ve wasted the breath. He’s already sprinting across the deck and skidding between her and the railing.

She swings the barrel of the rifle onto his shoulder to steady and—between one breath and the next—they’re both deathly still on the rolling deck; Allison sighting her target high up in the other ship’s rigging.

Neil’s not sure his ears will ever stop ringing from the boom of cannons, the shouting, the clang of metal, the splintering of wood. But in that moment as he ducks behind the mast, he can somehow hear the exact moment Allison inhales slow and smooth, the catch as Seth doesn’t breathe at all, and fletching singing through air as an arrow skims scant centimeters from Allison’s cheek.

He watches the drop of blood fall to the deck, soaking in. 

She fires and the man tumbles down, scream stolen on the wind.

Seth cheers as Nicky whoops, hurling something at him. Neil doesn’t get a good look at what—Seth swings a cricket bat and sends it sailing across the space between their ships.

Another man falls.

It’s over fast after that, with a furiously waving white shirt and several of the crew swinging over onto the enemy deck.

Neil stays where he is, heart thumping fast but not from exertion. The boarding crew will handle what to take, who to spare. He’s content not to have a hand in it, distancing himself from the violence as much as he can. Instead focusing on keeping his head down and bringing Abby and Aaron bandages where needed, clumsily catching the hammer Andrew tosses at him to start temporary patching. He grimaces at the jarring of his thumb, but says nothing.

The work is becoming familiar, and there’s a certain surety in having a set role. Knowing what’s expected of him even if he hasn’t yet got a handle on all of it. He’s learning. Fast enough, if Kevin is only snapping at him that they’ll dump him on the nearest island, instead of actually doing it. They’ve passed two already this week, and Kevin has yet to make good on any threats.

He deftly coils up rope, and ties down a crate that’s come loose.

He climbs the rigging with a thick needle in his mouth to stitch up a rip in a sail. Almost-smiles at Nicky across the way, hanging down by his knees to catch a bulky spool of the waxed thread they use for repairs. Nicky smiles enough for both of them, laughing brightly at something Dan’s said, leveraging himself up to join him in his work.

Neil’s not forgiven him. Might not for a while yet. But he can accept the spool and cut off a length with the knife strapped to his chest before handing it back.

It’s all necessary, but tedious at the same time. A little less so with the chatter and cheers and ribbing floating around him. He’s happy enough letting it happen without him, sinking into the folds.

Familiarity is certain death. Familiarity breeds complacency—will make him docile as a calf to slaughter.

He clenches his hand against the trembling, forces a cough through the tight squeeze in his chest. Shakes his mother’s voice from his head.

Shakes Nicky’s eyes from him as he wipes his hand on his breeches, surprised at the smear of blood. He sticks his pricked finger into his mouth, ignoring the sting and the taste of grime, salt, and gunpowder ground into his skin.

That, too, is becoming familiar enough to not be worth his notice.

He’s not sure if it’s crashing waves or seabirds screaming in his ears.

{Read the rest of the first chapter on AO3 and subscribe for future chapters!}

[florianniss]

Here's some smut for your holiday enjoyment.

Dungeons and Drag Queens -

ratedE, identity porn, complete

It is Sunday. The food has been cleared, patrons long since gone. The tight-knit group of performers lounge around the table. Hair is let down, high-heeled shoes discarded. It’s a joyous atmosphere.

Robin is a hit. She laughs louder and harder than Steve has ever seen before, leaning against a pretty redhead who’s the stuck-up cheerleader type. A couple of hours spent watching a private show the Queens needed to test on an audience, however, has loosened her up. Her lipstick is smeared across her smiling face.

Steve stands by the bar near the stairs, watching his friend and her date bond with new friends. There’s something hopeful in the way they can be themselves here. Even the burly bouncers are enjoying the camaraderie.

“Steve,” Helen says, crooking a finger his way. “Don’t be afraid to wrinkle that fantastic suit. Come back to us.”

Steve smiles, feeling stiff, nervous. “I’m just fine right here.”

The whole table makes kissing sounds, mocking the way he’s so head over heels in love. It’s all in good fun; Steve knows they’re as happy for him as he is for himself. He’s just got to get past this waiting.

Steve glances at his watch and thinks about red scales on a mermaid dress, dangerous scarlet nails and an actual flaming throne for his Dragon Queen. It almost smoked them all out, but the effect was stunning and totally worth it. He’s kind of proud they’re taking his DnD campaign and turning it into a drag show.

He checks his watch again and does a quick calculation. They’ll have to take the highway to make it into the city in time. They’ve had these reservations for a while now, and the closer the date, the more and more anxious Steve becomes. He wants everything to be perfect.

The creak on the wooden stairs above him catches his undivided attention. One hand flies to the knot at his throat to straighten it, the other runs along the length to smooth it out. Stella tiptoes over and plants a wet one on the apple of his cheek, laughs, and then hands him a clean handkerchief.

“Oops! Wanna rub that off, Honey. Wouldn’t want anyone to get jealous.” And then, "Good luck!"

Steve hardy-hars at her and presses the cloth to his cheek, unworried about any jealousy, but concerned about lipstick on his white collar. He and Robin from JCPenneys put together a stellar look; it’s sex and confidence that he’s going for. Can’t afford to miss his mark.

Someone shorter than him appears on the final step and lifts the handkerchief out of his hand. Big brown eyes, dark, slicked-back hair. She’s dressed in a cornflower blue sundress that shows off her amazing legs and bare (bare!) feet, carrying a clutch purse in one bejeweled hand, a glittering gauzy scarf at her throat.

“Oh my god,” he says on a terrified inhale. 

She smiles shyly and touches the cloth to his cheek. Bare arms reveal clear, unmarked skin. She’s covered over her ink.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Steve says, weak in the knees at how lovely she is.

She laughs. Steve melts. “I wanted us to match.”

Catcalls erupt from the table, whistles and whoops and cheers. His date slots an arm through his elbow. Steve recovers and escorts her away.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Robin shouts. 

“That’s great advice! You should follow it!” Steve shouts back. The woman on his arm chuckles to herself.

The bouncer Steve head-butted once upon a time holds out a pair of sparkling strappy sandals. She takes them, holding tightly to Steve’s arm as she slides into them one at a time. He watches the graceful curve of her bare back as she bends over and has to close his eyes to stay focused.

Wayne’s bike awaits at the curb. It’s her virgin ride, the first other than the test drive up and down the driveway. The late afternoon is breezy, cooling fast. Steve holds out his leather jacket to keep her skin safe. He wouldn’t dream of taking her for a ride without it.

She helps Steve into his helmet, and he with hers. He thrills a little as she sinks into the seat behind him, as long, stockinged legs grip tightly around his own.

Steve risks temptation and runs an ungloved hand along the outside of her knee. It’s just as silky as he imagined. 

God, he’s the luckiest asshole alive.

She doesn’t distract him, other than the occasional squeeze of his elbow, her chin on the backside of his shoulder. Steve is glad because he doesn’t know what he’d do if she were to fondle the tightness of his crotch.

Steve straps the helmets and jacket to the bike while she watches, stunning smile on an amused face.

“I think we should work you into the show, somehow,” she teases. “Knight in Shining Armor that you are.”

Steve takes her hand and raises it to his lips; he’s liking this role he’s playing much more than he thought he would.

“Anything you desire, M’Lady.”

They are greeted with polite smiles, and Steve’s nervousness subsides again. Appreciative eyes linger on their joined hands, welcoming them, seating them, taking their orders without unsavory commentary.

“I think this might work,” she whispers conspiratorially, as if they’ve robbed a bank and gotten away with it. Her wine glass has a crescent-shaped lipstick smudge on it. One thumb runs seductively along the thin edge.

“Thought it would.” Steve absolutely did not. He is still terrified for his date; her heart must be racing just like his.

“It’s because of your James Bond vibe,” she continues, drinking him in once again. “People can’t take their eyes off you.”

Steve laughs quietly. He hasn’t noticed. He’s too busy watching her.

“Happy to be a distraction,” he says. She raises her fork to her mouth and Steve goes a little dizzy as her tongue pokes out.

God, he wants to be that fork.

They skip dessert and return to the bike, but something’s missing, and he says so.

“I want to take you dancing.”

She smiles, but it’s sad. “You think that’s a good idea?”

Her hesitation is understandable, and Steve doesn’t want to push things too far. It’s their first time out together, and he’s hoping for many, many more. Something primal inside of him wants to show her off, wants to flaunt her to the world, wants to shout that she’s his and nobody else can have her.

An idea presents itself, and Steve swivels his head, looking up and down the street. It’s fairly quiet, just the passing cars, and even that is few and far between. It’s Sunday, after all.

He turns the key in the bike and switches the radio on, tuning it until he finds something that will work. When he straightens and faces the love of his life, there’s a strange emotion on her face.

Steve slips a hand around her waist and pulls her in. “Would you like to dance?”

She melts into him, cheek on his shoulder, hair pushed up right into his nose.

He laughs. “That’s a yes.” 

They sway on the street. Steve closes his eyes and pretends they’re at some swanky, sweaty club. Pretends that they’re accepted the way they are, eyes passing over them like they’re just another couple in love.

It tweaks something inside his chest.

They decide to walk the three blocks to the hotel. Steve repositions the bike so it’s further off the street and up on its stand. He unfastens the packed bag. She holds a helmet under each arm, eyes shining with anticipation with what they’re about to do.

The reception inside the lobby is the same as the restaurant, pleasant smiles that flick over them nonchalantly. Steve recognizes that other people around them are staring, but they’re focused on him and not his date. Maybe he overdid it.

He doesn’t care. They’re opening the door to their room, and it’s cost him more money than he’s ever spent before. But as she closes and locks the door, draws the safety chain and turns to face him, Steve knows he will never deny her anything she wants.

He sets the bag on the floor and lifts a hand to take her scarf. She lifts her chin and looks away, and oh, the slide of pale blue fabric over her Adam’s apple makes him want to bite it. But he’s a gentleman, and he pushes that urge way down deep. Patient, he can be patient.

His date, however, cannot. She pushes him back against the wall with the palm of one hand and skewers him still with a look. The sound that comes from his throat is tortured, weak, and it’s not the way he wants to begin.

So he covers her fingers with his own and gently tugs them away. He gently brushes a stray strand of hair off her face and softly says her name.

“Nat.”

She smiles and the aggression subsides. “Biker Boy.”

Read on AO3

[winchestermylove]

Can I please ask for a huge list of fics with Sam calling Dean mummy. Just weird maternal shit is absolutely ideal. I just need it in my life 🙏🏻

of course!! all the ones i've found are from ao3, so i'll link them!

these first three are explicitly mommy kink, and they are also very popular so sorry if you've already read them!

the ones with an asterisk (*) are my favorites (even though these are all technically my favorites)

---

*i do believe his mouth is heaven by orphan_account

6,996 words

in which dean realizes that his whole damn life has revolved around his love for his baby brother, and nothing could ever change that. not even an accidental mommy kink.

road snack by cherrysnobs

1,819 words

Sam gets hungry while they’re driving to a new case. Dean’s got his favorite snack on tap.

mother is pretending by hathfrozen

19,936 words

Sam and Dean get reckless about how they're handling the pain of season 2, and whoops! slowly develop a Mommy kink along the way.

---

these next ones are kind of honorable mentions, because they don't include a specific mommy kink but do have parent/caretaker!dean or kind of a mommy-esque vibe.

---

me and you together together together by according2thelore

5,443 words

Teenage Dean loses Sam in a mall. He does not take it well.

*Feeling Small by ladygizarme

1,385 words

Sam longs to close the distance between them and burrow into Dean, but he hesitates. He’s almost seventeen and logically he knows it’s weird to still be seeking his brother’s reassurance just because he had a nightmare.

also its counterpart (same story but dean's pov) Baby Brother by ladygizarme 2,130 words Sometimes it kinda pisses him off that Sam is going to be taller than him any day now. It also makes him proud, though. Somehow, despite all the odds against him, he managed to raise this kid up big and healthy. But right now, it just makes him kind of heartsick for the days when his little brother was, well, actually little.

*Good by lovetheirloves

7,167 words

This, Dean knows – Sam is, at his core, more than anything else, good.

Baby Blue by Edwardina

12,817 words

Sam touches a cursed pacifier and is compelled to suck on it non-stop. At first, Dean thinks it's hilarious and Sam is humiliated, but the way Dean treats Sam is actually a turn-on for them both.

Couldn't take care of you by StellaRasu

6,857 words

Dean never gets over wanting to breastfeed Sam and being unable to do it. It escalates when Sam finds out.

The Nature of Reality by Ferrera

19,510 words

After Mary and Dean manage to get Sam out of the basement where Toni trapped and tortured him, Dean takes care of Sam.

*Cradle Our Desire by shir_hashirim

9,155 words

Dean bites his lip, hesitating for a moment before continuing. Sam was open with him, so now it’s his turn. “Besides, I like taking care of you. Wish you’d let me do it more often, if I’m being honest.”

He walks over to where Sam is sitting on the bed, still gripping the little stuffed animal tightly. Dean reaches over and smoothes down the front of Sam’s hair gently. For a minute, he worries if he’s gone too far, said too much.

[ghuleh-recs]

It was our beloved Bee's (@da-rulah) birthday yesterday! To celebrate I've made us all a mixtape of some of her greatest hits... which ended up being almost everything she's written. Whoops. The only reason I left anything out was to save some for next year! Bee is such a kind, lovely, generous, TALENTED soul and I'm so very lucky to have befriended her. So go forth and read some top tier papa (and Mary!) smut. Leave Bee some comments while you're at it—as a lil' bday gift. ♡

recs under the cut.

Rituale Septem - Terzo (and everyone else) x Reader - 74k

Your faith is shaking; 16 years at the Ministry, and what did you have to show for it? You'd never even heard the Dark One's voice like your Siblings… But what could you do? Well, you could ask the advice of the one person chosen to guide his flock through adversity; Papa Emeritus III. And he has an idea that might work…

Rubenesque - Secondo x Plus Size!Reader - 7.8k

Retirement had its perks. For Secondo, one of those was being able to spend much more time on the things he enjoyed. And there were only two things he truly enjoyed these days; art, and you. Although if you asked him, he’d insist that they were one and the same. So how would he react when he learns that your peers are mocking your sinfully gorgeous body, and you're struggling to love yourself?

A Personal Ritual - Copia x Reader - 2.1k

"With an expert flick of his wrist, it unfolded, a glinting silver blade unsheathing itself from the brilliant red of the marbled handle. When he leaned forward, he stretched his neck with a lean to one side, lining the blade up against his skin and in one quick, clean motion he’d swiped a stripe up to the sharp edge of his jawline. The blade was wiped off on a cloth draped over the sink, then brought to do the same thing again next to the already created strip of clean, smooth skin.   You'd never seen him do this before, but you were enraptured – privileged, even… It was you and you alone that had the honour bestowed upon them to watch the man you loved in his most humble and domestic of moments, to see the parts of him that nobody else in the world got to see just because they were usually saved for him, and him alone. While you’d spent many an intimate night in his bed, sharing your bodies and souls in every way a lover can, these were the moments that felt truly intimate."

The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x Reader - 72k (WIP)

Mary knew the entire town hated him; the metalhead with the freaky make up and fake blood dripping down his face. He was the local menace, the town vandal, the cliché trouble maker. He played up to that image, enjoyed the havoc and the chaos, revelled in it. He loved pissing people off. And so, what better revenge to get on his beloved town, than to fuck around with the Mayor's daughter…

In Cold Blood - Terzo x Reader - 19.4k

Solitude had always appealed. Perhaps that’s why you took on this project… The thought of transforming a dilapidated old Victorian farmhouse into a sanctuary of your own, to live in peace and the romanticisms of a gothic home you fell in love with. After the structural integrity of the house is replenished, you fill your days with DIY and decorating, bringing to life a house that had been frozen in time and left to rot for decades. You could enjoy the solitude of the land already, a few miles outside of a town plagued by disappearances and a fear of the dark. But you couldn’t escape the news of more missing people, nor the strange occurrences happening around your new home. Were you imagining things? Or was there indeed a shadow haunting your sanctuary?

Confessional - Cardinal Copia x Reader - 22k

As a sister of sin, it was your duty to confess at least once a month, to have your sins praised by a higher up member of the clergy. But you only ever chose Thursday nights, when you knew he was on duty. And tonight, you were working up the courage to confess your darkest sin - the dreams you had been having…

Learn the Ropes - Secondo x Reader - 2.4k

Secondo likes to be in charge. He likes to be in control. But you'd always wondered what he might do if one day, you decided to flip the script, and take charge for him…

Copia gets Bullied - Copia x Reader - 2.2k

"I know this trope for Cardinal Copia is over done but I would love, love your take on it. I would like a sister of sin who Copia have had a crush on, come and comfort him after witnessing him getting bullied and embarrassed. But the poor Cardinal is an emotional crying wreck that the sister decide the only way to comfort him is by being sexual with him for the first time🙈"

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[mypiggishboyfrienddied]

. jennifers body .

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 𝗢𝟭 ⠀ᰋ leon k + afab! reader

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 𝗢2 ⠀ᰋ content warning . description of gore , drugging , rituals , kidnapping , dubcon/noncon etc etc just watch out

Tonight's the night. You managed to snag tickets for this underground band that yiu stumbled up on the radio , and they're finally coming to your small little town! God , you're so giddy for the lead singer too. He's cute. Pale skin , nice nose , nicer muscles.. Part of you dreams about swooning him and you both fall in love, happily ever after. But life doesn't work that way , so you'll just settle for touching his hand in the front row seats.

So far, you've tried on 5 different outfits and still aren't satisfied with anyone. Should you dress all cute and wear something modest , or something skimpy that shows your ass? Choices, so many choices. But such little time , and its slipping through your fingers like sand as your clock ticks down the seconds until you drive down to the bar they're performing at.

Eventually, you just decide on some jean shorts and a random band tee. Whatever , not impressive. You're not much of a looker anyway , it won't make a huge difference.

Walking down the hallway and to the kitchen to grab your keys , your mother is frowning at you from the table. "Do you need me to drive you?" She asks , arms crossed over her chest as she looks up at you. "What? No , mom , god. I'll be okay," you mumble , raising an eyebrow at her at the mere thought of your mom driving you places again. It's like she doesn't know how to let go of the fact you're an adult know , who can make rational (sort of) decisions. "I'm going now , I'll be back by 12." You call out , hurrying out of the house before she can bombard you with more questions.

Just like you expected, there's a bit of traffic on the way to the bar. Huh. Guess they aren't as underground as you thought they were. So much for being special and unique.

Hopping out of the car and locking it quickly , you shove your keys in your small purse and hurry inside. You bump into a few people and mumble apologies under your breath, glancing at all the other girls here. Fuck. They're all dressed so.. slutty. Dresses that show off their cleavage and tights that squeeze their smooth skin. A sudden wave of doubt washes over you , wincing sharply at the sudden realization that you look like a complete loser in your stupid shirt and stupid jeans. Won't get noticed with this on.

Pushing through the crowd of people around the stage , you finally make it up to the stage , where the band is prepping. There he is. Leon Kennedy. In his sexy , rockstar glory. You almost piss yourself from the pure excitement you feel , biting your lip and gripping the cheap beer in your hand. Its disgusting , thats for sure. But you don't drop it , too busy on focusing on the beautiful man on stage with that guitar. He's like a God, sent down from the heavens for all of your dirty fantasies and disturbingly long mastrubating sessions.

Once their done setting up, he grabs onto the microphone and clears his throat. "Helloo , to everyone in the crowd tonight!" He says with a toothy grin , eyes scanning over the sizeable crowd. "Thank you for having us here tonight. Truly an honor," he adds on , fixing his guitar strap and shaking his hands. "Now , let's get this show on the road , yeah?" The crowd cheers and whoops for them , and you can only stare at him.

You're glad you got here kind of early, snagged front view. Hes so close to you , you could jump up and touch his shoe if you wanted. Which you won't. But you've definitely considered it.

When he sings, your whole world goes blank and it seems like its just you and him. There's practically hearts in your eyes as you sigh, blinking slow and looking up at him from behind your eyelashes.

In your opinion, the show ended way too fast. Maybe its because you zoned out and only focused on Leon and his ass the whole time , but whatever. That post concert depression hits like a truck , and you frown as you watch them pack up. This was literally a once in a lifetime experience right here. Hot dudes in hot bands don't visit small towns everyday. It's just shifty fake Nirvana wannabes at the park , not actual bands. Damn , should've brought your camera.

With a weary sigh , you grab your purse from the stool and make a beeline for the door. What's the point in staying for the after concert or whatever they call it? Not like you drink.

You're halfway through the crowd when you feel a tap on your shoulder , glancing over your shoulder at the mystery person. Holy moly , it's him. Leon , in your face , right now! You suck in a gasp and smile awkwardly at him. "Oh , sorry. Am I in the way?" You asks , furrowing your brow and clenching your jaw. "Ah.. no. I saw you in the crowd. Let me buy you a drink?" He answers , chuckling and grinning at you.

No way. Wait till your mom hears about this one! "Oh," you mumble , chuckling a little bit nervously and scratching at your neck. "I don't usually drink , but , yeah. Okay." You decide on. Yeah , cool. Just let the hot rockstar know that you don't drink because you're a damn loser.

But , in all honestly , he doesn't care much for your looks. All he's looking for is a somebody , a vessel for the sacrifice he'll make tonight. He'll finally get what he and his band members want. Fame.

"So," he murmurs as he stares down at the random drinks he decided to buy , sitting next to you at the bar. "You like my band?" Do you like his band? Well , duh! You were sure your heart almost jumped out of your mouth when he locked eyes with you one time during the show. "Yeah , like it a lot." You nod your head , forcing the alcohol down your throat and coughing. It burns , bad. But you don't complain. I mean , it was free. Who doesn't like free?

"I hear you on the radio.. You're awesome," you say , looking up from the counter to stare at him again. He chuckles, patting your shoulder. "Yeah? I'm glad." Hes trying to butter you up, get you all wet and squirmy. And its working. He notices how you get a little shy and tap your nails on the wooden surface. He stares at you for a moment , scrutinizing you for a second. "Y'know , I never asked. What's your name?" He finally asks , raising an eyebrow at you. "Oh. Uhm , Y/N." You answer , nodding your head in acknowledgement.

"Cute." He hums, grinning like a wolf at tiger. "Thanks." You mutter with a small smile. He glances at your drink , noticing how you haven't drank half of it. "You gonna drink that or what?" He teases. He's joking obviously , but it makes you feel stupid. "Oh , I am. Yeah."

A few drinks and a few convincing pleas later , he finally manages to drag you out back to his van , stumbling over your shoes he coaxes you into the back. Everything is a blur after that. A blur of mumbles , the sound of pants unzipping , and the feeling of Leon bullying his dick into you.

His hand grips your wrists together and the other holds down your head , face smoothed against the cold surface of the van's floor. Strained moans and groans slip past your wet lips , gritting your teeth and inhaling sharply with each hard thrusts into your tight cunt. "Fuck," he shudders, breathy chuckle past your lips. "Y'so tight.. Thats how I know your virgin , aren't ya?" He mutters in your ear , looming over you and lifting your head to look at your distant look in your eyes.

You shouldn't have drank so much. You feel your drinks coming up all over again , head spinning and your muscles tensing. "Uugh.." you murmur , a weak attempt at a coherent sentence.

You still can't believe it. You're in this hot singers van , getting banged. Wow. Wait till your coworkers hear about this! They won't fuckin' believe it .

You don't know how long you've been in here , but you just know that you feel both great and sick. On one hand , it's great you finally lost your virginity! Sitting at home mastrubating to movies is boring after a while. And the way he hits the deepest parts of you your fingers can't even reach , god. Its wonderful. But at the same time , you feel sick. Sick that you let yourself go and drank so much. But the good outweighs the bad.

He pushes his hips against yours in rough , uneven paces , head banging against the instrument cases and your knees scraped up. Broken whimpers echo throughout the otherwise empty van , eyes fluttering back into your head and drool dripping down from your mouth. His grip on your wrists is bruising , bones creaking and twisted as you squirm. "Dont run from me," he mutters , gripping your cheeks and panting in your face. His breath smells like alcohol. Which isn't flattering , but whatever.

Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth , and you feel like you're watching this all happen from a 3rd person perspective. You squeeze your eyes shut and continue your choked moans , brow knitted together. "God , 'm gonna cum," he groans , leaning up and moving his hand up from your hair to grip your hip. Curses and murmurs slip from his lips , hips frantically rutting into you. His dick hits that same spot that makes you see stars , your body tingling and your stomach stirring with each thrust.

He doesn't say anything else, only a low shudder leaving his lips as he ends with a particularly hard thrusts, drawing a slightly pained moan from you. Hes spewing his load all inside you , your eyes rolling back and your muscles tensed. He sighs shakily and lets go of your wrists , watching them fall limp and pulling out of you. He watches his seed leak out of you , chuckling and patting your hips. "Damn , you don't say much , do you?"

You still can't really speak , nothing besides a whimper and sharp inhale. He zips up his pants and stuffs his dick back in his pants, rummaging through some stuff behind you. He pulls out a syringe , full of some drug. Something that'll shut you up.

The sharp feeling of a needle , and the sudden relief of unconsciousness is all you remember.

When you wake back up , on instinct , you try to sit up. But you can't. Your limbs are tied together , the heat of candles warming you up in the fall air. "W-What? What's going on?" You mumble , eyes wide as you try to figure out what part of town this is. Then, there he is. Leon. Leon with some book and a knife in his other hand. "O-Oh my god , oh my god!" You scream out , shaking your head and gasping. What the fucks going on?

"Geez , you're loud," he murmurs, raising an eyebrow at you and narrowing his eyes. "You'll be really silent in a bit though. Don't worry about it," he chuckles , shaking his head and clearing his throat. "I come here tonight to sacrifice the body of.." He pauses , glancing down at you. "Whatever your name is." You blink at him in horror , tugging on the ropes and trying not to break out into tears. "You're fucking crazy." You whine , skin burnt from the rubbing of rope.

He continues with his ritualistic phrases , reciting from that thick, bloody looking book in his hand. "Please , I-I'll do anything!" You plead , kicking your feet and ugly crying. He rolls his eyes at your offer. "Oh. , please. You just got lucky tonight. You're not getting out this easy. You're a 6 , at best," he laughs.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask . frown on your face as you pray and hope that a miracle will come and your ropes will magically break.

"For fame , baby. Sure , we perform shows and all that cool shit , but there's always more." He shrugs his shoulders , dropping the book and gripping the knife in his hand. "Me and my band , we want all we can get. Drugs , groupies with their own groupies , all that. And to get to that , we need to get through you , in short." He explains, raising the knife above his head. "W-Wait!" You shriek , eyes wide and your heart racing.

"With deepest malice , I deliver this victim onto thee.." he murmurs, the rest sounds incoherent and gibberish. All that can fall from your lips are pleas , begging for him to spare you and kill literally anybody like you. Not like you have a lot to live for , but you're young!

The blade of his knife pierces through your skin , digging into your flesh and spewing blood from the fresh wounds, tearing messy slashes all over your body wherever he can. Screams and sobs echo throughout the isolated forest, tears streaming down your face and mixing with the crimson staining your shirt and skin.

He's lost count of how many times he's stabbed you so far, he just knows that he's absolutely drenched in blood , along with the steel of his knife. He wipes some of the crimson on the unstained part of your pants, glancing up at your lifeless body. You're already starting to grow pale , skin drained and your blood pouring out of your deep wounds.

He whistles lowly , staring at your beaten and bloodied body. He went Jason on your ass , blood splattered on your shirt and leaking down your leg and staining your pants.

Leon steps back, admiring his handiwork. Your lifeless body lies before him, a testament to his dedication. He can already feel the power coursing through his veins, the promise of fame and fortune drawing ever closer.

With practiced movements, he begins the cleanup process. He's done this before, after all. The ropes are untied, your body wrapped in a tarp. He'll dispose of it later, deep in the woods where no one will find you.

Not like anybody would find you anybody. Soon, he'll have all he's ever dreamed of. Girls , more girls , drugs , shows at stadiums.

All thanks to you.