#and so I fucking. Tightened my string until it snapped and gave me a nasty cut on my hand

[sunburnacoustic]

Ultimate study playlist

Someone's collected a bunch of Muse instrumental versions from across youtube and put them in a playlist!

[sensei-venus]

WaterPark Blow~ (GirlCock!Tory x Chubby!Reader)

Kinktober Day 6-Blowjob

(Unedited) (Public Sex, Blowjob, Slight Cum Play, Facial, GirlCock!Tory, Hinted at Bully!Tory, Secret Relationship.)

“You better fucking hurry this shit up. Everyone is fucking waiting for me outside, I didn't expect for you to jump me like this.” Tory hissed while grabbing a fist full of Reader’s hair. Reader moaned out around the large bugle inside the other girls swim bottoms. The orange fabric was damp with a layer ofcorian water and spit. The taste was a mix of sour and just plain wet fabric.

Reader did her very best to try and suck at the other girls cock. It twitched under the thick fabric at the chubby girls attention. Her hit set mouth suckling against it. It made Tory grunt out in annoyance and roll her eyes. They darted from Reader to the bathroom door. Just outside that very door, the whole group of cobra Kai students wait for her.

It was supposed to be just a simple outing to the water park. A day to chill without the thought of the up coming practice next week.

But then in the mist of the group showing you to swim, Reader showed you to crash the little party.

Well not really, it wasn't like she was trying to actually mess with the group of mean kids. She just happened to show up at the wrong place at the wrong time. When Tory first spotted her in the crowd of kids she was pissed. The two of them had been fucking for a few weeks now. They swear to keep it a secret from everyone.

Reader because she was scared of the cobras finding out and harassing her even more than they already did.

Tory because she didn't want her friends to know she was fucking the “fat bitch” at school. Deep down it wasn’t because of that, it was because she didn’t want to put the girl under their radar. She knew they would bully her more then they already did. Both of them would be put under a bad light if anyone found out about their little relationship.

“You can’t even go a day without trying to get at my dick can you?” She smirked. She looked back down to Reader who was still trying to mouth at her hard dick. Fat little tongue sticking out as she licked up the fabric. The way her chubby little cheeks and pretty eyes looked from under her bulging dick. It had her rolling her eyes and shoving her harder into her crotch.

With a free had Tory quickly slid the sides of her bikini bottoms down her hips. Wiggling out of them until they meet her mid thigh. Her hard cock sprung out right into the shocked girls face. The wet head slapping her right in the face.

A string of cum beaded across her nose, it snapped as Tory pulled away ever so slightly. She smirked as the chubby girl sat in awe at her feet. Moments later she was licking up the girls shaft.

The skin of her dick was covered in a mix of pre and spit. The longer she spent slobbering all over the fat dick in her face the more Tory grew both nervous and horny.

“Fuck can you just get on with it and suck my dick already! Stop mouthing at it and suck it bitch!” She growled while shoving the girl closer to her dick. Reader moaned around the flesh before moving to the head. She gave it a few hard licks before wrapping her plush lips around the head. She gave a few soft ducks to the fat head before moving down. Quickly gobbling up the aggressive girls meat. She shook her head a little while sucking.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she took more into her tiny mouth.

It started to hit the back of her throat making her gag a little which on speared Tory on. Smirking she tugged at the girls hair. Watching the way she struggles to take every inch of her cock. The nasty sound of gagging fills the tiny bathroom. The wet sound of gargling and slurping made her stomach tighten even more.

Her eyes rolled back as she started using the girls wet mouth. The feeling of hollowed out cheeks and her wet mouth around her. A moan bubbles up from her chest. Heading tilting back as Reader worked her cock. One of her hands started to play with her balls. Lightly scrapping over the sensitive skin. She jerked a bit and her balls drew up, Reader knew every single trick to make her cum. It was like there was some unwritten handbook. One that only she knew about and memorize completely.

The girls fingers traced over a vain under one of her balls just right. Tory felt like her belly was going to explode at any moment. Her head filled to the brim with pleasure.

“How are you this good?” She hissed at the chubby girl.

Reader moaned as loud as she could while bobbing her head up and down. Her pace soon quickened to the point spit started to fly. It splattered over Tory’s naked belly and thighs. It trailed down to her balls and collected at the very bottom. It soon dribbled to the floor below in a small poodle. It was almost as if she was smiling from her position on the floor.

Her big eyes stared up at Tory though her lashes. Eyes sparking as she took what she wanted from the girl, the shudders and silent moans.

Tory though her head back, using both hands she placed them on the back of the girls head.

“Shit get ready!” She whimpered out though gritted teeth. Moments later she let loose with a small howl. Her hips jackrabbit as the fire in her belly finally explodes. Brows knitting together as a rough orgasm shots though her.

Out of no where she rips Reader off her dick. Reader lets out a loud gasp as her mouth is ripped away from the wet cock. Tory let’s go of her hair and holds her dick as it sends out ripe after rope of cum. It’s thick and warm as it lands on Reader’s face. It splashes onto her cheeks, nose lips and forehead. She has to close her eyes as it spurts out across her face. It drips from her brows and over her lashes.

It’s a miracle that it some how doesn’t get into her hair.

She breaths a little bit heavy as she cracks her eyes open to watch the last round of cum leave her girlfriends dick. She gives a breathy sigh as she watches her finally tapper off. The nice dick twitching at the aftermath of it all, completely spent. Balls now completely drained for the time being.

Tory slaps her slowly softening cock across the girls puffy lips.

“Such a good girl for me ain’t yah.” She smirks.



[l0serloki]

Show Stopper

Childe x Reader

Genre : Smut

Summary : You went out to dinner with your boyfriend and his friends. Childe was hungry for other things though..

CW : Fem!Reader, exhibitionism, fingering, teasing/orgasm denial, breeding kink, master kink, degrading, dry humping, overstim?

The night would’ve gone splendid, had Childe not been a complete tease. The two of you had gotten invited to a nice dinner with Zhongli and his associates from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. They were all kind and outgoing, the night moving quickly until your boyfriend got bored. 

“Childe!” You whisper screamed, smacking his arm away, his devious smirk only growing larger. The fingers dusting on your thighs only got closer to your core, your breath picking up. You couldn’t believe he had the audacity to pull a stunt like this in front of his friends.

“This is not the time or place, Ajax.” Your voice ended with mock anger, hand harshly gripping his arm from moving. “Oh but baby, this is totally the right place!” He leaned over, kissing your cheek, fingers slipping into your panties. You could only do so much to hold in a moan, nodding along to whatever story Hu Tao was saying.

“Be a good girl, don’t let them find out. I just need to find something real quick!” Childe’s finger worked it’s way into you, roaming around to find the right spot. Feet clenched, you gave him a nasty glare.

“Y/N, are you okay? Is your food not good?” Zhongli questioned, his eyebrow raised at your sudden silence. You could feel a drop of sweat trickle down at the inquiry, heart racing at the thought of getting exposed.

“Y-Yeah! I am fine. I-I am just so hungry.” You shovel a few bites of food into your mouth, giving the man a thumbs up. Childe’s thick finger curled into you, hitting just the right spot. Your palm tightened around his thigh, meeting his cerulean hues.

“You look so good like this. Hiding all your pleasure behind that pretty face. Even letting me finger you in front of my friends like a dirty whore.” Your boyfriend's breath fanned across your ear, feeling your orgasm approaching. Your hole clenched and you turned your face from the table. The string inside your stomach so close to snapping, Childe��s pace getting quicker. 

Childe all but chuckled as he pulled his finger away, ruining your orgasm. You wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smile off his face. 

“Aw sorry, baby! I’m pretty hungry.” He forked at the food in front of him, mocking your words from earlier. You would strangle him, had Hu Tao and Zhongli not been there. Rolling your eyes, you adjusted your ruined panties. 

The rest of dinner was uncomfortable and awkward, shuffling down the street and saying goodbyes, hoping it didn’t look like you had wet yourself. The moment the two of you had gotten away you smacked your boyfriend's side.

“How dare you do that to me in public! And then leave me high and dry!” You yelled, still having to deal with the repercussions. Childe only smiled, grabbing at your waist.

“All mad cause you haven’t been fucked, huh? Don’t worry, baby. Let's just get home.” As much as you wanted to be mad, the thoughts that raced your mind were quite enjoyable. You gave the man a weak nod, letting him pull you along the paved road.

----

“Fuck. Please, Ajax.” Your breath faltered as you arched your back, his rough fingerpads warming your skin. The man only hummed at your desperation, mouth tweaking at your left nipple. His hands roamed your body,  continuing his assault on your tits. 

“Look at you. Arching at barely anything. Bet you’re fucking sopping.” 

“Y-Yeah! Feels so good.” You egged him on, needy for his touch.

His mouth worked its way down your stomach, stopping at your waistband. Squirming in place, you waited for him to go lower. Childe only smirked at this, laughing at your pathetic whines.

“How sweet. It’s like you’re singing a song for me. Does that pretty little pussy need me that bad?”

You had enough of the teasing. Gripping at the hair on the nape of his neck, you pulled. You hadn’t expected such a delectable moan to come out of his mouth. His cerulean orbs met yours, panting with lust. He could tell you were sick of his games.

“You want to cum?” Childe raised his eyebrow, smug look reappearing. As much as you were worried, you were much more horny. 

“Yes, Master Childe.” You smiled at him, batting your eyelashes. Hoping that your little trump card had won him over, you waited for a response. 

“I bet you do. If you want it so bad, ride my boot.” Childe’s knee popped you up and he looked satisfied. You couldn’t believe what you had just heard. Yet, part of you found it oddly hot. 

Slowly, you sunk down to his boot. Desperation took over at the first feeling of friction, beginning a slow pace as he watched you. He smiled down as you got quicker. You grasped at his calves, using them to usher your wet cunt along his expensive boot. 

“Would you look at that.. All that complaining and now the dirty whore is rubbing herself on my boot. So fuckin’ wet too.” Childe’s hand yanked at your hair, forcing you to look at him. You could only moan as two of his digits plunged into your mouth.

“Oh yeah, suck on Master’s fingers. What a good little pet.” He chided, grin growing bigger as your moans filled the silence. 

You could feel the cord in your stomach getting tighter, the pleasant leather of his shoe bringing you that much closer.

You suckled harder at his fingers, mumbling an incoherent, “Guh- Cum.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you reached your high, Childe’s hands rubbing at your cheek.

“What a good girl. Made such a mess of my boot.. now get up here.” He yanked at your body, pulling you like a rag doll. You groaned at his pace, not even giving you time for a break.

“Don’t worry. You’ll like it.” 

His hands groped at your breasts, pinching your nipples. It felt as if you were on another planet, body trying to process all the ecstasy. His cock rutted against your cunt, teasing you for what seemed like the millionth time.

“I’m gonna fuck you senseless.” 

That was all the man said before entering you fully. His pace was brutal and his groans were even louder. You could only loll in his arms as he used you, body already close to orgasming.

“Fuck. Fuck! You’re squeezing me so hard. Is my little slut going to cum again? Want me to fill you so fucking full you can’t walk?” His teeth bit into your neck as you moaned, tightening around his hard cock. You nodded your head, gripping at his taut muscles. 

“Y-yeah. Wanna be so full.” You mustered out, breath leaving your body as you came. Childe proceeded to drill you with purpose, mumbling about ruining your pussy.

“Oh fuck.. So good.” Childe groaned, his seed overflowing into you. You could only hum in agreement as you closed your eyes.

“God, you exhaust me.”

“I love you too, Y/N.”

[yikesharringrove]

Sweet Little Mango

Rewrite

Read on Ao3

Chapter 2

Smut

-

“I want you to spend my next heat with me.” Steve didn’t look at Billy at all when he said it, nervously playing with a loose thread on the bottom of his t-shirt, two darkening patches blossoming high on his cheeks. His voice was a good attempt and pained casualty and his shoulders were closing up around his ears.

They were sitting in Steve’s front room, Steve pressed against the opposite armrest of the couch to Billy, looking like he was doing his best to shrink into nothing rather than hear Billy’s response.

“Are, are you sure?” Billy knew Steve had never spent his heat with an alpha. He knew pretty much everything about his Steve now. “It’s intense. Like, really intense. You have no control over yourself.” What he was really asking went unsaid.

Do you trust me enough for this? To take care of you?

Something cringed in Steve’s gut as he thought of another omega spending their heat with Billy.

“Yeah, I know how heats work. I’ve had them.”

Billy huffed at Steve’s defense and bratty tone, reaching out to pinch Steve’s side. Hoping to lighten the tension racking up Steve’s spine.

“I meant with an alpha, numbnuts.”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, finally looking up to meet Billy’s eyes across the couch, squirming slightly in his seat.

“Bill, if you’re not up to it, that’s fine. I know it’s like, a lot.” He sounded defeated, but his eyes were big and betrayed how much he wanted this. How much he was wrestling with himself not to beg and plead for Billy to take care of him during his most vulnerable time.

Billy reached out, pulling Steve across the couch to bring him onto his lap, not letting Steve shy away from this conversation like he obviously wants to.

“I just wanna make sure you’re ready. That I’m the one you want for this.”

Steve shifted, turning to face Billy better. He pushed Billy’s hair off his forehead, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. He studied Billy’s face for a moment, his eyes drifting along the freckles splashed on Billy’s nose, following the harsh line of his jaw. He was killing time. Trying to read Billy to see if this was all Billy worming his way out of doing this with Steve. Doing this for Steve.

“You’re the only one I want for this. I’m a big boy. I can think for myself, you know.”

“Never said you couldn’t.” Billy wrapped his arms around his waist, absolutely loving the way Steve melted into his chest, his arms coming up to drape over Billy’s shoulders. “Just want you to be sure.”

“I’m so sure. Want you.” Steve leaned forward, pressing his lips to Billy’s neck. “Want your knot.”

Billy groaned.

Steve’s words went straight to his gut, lighting a fire inside him. Steve could feel the rumble of the noise deep in Billy’s chest. It was fucking hot. He was already starting to get a little slick between his legs.

“We should talk first. Set boundaries and get shit established while you still have your functional brain.”

Steve hummed, still planting hot, wet, kisses to his neck.

“Or we could go for a practice round.”

Billy made a desperate noise in the back of his throat, his grip on Steve’s hips tightening just that much.

And before Steve knew what was happening, Billy had swung them around, Steve pinned underneath Billy on the couch.

“You’re such a fucking tease.”

-

Billy nearly growled when he opened Steve’s front door a few days later.

The house was bursting with Steve’s smell.

Hot, sticky, honey lavender, all issuing from upstairs and making Billy go something close to feral.

It made Billy rock hard in his jeans.

Steve hadn’t been in school that day. Each of his teachers was given a notice from the front office at the beginning of the day.

Steven Harrington is excused for the week due to: heat.

Billy climbed the stairs, taking in lungfuls of the sweet smell. He wanted to bathe himself in it. To bask in the heady scent and never smell anything but this ever again in his life.

Billy dropped his overnight bag just inside Steve’s bedroom near the open door.

His mouth was watering as he looked at Steve.

Steve was completely naked, laying in the center of his big bed, curled up in a nest of soft pillows. He was sweaty, and whining, grinding slowly on the pillow shoved between his legs.

It was like looking at a beautiful painting. The most erotic piece of art he’s ever seen in his life.

The pillow between Steve’s legs was soaking wet as he desperately writhed against it, moaning and panting and begging.

Billy hardly even registered getting undressed. All he knew was that his eyes refused to leave Steve’s perfect body as he kicked off his jeans. He knew Steve’s skin was probably sensitive, and the rough feeling of denim brushing against him might irritate his skin to the point of being painful.

Billy climbed onto the bed, pushing one hand up Steve’s soft hip, rubbing gently up and down his side.

“Alpha?” Steve whined, his voice high and breathy, his hips stuttering in their desperate pace against the pillow.

“Yeah, Sugar. I’m here.”

Steve’s hips snapped, and his back arched, and Billy’s eyes went all kindsa dark as he realized Steve just fucking came from rubbing off against a pillow.

Steve rolled onto his back, looking up at Billy with hazy eyes.

And he chirped.

Billy swung himself on top of Steve, parting his shaking legs to settle between them, picking up the soaked pillow like it was something precious. It was covered in his slick and smelled like the sweetest sugar Billy had ever encountered, stinging his nostrils and making his mouth fucking water. He brought it close enough to his face to get nothing but that scent. Steve’s desperation apparent, even through his slick.

Billy took another deep lungful of the pillow before tossing it over his shoulder.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been this pent up and hard before, and all he wanted was to shove his rigid cock into that sweet smell and never take it out.

Billy leaned over Steve, pressing their bodies close, and began to softly mouth over Steve’s jaw.

And he let himself purr. Let the sound reverberate from deep in his chest, pressing his teeth against Steve’s neck in a tiny hint of what could be.

Steve melted.

He bucked his hips against Billy’s, pawing at his chest.

“Alpha, I, I want you .”

Billy’s never heard Steve sound like this. All needy and small and ready to beg. It all went right to his dick.

“You got me, Baby.”

“Want your knot .”

Billy leaned forward to latch onto Steve’s neck, sucking a dark bruise onto his skin, grinding their hips together, feeling the sticky wetness between Steve’s thick thighs.

He peppered kisses and even more bites onto his body, leading himself down. He focused briefly on Steve’s nipples, lapping over them until Steve was whimpering. Steve had told him his whole chest became extra sensitive during a heat, and Billy didn’t want to waste the opportunity to make a mess out of Steve.

He moved even lower, dragging his tongue all over Steve’s flat stomach, scraping his teeth over his hip bones.

He sucked bruises onto his inner thighs that matched the nasty ones on his neck, marking Steve all over.

Steve was incoherent, mewling and making these breathy little gasps, his fingers shaking slightly as they curled into Billy’s hair, holding on while Billy took him apart.

“Please,” Steve breathed, tugging just once on Billy’s hair.

Billy relented, licking up Steve’s thigh.

He sucked on Steve’s little cock, flicking his tongue against the sensitive tip of it. Steve was breathing heavily, one hand trailing out of Billy’s hair and skimming over his shoulder, searching for Billy’s hand.

It was cute.

Steve wanted to hold his hand.

Billy linked their fingers together, stroking his thumb over the back of Steve’s hand.

He pulled back from sucking Steve’s dick, ignoring his twitching little cock to move lower, licking a wide strip up his cunt.

Steve was fucking soaked. His slick covered Billy’s chin almost immediately, and Billy lapped it up, savoring the taste.

“You’re so wet, Baby. Been thinkin’ of me?”

“Yeah,” Steve was all breathy. “Thinking of you, Alpha.”

Billy grinned, and dived back in.

He licked up and down Steve’s slick opening, pressing his tongue inside of him. Steve was grinding his hips against Billy’s face, pressing into his tongue, spreading his legs as much as he could to allow for Billy to lick as deep as possible into him. Billy fucked him with his tongue, only pulling away to rub his tongue over Steve's stiff little cock, sucking it into his mouth and brushing his lips against it.

Steve’s hand squeezed Billy’s like a vice, his hips jumping, the fingers in Billy’s hair going tense.

“Wait, Billy, I’m gonna, Billy!” And he came for a second time since Billy’s been there. His hips bucking wildly, his slick gushing out, covering Billy’s chin, and adding to the wet spot on the sheets below him. Billy tongue fucked him through it, his own cock hard and heavy between his legs. He was trying his best not to rut into the bed underneath him, waiting to fuck Steve into next week.

“Billy, Alpha, I, I want you .” Steve was babbling, semi-incoherent begs for Billy.

Billy gave one final obscene slurp, pulling back and wiping his face.

Steve started pulling at his hair and clawing at his shoulders, trying with everything he’s got to pull him up. He was making these wild little chirps, actual words getting caught in his throat.

Billy huffed a laugh, and let Steve pull at him until they were back to level. Billy hovered over Steve, planting his elbows on either side of his head, and looked him right in the eye. Their cocks brushed together, and Steve gave a shuddering moan, one hand snaking down to grip Billy’s dick, lining the flushed head of him up with Steve’s dripping entrance.

Steve was stuttering through a string of pleasepleasepleaseplease, trying to push Billy inside of himself, his fingers trembling against Billy’s cock.

Billy kissed his cheek, and sank inside.

“Oh, fuck .”

Steve was even hotter than usual, so fucking tight.

Billy could feel even more slick gushing out, covering his own hips.

It was a mess. It was hot. It was probably the best sex anyone has ever had in the whole history of fucking.

Billy drew out in one smooth motion, adjusting himself slightly before pushing back in, pounding their hips together with a smack.

Steve shuddered, his eyes fluttering closed as he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Like that, Alpha. Just like that.”

Billy kissed his other cheek.

Steve’s skin was burning, slick with sweat, and flushed a beautiful red color.

Steve wrapped his arms and legs around Billy, coaxing Billy to keep slamming into him, keep fucking him.

He lost track of how many times Steve came, how many times his legs shook and he chirped up high in his throat and writhed against the sheets, looking like a mess and a beautiful fucking thing about to melt into the damp sheets.

But Billy could feel heat pooling low in his gut, could feel his knot beginning to swell.

“I’m close, Pretty Boy.”

“Yes, yes. Wanna take your knot. I need it .”

Billy gave two last harsh thrusts, bullying his knot inside Steve.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve whimpered, his eyes wide as he stared at Billy, his chest heaving.

Billy wiggled one hand between them, clumsily brushing his thumb over Steve’s cock a few times, in no way matching the rhythm of his own thrusts, just trying to get Steve there.

And Steve came one final time, squeezing Billy so fucking tight, his body sucking Billy in. Billy could just pull Steve closer, shoving both arms underneath him to hold Steve as close as possible, kissing all over his blotchy face, growls and hums rumbling uncontrollably in his chest.

Steve had one hand tangled in the hair at the base of his neck, the other holding Billy’s hip, his thumb stroking over his skin lightly.

Steve buried his face in Billy’s neck, breathing in his scent and licking all over him, chirping tiredly and brushing his lips over the sensitive gland on Billy’s neck.

And he blew his load, spilling out deep inside of Steve.

[storiesforallfandoms]

don’t go ~ mark;midsommar

word count: 1919

request?: yes!

“Mark from Midsommar imagine where reader is Pelle's sister and convinces Mark not to go on the trip with everyone else because she knows what will happen. So she stay there with him?”

description: in which she tries to stop her boyfriend from going to the midsommar festival because she knows the truth of the festival

pairing: mark x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of death

masterlist

“New table for you,” my co-worker told me as I tightened the strings on my apron. Usually, I wouldn’t be too happy about having a table right after my break, but when I looked over to see where it was I saw that it was my boyfriend, Mark, my brother, Pelle, and their friends. So I couldn't exactly be too mad about it.

I practically skipped over to their table and bent over Mark to give him a kiss. The three other boys chorused “Get a room!” at the same time.

“The service is so friendly here,” Mark joked, causing me to giggle.

“What are you guys up to?” I asked, positioning my pen to make it look as though I was actually taking their order.

“Just grabbing some food,” Josh responded. “Celebrating the trip we’re taking to Sweden in a few days!”

I raised an eyebrow at them before looking to Pelle. “Trip to Sweden?”

“Pelle invited us to some sort of festival held in your hometown,” Mark responded. “He said it’s super exclusive or something, only happens once every so often.”

I was so shocked that I almost dropped my pen and pad. I tried to keep a smile on my face as I turned to my brother and asked, “Can I talk to you...alone?”

I took the boys’ drink orders so I could make it look as though I was actually doing something while I talked to Pelle.

“How could you invite them to that awful festival?!” I hissed. “Why are you even going?! I thought you were getting out of that place!”

“Not all of us hate it there, (Y/N),” Pelle responded, keeping his voice low so my co-workers didn’t hear him.

“How could you not?!” I snapped. “Pelle, that place is evil! They kill people! How could you ask Mark to go there? He’s my boyfriend!”

“It’s tradition,” Pelle snapped under his breath. “And what was I supposed to do? Ask everyone else but him? He’d want to go anyways. Besides, he might not be a sacrifice.”

“But if he isn’t that means he’s stuck there! He won’t be able to come home!”

“So maybe you should come with us.”

I glared at Pelle. This was a usual argument. My brother and I were much different when it came to our opinions of our home village.

Pelle and I were born in a village called Hårga. We were raised there for most our lives. I was the first of the two of us to leave, moving to America when I was only 18 years old. At that age, I realized that where we lived wasn’t a village, it was a cult. A nasty cult that I had to get out of. I wanted nothing to do with them, with the place, the people, not even my own parents. I wanted to forget that place ever existed.

Pelle, on the other hand, was very devoted to our home. He followed all the rules, did everything that was asked of him. He moved to America to go to school, but to also possibly persuade me into returning home, at least for our Midsommar festival. Of course, it didn’t work. I’d never go back there, not in a million years.

Why did he have to become friends with my boyfriend? Was it on purpose? Was this just another one of his ploys to get me to come home? See, that is what the cult did to people, they stripped them of their emotions and made them manipulative and evil. I had hoped Pelle might’ve been different.

I placed their drinks on a tray and waved Pelle away. He glared at me as he returned to the table. I put on my best fake smile and walked over, carefully placing each drink in front of the boys. I began taking their orders when Mark wrapped an arm around my waist.

“Are you coming with us, baby?” he asked.

I could feel Pelle’s expectant gaze on me. He was waiting for me to respond, knowing he would get what he wanted no matter what I said. If I said yes, I’d have to stick to my word and go. If I said no, the boys would try to convince me to come with them, which would probably result in me going. There was no way around it. Unless...

“I don’t know,” I responded. “I might. Can we talk about it after work, babe?”

“Of course.” Mark smiled his dazzling smile at me. I smiled back at him, but inside I was hoping I’d be able to convince him not to go to Hårga.

~~~~~~

Mark was waiting for me in his car when I got off work, something I was grateful for as I usually had to take the bus to and from work.

I got into the car with the intentions of immediately asking Mark not to go on the trip, but was distracted when he took hold of my face and began to kiss me deeply. I couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, leaning into him and deepening it when he tried to slide his tongue into my mouth.

I was willing to take my uniform off then and there and let him have me, until I remembered the reason why I had asked to speak with him after work. I managed to push Mark away and breathe, “We have to talk.”

His face fell and worry crossed his face. “Those words are never good.”

“No, no, not like that. I’m not breaking up with you, silly.”

Mark breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good, I don't know what I’d do without you.”

I smiled, feeling the blush creep up around my neck. A little over a year with him, and he still made every day feel like the first.

“What do you want to talk about then?” he asked.

“It’s...about the Midsommar festival...about Hårga,” I told him.

“Sounds pretty awesome. You should totally come, babe, it is your hometown after all.”

I shook my head quickly. “No, Mark, I’m not going. And that's what I wanted to talk to you about, you can’t go either.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “What? Why can’t I go? It’s just a festival, isn’t it? Like drinking, partying, excitement?”

“No, no it’s nothing like that. It’s far worse. It’s not a happy festival, and you can’t go. You can’t even be friends with Pelle anymore if he comes back, you have to cut him off all together.”

“Baby, baby, calm down,” Mark said, taking hold of my face. I realized in that moment that I was starting to hyperventilate and tears were running down my face. I looked into his eyes, the ones that I loved so much, as he said softly, “Breathe, that’s it, just breathe. It’s okay.”

He gave me a moment to compose myself, which I appreciated. Just thinking about Hårga always got me so worked up to the point of tears. I hated that place. I really hated it. Why did Pelle have to be friends with Mark? Why did he have to ask Mark to go? Why couldn’t he just fuck off?!

I breathed deeply as I felt myself getting worked up again. I rested my head against the head rest, looking up at the sky through Mark’s windshield.

“Why don’t you try again?” Mark asked. “Tell me what’s wrong. Why don’t you want me to go?”

I took one last deep breath, holding it for a few counts before letting it out.

“You’re going to think I’m crazy,” I told him.

“I might, but I’ll believe you. Whatever has you so worked up, crazy or not, is definitely a real reason for me not to go. Tell me what it is, babe.”

I ran my hand through my hair and decided to tell Mark everything. I told him all about Hårga, about the Midsommar festival, about how, by the end of it, nine people would be killed, some of them willingly and some murdered, for the sake of “sacrifice”. I told him that Pelle was leading him into a trap that would result in him either dying or being stuck in Hårga for the rest of his life.

“That’s why I moved to America,” I told him. “I wanted to move as far away as possible from Sweden, as to never have to go back to there. I didn’t think anyone would ever find me here, but Pelle managed to track me down. I still think that he befriended you guys on purpose so he could use you as a reason to get me to go home. I don’t want you to go, please promise you won’t go Mark.”

Tears were starting to form in my eyes again and I had to wipe them and hope Mark didn’t see. I knew it all sounded crazy, that if you weren’t from there you’d probably think I made it all up for some reason, and the crying certainly wasn’t helping that. I had to get him to see that I was being serious, to believe me. I had to convince him not to go.

Mark looked at me for a while, and I was sure he was going to tell me I was crazy. To my surprise, he picked up his phone and dialed a number. He sat, waiting, until whoever he called answered.

“Hey man. Yeah, I’m calling about the trip. Listen, something just came up, personal shit, I can’t go.” On the other end, I could hear my brother’s muffled voice questioning why. “It’s just personal, I can’t go. Maybe some other time. See you later, man.”

I heard my brother cursing at Mark, hearing my name slip out of his mouth once before Mark hung up. Then, he just looked at me.

“I can’t promise the guys will believe me,” he said, “but I can try to convince them not to go. That just means doing it at a time that Pelle isn’t with them, so he can’t refute my claims. Which will be hard since all the four of us do is hang out together.”

“You - you believe me?” I breathed.

“Of course I do. Sure, it sounds insane, but even talking about it has you so worked up, I would be so stupid to think it wasn’t true. Would I like to see the place you were born? Fuck yeah! But not if you don’t want to go, and not if it’s a horrible place. We can go somewhere else, somewhere less...murder-y. Just the two of us.”

I smiled and wrapped my arms around Mark, hugging him so tightly he almost had to pry me off of him so I didn’t suffocate him.

“Can I stay over to your place tonight?” I asked when I sat back in my seat. "I don’t feel comfortable to be home. I’m afraid Pelle might show up.”

Mark smirked. “I thought you were coming over anyways so we could finish what we started when you got in the car.”

I giggled and fastened my seatbelt as Mark turned the car on and we started towards his place. I felt a weight being lifted off my shoulder, and thus decided to reach over and take hold of Mark’s hand.

He wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was I. I wouldn’t have to worry about having to go home, or having to lose Mark. All felt right in the world once again.

@maryhuffxoxo​

[ill-skillsgard]

I've been thinking about Faith giving Faust head and getting frustrated that she can't fit all of him inside her mouth. Faust would have to teach her some tactics to work around his size - using her hands, sucking his balls etc. (Or maybe she just fucking chokes on him, idk 🙈)

Warning: 18+ smut/anti-religious/anti-Christian themes/angst etc.

Faust x Faith Masterpost [x]

Faust wasn’t answering his phone. After the first few unanswered text messages, Faith assumed the worst. When she called, every ring seemed to echo in her head, warning her of things she had to force herself to suppress. She called again. No answer. Her call dropped and the line went dead. 

In her fearful heart, Faust’s absence came from sudden disinterest. He had had his way with her, and that was all he needed. It was on to the next girl. Faust said himself: he’d fucked many girls. Some of them once and then never spoke to them again. Was his profession of love just a show? Faith swallowed the knot of anxiety clogging her throat, but it returned, bigger and more constrictive than ever.

Her parents dropped her off at her dorm after church. Faith waited until they drove off and turned the corner before marching to the bus stop, cell phone in hand, still waiting for Faust to return a message. When the bus arrived, she flashed her student card and took a seat near the back so she could hang her head and avoid the stares. In her Sunday best, Faith felt ridiculous, and with tears lining her eyes, she was sure somebody would notice her for the wrong reasons. 

Faust’s roommate answered over the intercom with a careless grunt when she pressed the buzzer.

“It’s Faith. Is Faust home?”

His roommate didn’t answer, but the door clicked open, allowing her to pass through. She rode the elevator up, wringing her wrists and smoothing out the front of her dress over and over until she reached the top. As always, loud metal music seeped from under the door at the end of the hallway. She didn’t bother knocking since nobody ever did, and opened the door to find an empty living room. 

Faith paused at Faust’s door, pressing her ear to the wood. At first, she heard nothing. Then a hollow clicking noise came from inside. She knocked, but there was no answer.

“Fuck,” she heard Faust mutter. “Oh, fuck.”

Taking in a deep, shaky breath, Faith opened the door and peered into the room to find Faust sitting at his computer desk with a large pair of headphones muffling his ears. He was in his boxer shorts, shirtless, legs spread wide under the desk with both his knees bouncing.

The clicking noise came from his drumsticks hitting various pads of an electric drumkit hooked up to his computer. The screen showed a mostly gray interface, streaked with multi-coloured lines. Every time he struck a pad, the line blipped. Faith let out the tension from her overfilled lungs. 

“Faust?” She called.

The man didn’t hear her voice, so she came up from behind him and tapped on his shoulder. A startled gasp leapt from his throat as he whirled around in his desk chair, green eyes wide with fright. Faust ripped off his headphones, ready to berate her for startling him, but his words faded fast as she dropped to her knees before him.

She tugged his boxers down to his knees before he dropped his sticks and grabbed hold of her hands.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked.

Faith continued wrestling his underwear off until he conceded, spreading his legs wide so she could fit between them. One dainty hand rubbed up and down his soft shaft until it twitched and rolled to one side, filling with blood. Faust stopped her.

“How did you get in here?” Faust asked, eyebrows clinching together.

“Your roommate buzzed me in,” she replied.

“Fucking Isak,” he griped. “Aren’t you supposed to be in church?”

“That finished hours ago. Aren’t you supposed to answer your phone when your girlfriend calls?”

“I’m a little busy.”

Faith tried on her most innocent smile. “Too busy for me to suck your dick?”

Before she ducked down, Faust rolled his chair away, though his cock remained fully erect. “I have to get this track recorded.”

She crawled toward him. Faust noticed her hair tied up in a glistening pink ribbon, and the gold cross shining across her collarbone. The dress she wore looked like it had come off a porcelain doll—all velvet and lace, puffy sleeves and buttons down the bodice. He shouldn’t have found it arousing, but it was, and he cursed under his breath.

“What? You get a taste of dick once, and now you’re some little cum dumpster?”

“Your cum dumpster,” Faith purred.

Her hands travelled up his thighs again, enclosing his shaft in a double-handed grip. She tugged him back and ran her tongue over his balls, sucking one into her mouth, then the other. Faust hummed like an engine as her grip tightened.

“You ever suck a cock this big before?” He asked.

Faith shook her head, using the motion to stimulate him a little more.

“Of course not. You’re too much of a good girl,” Faust said, tangling her bouncy ponytail around his hand. “But somehow you know exactly what to do, huh? How is that? Have you been practicing a lot on your dildo at home?”

“I’ve seen how it’s done,” she claimed.

“Is that so? Have you been watching porn? Trying to figure out how all this works?”

Faith descended on him, his girth forcing her lips into an exaggerated O-shape. His head hit the back of the chair, and he moaned, thrusting his hips up once to choke off her airway, but only for a split second. She giggled, and the vibrations tickled his groin. Faust used her ponytail as a reign to draw her back, the head of his cock popping out of her mouth with an animated noise.

“You made me fuck up my best take,” he growled as he stood up, taking her with him. 

Faust guided her to the bed, where she sat on the edge and looked up with shiny, innocent eyes. She opened her mouth again, tempting Faust with her tongue lolling out. He bounced the head off her tongue, then gagged her with half his length in one swift motion. A wave of saliva oozed from her glands, and he came away with several strings of it dripping from his cock. He gave her throat another quick prod, shivering from the spit connecting them.

“How was church, baby? Did you tell God about the filthy fucking things you did to my cock the other day after you lied to your daddy? Tell him how I stretched that fucking pussy and dumped a huge load all over you?”

Faith shook her head. “Why would I tell him when I’m not ashamed of it?”

“Well, you should be. It’s a sin to be so cock-hungry. You shouldn’t be thinking about swallowing my cum.”

“But I can’t help it.”

Faust stroked her cheek, then tapped her lips, glossing them with his pre-cum. “I know. It’s because you’re a bad, bad, filthy little girl. You’re corrupted. And God doesn’t want nasty things like you.”

Before Faith answered, Faust cradled the back of her head and pushed forward, sheathing his entire length until he hit the back of her throat. She came up with a sharp gasp, eyes watering. He bit his lip, a jolt of guilt stopping and restarting his heart. Faust climbed onto the bed and pressed his back against the headboard, spreading his legs so she could crawl between them.

“Lie on your stomach. That’s it. Suck my balls again.”

Eager to please him, Faith did as she was told and hefted one of his testicles with her tongue. She rolled it between her lips before taking it in her mouth. Faust stroked his length and spread his legs wider to watch her treating his scrotum like she would a lollipop. He bent his knees and inched his pelvis lower. Soon, her excess saliva dripped down, and he shivered when she let the tip of her tongue drag up the underside of his cock.

“Fuck, you look so cute in your little dress, with your ribbons and shit. Were your panties soaked all morning while you sat listening to your minister telling you how much God loves you?”

“Mm-hmm,” Faith moaned.

“Did you sit next to your daddy and pray for the chance to take this big fucking dick down your throat?”

Again, Faith agreed. She wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, pumping him in time with each bob of her head. After a few minutes, her jaw began to ache, and Faust noticed. It reminded him of how she hurt the morning after they had sex for the first time. As satisfying as it was to know he’d left his mark in the form of nagging pain, her whimpers struck his chest in a sickening way that made him wince. Suddenly, the tears in her eyes from choking weren’t as erotic. He snapped his hips back and took her up in his arms, kissing her swollen lips until she tried pawing at his groin again.

“Please, I want to,” she whispered.

“I’m hurting you again.”

“No, I like it.”

“I don’t like making you hurt.”

“Faust, please,” Faith whined. “I can take it. It might hurt a little, but it feels so good. Please, I want to make you feel good too.”

“Turn around then.”

Faith reversed her position, lying down so her chest pressed against his stomach while she took him in her mouth again. Faust lifted her dress, sighing at the sight of her panties before wedging them to the side. Her pussy looked smooth, appetizing, and so wet he longed to suck the dew from her lips. He did, and the moment his tongue made contact with her opening, she groaned around his length. He gave her mouth one shallow thrust before spreading her wide to stare at her opening. 

“Fuck, your pussy tastes so sweet when you’re all wet for me. Just soaking through your panties for me.”

Faith learned to breathe through her nose as she sucked his cock. His remarkable length hitting the back of her throat caused wave after wave of spit to fill her mouth. She swallowed it all down, moaning when his tongue sluiced back and forth over her pussy lips, locating her clit after a moment of teasing.

“Oh, yeah. Suck that cock while I eat your perfect little pussy.”

She squealed when he spanked her, the sensation encouraging her to go faster. Faust placed her thighs over his shoulders and got off the bed with her hanging in the air. Though suspended several feet off the ground, Faith continued working his shaft while he tilted his pelvis, effectively fucking her mouth while he sucked her clit.

If Faith were a regular band-slut, Faust would have dropped her back onto the bed and thoroughly fucked her throat until her cheeks turned purple. But she wasn’t. Faith was all his and had never given thought to jump from one guy to the next the way his previous flings had. It’s what made him treat her with care. He couldn’t get off to the sounds of her gagging and spluttering all over his dick. He wanted her to feel as good as she made him feel, no matter how badly he wanted to pound into her mouth. 

Though she was much smaller than him, suspending her weight grew tiresome, and he lay back down on the bed so she could finish him off in comfort. He cradled her jaw, forcing her to look up at him while his shaft glided back and forth over her tongue. Then, she slid onto the floor, kneeling before him in a more traditional position. He fought off the urge to pull her face closer and let her follow her instincts.

After a while, Faith popped off his dick, stretching her sore jaw muscles. Faust still hadn’t come, and she wondered how much longer he needed. Was she not doing it right? Did her skill pale in comparison to others he’d experienced? She stared up at him, eyes wide with wonder.

“I’m almost there, baby. Keep going. I know it hurts, but... Fuck, I’m close, I promise.”

The real issue was time. Faust expected is bandmates to show up at any moment. Sundays were designated for practice, and this week, they were recording demos before heading into the studio. He looked at the clock, and it read five past one. If they hadn’t shown up already, they were late. Faust shook his head free of worry and focused on the beautiful girl between his thighs, lavishing his dick with her tongue and lips. He closed his eyes, dropped his head back, and concentrated on the sensation. But before he made it to the edge of orgasm, his bedroom door flew open.

“Fuck!” Faust exclaimed, pulling out of Faith’s mouth before she realized what happened. When she looked up and saw the shock on his face, she turned around and gasped.

Ola, Mordy, and the new singer all stood in the doorway with varying degrees of amusement on their faces. Mordy tried pulling the door shut, but Ola’s boot was in the way. The guys tripped over each other, embarrassment and intrigue causing them each to stumble and offer apologies.

“Shit, Faust. Sorry!”

“Get the FUCK out! Doesn’t anyone know how to fucking knock?” Faust hollered.

Once the door shut, Faust looked down at Faith, who was glowing with humiliation.

“Oh, my God. I can’t believe that just happened,” she groaned.

“This is exactly why I wasn’t answering you. Today’s just not a good day.”

Faust rose from the bed, now flaccid, scooped up his boxers and got dressed while Faith fiddled with the hem of her dress.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had plans for the day. I just thought you were ignoring me because you’d had enough. I thought—”

“That’s fucking ridiculous, Faith. Don’t even bother finishing that sentence. You know that’s stupid. If I don’t answer my phone, it means I’m fucking busy. It doesn’t mean I’m out fucking other chicks. Don’t start to get all paranoid and clingy, okay? I hate that shit.”

Faith bit her tongue and nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“I already told you... Sundays I have band stuff to do. You have your stupid church shit, and I have my shit. We can’t be together every single day of every week.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I said I’m sorry.”

Faust found his wallet, opened it and took out a twenty-dollar bill. He handed it to her. Faith looked at him, confused.

“What’s this for?”

“Take a cab home. I can’t drive you.”

“But—”

“Look, babe, I’ll call you later. I have a lot to do today. We’re going into the studio, and I’m supposed to have my tracks down already, which I would have had finished had you not come in unannounced.”

Faith looked down at the note and then back up at him, feeling terribly obtuse and regretful. “I didn’t mean to interrupt something important. And you could have said something instead of letting me waste my time trying to make you feel good.”

Before Faust could get another word out, Faith left the room and shut the door with enough force to make him flinch. He knew he should go after her, but his pride anchored him in place. He would have to pick up the argument at a later time, though he knew the unfinished business would tail him to the studio and nag in the back of his mind all day. 

Faust scoffed. “Goddamn it.”

He left his bedroom and found his band sitting in the living room looking like they’d seen a ghost walk by. Faust shook his head, not wanting to talk about what had just transpired.

“Uh, sorry, Faust. We thought you were still laying down drums. We had no idea you were—”

“Just shut the fuck up, all right? Let’s just get this over with.”

[deafseries]

Gilbert’s head was swimming from the alcohol in his system, making him sway back and forth as he made his way down the narrow hallway backstage. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat, his throat throbbing from his performance. Being in a band was all fun and games until he lost his voice from screaming into the mic. 

It didn’t help that he spent all night hydrating with some drink that had been burning his throat bad. It was a surprise Gilbert hadn’t dropped dead already, from dehydration or otherwise. The hallway widened enough for light to pour in, illuminating the decades-old stickers slapped on the dirty punk-show venue walls. He lifted a hand to press it against the layered plastic and paper, guiding himself along. Where his band-mates went he didn’t know, and didn't care. All he could think about was crashing in the dressing room for a few hours- curling up on the couch and sleeping off his intoxication.

When he opened the door and he was hit with a cloud of cigarette smoke, he knew that wasn’t how the night was going to go. The room was dark, with only the yellow, flickering ceiling bulb casting light. Which Gilbert was almost grateful for, he could only imagine how many scummy things were crawling around in this place that he couldn’t see. But what he could see wasn’t any better, that was for sure. A dingy mirror leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, peeling plastic stools tucked under the desk. And then there was Arthur, sat on the couch like he belonged there. Another scummy thing he was forced to see. 

One of Arthur’s ankles was crossed over his knee, fishnets criss-crossing over his pale, bruise-peppered legs. He’d kicked off his platforms and left them aside, more clutter in the small room. A cigarette dangled from his lips, black lipstick and eyeliner smudged all over his face. A flannel dangled off his skinny frame, barely covering the t-shirt to Gilbert’s band. Kind of tacky. Gil couldn’t tell if Arthur was wearing shorts under that shirt, but he wouldn’t doubt if he wasn’t wearing anything. 

“I told them not to let groupies back here,” Gilbert slurred, stumbling in his clunky boots to the desk and throwing his jacket over it. It made a soft noise when it landed, chains and spikes clinking together.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Arthur’s voice didn’t fit a place like this, not really. Despite the clothes he wore and the attitude he had, there was no escaping that proper accent. And it rolled over Gilbert like honey “Are you drunk?”

“Yeah I’m drunk. Are you?” Gilbert kicked his boots off next, letting them clunk against Arthur’s. He could hear people passing by the room, voices bouncing off the walls and the clumsy noise of instruments being roughly dragged onstage. 

“Of course I’m fucking drunk. It’s the only way to get through your sets.” Now that they were closer, Gil could smell the alcohol on his skin, the weed on his breath. Arthur shifted next to him, throwing a leg over his legs and settling on his lap. Arthur was hot, skin burning against his own where they touched. At some point, Arthur had gotten rid of the cigarette, but he hadn’t seen what he’d done with it.

“Why do you even come if you’re just gonna get drunk and sit back here?” Gilbert set his hands on Arthur’s hips, pulling him forwards so their hips bumped together through the fabric. And surprise surprise, Arthur was only wearing a thin thong that left nothing to the imagination. If he was sober, Gil would wonder where the man’s pants went. But he was drunk, and only cared about the outline of Arthur’s cock against the fabric. 

“You know why,” Arthur breathed and shoved himself forward, mashing their lips together clumsily. Both of their lips were chapped and Arthur tasted like nothing but sin and sweat and made him realize how dirty everything about this was. Arthur’s teeth closed around his lower lip, biting down hard and pulling back enough to pull a groan from Gilbert's throat. 

“Make it quick,” Arthur panted, reaching down to tug at Gilbert’s belt, fumbling between the studs and the leather. “Alfred wanted me home twenty minutes ago.”

“Twenty minutes ago? Pushing it with him.” Gil swatted Arthur’s ass quickly before helping Arthur pull his jeans down. He heard one of the patches on his jeans rip, but couldn’t find it in himself to care. He would care later, when he was hungover and missing a patch. But not now.

“Been blowing up my phone for a few minutes now,” Arthur grumbled, rolling his eyes. Alfred wasn’t someone they talked about often. It was clear Alfred wasn’t someone Arthur wanted to be talking about. 

“Why don’t you get on your knees and blow something else?” Gil mumbled, and he was barely able to catch Arthur’s pearly, drunk laugh. 

“You’re the worst,” Arthur said, but Gil could see the way he was grinning. He watched Arthur shift down to his knees between his legs, pulling Gilbert’s limp cock from his pants. That was clearly disappointing for the blonde, but it wasn’t like Gilbert could do anything about it. Arthur wrapped his lips around the head, black lipstick framing the pink of his cockhead. He silenced a moan, one hand threading into Arthur’s hair as the man began to bob his head, swallowing around his cock eagerly. Arthur gave head like nothing else, and the thought of him going home and pleasing his little American pet like this had a nasty ripple going up his spine. The hand in Arthur’s hair tightened, and the brit let out a noise Gil couldn’t pin as pleasure or annoyance. 

“Does he know you’re here?” Gilbert asked in a puff, and Arthur shook his head. When he came up, spit dribbled from his lips. 

“Thinks I’m at my brother’s,” Arthur mumbled before getting back to it, clearly bothered by being interrupted by such a question. 

“You’re fuckin’ dirty, lyin’ to him like that. I bet you even bought a spare change of clothes,” Gilbert huffed, feeling blood rush to his cock the more he thought about Alfred waiting at home like the good boyfriend he was, while Arthur was gagging on cock in the dressing room of this place.

Arthur just moaned, meeting Gilbert’s eyes with his own green ones. He knew Arthur didn’t feel any guilt about it too. Maybe he did the first time, when Gilbert fucked him in an alley behind a bar after Alfred didn’t put out. But any guilt he had was gone by now. Anything that remained would show after this, but right now, Arthur was more concerned with sliding his cock down his throat. Gilbert gave another hard tug to his hair, and Arthur moaned again, sending vibrations up his cock. 

As for Gilbert, he couldn’t care less what Arthur did. If he wasn’t spreading his legs for him, he would be spreading his legs for someone else. 

Gil gasped, his hips pitching up when Arthur’s tongue slid against the slit of his cock, and that’s when Arthur pulled himself up. 

“Condom?” Arthur asked, pushing Gilbert aside so he could lay across the couch, hooking one leg over the back of the couch. 

“You didn’t grab one?” Gilbert panted, repositioning himself over Arthur and reaching down. The fishnets blurred in his hands when he tried to pull them off. An agitated, unintelligent noise left him, and the fabric ripped in his fingers where he pulled, leaving behind a large hole in the stockings. Arthur made a displeased noise, but his only real protest was him shoving Gilbert’s shoulder.

“Ugh. I thought you were a rock star,” Arthur complained, fumbling in the flannel pocket in order to find a condom. “I can’t afford to waste these on you.” 

“What? He doesn’t wanna hit it raw?” Gilbert joked, and got another rough shove on his shoulder from the brit. The condom was dropped in his hand, along with a travel sized bottle of lube. 

“Will you stop talking about my boyfriend and fuck me already?” He snapped, and Gilbert laughed. He put the condom on and lubed his cock up, pushing Arthur’s legs open wider with his other hand. Even in the dim light, Gil could see the slick wetness of lube on the inside of Arthur’s thighs. So he’d been keeping himself busy in here. That made Gilbert throb. With the hand that wasn’t slick with lube, Gilbert moved the thin thong aside, and sure enough, Arthur’s hole winked at him invitingly. 

Sliding into Arthur was like coming home. He was warm and just tight enough that Gil let out a soft moan. Just then, whatever band that was scheduled to be playing started up, shaking the walls with the loud screaming of both the singer and the guitar. The noise of the couch banging against the wall was disguised by the slamming of drums and Arthur’s high moans were almost lost to the noise. 

This was when neither of them cared about the other- as if they actually cared about what each other did outside of sex. Gilbert and Arthur were both drunk and frankly, pretty selfish lovers.Each of them only cared if they got off, and it showed. But unfortunately, it seemed like they were the only people who could scratch some filthy itch. Sex with no strings, sex that was rough and uncaring and neither of them bothering with pleasantries. It was just sex. Arthur’s blunt nails dug into his shoulders, gripping him with intensity. Soft panting turned into Arthur’s back arching up, words and phrases Gilbert couldn’t catch spilling from his pink lips. 

Even in the dim light, he could see the way sweat gathered on Arthur’s face, the blonde’s face screwed up into a look between concentration and pleasure. Gil found himself watching his face as he fucked him, eyelids fluttering as Arthur’s own squeezed shut. He wondered if Arthur was thinking about someone else while being fucked like this. If Alfred bent him over and fucked him to tears or if it was nothing but missionary sex after dark. Clearly Gilbert had something that Alfred didn’t. 

When Arthur gasped and arched up again, his eyes stuttered open. They were clouded in pleasure, and Gil barely noticed he was staring until Arthur panted it out. 

“Got a starin’ problem?” He accused over the music, one of his hands moving from the couch to reach down and pull at his cock, shuddering with each thrust. Gilbert wasn’t sure what he said, but he knew that he leaned down and kissed Arthur hard, pulling in sharp breaths from his nose. 

Gilbert came first, groaning against lips that tasted like Jack Daniels. Arthur’s legs squeezed around his hips, pulling him deep and keeping him deep inside of him. Gilbert was happy to stay, Arthur’s walls tightening around him over and over as the other man worked himself into an orgasm. 

He came with a loud noise Gil knew he would deny was a squeak, and then flopped down on the couch heavily, his eyes closing again and legs falling open. Gilbert leaned back, pulling out and settling on the other side of the couch. He slowly caught his breath, head falling back as his sight went black at the corners. Arthur recovered before him, and he could hear him shuffling around his room. When he finally got the energy to lift his head, he watched as Arthur gathered his things and began to change. A soft button-up, pressed dress pants, of course. It made Gilbert chuckle. 

“What?” Arthur snipped, leaning close to the mirror and using the t-shirt he’d been wearing to wipe the makeup off his face. 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Text me?” 

The fishnets flew across the room, hitting Gilbert in the face. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

[frightknights-n-monstergirls]

Unfair

Prompt: Crane calls out another name during sex. I thought it would be a thing.

Warnings: Smut in the first few paragraphs, blood, death of a minor character. I tried to make the sex of the reader as vague as possible. Originally posted on my personal blog several years ago.

A/N: I blame many people for this one. Especially the voice clip of Dino Andrade floating around my dash. I think this is one of the darker turns I have made.

Word Count: 2070 (I’m sorry)

This night has been nothing short of a miracle. Usually it takes a lot for Jonathan Crane to give in to your wiles and rock the bed with you. Before a couple of horror movies, a fake therapy session, and some jump scares (maybe some thigh high socks and red lipstick) your psycho boyfriend would be more or less willing to let you on top of him. With the normal time it takes for him to get it up, you were pleasantly surprised when he came to you. It doesn’t take long for you to be bent over the bed moaning out your lover’s name.

A breathy moan escapes your lips as Jonathan continuously ruts into you. Every thrust is short and hard, his hands clamp down on your shoulders like his was afraid of losing any physical contact with you. You try desperately to grab on to something feeling yourself getting closer to that edge you have been craving to jump off of. Jonathan growls his fingers tightening as your passage squeezes around his cock. You place your hand on his as that final string began to whine up. Until it all came down with one word from Jonathan’s mouth.

“Ah, Becky…” You heard him moan out causing you to snap your head up. Your name isn’t Becky.

“What did you say?” You question stilling his movements. You twist your body to face Jonathan, his face had sweat running down its length.

He gulps audibly fear clear in his blue eyes as you can tell that he is trying to make up something. “I-I said Becky.” You had to give him credit for coming out with it. But it didn’t stop the flame for your fury.

“Who the hell is Becky?” You try your hardest not to snap at him, but there was still a bite in your tone. In your anger there is surprise, you never seen Jonathan be attracted to another person. Hell, he didn’t seem too phased by Poison Ivy, Catwoman, or Harley Quinn in their skimpiest costumes. But this surprise could also be the reason why you were so furious. You seemed to be the only one to cause any sort of arousal for Jonathan, the shear thought of you being his first at almost everything really propped you up on the emotional and relationship tier.  

Jonathan seems to get the idea that play time was over as he pulls out of you. The long drag of his dick sliding out of you erupts in a shiver down your spine to your loins. You sit up turning to face your lover as he grabs his boxers from the floor. After every time you two fucked, Jonathan had to put back on his underpants like he couldn’t stand being naked for a long period of time. He quickly peers at you to estimate how mad you really are. The skinny man tugs his shorts up covering his flaccid cock.

“So? Who’s Becky?” You ask again crossing your arms over your exposed chest. The fact that you are fuming does not escape Jonathan’s acknowledgement. He lets out a sigh rubbing his temples as if mapping out how he was going to explain himself. You grow impatient so you end up jiggling your foot after you crossed it with the other.

“She… she’s just a victim who happened to escape from me.” Jonathan explains taking the pause to snatch is glasses from the night stand. “Plucky Becky was labeled a hero for testifying against me in court. I wanted to break that image.” He slips his glasses on to gaze better at you, “I gassed her with the best toxin I could come up with. Throughout the session, I discovered that she suffered a childhood of bullies like myself.” There is a warm gleam in his blue eyes, one that he never gave you. A smile creeps on his face, a dark mischievous grin, “She had all the workings to become like me. I would have a cohort in spreading terror onto Gotham. I wanted her to be my mistress of fear.”

You don’t know what to think. You are a bit glad that Jonathan came out with it, but one question still left unanswered. “Are you… ‘Seeing’ her?”

Jonathan studies your face, he sees the tiniest attempts to stay calm. A frown darkens his features, “No. I haven’t seen her, she may not be in Gotham anymore.” You nod finally breaking eye contact with him. He’s telling the truth that much is evident. Jonathan continues with a question, “Does this bother you?”

“Yes, it bothers me!” You snap standing up quickly earning a shocked expression from the super criminal, “You have been imagining a different girl whenever we have sex. We rarely do it but still!” Tears prickle your eyes as you glare at Jonathan, his face void of any emotion. “I love you, Jonathan. But you don’t seem to love me back… Do you even love me? How long have I just been a thing you drag for an experiment?”

“You’re afraid that I have been stringing you along.” He states in an analytical tone. He’s studying your state of mind like he always does, or it comes across that way. This is not like when he was trying to figure you out, it’s just blank. Jonathan’s eyes have dulled like he wasn’t in the now with you. A twitch flickers under his left eye slightly putting you on alert.

“Jonathan?”

His eyes bloom back into color, his stare finds you again. Your concerned look registers to him as a small little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. Jonathan’s hands cup your face thumbs stroking your cheekbones. You close your eyes at the sensation, you’re not sure if this is a sign of affection or just him trying to break down the conversation.

“I’m sorry.” Jonathan says barely above a whisper. He pulls you into his chest, long arms wrap around your neck, hands in your hair. “I didn’t think it appeared that way. I’ll make it right.” His voice light and content with whatever plan he had. You feel a bit uneasy at this sudden change in demeanor. Nevertheless, you embrace him back not knowing where exactly to go from here.

    A few weeks had passed before you saw Jonathan again. After your heart to heart with him, he simply disappeared the next morning. You wondered if he finally left you, or this was another one of his research spells he always goes away for months on end. Surprisingly enough, you get phone calls when you are at work from your lover. He always left a message for you when you got home. Some were just letting you know that he was alive and well. Others came across as manic.

“Hello, dear. I know you are busy away at you’re wage slavery, but I wanted to let you know that I will be home soon. I love you.”

“Hello, dear. I’m nearly done with what I went away to do. I think you will love what I’m bringing to you! I love you.”

“Hello, dear. I’ve come to realize how much I actually missed you during my time away. Especially your cooking. I’m wrapping up here, I will see you in a day or two. Be ready for me. I love you.”

It starts and ends the same way every time. You don’t know what has possessed Jonathan to be so affectionate. He would call either once or twice a day, a few times you caught the phone in time to actually talk to him. Jonathan would speak gently, almost soothing in a creepy way. He would also use pet names with terms of endearment. Whatever it was, you are glad it happened and you couldn’t wait for him to come home. At least, that’s what you thought.

You walk home from work knowing expecting Jonathan to show up either today or tomorrow from where he has been. You just knew that he is probably starving from his nasty habit of not eating and you had to make him a whole chicken to satisfy him. You giggle at the thought of Jonathan devouring your cooking. You get to your apartment, your usual route of opening the door while sorting through your mail. A huge box with a big enough bow stops you dead in your tracks. How did that get in your home? But that isn’t the only thing that you ask yourself. The corner of said box is stained a red, near going black from how much there was.

Fear grips your heart knowing exactly what that red is. You are about to leave when hands grab your waist. You manage not to scream only allowing a loud gasp to escape your lips. It is Jonathan with an excited look plastered on his face. You let out a shaky breath in mock relief, you still have that dread in you.

“I got you a nice little gift to make up for how I was treating you.” Jonathan exclaims walking around you to the box in your living room. “I went through quite a bit to get it for you.” You watch him as he places his hands on top of the box. The deranged man pats the gift, “Why don’t you open it?” You shake your head knowing full well that you will not like what’s inside. A pained look crossed Jonathan’s face, “Don’t you want to see what I got you?”

You stare in horror as he unties the bow to open the box. The pull at the ribbon is excruciatingly slow. A pleasant smile graces Jonathan’s face as he unwraps your gift. You want to run to the phone to call the police, to get as far away from that thing as soon as possible, but your feet stay rooted to the spot. Once Jonathan gets it open, his hands disappear inside the gift. What he pulls out makes you sick to your stomach.

A head of a woman. Your teeth clench tighter to prevent you from screaming at the sight. The woman had freckles scattered across her cheeks and long stringy red hair. You couldn’t break the stare you had on this lady’s eyes. A dull green that are forever locked in a state of fear. From the way the light hit the head you can tell there are dried tear streaks running the length of its face. Her last moments had to have been painful.

“Say hello to Becky.” Jonathan introduces taking in your fear. You tear your gaze away from the head to Jonathan. A crazed sparkle glittered in his bright blue eyes, loving how you are frozen into place at your gift.

“W-why?” You croak out keeping eye contact with him as he came closer to you. He no longer holds the head like a ball, but by the hair allowing it to dangle from his fingers.

“Because of you.” Jonathan answered frankly eyebrows retreating to his hairline. “I realized that I had been lusting after another while in love with you. You did not do the same. You only loved me and no one else.” He lefts Becky’s head to present it to you, “I wanted to make it even. So I killed her for you.”

You are speechless at Jonathan’s confession; he felt that he had been unfair for liking two people at once? The shock you experienced numbs you to where you didn’t even feel Jonathan pull you into a possessive embrace. You rest your head on his shoulder with so many things on your mind. If he felt that way, then what would be your future when he catches you looking at another person? Would he kill them or make you do the deed? Would Jonathan want to lock you away from the world so you wouldn’t love anyone else? You shiver at the thoughts going through you. Jonathan takes notice of this.

“Don’t worry, dear.” He coos rubbing circles into your back, “I won’t hurt you, unless you want me to.” He pulls away enough to get a better look at your face. He grins wider at the terror in your eyes, “When I hold you in my arms, I know love.” He purrs wiping away a tear that barely escapes you eye with a bloody thumb, “And I know fear.”  

[hankypranky]

More Ambiguous with Two

Gabriel x Winchester Sister 

Reader wakes up in the trunk of car with no memories. The driver is just as shocked and they continue their path of discovery together with a chimpanzee named Sparkles.

Hurt/Comfort, Amnesia Fic, Feels slightly AU

Part I (word count 2200)

Inspired by this video of this girl escaping from zipties using her shoe laces.

Notes: It was meant to be a reader insert, but it got away from me a bit. The character isn’t gender neutral, it is told from the reader’s perspective with female pronouns - very little description of self other than having hair long enough to wash.

For a split second you thought you had been buried alive but you felt the motion around you and the slight smell of carbon dioxide. Then the bass began thumping through the speakers, ridiculing your pounding headache as you realized you were in the trunk of a car. A flare of panic spiked, but your center of mass started shifting. Unable to brace yourself against anything you involuntarily rolled onto your face, hissing in pain.

Your hands were bound behind your back and your feet strapped together. Everything hurt. Trying to think back to how you ended up in this trunk… there was no recollection. Fuck.

Taking in deep breaths, you tried to remain calm but it was growing increasingly frustrating when the music was turned up louder. The lyrics filling your head and you instantly hated it.

Having your hands in front of you was your first priority to getting out of these bindings as quickly as possible. With little room to maneuver, you turned on your side to hunch your back in an attempt slide your legs through your hands to have them in front of you.The more you inched backwards, the deeper the bindings cut into your flesh. … They were zip ties. Taking a deep breath, you opened the palm of your hand to relax the muscles in your wrist and give you a margin of more room to shimmy with.

It helped, but the strain you were putting on your bindings was great as your fingers became slippery with what you assumed was blood. It was a huge relief when your shoulders released and your hands sprung against the back of your knees. However, it was short lived because the driver hit a pothole and you bounced with so much force, you felt your arm break when you landed. Screaming out loud did nothing to mask the pain but you needed to carry on. You still weren’t done yet.

Extending your arms forward, you pulled your knees to your chest and swooped your arms around your legs officially freeing your hands from behind your back.

A bubble of fear, relief and pain swept through you and a sob escaped your lips. Clenching your teeth you took a steadying breath and rolled onto your left side to take the pressure off your broken arm. You lifted your feet to tie your boot laces together. You couldn't finger them, so so you bent down and pulled the string up with your teeth.

This next part had you worried. You needed to use your laces as a saw which was going to hurt like a son of a b*. Your feet were bound, so you couldn't use the pedal motion. You needed to use your hands and shoulders to create enough friction to cut through the zip tie. Trying to keep more pull on your left arm didn’t help much, every pull had you crying out in pain, your body revolting in every motion. Tightening your grip with your broken arm, you gave it all you had to end this sooner…

It snapped. Your adrenaline was pumping now and there was nothing that was going to keep you a victim. Sliding the place between your ankles, you did the same thing with your feet, except this time you weren’t going to use your right arm. Instead, you slipped the lace through the crook of your left elbow, and did a seesaw motion with your right hand. Though it was causing a nasty rash and took much longer, it was worth avoiding your bad arm.

Despite being locked inside of a trunk, you were free. Why are you locked inside of the boot of this car? Who put you here? Your memory was as dark as this damned trunk.

The music pulled you out of your musings. Time to get to the facts.

Finding the soft spot where the tail light should be you began kicking. Forgetting to brace your arm was a mistake, but one rectified quickly. You kicked so hard your foot got suck momentarily. Shifting around you pulled the liner off to reveal the a desolate highway.

Day time, check.

Other things to assess:

Am I hungry? No.

Am I thirsty? No.

Shit. I’m in so much pain, I can’t tell.

Am I dehydrated?

Your tongue slipped out to find very chapped lips. Definitely dehydrated.

Reaching out you touched your face, there were no open wounds, but a lump on your chin. Punched in the face. Must have been a knockout hit. That explains the memory loss. Okay, so maybe I have been out about 5 hours?

Now having most your mobility back, you made the decision to let the driver know you were awake. They wouldn't be expecting you be free and to strike first. You waited until the song stopped playing before kicking and yelling at the top of your lungs. The next song started playing, but the driver turned off the music, so you kicked even harder against the top of the trunk. As the car slowed down, your heart sped up.

Listening to the steps the driver was taking towards the trunk, you secure your broken arm and positioned yourself to to attack.

Tap tap tap.

Was this person seriously knocking on the trunk?

A man’s voice asked, “Hello? Is someone in there?”

Mimicking his tap, tap, tap, you waited for a response that came in the click of the trunk opening.

The light blinded you but you saw enough of a shape to make sure your punch landed on their face. Your knuckles connected and you fought the urge to close your eyes.

He fell to the ground and began scrambling backwards on the pavement, “Who the hell are you?”

He was still a blur, but his shock was evident. You shouted back at him, “Who the hell are you?”

The man raising his hand in a non threatening gesture, his eyes wide with fear. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you. I- I literally rented this car this morning.”

Still unable to focus on anything in particular, you accepted the fact he was as surprised as you were. Slowly nodding your head, you believed him. He slowly stood, intentionally trying to make no sudden movements. “You’re hurt. Let me get you to a hospital.”

“Where are we?”

He stood and dusted his hands off on his green jacket, “In Nevada. Off Route 80. About halfway between Reno and Salt Lake City. What’s your name?”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you accidentally dropped your broken arm. “Son of a bitch!”

Your arm hung loosely on your side but you could still move your fingers. Grasping your arm, you squeezed your triceps and biceps. You spoke to yourself out loud, “Ok, it’s just dislocated”

Finally able to see the man in front of you, his expression consumed your attention, especially his eyes. They looked gold at first, but had a bit of auburn woven in, for a moment you were mesmerized. “Help me pop it back in.”

“No!” He looked horrified at the thought. “ We gotta’ get you to a doctor.”

You wouldn’t be able to hold out that long, “I can do it myself, but I’d rather have you help me.” Taking in his startled appearance, you asked gently, “Please?”

He huffed out a breath so grand it stirred the bangs on his hairline. “How can I help?”

You walked towards the back of the generic blue sedan and gestured for him to stand near the right side of the car. Settling yourself on the trunk hood you cradled your arm. “I need to relax the muscles first… talk to me. Tell me about yourself. I’m still running on adrenaline.”

You squinted against the sky to see him. Wiping his brow he stared at your in bafflement. “Uh, well my name is Rich and I work in Reno.”

It was difficult to relax, but you closed your eyes knowing the worst of the pain should be over soon, “Oh yeah? Doing what?”

“Gee, what don’t I do. Bartender, host, ticket collector, whatever they need me to do. We’re like a modern circus. We have a variety of performances, some freaks, delicious drinks. I do what needs to be done.” His pacing calms your nerves, he doesn’t have anything to do with your kidnapping. He burst out, “How are you so calm?”

“Did you lock me in the trunk?”

“Hell no!”

“That’s what I figured. I need you to calm down too, okay?” He stopped roaming. “I’m sorry I ruined your day.”

Rich moved in front of you and blocked the sun, it silhouetted around him and it looked like a halo formed above his head. “You’re sorry? What?” He looked down at you and you could see the sincerity and hesitation in his eyes, “ No, no. Look at you. I’m sorry.”

His voiced soothed you in such a way you felt like your worries had been washed away. His voiced bounced from gravelly to high pitched and back in just a few syllables. “Okay, I think I’m ready.” You laid across the trunk. It was hot but not enough to burn you. “Grab hold of my wrist with both your hands, keep my arm level with my body.”

There was a long pause before you felt his firm but gentle grip. Biting your lip, you kept your groan to a minimum. “I need you to move my arm from 90 degrees towards my head while making a handshake motion. Can you do that? Not too fast, not too slow.”

“Yea’.” He gave your wrist a squeeze. “You ready?”

“Yep.” The pain was excruciating, but you felt your joint slide back into place. It hurt, a lot but it was nothing like it was. He moved your arm back so that you could cradle it once again.

“How did you know how to do that? Are you a paramedic or something?”

Unable to even entertain that question, you interrupted him, rubbing your arm, “Hey, I’m gonna’ need a sling or something.”

“Sugar, you need a lot of everything right now. Hold tight.” After a few moments of him scrambling in the backseat, you heard a loud tear. He had ripped one of his undershirts and was approaching with a gallon of water. “Let’s get some of this blood cleaned off before we put this on.” Dowsing his shirt in water, he began to clean your hands. Gently pulling your fingers, wiping away the blood. “Tell me, how did your wrists get to looking’ like this?”

Taking a moment to look at him, his hair shined in the sunlight. It reminded you of a wheat field swaying in the breeze. A few freckled donning his face and thin lips. Though he had a small stature, he made you feel small for some inexplicable reason.

“Freakin’ zip ties. I was hogtied in your trunk with zip ties.” You watched as his eyes widened and waited for you to continue, “I- uh, used the friction from my shoelaces to saw through them.”

Disbelief covered his face, “I thought you said you were hogtied?”

Slightly embarrassed, you felt your cheeks redden, “I was, but I was able to shimmy my arms under my butt to get them in front, but you hit a pothole and that's how I dislocated my shoulder.”

He looked at you, his eyebrows quirked together, “You’re certainly a badass aren't you?”

Your head began to hurt once again. “I guess so… I don’t remember much right now.”

His eyes sharply met yours, “What do you mean, like amnesia?”

Startled by his seriousness, you pulled back, You knew your memory wasn’t right, but the thought of not remembering startled you. Meeting his gaze, you saw the color drain from his face. It perplexed you more. Did he know something?

“It must be the carbon monoxide.” Running your fingers over the lump you had found on your chin, you raised your hand to feel your skull. Your fingers stopped when they discovered another bump and caked on blood in your hair. “I must have a concussion too.”

“Well, we’ll get you to a hospital.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“What do you think they are going to do? I have no ID, no possessions. I’m on my own. They are just gonna call the police.”

“That’s kinda the point Toots. They can help.”

“Yeah, sure, but then what? I’m still on my own no matter what.. From what I can gather, I’ve only been out about 6 hours, not enough time for a missing persons report.  If someone was trying to get rid of me, I don’t want an APB out I’ll have more luck with contacting the car rental place.”

Rich’s hand was on his hip, he snarked back, “Oh yeah? What are you gonna’ say, ‘Helloooo, I woke up bound in one of your trunks, do you recognize me?’”

“Look, you packed light. You plan on going back to Reno shortly, let me tag along and we can talk to the rental place. IF they don’t have any information, I’ll go to the police. Deal?”

His arm flung out with his pointer finger extended, “A. That’s creepy you have been able to deduct all of that in the last ten minutes. B. Do you know how frustrating you are?”

“No.”

“Right, right… amnesia.” He sighed and opened the passenger door for you and awkwardly helped you put your seat belt on.

-- -- -- 

If you want to be tagged, just let me know! Currently, it’s at about 17,000 words.  I will most likely continue to post chapters here as I finish the last couple of chapters. You can find my A03 here.

[vincent-frankenstein]

To My Heart and Soul

[ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | you are here | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | read on AO3 ]

Warnings: major character death, villain/abusive deceit, blood, fighting, panic attacks, creepy imagery

Pairings: logince, hints of moxiety, a tiny smidge of remile and past abusive anxceit

Logan barely had time to react before Toby slammed his foot into the ground, sending out a wave of magic that shoved Logan right out of the dragon’s grasp. He slammed into one of the dragon’s piles and slid to the floor in a cascade of junk, black spots dancing before his eyes as he struggled to get a hold on his breath.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sheer terror the dragon evoked. She was massive, her long body coiled around and around to fit inside the building. Her head alone was the side of a small truck. Jagged, razor-sharp teeth jutted out from her jaw, and smoke billowed from her tapered snout, sparks flying through the air. Logan shook from head to toe, terror reaching up his throat to choke away all logic. He couldn’t breathe.

Patton and Toby moved in unison, firing off brightly-colored spells that collided with the dragon’s scaly hide with a noise like a train crash. She roared and let loose a volley of flames, which Toby just barely blocked with a flickering orange shield.

Logan balled his hands into fists and squeezed hard enough to draw blood, until the pain drove away his terror, until he’d regained some semblance of logical thought. There had to be something he could do to help. He wasn’t quite ready to reveal his connection to Roman just yet, too wary of what the dragon’s reaction could be — but that didn’t mean he had to be completely useless. He sucked in a deep, shaking breath, glancing around the room.

There! When Toby blasted him backwards, the weapon fell from his hands and landed embedded in a pile off to his right. He watched the battle for a moment — Patton pushed his hands through the air and a bright blue whip lashed around the dragon’s hind legs — and then he set off, inching along the edge of the pile, his hands tightening around his shield generator. If he could just reach the weapon, he could get it out of there. He could ensure their mission was complete.

The dragon’s tail swiped through the air above his head, sending the top of one pile flying. It clattered to the ground with a horrible noise, breaking Toby’s concentration. Logan froze, pressing himself back against the pile, but when he was sure he hadn’t been seen he continued.

The hilt of the weapon glowed in the firelight, and it seemed to grow brighter as he approached, as if it knew he was coming. He darted from the edge of one pile to the edge of another, inching around the perimeter until the weapon was close enough to touch. Hand shaking, he reached out and yanked it from the pile — and in doing so dislodged something very big and very heavy higher up in the pile, which came crashing down at his feet with a deafening clatter.

The dragon froze mid-fire breath, whipping her long neck around to stare right at Logan. He froze solid, his limbs locking with panic, his hands twisting around the hilt of the weapon — and his mind blanked beyond holy shit, holy shit, so this is how I die —

“Logan!” Patton darted forward, yanking the shield generator from Logan’s hands and slamming it into the ground just before the dragon’s massive claw came down on them. “What are you doing?”

He tried to answer, really, but all he could produce was a terrified squeak. Patton opened his mouth, glancing over his shoulder at Logan — and the dragon used his distraction and swiped through his shield with ease, knocking him into Toby and sending them both flying. They slammed into a wall and slumped to the floor in an unconscious heap.

And oh, wasn’t that just perfect. Logan stumbled backwards, mind racing — Patton and Toby weren’t moving, and the dragon was peering at him like a particularly nasty insect, and he had to get them out of there, somehow, but he couldn’t even breathe, let alone think — and the dragon lowered her massive head, until she was so close that Logan could feel her blisteringly hot breath. Sparks brushed against his skin.

“How did you even get in here?” she wondered, her long, snake-like tail wrapping around his middle and squeezing. Red-hot pain cracked through his ribcage as she lifted him off his feet, and he choked, darkness tugging at the corners of his vision. The end of her tail looped around the sword and tore it from his hands, and a cry tore itself from his throat. “Now, come on. That’s not yours, and you know it.”

The weapon’s warmth disappeared in a split second and the pain nearly doubled, flooding every inch of his body in a wave of agony. Black spots danced before his vision and he heaved for air, his lungs protesting every breath. He had to get the weapon back; he didn’t come this far just to die.

“Roman —” He gasped as the dragon’s tail tightened, choking on his own voice. She searched his face, eyes narrowing.

“What did you say?”

He winced, pain wracking his chest when he cleared his throat. “R-Roman,” he managed, his voice shaking and hoarse. “I know Roman.”

All at once, her grip loosened, and air flooded his lungs as he crashed to the floor. He doubled over, jagged agony shooting through every limb, colors popping behind his eyelids as he squeezed his eyes shut. He grit his teeth, a low whine building in the back of his throat. “F-Fuck,” he muttered, hands curling into shaking fists against the floor.

“How do you know him?” the dragon asked, and he could just barely hear her through the blood rushing in his ears. Was there anger, beneath her shock and confusion? He couldn’t tell. Logan breathed as well as he could through his broken ribs and raised his head to face the dragon.

“He was my h-husband,” he said, and the dragon’s eyes widened, a string of hissed curse words flying from her lips. She set the weapon gently on the ground and leaned in close, disbelief and concern warring in her emerald eyes.

“Holy shit,” she whispered. “I — why didn’t you just say that?”

The pride at being right about the dragon knowing Roman was far overshadowed by the pain lacing through the growing numbness in his chest. He groaned, gasping for breath, and the dragon swore again. She gently lifted his head with the end of her tail, peering at him with narrowed eyes.

“Tell me again,” she said. “Tell me I can trust you.”

“He was my husband,” Logan said again, meeting her gaze with all the strength he could muster. “I loved him.”

She searched his face. “Logan,” she whispered. “You’re Logan.”

Had Roman told everyone in this world about him? He nodded weakly, falling against the dragon’s tail as pain spiked through his lungs. “Okay,” the dragon said, glancing around the room. “Um. Okay, okay, I — shit, you’re really messed up.”

“No shit,” Logan said, but it came out as a weak, wheezy groan. The dragon winced, her gaze falling on Patton and Toby.

“In my defense,” she said, “I thought you were just thieves. How was I supposed to know you’re my dad’s husband? I — I can’t heal you, do either of these humans know any healing spells?”

“Y-Yes,” Logan sad, and somehow he managed to lift his hand to point at Patton. A moment passed, then another — he blinked once, twice, the dragon’s words catching up to him — and then he froze. Her dad? “Wh — wait — how?” he spluttered, but the dragon had already curled up near Patton and Toby, poking at them with one claw.

Moving carefully, she pulled Patton off of Toby and propped them both up against the wall. She blew a burst of hot air against Patton’s face, and his eyes snapped open, a million emotions crossing his face all at once before he settled on fear. He jumped to his feet and blue sparks burst to life in his palms, spreading out into a long shield.

“S-Stay back!” he cried, as the dragon stood and glanced at Logan. Patton followed her gaze, and a cry of fright tore from his lips. “Logan? O-Oh no, are you okay? I’m coming kiddo, don’t worry!”

“Patton,” Logan yelled, “it’s alright! The dragon and I have reached an — an understanding!”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the dragon said, with every ounce of comfort a giant, hulking beast with rows of razor-sharp teeth could muster. “I mean — not anymore.”

Patton glanced between the two of them, eyebrows furrowing. He took in Logan’s injuries, concern lining his face, and craned his neck to look at the dragon as confusion joined the mix. His shield flickered away after a long, tense moment, and he set his hands on his hips. “Well, I’m very confused!” he said with a nervous laugh.

“We can explain l-later,” Logan said. He tried to stand and agony jolted through his torso, sending him crashing back to the floor with a cry of pain. “P-Please heal me.”

Patton was at his side in an instant, blue-coated hands pressing firmly against his chest. Warmth flooded through the numbness and drove back the pain and he made a small noise of relief, eyes slipping shut.

“I’ll, uh. Wake up this human.” The dragon moved to turn, and Patton cried out to stop her, his magic flaring painfully through Logan.

“A-Ah, let me do that!’ he said, wincing apologetically at Logan. “He might try to attack you before he understands what’s going on.” He lifted his hands and shook away the excess magic, and then sat back, raising an eyebrow. “What… what is going on, bye the way?”

Logan stretched, breathing deeply with relief. “The Dragon’s Eye was engraved with a… a message that Roman gave me, years ago. I assumed that that meant that he had interacted with the dragon at some point, and I was right. Once I told her who I was, she stopped attacking.”

Patton pulled Toby into his lap, whispering words that made the bruises littered across his skin fade away. “How do you know Roman?” he asked the dragon, his voice as kind as ever. Logan blinked, something hot and uncomfortable seeping into his chest. The fact that Patton already trusted Logan enough to trust a dragon…

The lies he’d been telling settled deep in his gut and burned.

“He’s my father,” the dragon said, and Logan choked, because somehow he’d forgotten about that little detail. The dragon laughed, settling her head on her folded claws like a cat. “Not biologically, of course. My parents were killed before I even hatched. If he hadn’t found me and taken care of me… I would have died. He’s the closest thing to a dad I’ve got.”

Patton cooed softly, hugging Toby to his chest. Logan could practically sense the oncoming tears. “That’s so sweet,” he said, choked-up. “That sorta makes you my niece, huh? And Logan’s like your step-father!”

Logan blinked. Logically, that made sense. He had married Roman; therefore, the dragon was his step-daughter. Somehow, though, he hadn’t made that connection until Patton said it aloud. A step-daughter. He had a daughter.

He took a moment to recover, and cleared his throat. “Y-Yes. I suppose I am,” he said, as evenly as he could manage. He’d gone from being utterly alone to having a brother-in-law and a daughter — and as the shock faded, he realized that he didn’t mind in the slightest. He tried for a smile. “Do you have a name?”

“Seraphina,” the dragon said. “My friends call me Sera, or at least they would if I had any friends.”

Patton made a high-pitched noise of sympathy, and Logan raised an eyebrow. Was that a sincere statement, or a Hercules reference? The latter was extremely likely, considering she had been raised by Roman. “Right, Sera,” he began. “We need some —”

“Holy shit —”

And Toby was awake. He leaped from Patton’s lap with a cry of shock, orange magic flaring around his hands. “Get back, you two!” he yelled, swaying unsteadily. Logan jumped between him and Seraphina on instinct, throwing his arms wide, and Patton grabbed Toby’s arm and yanked him back down with a loud cry of fright. Toby staggered to the floor, his magic fizzing and sparking, confusion and anger flaring on his face.

“It’s okay!” Patton yelled, a bit louder than he had to. “It’s okay, she’s a good dragon!”

“What?” Toby fought to yank his arm from Patton’s grip, but Patton was far stronger than anyone gave him credit. There was no escape.

“She’s on our side,” Logan insisted, as Seraphina nodded vigorously, curling in on herself to appear smaller. “She knows Roman!”

“What?” Toby looked between the three of them, face lined with shock.

“She’s Logan’s daughter!” Patton finished, and Toby went stock-still.

“What.”

His magic flickered out, and Logan sagged with relief, shooting a glance at Seraphina over his shoulder. “I believe we have some explaining to do,” he said, sitting back down with a heavy sigh.

“Damn straight,” Toby growled.

“Damn gay,” Patton said, in a voice so similar to Roman’s that Logan’s heart skipped a beat.

So Logan told the story a second time, with Patton interjecting puns every now and again, to his great chagrin. Seraphina kept her commentary to herself, watching Toby warily, her long, leathery wings shifting uncomfortably, as though she expected him to attack. Toby, to his credit, didn’t react badly. He stared at Sera for a long moment, on eyebrow raised, and then his gaze slid to Logan.

“I can see the family resemblance,” he said dryly.

“Shut up,” Logan said. Seraphina relaxed, resting her head on the floor beside Logan. She shot him a sideways glance when Toby snickered, and Logan raised an eyebrow back, rolling his eyes.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Logan began. “I have some questions, Sera.”

“Ask away, padre,” Sera said with a laugh. The corners of Logan’s mouth twitched. She was definitely Roman’s daughter.

“How did you get Roman’s weapon?” Logan asked. “Did he give it to you? Did he instruct you to take it? When did you get it?”

“He brought it to me,” Sera said. “About… nine months and two days ago. He only told me to protect it, and then he disappeared. He seemed… shaken. Scared.” She frowned, worry swirling in her deep emerald eyes. “I haven’t seen him since.”

Nine months and two days ago — in other words, two months after Roman “died.” If they needed any more confirmation, this was it. Patton shot Logan a wide-eyed look, barely contained hope lighting up his face.

“So Princey didn’t die,” Toby said, leaning back against one of Sera’s hoards. His eyebrows furrowed. “You’re sure it was him?”

Seraphina squeaked. “He — he died?” she exclaimed, head rearing up.

“I just said he didn’t, genius.”

Logan glared at Toby. “Obviously, he didn’t,” he said, deep in thought. “Both Anxiety and Dorian suggested that he is alive, and now we know that he didn’t die the night we thought he did. He faked his own death. Or someone else faked it for him, but considering he was able to bring the weapon to Seraphina months after the fact, that seems unlikely.”

“But why would he fake his own death? And how?” Patton asked, nose wrinkled in thought. “There was a body, and the only way he could have faked that is with —”

“With a duplication spell,” Toby cut in, tapping against his knee as he thought.

“But you said he gave up his magic to be with me,” Logan said. “How would he have cast a spell?”

“There’s more than one kind of magic,” Toby said. “Inherent magic is magic that you’re born with. It can only be used by people born here, and you’d need a near-constant supply of magic to live if you have it. That’s why we can’t spend too long in your world. That’s what Roman gave up.”

“But magic can be stored, too,” Patton continued. “Like — like your shield generator! We can push magic into objects and give them purposes, and then they can be used by anyone, anywhere, even a mortal in the mortal realm. But…”

Toby sat back, eyebrows furrowed. “But I’ve never heard of someone creating a stored duplication spell,” he said, crossing and uncrossing his arms like he didn’t know what to do with them. “I mean, duplicating a body, making it convincing enough that mortal doctors would consider it real? Even with inherent magic, that would be fucking impossible.”

“Dad loved to do the impossible,” Seraphina said. “I mean, just look at this thing.” She angled her head at the weapon, lying on the floor beside her.

“Speaking of that,” Logan said, “what is it? How does it work?”

Seraphina snorted. “Hell if I know, Dad never told me. But can’t you feel it? Whatever it is, it’s powerful. There’s a shitload of magic in there. Even I can’t produce magic that strong.”

Logan reached forward and drew the weapon into his lap, running a finger along the runes. Every person he’d met in the magical realm had a different buzz to them, a unique energy, but they’d all run together until the lines had blurred and he couldn’t tell what belonged to who. Roman’s weapon was defined in a way that nothing else had been; as sharp and as certain as Roman himself. If he could determine the difference, so unused to magic as he was, he couldn’t imagine how it was for experienced mages like Patton and Toby.

He slid his thumb over the small hole in the center of the hilt. There was an identical hole on the other side, forming an almost-tunnel. They didn’t seem to serve any purpose.

“Being obnoxiously talented was Princey’s thing,” Toby remarked with a shrug, and Logan snorted.

“Hey! Shush.” Patton whacked him in mock-offense, giggles tumbling from his mouth. He sobered quickly, though, and his brows knit together. “Why would he do it, though? Why didn’t he just ask for help?”

“Roman wasn’t often one to admit when he needed help,” Logan said. “Something made him believe that the only option was to fake his own death, and whatever that something was, he believed he could face it alone.”

The thought both saddened and terrified him. Roman had him, Patton, and the entire Arcane Council on his side, as well as whatever other resources the leader of magical New York could gather. If even that wasn’t enough, if he still believed the only viable option was to run away… it did not bode well. How alone had he felt, those last few days? How alone had he been ever since?

“Gee, I wonder who the ‘something’ could be,” Toby drawled sarcastically.

“Dorian,” Patton said, pain flashing across his face. “And if Anxiety is right… he ended up getting Roman anyway.”

Logan’s fingers tightened around the hilt of the weapon. “We will get him back,” he said, to himself as much as to Patton. “We have the weapon now. Our next priority should be to return to the council and determine how to use it. Then…”

“Then we find Dorian and bitch-slap him into next year,” Toby growled.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Crude, but you’re not wrong. There is another thing that’s bothering me, though,” he said. “Roman never told me about this place. I didn’t even know he had brothers. And yet, he told me where to find the weapon, and — and he engraved a message for me, in the dragon’s eye.”

“He what?” Toby asked, eyebrows raising. He yanked the eye from around his neck and peered at it, running a finger along the words. “To my heart and soul…”

“You hold the key,” Logan finished. “It’s the same phrase that he engraved in our wedding rings, so it seems likely that he meant for me to find the eye. That implies that he knew I’d get involved in this, that he had knowledge of the future. Is that… possible?”

“Not… really?” Patton said, biting his lip in confusion. “I mean, I guess he could have seen a seer, but —”

“But even Princey wouldn’t be that stupid,” Toby said, dropping the eye back around his neck. At Patton’s annoyed look, he rolled his eyes. “What? Everyone knows seers are bad luck.”

“No,” Patton said, “some people believe seers are bad luck. That doesn’t mean that they are.“

“Doesn’t matter, anyway,” Toby said, rolling his eyes again. “There hasn’t been a seer born in our world for decades. I doubt he would have been able to find one.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too,” Patton said. He shrugged, mouth twisting into a confused grimace. “Just another mystery! We can ask him when we find him, okay?”

Logan nodded. “Right. Come on.” He stood, dusting off his pants, and offered Patton his free hand. “Thank you, Seraphina. Your help was invaluable.”

Seraphina rolled onto her back, wings spreading out beneath her. “You’re welcome, dad,” she said, equal parts sincere and teasing. Logan choked, shoving away the deluge of mixed feelings that threatened to swallow him whole. Behind him, Patton awwed so loudly, he wouldn’t have been surprised if they could hear it back in New York.

Bathed in sunset-light, the three climbed out of Seraphina’s keep and back into the forest. Logan held the weapon tightly to his chest as they trekked over the uneven ground, following just behind Patton and Toby.

They were so close. They had the weapon, a way to defeat Dorian, once and for all. They had answers, and above all, they had one definite truth: Roman didn’t die in the car crash. He was out there, somewhere. Logan could find him.

Logan could find home.

He smiled to himself, a sigh of relief falling from his lips. His shattered world was beginning to build itself back up, back into what it had been before.

A figure stepped out from the trees, golden eyes glowing beneath a hood wreathed of shadows. He blasted Patton and Toby aside without a moment’s hesitation, head tilting up, his mouth stretching into a wide grin.

“Hello, Logan,” Dorian said, and the world fell apart once more.

[rapunzel-withthegoodhair]

work

summary: there’s not much time for working through a nasty break up while you’re on the road touring. at least, not in a healthy way... pairing: gerald x ofc (x) rating: n. s f w, language, explicit sex status: complete, read my other g eazy fics here 

I left my mind in Soho I left my heart in NoLa    And I'mma live like a king if it kills me I'm a kid, seven sins couldn't thrill me This never gets old, cause I'm unstable Never say die, I'm fine, I'll play the piper, whatever the price I lost my mind in LA I lost my heart in...

Fuck it, I never had a heart

February 2016

Of course she knows who the fuck G-Eazy is. But this is the hottest strip club in the Chi and Delphi works the VIP Lounge. She knows the name of every rapper that rolls through because it’s her fucking job to know. If she’s honest, she’s a bit sweeter on the NBA players. They tend to be cuter and tip way better. But hell, she’s not complaining over $800 in one weekend when the big names show up.

Half his crew is already annoying the fuck out of her before she’s even on her pole. They’re loud. Spilling drinks and laughing over stupid jokes made at the expense of her girls. But she’s been doing this for almost two years. Delphi knows how to keep a straight face and put on a show. Climbs nearly all the way up the pole and twirls slowly, upside down. Snakes her way down at a torturous pace. Weaves her way back up. Does a full split and carefully rolls her way back to the floor.

It’s hard to ignore Delphi’s routines. Somewhere along the last two years, she really fell in love with pole dancing. And it shows in her performances. The girl doesn’t smile. Doesn’t put on the ‘little doll’ act. Doesn’t try to skate by on her looks and flirtatious charm. She steals the stage as an athlete you can’t take your eyes off of.

But even as his eyes never leave her body, she can tell he’s somewhere else. One, two, three, four sips of Jack straight out the bottle. Finally, she stops trying to keep count. Their eyes seem to penetrate each other through the smoke. And even she has to admit, he’s got a way about him that makes her just a little bit curious. Why are you so anxious to get to the bottom of that bottle, baby? Why do your eyes look so cold and empty? So mean and lonely all at once?

The guests really aren’t supposed to touch the girls. But this is VIP. And she’s heard rumors about their crew dropping 20 grand in one night. When he singles her out for a private lap dance upstairs, she’s not about to tell him what he can and can’t do. As far as she’s concerned, the $50 bills he’s slipping into her bikini say he can do whatever the hell he wants.

The weird part is that he doesn’t. Where most guys are groping and pushing the second they get her in a private room...he’s still sipping his drink. Letting her do as she pleases. His hands roam, of course. Over her stomach as she lays back in his lap. Up over her rips. Along her neck and into her blonde hair.

His nose against her ear, his breath warm and heavy with whiskey, this feels almost...sensual. Just work, she reminds herself. Just another tip. Still, she sighs as his large hands drag down over her hip and then back up to squeeze her waist.

Heels finding the floor, she bends over for him. Arches her spine to press her ass right in his lap before slowly crouching down on the floor. Her hair flips back as she spins around, hands finding his thighs and dragging over them. Pushing them apart for her to crawl between. Tipping her head back, Delphi’s slender fingers play over his belt a bit. Her eyes search his, trying to gauge whether he wants a blowjob without actually ruining the moment by asking.

Thankfully, he seems perfectly aware of her question and answers by dragging his fingers into her hair. Tugging gently, he pulls her back up and into his lap. Feeds her from the bottle of Jack still in his grip. A generous bit spills past her lips and down her chest. The giggle that slips free of her throat is genuine as the alcohol tickles over her cold skin.

It’s that little noise that seems to make him finally snap. With a firm tug, he pulls her flush against him. Sets his bottle aside and leans to lick away the whiskey dripping over her soft, lightly tanned skin. His long fingers drag up her back, feeling for the strings of her bikini and tugging at them in a way that falls somewhere between practiced and drunk.

A soft gasp melts into a sigh as his mouth finds a breast. Closes around her nipple and sucks gently. She’s not used to foreplay of any kind. At least, not at work. You’re not supposed to fuck in the VIP rooms...but everyone knows that’s the point of the VIP room. Typically though, the sex is over before it really begins and she’s no worse for wear. Walking away a few hundred dollars richer.

This...this is kind of nice. He gets her bikini bottoms undone and money falls across the floor. But she lets it stay there for now. Keeps her focus on him because she can tell it’s what he needs. Drags her fingers through his hair, does her best to ignore how fucking nasty it is, weighed down with sweat and grease. The vulnerability in his drunken brown eyes makes up for it though. His touch caresses over her cheek. Traces over her lower lip. His gaze having such a hard time focusing on her and still intent on studying her in the dim light of the private room. She could swear he’s looking at her like he knows her. Like he has a thousand things he wants to say to her.

She tries to guide things along, reaching down between them to undo his jeans. And he lets her this time. Lets her tug him free. Seems to finally let all his questions go as she strokes along the thick, hard length of him. His head tips back, eyes closing and she leans to kiss his temple. Nuzzles a bit as she guides him very slowly inside of her.

His jaw sets, brows knitting together as the pleasure grips him with an unexpected strength. Delphi gives him a moment to adjust to the feeling of being inside her, before starting to rock in his lap. Normally, she’d rest her weight on her knees and fuck her client into next week. Get this over with as soon as possible. But that feeling like he chose her for a reason, like he has a weight pressing down on and splintering his chest, haunts her. All the unasked questions in his eyes, the anger and the pain, kick something alive inside her. Something besides the compartmentalizing, cut throat little sociopath she becomes in the club. Something empathetic and nurturing and almost maternal.

Her spine rolls slow and gentle in his lap. Fingers gripping the side of his neck for leverage, until he takes her touch as an invitation. Her brows arch when he leans forward and buries his face in her neck. His fingers digging into her hips. His gasps slipping into whimpers. And maybe she’s imagining it...but these don’t sound like helplessly lost in pleasure whimpers. They sound like as if he’s fighting tooth and nail against tears.

The streetsmart hoodrat from south Chi that’s always alive and well inside her snarls in disgust. Man the fuck up, that girl says. Damn, no wonder whatever girl you think of when you look at me left you.

But the girl his big, sad brown eyes have woken up simply wraps her arms around him. Cradles him close as they rock and grind together. Smooths his hair back, despite the gel and sweat weighing it down into his eyes again and again. Gently lifting his chin, her nose nuzzles at his own. Lips catching his pretty mouth in a soft kiss.

Without warning, his grip tightens and before she even processes the shift, Delphi is laying on her back across the booth table. Leaning over just enough to get a better angle, his thrusts become firmer. Somewhat faster. Pushing so deep it makes her eyes roll back. He’s so fucking big, she’s really not sure she’s ever had anyone this deep before. Losing her breath on each thrust, she reaches out to grip the edge of table. Her moans trill up into high pitched cries that fill the room and over power the loud as fuck music that pulses through their bodies.

Reaching down between them, he rests a large hand on her stomach. Stretches a thumb down to press into her clit. And all the while she can feel his eyes watching her, full of hunger and a desperation to make her see stars. To make her completely fucking unravel for him. Nobody has ever turned her out like this. Not in the club. Not at home. This feels way too god damn personal to be anything but and her suspicions that he’s looking at her but seeing someone else seem to be confirmed.

Between the music and her own near-screams...she’s not sure she hears him right. But she swears in the heat of the moment that he mumbles something along the lines of “I really fucking loved you, baby girl...”. She wants to give him what he needs. To reach up and cradle his jaw and tell him she loved him too. Still does. But as her mouth opens, the only thing that rips free is a scream and her body arches like a bowstring pulled tight with a waiting arrow. Every muscle tenses for a moment and somewhere in the back of her mind she notes the way his hips grind so hard to hers it nearly hurts.

For a long string of moments, he lays over her, panting and sweating. Until finally, he starts to get up.

They avoid each other’s eyes as they get dressed. Delphi does her best to ignore the weird, slightly gross feeling of his cum and her own soaking wet between her legs. Though she figures she can deal with it for a few minutes. Still, she chastises herself for not digging a condom out of one of the many hiding places the little packets get stuffed into.

Before he can slip out, she grips his wrist gently. Studies his eyes and hopes to see something steadier there. Any sign that he’d gotten what he needed. But he only looks more broken. Swallowing, she keeps the observation to herself and pulls him down into a somewhat tender, but very tired and slightly messy kiss. To her surprise, he returns it.

‘Thank you.’ His kiss says. ‘I know you gave me your best...even if it wasn’t quite enough.’

Their noses nuzzle one last time. Eyes brushing across each other, she feels more exposed than she ever has while dancing naked on stage. He steals a last kiss and squeezes her waist. She picks up her $760 off the floor and heads to the bathroom to clean up.

The experience plays over and over in her head, easily the strangest she’s ever had while working at Dolce. A part of her hates the not knowing. Who the hell was he fucking back there? What did that girl do that was so god-awful? She shakes her head and tries to remind herself that it doesn’t matter. That a tender heart is the best way to get herself in trouble around here. Even if this is the nicer side of the city.

A few drinks at the bar and she’s up on stage again. Just barely catches his tall frame and broad shoulders slipping out into the cold air of 2am in Chicago. The second he’s out of sight, she pushes him from her mind and moves on.

But when she finally cashes out at 4am, there’s a $3,000 tip waiting for her.