#but he WILL get fucked and then drink his blood

[sceletaflores]

come on and show me a little bit of spine!

pair: logan howlett x mutant!fem!reader

wc: 5.5k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, drinking, smoking, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, public sex (alleyway hehe), biting, blood but not blood play, pain kink, scent kink, a special guest (!!!), jealous logan muahahaha, emotional constipation but like wtf is new, nat probably blatantly ignoring canon, probably ooc logan and friends sorry i'm just a girl, porn w/ plot (a little???), no use of y/n.

author’s note: HAHA BACK ON MY LOGAN BULLSHIT! who’s laughing? not me. i can’t stop writing for him it’s insane and selfish i know i know i’m sorry. bee tee dubs this is part two to all’s fair in love and viscera cus i couldn't get them out of my head so...kisses!

five x-men walk into a bar, only three walk out…

All men are the same. X-gene or no x-gene, they're all immature pigs.

You've come to find that it's more than just skin deep. If you took a knife to every man in this bar, you'd surely find the exact same little metaphorical mass of arrogance ingrained in every single one of them once all the layers are peeled back far enough.

And that's what Logan is, a man.

A stubborn, arrogant, mind-numbingly frustrating man who's convinced he could never be wrong just because he's had a little more time than normal to perfect the art of being completely insufferable.

No adamantium skeleton or foot long claws of death can change that.

You could set him on fire, drown him, watch him regenerate from a single cell, and nothing would change.

So, in hindsight, you really should have seen this coming.

It was Ororo's idea to go out, insisting the team needed it. A casual night at the bar across town to raise bravado after a few close call missions.

It sounded fun at the time, and for the first thirty minutes it was.

Getting to shed your hero skin for a few hours every so often is always nice, and you love your team. Love getting to just sit and live with them. You hardly get nights like this anymore, filled with playing pool and darts like people do.

That being said, you were reaching the top of your limit. Fast.

It started at the bartop, with Logan sauntering up next to you for the first time tonight. 

He slid into the empty seat to your left, leaned against the bar casually, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. His lips tugged into that half-smirk he wore that night in the training room.

“You avoiding me?” he asks, voice low, bent down just enough to speak directly into your ear. "Haven't seen you all night."

You almost scoffed, almost turned to face him so he could see the look of irate disbelief on your face. Almost, but you didn't want to give him the extra attention.

"I could ask you the same thing."

You didn't miss how things had changed between the two of you after your night in the training room. Something shifted, and not in the romantic 'so...what are we now?' territory.

It shifted into Logan disappearing, closing himself off. He didn't go out of his way to avoid you, didn't even go as far as ignoring your existence entirely. He didn't need to, you knew it was different.

He refused to talk about it, refused to even acknowledge it, completely shutting you down the one time you tried bringing it up.

It stung. The feeling of rejection, especially after that night. You felt like you bared a part of your soul to Logan on that dark blue training mat. You swore you saw something different in his eyes too, a subtle shift, something that said this ran deeper than just a messy fuck between friends.

It played on your mind like a loop, every detail. You nitpicked almost every single thing you did, searched your mind for what you could have done that scared him off.

It has to be you, it always is.

It took a week to get over it. A week to wash away the feeling of Logan's hands on your body, of his lips on yours, of his cock carving a space for itself in your cunt, of his blood sliding down your throat and slicking the palms of your hands.

Eventually, that sadness gave way to self-reflection. Self-reflection gave way to anger, and now you're just plain pissed.

This has nothing to do with you.

Logan is a grown man, not a goddamn baby. He should know how to communicate by now, should take the stick out of his ass and drop the whole 'I'm no good for you baby' martyr cross he's carried around for over a century and talk to you.

But if he wants to be alone to sulk in self pity and sorrow for two hundred more years, you'll let him.

Logan's smirk falters, his expression falling with a heavy sigh. He leans back, one boot moving to rest on the rung of your stool. "You really want to do this here?"

"You came up to me," you shrug, finally turning to face him. The warm glow of the bar lights catch the edges of your frustration. "If you’re here to talk, then talk."

Logan doesn't respond, just meets your gaze with a raised brow. His eyes scan over your face slowly, taking in the pinch between your brows and the stern look in your eyes.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Scott's voice pierces through the tense air between you. His tone is casual in a way that's undermined by the smug smile turning the corner of his mouth up. It's too knowing, like he'd been listening in before.

Logan's brows pinch together in irritation the same way they always do when Scott talks, but he holds your gaze. His silence is infuriating because it's the same old routine—he just stares, brooding, like he’s waiting for the problem to magically solve itself without ever opening his damn mouth.

It makes your blood simmer just under the surface, the tips of your fingers burning with it.

You grind your teeth, balling your hands into fists where they sit on the bar. "Scott," you say, not breaking eye contact with Logan, "go play fetch or something."

Scott raises his hands in mock surrender, but you know he won’t leave without a parting shot. “Just looking out for you, you know. Can’t afford you two tearing each other apart over a little lovers spat before the night’s even over.”

As he saunters off, you turn your full attention back to Logan, who’s still studying you with that infuriating intensity. It’s as if he’s trying to decode some secret language written across your face.

You almost want to laugh at how predictable he is, how he thinks he can just sit there, unbothered, while you’re ready to explode.

“Are you really just going to sit there?” you challenge, leaning closer, daring him to respond. “You can’t keep dodging this forever, Logan. You think I’m the only one feeling this? We were both there that night."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think you see the flicker of vulnerability beneath the gruff exterior. But then it’s gone, replaced by that stubborn wall he always puts up.

“I don’t need to talk about it,” he mutters, his voice low, but there’s an edge of desperation that catches your attention. “What’s done is done.”

“‘What’s done is done’?” You can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes you. “Is that your new catch phrase? They gonna start printing that on the front of your action figure's box?"

Logan's brows furrow deeper, his mouth turning down in a hard frown. "Watch it," he warns tersely, the edge of a snarl on his lips.

You lean forward, desperate to get anything out of him. "Or what?"

The bar buzzes around you, laughter and music blending into a distant hum, but all you can focus on is him—the way his eyes flare with that familiar spark of rebellion, how handsome he looks under the bar's dim lights, the way his smell is starting to warm your insides despite how mad you are.

You raise your brow, waiting, hoping. He stays silent.

That's it.

You stand abruptly, causing your stool to scrape against the floor loudly. Logan straightens, eyes narrowing as he watches you, but you’re more than done with all of this. You've had enough.

"I'm going for some air." you say evenly, slipping your jacket off the back of your chair. "Don't follow me."

You turn and walk away before Logan can answer, heading in the direction of the bar's alley door.

You try your best to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, the first tendrils of dread wrapping themselves around you tighter with every step. Your eyes burn embarrassingly each time you blink, but you refuse to cry.

You’re emotionally spiraling a couple feet from the door when someone suddenly steps in front of you, and you crash into them.

“So sorry, ma’am,” A familiar voice says from somewhere in front of you as two strong hands grip your waist to steady you. “Completely my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

You crane your head up, eyes dragging from the blue gingham button down stretched over impressive muscle until they land on a pair of blue eyes and blonde head of hair you recognize.

“Steve?” 

Steve Rogers smiles down at you, his hands still lightly resting on your waist. His expression is soft, apologetic, and a little surprised. Your name falls from his lips in a warm greeting, his hands lingering for a second longer before he drops them and takes a small step back.

“I’m surprised you still remember me. It’s been a while,” he says with the same boyish charm you remember, like he hadn’t just watched you nearly barge through the door like it owed you money. “How’ve you been?”

You blink up at Steve, the frustration from your situation with Logan still fresh, swirling through your system like a storm.

How’ve you been?

What a loaded question.

“Better,” you answer with a tight smile, barely convincing yourself. “Just tired. We’ve been so busy recently, you know how it is.”

Steve gives you a searching look, his eyes skimming your face with the kind of care that makes you want to shrink into yourself. His brow furrows slightly, concern flickering in those crystal-clear eyes of his as he studies your face. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, genuinely, like he’s already picked up on the fact that something’s off. 

How could you forget, he’s got the emotional radar of a saint. Lucky you.

"Yeah, sure," you lie, adjusting your jacket and pointedly avoiding the obvious upset that’s probably plastered across your face. You force a smile, hoping he buys it. "Just needed some air. This place is packed."

The furrow of Steve’s brows deepen, his lips pressing into a thin line like he doesn’t believe you. You feel worse under the intense pressure of his knowing stare, like a bug trapped under a magnifying glass.

You’re about to say something—anything—to fill the awkward silence, but then you feel it. That heavy, unmistakable presence at your back.

Of course he didn’t listen.

Steve’s eyes flick over your shoulder, and you don’t even have to turn around to know Logan’s right there, brooding like a dark cloud about to burst. You can practically feel the tension rolling off him in waves as one strong arm slides underneath the thick denim of your jacket and around your waist.

“Cap,” Logan’s clipped voice greets from somewhere behind you, laced with barely concealed irritation as his fingers dig into the cotton of your shirt, staking some sort of unspoken claim.

Steve gives Logan a respectful nod, though his expression remains calm, measured, the same quiet authority he always carries. “Logan,” he greets, smile faltering for the second it takes him to drop his eyes to Logan’s arm. “Nice to see you doing well.”

Logan hums noncommittally, you feel the rumble of it against your back. “Didn’t think this was your scene,” he says to Steve, brow cocked in suspicion.

Steve shakes his head, a small laugh falling from his lips. “It’s not, usually. I got strong armed into joining a few friends.”

“Right,” Logan replies, tone flat like Steve would have a reason to lie.

You can almost see the tension thickening in the air, an electric pulse that shoots straight through you. Logan’s grip tightens subtly, an instinctive reaction to Steve’s presence, but you can feel the subtle heat rising, the way your heart races under his touch despite yourself.

It’s infuriating, and for a second, you’re tempted to dive right into it, to unearth the chaos lurking beneath that chiseled exterior. But then you remember where you are, why you walked away from Logan in the first place—how public it is, how many eyes are on you.

“Steve and I worked together, a base infiltration in Albany a few years ago.” You cut in, shooting Logan a look over your shoulder, like a sharp glare alone could get him to calm down, if only for a second. But he just meets your gaze with that familiar stubbornness, eyes dark and unyielding. 

It’s infuriating, and for a moment, you’re tempted to dive right into it, to unearth the chaos lurking beneath that chiseled exterior. But then you remember where you are—how public it is, how many eyes are on you.

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” Steve says, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

And it does. 

You think of Kevlar squeezed around your ribs, of explosions and buildings falling and the smell of gunpowder.

"Yeah, it does," you reply, ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach and forcing a smile.

“God, you look…” His gaze rakes over you like he can’t help it, the bright blue of his eyes trailing from your face down your legs and back up all over again. You can feel Logan bristle next to you. 

”You look amazing,” Steve finishes with a small shake of his head, million dollar smile still pulling up the corners of his mouth. “Buy you a drink?”

“We were just leavin’, Cap,” Logan cuts in tersely, his arm tightening around your waist even more. His grip is possessive, but it’s not affectionate—it’s an unsaid challenge, a warning. “Calling it an early night.”

You whip your head around, confusion evident on your face. "We?" you parrot back, the word hanging in the air like a challenge of its own. “We haven’t decided anything.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, that familiar stubbornness rearing its head again. His hand splays flat over the span of your lower back, pushing just enough for you to feel the power behind it but not enough to really move you. “Let’s go.”

You look at Steve, then Logan, then the crowded bar, then the door to the alley, and repeat. 

It should be an easy answer, an easy way out of going in circles with Logan even more than you already have.

But you find yourself stuck, feet rooted to the floor as your mind races with a hundred different thoughts in the span of a second.

Your lips part, and you’re not even sure what you’re going to say, when Steve beats you to the punch. 

"She can decide for herself," he says evenly, though there's a subtle shift in his tone. It’s calm, but there’s a steely edge to it, like a well-honed blade concealed beneath all the politeness. He’s still smiling, but it’s less soft now, more hardened around the edges.

Logan’s grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging in like he's daring Steve to push the envelope any further. “Yeah? Don’t think she needs you speakin’ for her, either.”

"Enough," you snap, stepping out of Logan’s hold with a sharp turn, your voice cutting through the growing storm between them. You turn to him with a hard look, brows pinched in anger. "Fine, let's go."

Your smile feels strained, the edges sharp and jagged as you face Steve, the weight of Logan’s presence at your back heavy and suffocating. “It was great seeing you, Steve. Really.”

Your voice sounds strained even to your own ears.

“We’ll have to catch up some other time,” you add, though the words taste bittersweet on your tongue. 

You can tell he wants to say something, his smile completely dropping as his eyes flit between you and Logan a few times. You give him a pleading look, a reassuring nod that you’ve got this. 

Steve hesitates, you can see the gears turning in his mind, weighing the situation and trying to gauge the tension in the air. But ultimately, he nods, offering you one last smile that’s laced with concern.

“Absolutely,” he says, his voice warm despite the tension hanging in the air. “I’d love to. Just let me know when.”

With one last nod to Logan, he turns and walks away to meld into the crowd until you can’t make out the blue of his shirt anymore.

You don’t turn to Logan as you finally walk out the door. The clunk of his boots follow you the whole way out.

As soon as you’re outside, all the anger sets in at once, burning hot in your stomach as you spin around to face him. The fresh air hits your face like a slap, cool and bracing, but it does nothing to quell the fire simmering inside you.

"You really can't leave well enough alone, can you?" You snap, folding your arms defensively. “You just had to go and stake your territory?”

Logan’s face hardens, his eyes dark under the dim streetlight. “What do you expect me to do? Let you walk away and get buttered up Rogers while I sit at the bar with my dick in my hand?”

“Steve wasn’t doing anything!” You exclaim, frustration seeping into your every word. “He was just being nice, we’re friends.”

Logan lets out a disbelieving snort, shaking his head hard enough that his hair sways with it. “Nothin’ about that was friendly, kid. You’d have to be fuckin’ blind to not see that.”

You huff, turning your eyes to the sky in exasperation. “Why do you care?” you fire back, heart racing at the challenge. “We’re not together! You’ve made that more than clear!”

Now that the seal is broken, it’s like you can’t stop. Words fall out of your mouth faster than your mind can keep up, all the pent up frustration you’ve felt over the past few weeks boiling over.

“You’re the one that’s acting like nothing happened!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, your voice rising with every word. “You’re the one who disappeared, who’s been avoiding this whole thing like it didn’t mean anything!”

He growls, stepping closer, his presence looming. "You think I don’t know that, kid? You think I haven’t been dealing with this shit—with us?"

"Well, you sure as hell don’t act like it! You don’t talk about it. You don’t even try! You just stand there and expect me to what? Read your mind?”

For a split second, Logan’s expression falters, his shoulders stiffening as if your words struck a nerve. But just as quickly, the mask falls back into place. "I’m no good for you, kid. And you know it. I’m doing you a favor."

"There it is again!" You bark out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "The martyr complex. You’ve been alive for over a century, Logan. You’ve got time on your side, and you still can’t figure out how to be a decent human being in a relationship?”

He flinches slightly, but his eyes remain locked on yours, anger and frustration swirling behind them. "It’s not that simple."

“Of course it is!" You step forward, closing the gap between you. "You just don’t want to do the hard work. You don’t want to open up, to be vulnerable, because then you’d actually have to face yourself. And God forbid Wolverine confronts something he can’t claw his way out of.”

Logan’s jaw clenches, his eyes blazing, and for a long beat, the two of you stand in a tense, electrified silence. The world around you seems to fall away—no bar, no missions, no X-Men—just the two of you, standing in the alley, raw and exposed.

You don’t know who moves first, you or Logan, before you can register it, the distance between you disappears, swallowed by the pull of all that unresolved tension.

His lips claim yours, fierce and urgent, as if this was the only language he’s fluent in—raw emotion, violent passion. His hands find your waist again, gripping tight, pulling you flush against him.

The kiss is messy, desperate, a collision of teeth and tongues, but it’s exactly what you expected. It’s how you and Logan have always been—no finesse, just fire and stubborn intensity. It’s the only way he knows how to communicate, the only way he can let go, even for a second.

Your hands slide up into his hair, yanking roughly as a guttural growl vibrates from his chest into your mouth. You feel the heat of his skin, the coiled tension in his muscles, and it ignites something wild inside you.

The anger hasn’t left—it’s just morphed into something darker, something hungrier.

The kiss is nothing like the ones from that night in the training room. This one is full of anger and frustration, all the emotions that have been simmering between you two finally bubbling over in an explosive release. His lips are hard, demanding, and the taste of whiskey lingers faintly on his breath, mixing with the metallic scent of the alley.

You push back just as fiercely, your hands tangled in his hair as you try to pour all of your hurt, your confusion, and your pent-up rage into that single kiss. For a moment, it’s all- consuming—hot, reckless, like trying to catch fire in your hands.

“You’re such a fuckin’ punk,” he grates against your lips, kneading the meat of your hips roughly like he’s trying to anchor himself to you. His teeth scrape your bottom lip, his growl vibrating through you like a warning shot, but it only spurs you on.

"You’re one to talk,” you bite back, the heat between you both as volatile as ever.

You drop your hands to his chest, gripping the leather of his jacket in your fists and yanking him closer until there's no space left, until it's hard to tell where the anger ends and the need begins.

Logan growls, the sound reverberating deep in his chest, as his hands move up your back, possessive and rough. “You keep pushin' me, kid. You really wanna see how far I’ll go?"

"Maybe I do," you shoot back, biting down lightly on his lower lip. You taste the blood—his blood—and something primal stirs in you. His healing factor kicks in almost instantly, but the heat between you spikes with the sharp tang of it. It always does.

Logan hisses sharply, tongue swiping over the blood still dotted along his lip before he’s pushing you backwards.

You have no choice but to move with him, blindly stumbling back a few steps until your shoulders hit the wall of the bar. His lips attached to your neck the whole way, teeth nipping at the rapid flutter of your pulse.

It’s like a wildfire spreading between you, all heat and destruction, and the alley around you seems to fade into the background, leaving nothing but the chaotic mess of you and Logan.

You consider the risks of fucking Logan in an alleyway for all of two seconds, every single warning bell in your mind going silent when his hands tighten their hold on your hips to spin your around, pushing you up against the brick roughly.

“Fine,” he concedes, yanking the fabric of your skirt up hard enough you hear a tiny rip. “I’ll give you what you want, princess.”

The sound of his zipper being tugged down might as well be a gunshot with how loudly it reverberates through your mind. Your thighs slide together slickly, aching cunt clenching in anticipation.

The soft sound of Logan pushing his jeans down is the only warning you get before the thick head of his cock is sliding over the wetness staining the fabric of your panties.

“This what you wanted?” he asks, hooking his fingers into the lace to tug it aside and slip the length of himself through your slick folds. “You need a cock in your hungry pussy to feel better?” He lines himself up with your fluttering entrance, pushing gently until the very tip slips in.

Your lips fall open, brow furrowing as he starts feeding you his length one infuriating inch at a time.

Anger still warms your gut, but you find yourself nodding wordlessly. Tiny, desperate sounds escaping your throat the deeper he sinks in.

The stretch of him is almost too much, like he’s splitting you in two. It’s the kind of sting that just barely toes the line of pain and pleasure in the best way. It has you crying out when he finally bottoms out, pressing your forehead against the brick to try and ground yourself.

Logan’s considerate enough to keep still, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over the skin of your hips as you adjust.

“God,” you groan, shifting your hips enough to feel the way his cock rubs along your walls. The burn starts to melt away into pure pleasure with every grind.

“That’s it, baby,” Logan goads, hands still planted on your hips as you start to bounce on his cock in earnest. “Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

His words just spur you on, a high whine falling from your lips as you set a steady rhythm. The slap of skin on skin getting louder, echoing around you lewdly. 

“Mm, feels good huh?” he hums, pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder.

You barely choke out a garbled ‘yes’, thighs starting to shake with the effort of thrusting yourself back. 

“Sorry,” he says, gripping the meat of your hips to pull you back against his cock roughly. “What was that?”

“Yes!” you mewl, cheeks burning. The anger steadily drains from your body the closer you get to come, until it's an afterthought just present enough in your mind to still matter. “Feels so good, please Logan…”

Logan groans under his breath, pulling his hips back back back until he’s reaming forward. He thrusts once, twice, three times before he’s taking over. Big hands anchored to your hips to drag you back on every snap of his hips. 

Your entire body lights up, the pathetic noises passing through slack your lips barely register over the white noise rushing through your ears. Logan’s fucking you like he wants to break you, heavy hips pounding into the meat of your ass like an animal. The slap of it stinging your skin only for him to pull out and leave you empty before filling you again.

You go pliant in his grip, a high moan escaping you as he expertly hits that spongy spot inside of you that has heat pooling in your gut.

“God, I missed this,” he admits into your hair, one hand sliding around to press against your lower stomach. Logan’s hand is massive and blisteringly hot over your skin, cupping and feeling where he punches up into you with every thrust from the outside.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, pressing his forehead to your back desperately. “Do you feel that? Feel how deep I am inside of you? Gonna fuckin’ fill you up, stuff you so full you’ll be leaking for weeks.”

“Logan,” you gasp, heat coiling in your belly. 

“I know,” he breathes, hips speeding up impossibly faster. “I got you, honey.”

You turn your head, the skin of your cheek scraping over the rough bring with every hard snap of his hips. The thick muscle of his forearm fills your eye line, strong and tan where it cages you to the bar. You swear you can see the blood pumping through his veins. Your stomach jerks with need, your mind buzzing.

Without thinking, you lean forward and bury your teeth in the muscle there. The coppery tang of blood on your tongue sends you reeling, a deep groan rumbling through your chest.

“Fuck!” Logan exclaims, giving one last thrust before he’s burying himself as far as he can. His cock throbs, pulsing as he unloads inside you. Rope after rope of come paints the shaking walls of your cunt, slicking the thrust of his that much more.

Pleasure goes off in sparks all up your spine, lighting up every vertebrae until the fireworks go off in your brain. Your hands claw at the wall desperately, eyes screwing shut as you fly over the edge.

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as you come, hands digging into the brick hard enough that it cracks and crumbles beneath them, falling to your feet in little rock’s.

Everything around you fizzles out into nothing, just a dull hum cocooning you in this moment, and for just a second it’s like you're floating. 

The heave of Logan’s chest against your back and his lips on your neck only add to that far away feeling, nice enough that has you leaning into the warmth of his body. 

A car horn blaring somewhere in the distance jerks you out of any warm, fuzzy feelings and deposits you back in the real world. Your eyes refocus on the building in front of you, and a displeased groan rips from your chest.

“I made a mess,” you murmur quietly, looking at the two matching dents in the bar's wall and the same red powder staining your hands.

Logan huffs into the sweaty skin of your neck, an amused noise. “That’s alright,” he says, barely out of breath. He pulls out just enough to let his come start leaking out around his dick, sliding down the length of him in thick rivers of white. “So I did.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disgust as he steps away with a snort. Your voice is breathy and small when you speak, “You’re disgusting.”

It's quiet for a long time, both you and Logan dressing yourselves in silence. The thrum of traffic around you mixed with the muffled music bleeding through the wall is the only noise filling the space.

You drag your eyes to him, watching as he yanks up his jean’s zipper while you smooth your skirt down.

“I told you not to follow me. When we were back inside,” you say, voice steadier than before but just as breathless.

Logan meets your eyes, and there’s a pause. For a second, you think maybe he’ll turn around and leave, run away to try and forget this too. Instead, you hear his boots scrape against the gravel as he steps closer.

"I don't take orders well, remember?" His voice is gravelly, like he’s chewing on the words before spitting them out.

"Obviously," you huff under your breath, a humorless laugh shaking your shoulders slightly.

Logan’s lips quirk into a tiny, almost imperceptible smile, but it fades just as quickly.

He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the warmth radiating off him again, his presence as heavy as ever. But this time, there’s something different.

He looks drained. Not physically, but emotionally. Worn down in a way you’ve never seen.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits quietly, his voice tired. “You know that.”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck in that rare, almost vulnerable way he does when he’s out of his element. Finally, he meets your gaze.

“I’m…" he trails off, mouth pulling into a wince like it physically pains him to apologize. "I’m sorry…”

“Wow,” you say slowly, head tilting to the side as you study him. “That was the worst apology I’ve ever gotten.”

Logan narrows his eyes at you, a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement flickering across his face. “You gonna let me talk?” he asks curtly, but there’s no real bite to it.

You sigh, nodding your head for him to continue.

He shifts his weight, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. “I know I’ve been a stubborn ass. I’m used to keeping everyone at arm’s length. It’s safer that way. I’ve lost too many people to just let someone in without a fight.”

His voice drops, laced with a vulnerability you rarely see. “I thought if I just stayed away, it would make things easier for you. I’m not relationship material, kid. I can’t be that guy for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

He shakes his head, his shoulders slumping in more as he talks. “I’m a damn mess, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I do. A lot. It just scares the hell out of me.”

For a moment, you’re unsure how to respond. Part of you wants to lash out more, to keep the anger burning because it feels safer than the vulnerability you’re feeling now.

On the other hand, for the first time tonight, you see the man behind the adamantium, behind the claws and the gruff exterior. The man behind the Wolverine.

You only see Logan, who’s lived through centuries of loss and pain, who’s learned to build walls so thick even he can’t break through them sometimes.

And damn it, you hate how much you still care. You hate that, even after everything, Logan is the one person who can make you feel like this—angry, frustrated, and vulnerable all at once. But you can’t deny the truth any longer.

Because underneath all the anger and hurt, there’s still that spark. That stupid, stubborn spark that refuses to go out.

You take a step closer, your hand gently reaching for his. “You don’t have to be anything, Logan. You just have to try. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He nods, a slow, deliberate movement. Taking a slow set closer to you, he takes your cheek in his hand. The bright red rawness of your skin is slowly draining, tiny cuts knitting themselves together. “I can do that.”

He slides his thumb across your cheekbone and somehow, you believe him.

It’s not perfect. It’s not a promise that everything’s going to magically be okay. But it’s a start.

Maybe that’s enough.

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[youryanderedaddy]

Oleander

Summary: Nine months ago you killed a man. Now you're sharing a drink with his brother. Life works in mysterious ways. tw: female reader, implied murder, captivity, dub - con, hate fucking, degradation, cruel reader

Sometimes you wonder if you’re a good person. It’s nice, almost, to lose yourself in meaningless philosophical battles in your own mind - it reminds you of high school, of balding teachers making you read Kant and Plato, raving on and on about dead men that will never come back to agree or disagree with the countless pages they made you write about them. It’s easier now, though - easy to lose yourself in semantics, to water down hundred years of morals and ethics into a simple question. Am I, the way I am, the way I’ve always been, good? 

These thoughts always come back when the liquor hits your system. You can’t believe Devan let you drink with him tonight. He must be getting lonely, you realize. Your hands are too shaky and slippery to hold the glass, and you end up spilling half of it over your chest anyways. Your shirt soaks the liquor quickly, and the sharp smell of sanitizer makes you feel as if you’re running through a cold hospital corridor. If you squint, you can almost imagine the needle poking at your vein to draw fresh blood. 

Devan watches you with odd fascination - as if you’re a child learning how to walk, and takes a sip straight off the bottle. Were you any less drunk, you’d be disgusted, yet now all you think about is how he’s drinking more and more of the bitter medicine, leaving less for you. And you need it. God knows you need it.

“Messy, murderous slut.” He mumbles under his breath, reaching out to you with a disoriented shake of his hand. “You ruined my fucking life, you know?” He manages to take a hold of your elbow. You flinch impulsively but his hold, in all its drunken angst, is unrelenting.

“You ruined your own life.” You intend your answer to be playful, but it comes out venomous. Maybe you both need some sleep - too bad the bottle is still half full. You pour yourself some more. “You’re 27 with no education, job or any support network. Even your parents don’t call you anymore, because, well… what even are you without him?” You let yourself get closer to the man - so close you can see his eyes illuminate in fear. His skin is warm like concrete melting under the sun. Tonight you are cruel. Tonight you are free - even as the tears fall down your freezing cheeks. “Admit it.” You inhale so quietly you barely feel your lungs. “You fucking love it.”

Even as his hand connects to your cheek in an audible slap, you can’t help running your mouth off. You are absolutely intoxicated - and the sting feels like a kiss to your lonely, untouched face. How long has it been since someone held you?

“You fucking love that your brother died, deep down. I mean, it’s the perfect excuse, isn’t it? You finally have a reason to be this fucking miserable.” Your smirk, filling up with glee - just like a child torturing a helpless ladybug on the ground, it’s so wrong yet feels so right. ”Besides being a lousy loser, of course.”

“How fucking dare you!” Devin flips you over with ease, throwing you on the ground. There is a raw, animalistic sadness in his big black orbs bleeding into his rage, and it makes it impossible to be scared. Even as his thick fist wraps itself around your throat, it’s hard not to burst into laughter. All the good hazy feelings take over logic and now the bleak feels like a big joke of nature. “Joe was… He… He was…” Everything, he tries to say, but his voice breaks into a pained howl and his breathing shallows before the word can roll off his colorless tongue. For a passing moment everything stills.

“It’s all your fault.” Your captor hisses weakly, his hand trembling around your warm inviting flesh. “I should have killed you that first day… that first night.” His fingers dance around your throat, carefully avoiding your jugular. “It would have been so easy. You do have a beautiful neck.” His voice lowers. “It wouldn’t be hard to–” He squeezes again - tight, tighter, and you see stars. “Maybe then I’ll finally be at peace.” He’s staring at you, intently, but it’s himself he’s talking to. 

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. You can feel a certain fullness in your sides and a dull pain tugging at your collarbone from suffocation - but your mind can’t wrap itself around a single coherent thought other than to hurt him. It’s like the more you hurt him, the more it hurts inside you. “You can’t kill me.” There is no sass in your tone, no mischief - just plain cold acceptance.

Devin stops in his tracks to stare you down as if you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Then he laughs. He laughs so much his hand slips off your throat and you can finally breathe again.

“And what makes you so sure?” He finally collects himself enough to ask, leaning towards you. If anyone were to see you now, they would think you’re two lovers about to elope. “Because…” You avert your face away from his watchful eyes - there’s something about them, a wild flame that makes you sober up quicker than you’d like. “I’m the only person you hate more than yourself. If you kill me, the game is over.” You give him a sad smile. “And you’re all alone again.”

The man grabs your chin, forcing your lips to pucker up like a doll’s. “Like I need a fucked up bitch to keep me company.” He says, yet he keeps moving your head up and down as if he’s inspecting you for damage. As if he cares if you’re bruised, as if his fingers want to feel you for just a second longer. “Then let me go.” You bite back, and you watch his face go dark like a night sky. “No.” The boy - man shrieks, holding onto your arm for dear life. It hurts… but it’s also warm and tight - like an embrace, but not quite. “You deserve to suffer.” He quickly adds, pulling you closer to him. “Then torture me.” You add more fuel. “Do something. Anything.” You sink your teeth into his knees. “For once in your shitty miserable life do so–”

He kisses you. 

You don’t know how to describe the kiss. It’s neither passionate, nor aggressive. It’s desperate, yet it lacks strength. It’s a rushed thing. It’s a memory reminiscent of summer - in a quiet village, after an atom bomb. His lips are the flowers that eventually bloom before they’re stomped by soldier boots. You’re the half - lit match that turns it all to ashes. Your bodies are meant for destruction, and that’s why they fit together perfectly. 

“Let me have you.” He almost pleads once you separate, breathless, on the brink of insanity - as if he isn’t already there. His hands are on both sides of your waist, squeezing so hard it hurts, unstable fingers ready to grab and grope at any shape malleable enough. 

“No.” You wince, but your eyes remain cold and challenging. “Fuck you.” Devin replies, roughly spreading your thighs apart. “Fuck you.” He repeats as he rips into your throat, dragging his teeth against your sweet spot, making you really feel the sharp points tearing into your soft vulnerable skin. The thought of leaving his mark on you makes his stomach turn - and it terrifies him. You try not to look down, but you hear his belt hit the ground and soon his pants follow suit - and then you sense it right against your entrance. Sticky slick whiteness coats your white panties as it drips from the purpling tip so full it might burst by the friction alone.

His hard length rubs along your wet slit and with clenched teeth you anticipate the burn of the stretch, the way he’ll rip your underwear from you, your last protective shield - but it never comes. Yet you see it move in and out, in and out of you rhythmically. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, his rasp groans into your ear, his hands moving your torso back and forth like a carousel. You finally look down. 

He’s fucking your thighs - through your panties, no less. 

“Hold your legs together.” The man barks at you, but his voice is so needy you can’t help giggling even as he manhandles you around like a ragdoll. “T-tighter.” You squeeze your thighs snuggly against his cock - and you hope it hurts him more than it hurts you. You throw your head back, leaning on his shoulder as you jeer gutturally, letting it all out in systematic bursts of laughter that sound more like black cigarette coughs. Or puffs. “God, you’re so pathetic.” You lazily stroke his shaft as it peeks down your stomach, oozing with pre - cum. “I bet your brother would have fucked me like a real man.”

He moves your head to the side with a brute slap, kissing you sloppily anywhere but your mouth - but it still does the trick of shutting you up. “Too bad he’s dead.” He leaves a trail of wet pecks down your throat. Your stomach is sticky. You feel disgusting. “Guess you’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Dream on.”

[writememysticfalls]

Thirsty | Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: Elijah is cold and distant around you... until one night, you break down in front of him. Even Originals get thirsty.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x vampire!reader

Genre: Suggestive, angsty, hot

Word Count: <1k

You were rummaging through the industrial freezer in the basement of the Mikaelson home.

You were elbow deep in ice chips, desperately searching for the only thing your body craved now you'd been turned into a vampire.

Blood.

"Where do they keep the fucking blood bags?" You kicked the freezer door so hard the metal crumpled under your boot.

"Need a hand?"

You spun around at the familiar voice.

Elijah was leaning against the door frame, watching you. He wore a pale cream shirt that was rolled up, exposing brown forearms.

Elijah always looked so put together, even when he had the blood of his enemies dripping down his chin, and congealed between his fingers.

Suddenly, you felt a hand grab your arm. Elijah yanked you back, using his full vampire force to turn you towards him.

You smoothed your unruly brown locks, feeling suddenly self conscious.

Elijah lifted up the lid of the freezer with one finger, peering inside.

"I'll have to make sure the maid restocks this more often."

He walked up to a portrait hanging on the wall. Pushing the frame to the side, he revealed a hidden safe. His fingers slid over the keys at vampire speed. The safe door clicked open and Elijah reached inside to pull out a heavy crystal bottle.

He poured a glass and handed it to you.

"Here, this should suffice."

You looked at the dark red liquid in the glass. The idea of drinking blood made you feel literally sick, but the gnawing at the base of your throat could only be eased by one thing. You knocked back the entire contents of the glass in one gulp.

"Thanks," you said, wiping your mouth.

Elijah gave you a tight smile.

"I've never seen you drink blood, Elijah. Hell, I've never even seen you eat." You crossed your arms. "Meanwhile I can't even go thirty minutes without thinking about where I'm going to get my next fix."

"You are a new vampire," Elijah said, sliding the portrait back in place. "Restraint takes time to master."

You tugged at your sallow cheeks. "I feel so... unnatural. I feel like my insides are rotting. It's all wrong. I'm all wrong!"

Elijah pressed his lips into a tight line.

You sank to your knees. You buried your head in your hands and started to sob.

"I should have died. What have I become?" you said, between sobs.

Elijah stood, awkwardly, watching you cry on the floor. His arms itched to hold you, but it no longer felt like his place to do so.

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand. Your eyes were glistening, and your nose was red. You stood up, face to face with Elijah.

"There was a time, once..." you said, sniffing. "That you would have held me, maybe even kissed me. Now you don't even talk to me, Elijah."

Your hard exterior had melted, leaving soft, brown skin and watery eyes. You suddenly looked so young.

Elijah sighed.

"Y/n, I..." but the words died on his lips. He moved forwards, silently, till he was inches away from you.

He leant his forehead against yours, eyes slipping shut. Your arms hung limply at your sides, fingers almost touching.

Suddenly, the sound of glass splattering echoed through the room. Both your and Elijah's heads shot up.

"Elijah!" Niklaus roared from upstairs. "The love of my life is at the bottom of this bottle, brother. Come and help me find her!"

Niklaus was drunk. Something which was becoming a daily occurrence.

You stepped away from Elijah.

"Go, run after your little brother like you always do," you snapped. The prickly expression had once again masked your beautiful features.

Elijah rolled down his shirtsleeves, and did up his cufflinks.

"Do not concern yourself with matters of my family," he said, sternly. "You should focus on your transition."

You scoffed. "You don't get to tell me what to do." You turned away and stormed towards the door.

You gasped. Elijah's eyes were red, and black veins pulsed under his eyes. He snarled.

You thought he was going to attack you. Your breath caught in your throat.

Suddenly, Elijah leant down and kissed you, hard, on the mouth.

Elijah wound one hand around your waist and pulled you to his chest as he continued to kiss you. You could hear his pulse racing in your ears, you could feel his eagerness for you against your thigh.

You kissed him back with equal force. This was an Elijah you didn't know well, the man behind the façade of elegance and nobility.

—

You reached up to stroke his soft hair. But suddenly, Elijah pulled away from you.

There was a soft woosh. Elijah was gone.

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[writteninlunarlight-years]

My Espresso

A repost of one of my first-ever stories. I guess it got deleted in my purge. Here it is back once again with a better name, lol

The day you died was tragic indeed for all parties involved. Your deranged stalker who killed you now serves life in prison, your fans continue to broadcast your music regularly, crying their eyes out, and your record label is on the hunt for the next ‘Hit’ girl. The only problem was you were a one-of-a-kind, naturally gifted with vocal cords, so sweet and sultry everyone fell for you. Your varying music genres make you an addiction to almost any music fanatic. You were the singer of your time. 

How did you keep that title for so long? Simply put, due to becoming the designated ‘shot of espresso everyone needs to wake up and have a good day,’ your fans were less than kind to any new artists or rising stars. You were an Angle, sweet inside and out, never letting your fame get to your head. However, many scandals and theories have been made that people can never surpass you because you sold your soul or hired people to knock down your competition. None of this was true, though. You were simply a bystander to your fan's actions, not wanting to seem unthankful for all the support that got you there.

Then it happened: your death. One minute, you were walking to the coffee shop by your apartment in the city when a strange man started yelling at you. Of course, the one day you don’t have a bodyguard leave with you, the paparazzi show up. If only that man were a paparazzi; as he got closer, you noticed the lack of camera, the deranged look in his eyes, and the shirt he wore saying, ‘Y/N be my wife.’ All you could think of doing at that moment was trying to make some distance between you and him, seeing as the streets were barren since it was late at night. Why did your best music writing have to happen late at night? Running as fast as you could, the man grew angry, and then bam, next thing you know, you wake up on the streets of a city, not your city; no, this was too red.

As you stood up from your prone position, you glanced at a window only to see not you standing there; well, it was you. It looked like you, but it also didn't look like you. Soft tan skin, chocolate brown hair, Hazel eyes, and a white, tan, and brown outfit adorned your body. You looked like the embodiment of the coffee you would drink at your go-to coffee spot. If only you hadn’t gone there that night. Maybe you would be your normal (E/c), (H/c), (S/c) self. 

Thinking hard about everything that happened, you remember being chased, him yelling obscenities at you, being shoved to the ground, something warm on your face, then a loud bang noise. What was that bang? You only remember the warm, sticky feeling, probably blood from hitting your head on the curb, then you fought a bit, squirming around; the bang must have been a concealed weapon of your assailant's choice. Jeeze, people are crazy…Oh fuck, your dead. You died. Gone. A memory. As this realization came to you, you began walking the streets of this new city.

All the inhabitants of this place looked like those demons you would see on TV or even read about in books. Looking up at the horizon, you see a large building with a flashing sign called the “Hazbin Hotel,” a giant ball to the left that looked like it had wings on it, and above you, a giant pentagram. The pieces finally clicked: you were in Hell, but why you were the sweetest human alive, even fame, didn’t get to you. Maybe Heaven reads tabloids and assumes you did participate in the fate of many of your rivals or that they thought you were a greedy pop star. Sighing softly, you turn your back on the hotel and make your way to the first place that helped you start up in the human world: a cheap manager at a cheap venue. 

~~~Years Later~~~

Years had passed since Mimzy and her crew had taken you in. She was the only demon in Pentagram City that didn’t ask for your soul immediately. Course, as you found out yourself, it’s because her soul, too, was taken from her. Meeting Mimzy was a breath of fresh air; she reminded you of your grandmother and all the pictures you saw of her singing and dancing at nightclubs when she was your age. Mimzy took you under her wing, gave you a palace to sing your sweet new music, and protected you with her clientele. Mimzy did have a habit of getting herself into some deep shit, though. Nothing you couldn’t help with, see as your popularity in Pentagram City grew, so did your powers. Some even compared you to Lilith when she was still around, a voice to conjoin the masses. You were no Lilith; you were simply ‘Y/N,’ so you compromised for a reprise of your old title: ‘ A shot of espresso to keep you going.’ Honestly, who knew demons still partook in human drinks and activities? 

As you began preparing for your next act at Mimzy’s club, said woman entered your dressing room. “Doll, oh, look at you so gorgeous. You're not as gorgeous as me, but you're still amazing. I have big news for ya’ Come and sit with me, deary.” Following Mimzy’s orders, you went to the small sofa in your Dressing Room and sat with her. “What is it, Mimz? Did you get in more trouble with those loan sharks? I told you they are dangerous; this owner of your soul is a real slow ass seeing as I have to save their ‘precious’ soul over and over again.” 

Mimzy just laughed, waving her hand in your face, resituating herself to look you in the eye before speaking again: " Don't worry about that doll. Of course, I would keep that opinion to yourself. He’s back and probably can hear everything around us. Speaking of which, that is why I came here. My dear friend Alastor and the princess of hell are coming to visit our lovely establishment. Make sure to knock their socks off!” 

You nodded softly to Mimzy, laughing at her; she was a firecracker of energy—a troublemaker, yes, but a firecracker of energy. Mimzy quickly excused herself, saying she needed to be ready to meet her guests and introduce the acts for the night. You sighed softly, returning to double-check your makeup and clothes again. 

Looking like a gorgeous espresso martini, as Mimzy calls it, you stood center stage, waiting for the curtain to rise. You hear Mimzy’s tiny heels hitting the stage and some mic feedback. “Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you our star of the stage, your shot of espresso to boost you through hard times, our dame so beautiful and sweet, Y/N.” Cheers erupted in the audience as the curtain rose and a soft amber spotlight landed on you. 

Looking out into the audience, you hesitated for a minute. A handsome man in a red suit sat in the center of the tables. He looked like a deer, not the oddest thing you have seen in the city. The way he was looking at you, though, was intense. You felt the need to cringe and back away like his power exceeded that of an average Sinner. He looked dominating, powerful, and scary even though he had a giant smile plastered on his face. Next to him sat a young-looking girl with big red cheeks. She looked so happy to be present at this event. Her blonde hair was pulled into a bun on her head, with a black crown adoring her. Your boss, Mimzy, was on the other side of the smiling demon, giving you a big thumbs up. 

You took a deep breath when the song started to play on the drums and guitar behind you. You began to sing the song that had never been released to the public before you died. This was an important night for Mimzy, so why not go all out? As you began to sing, the nerves washed off of you, and you started to do your choreography, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of deep red eyes following your every move. As the song ended, you stopped center stage again, a soft, elegant smile gracing your face. “ Thank you so much, everyone. That was called Espresso, and I do hope you all enjoyed it. I will freshen up; please enjoy our band as they play some classic and new hits throughout the ages.” As you bowed and motioned to the band, they began to play. You walked off the stage, quickly stopping at your dressing room before heading to the floor and meeting the others at their table. 

You finally heard this mysterious, powerful demon's voice as you approached the table. “I never took you as the kind to allow other music in your establishment, Mimzy. Weren’t you also one always found of our time's music.” Mimzy just laughed, slapping the demon's arm. Stopping behind the group, you noticed the demon's ears pull back; he knew you were there, good. You cleared your throat for the others and spoke gently, “I’m sorry. Was there a problem with my song, sir? I didn't realize I would be in the presence of a music critic in hell.” 

The tension in the club could be cut with a knife as the demon let out a soft laugh and turned to view you. The young girl beside him was visibly panicking while Mimzy held a laugh back. The demon stood, bowing slightly and extending his hand to you. “Well, dear Y/N, it's nice to meet you. My name is Alastor the Radio Demon, and if you would like to call me whatever it was, you just made music by all means; I must be your critic.” That smile on his face never faltered. It stayed plastered there, if not a little more strained. Gently taking Alastors hand, you curtsied for him and stood straight and tall again, preparing to speak. “Well, Mr. Alastor, you don't seem to have good music taste, seeing as I am a prized singer in hell.” The two of you stared intensely at one another, sparks flying between your eyes. Mimzy cleared her throat, “ Y/N, this is Alastor, as he mentioned, the demon that owns my soul; he also runs the Hazbin Hotel with Miss Charlie Morningstar here.” 

You let go of Alastors hand, breaking eye contact first to greet the young girl. Charlie was the polar opposite of ‘Mr. Music Critic’. She compliments you and tells you how you reminded her of her mother, who has been missing for seven years. Keeping conversation with Charlie, Alastor, and Mimzy began to speak on the side. “Isn’t she interesting, Alastor? She had to have been powerful even in her human form. She may not be your level of scary, but she is something. When I found her within a month, Valentino had come to claim her and ask for her soul; she whooped him physically and mentally; she's quick-witted and cunning.” Alastor nodded knowingly; this could be advantageous to him. 

“Mimzy darling, why have you not sold her off yet? Could make a pretty penny off of her, maybe enough to pay me back for your soul.” Alastor stared at you intently. He couldn’t deny you were attractive in a beauty standard since, and the fact you weren’t afraid of him even if he dominated you in power was intriguing. Mimzy slapped Alastor’s shoulder, “She's like a daughter to me; she's sweet, smart, and a helluva singer. Why would I risk losing business here selling her off to the Vees or any other overlord.”

Tuning into Mimzy’s and Alastor's conversation, you turned to look at the Radio Demon in the eyes once more. “She also can’t get rid of me due to the fact I save her ass more so than you ever have or will.” The authority in your voice even frightened you. The smile on Alastors face tightened more, changing from boredom to interest. “Oh, is that so doll? You save my property for me.” You nod curtly to the demon holding his gaze. The smile slowly morphed into a smirk. Charlie chimes in, “Well, guys, it looks like we have overstayed our welcome; Y/N, you were phenomenal. Please let me know whenever you have your next performance. You have my number!” You nod softly to the cheerful girl before returning to the Radio Demon. 

As you all begin to stand from your seats, Alastor disappears and reappears at your side. “Ms. Y/N, it seems I have a business proposition for you. As Charlie loved your performance so much and I seem to have bad taste in music, how about we strike a deal? You come to the hotel and live there for free; you can sing once a week, and if you can pull in some more sinners looking to be redeemed, I will admit you have the better music. I will also allow you to broadcast your music on my radio.” You stared at the demon timidly, but no one made a deal that didn’t involve losing their soul. You brace yourself for the answer and speak purposefully, “What is it for you if I lose?” Alastor smiled at you menacingly, “I get your soul, of course, and you will do my bidding.” 

You hesitated, contorting your face slightly; losing your soul was not something you wanted to happen; no one did. You looked between Alastor and Mimzy rapidly, a slight panic overcoming you. As you go to speak, Charlie takes your place, “ Alright, Alastor, enough scaring people; we are leaving now. Let's go.” Alastor looked at Charlie before looking back at you. He nods slightly before saying, “I will return in the morning. Have your decision ready.” With that said, the duo left the club.

The night continued like normal; you sang a couple more songs and mulled over the conversation. You won't lie even if you were sweet on earth. Being here in hell made you a lot more prideful than when you were alive. Had someone offered such a stupid bet in the human world, you would politely decline, move on, and let your fans handle them. Alastor, though, something about him and this stupid condescending attitude made your blood boil. As the night closed, you came up with your decision. You went to your dressing room and began to pack a bag for the morning. You were so wrapped in your thoughts hating that stupid Radio Demon that you didn't hear Mimzy walk in. As you finished packing and turned around, Mimzy sat on your couch, a frown on her face. Setting everything down, you walked over to her and sat with her. 

Mimzy looked at you softly, her regular, boisterous exterior fading as her calmer interior emerged. “Y/N, you don’t have to do this. I shouldn’t have done this. I only invited them to show Al how much better I was doing even after his absence. I didn’t expect him to bargain your soul with him.” You gently grabbed Mimzy's hand and looked at her, “Mimz, I got this. I am one of the best singers in hell. I will not lose my soul, and maybe I can bargain him into freeing your soul-” Before you could finish your thought, Mimzy stood up, tears in her eyes, “NO Y/N! You-You don't understand; Alastor is a notorious and powerful demon. He won’t give up mine or your soul. There is always an underlying bargain in his deals.” You looked up at Mimzy. She had never yelled at you like that before, even after ruining her favorite pink dress. Mimzy sat down gently and hugged you close before letting go. “Let me tell you Al’s story, the best I know of it anyway.” 

Even after hearing Mimzy’s story, you are set on proving yourself. Why did you feel the need to? You could only chalk it up to wanting to wipe that stupid smile off the demon's face. You stood outside the entrance of Mimzy’s club, holding her hand. “Y/N, you don't have to do this. Just ignore him.” You shook your head at Mimzy before responding. “I can do this, Mimzy. Trust me. You know where I am if you ever need me.” She nods somberly and hugs you close. The Radio Demon appears out of the shadows as you two part ways. “Hello ladies, Y/N, Mimzy, what a touching display of affection. Are you ready to strike our deal, Y/N?” You nod gently, extending your hand to the demon. With a soft chuckle, he grabbed your hand. Greenlight erupted all around you. Shadows and relic symbols appeared around you as the deal was bound. As the green lights faded, you were sucked into the shadows with Alastor and taken to a Hotel on the other side of Pentagram City. 

The hotel was lovely, nothing too overwhelming like when you were still alive. It was quaint and adorable. You could tell that Charlie put her heart into the place. Walking through the entrance to your left, you notice a bar with a black and grey cat sitting there drinking. Taking the initiative and having the desire to start already pissing the Radio Demon off, you walked away to greet the cat. “Hello, there one espresso martini, please; my name is Y/N, and I’m going to be a new resident and singer for the hotel.” Hearing your words, the cat looked up at you, practically spitting his whiskey onto the bar before collecting himself and cleaning up. In a gruff voice, he responded, “Never thought I would see the day we got more willing redeemers. Thought Sir Pentious would be our only one.” 

You laughed, covering your mouth politely as the cat put your drink before you. As he finished wiping the bar down, Alastor appeared behind you. “Ahhhh, good friend, you have met our new resident artist. Y/N, this is Husk or Husker, as some patrons call him.” You nodded politely to the cat demon, sipping your drink. Alastor sat next to you, staring the cat down. He acted like it was a sin that Husk even talked to you. As you finished your glass, a spider demon walked into the building, groaning about his day at work, sitting on your other side, and ordering a straight martini.

As he rose his head up, looking to great Alastor, he saw you. “WOAH toots, who are ya’ you gorgeous? I didn’t know another pretty thing like me walked these streets.” You smiled sweetly at the spider demon, sticking your hand out to shake his hand. You liked him. He had spunk. “My name is Y/N, and I am the new resident singer of this joint.” Silence filled the room; the spider demon's eyes widened. Looking at him confused, you pulled your hand back and awkwardly sat there. Behind you, Alastors voice rang, “Yes, dear flamboyant friend, that Y/N, the one who took Valentino down a few pegs before he became part of the Vees.” 

The spider's smile grew ten times as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Toots, let's be best friends, deal. My name is Angel Dust. It's a pleasure to meet you.” You laughed softly, connecting that this Angel Dust might be the soul of that awful month. “Deal, I need new friends now that I am out of Mimzys club.” Husker dropped his bottle, causing a shattering noise as he turned to stare down Alastor. “You were Mimzy’s singer; what are you doing here?” Alastor stared down Husker, the ever-growing smile present on his face as power exuded off of him. “Simple Husk, can’t you tell she's in a deal with me.” The room went silent as you looked down at your hands. Based on everyone's reactions, you soon realized you were fucked. 

The tension was thick between the three of you, Angel silent, not daring to interfere in a soul contract, Husker glaring at Alastor, and the Radio Demon eating up everyones distrust. What felt like hours passing was only a few minutes when Charlie and another woman appeared walking down the stairs. “I am telling you, Vaggie, I heard a new voice.” Your eyes connected with Charlie when she let out an excited squeal, barreling down to you. You laughed softly, happy the tension was broken, and hugged the excited girl back. “Oh my goodness, you came here! Are you trying to be redeemed? I am so excited! Vaggie, this is the singer I told you about!” You looked at the other girl and waved at her. When Alastor stood, she nodded back, getting ready to speak to you; however, Alastor had removed Charlie from your embrace. “Sorry, dear Charlie, but Y/N is part of my deal. She will be a new singer for the hotel, as Husk is the bartender, and Niffty the cleaner.” 

As if hearing her name, a tiny, child-looking demon crawled from the depths of somewhere and sat on Alastors shoulder. “Wowie lady, you must sing well for Alastor to vouch for you. You aren’t no bad boy, but you look like you could be tough.” You stood wide-eyed in shock at the minor demon that seemed to spawn into existence. Alastor stood beside you, shooing Niffty off him and placing a firm hand on your shoulder. “Alright, dear Y/N, why don’t I show you to the drawing room where you will perform? You have three days before your big performance.” Everyone looked at the hand placed on your shoulder, confusion laced on their faces. Was Alastor, not a touchy person? All you’ve known of this man was for him to be touching you in some dominating way. You nodded briefly, following the demon to the drawing room. 

You had been practicing hard for the last three days. You met Sir Pentious while in the middle of a practice performance. He was apparently your biggest fan and regularly played your music in his blimp. You signed some autographs for him and told him he was welcome to come and watch whenever he felt like it. Of course, he never did come back while you were practicing. Angel Dust said Alastor frightened the snake demon, who was “getting too close to you and distracting you.” This only confused you: why is Alastor so against any demon getting close to you except for the striking spider demon? Two, why does he care if you get distracted? Shouldn’t he want you to lose so he can keep your soul? These thoughts plagued your mind every day as you practiced. You decided to do a four-song set, your three most popular songs and the new one you debuted at Mimzys place before you left, as a nod back to your old home. 

Throughout your days here, you have noticed so many odd quirks about these residents, but nothing too crazy. I mean, it is hell after all. Angel Dust was a famed porn star for Valentino; Husker used to gamble at the high-end casino in town; Nifty liked cock roaches; Charlie and Vaggie were fighting with Heaven about Sinners being redeemed. Even Sir Pentious had a past saying he tried to kill Alastor, which made you laugh and congratulate the snake demon. The only major oddball was Alastor; every resident said he was acting different, more pompous, possessive, and aggressive. Before you showed up in his life, he was just a condescending asshole who smiled all the time and had a wicked sarcasm streak. 

What made you special? You have been nothing but mean to this man, trying to get a rise out of him and knock him down a few pegs. The main consense from every resident after they learned of your deal is to be careful; he's a master manipulator. The tidbits of information you learned of Alastor were as follows: he hosted a radio show that, up until seven years ago, played screams of his victims; he still very much missed the 1920s; Jazz was his favorite music, makes sense why he hated your pop music, and lastly like any true child of the bayou he enjoyed his coffee, his coffee with three shots of espresso. No wonder the man was wired 24/7. 

Alastor was also not a touchy man; the only person any resident had seen him touch so constantly was you. Why? No one knows the answer; Angel Dust has his theories that he “has the hots for ya toots.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that notion. The pompous, rude, robust, attractive, funny, charismatic Deer Demon didn't have a thing for you. Okay, yes, you have a thing for him, though; what changed in the three days of getting close to him and everyone else? You have no real idea; you only know that the day you realized you had more than aggressive feelings for him was two nights ago.

~~~Flashback~~~

You had been summoned to the famed radio tower by Alastor. He had a treat for you, as he put it. Following Niffty's instructions, you ended up before the radio demon's door. Now you heard the rumors already he killed and broadcasted in his tower. Did your deal mean nothing? Was it a ruse to get rid of someone with a little bit of power? You must have been standing there for too long in your thoughts because before you knew it, Alastor had opened the door for you. “Ah, dear Y/N, come on in. We have a broadcast to get to.” You nodded gently and followed him inside. 

Taking your place beside Alastor, you notice how cluttered his desk is. You stifle a laugh; the thought of the infamous radio demon who looked so clean and polished having anything untidy amused you. You see Alastor pouring his regular coffee as you turn to the small end table with some chairs. “Alastor, I never would have taken you for a coffee drinker. You seem more refined to like English teas or other sophisticated drinks.”

Alastor just looked at you with a small, unstrained smile. As he finished his drink and poured you one, he said, “Nonsense dear Y/N coffee is highly sophisticated; Louisiana was a large export of coffee grounds we lived for this drink. Coffee was the way to go when we needed to work long hours tending to fields or making ends meet at factories.” You nodded gently, amazed that this man remembered his life so well after so long. While you sat and drank your coffee, Alastor got up to prepare the broadcast. While he was busy, you took this time to examine the Deer Demon in more detail. 

He was handsome; his fringe was odd but suited him well, the unforced smile looked attractive, and his suit was perfectly fitted, leaving just enough imagination about what lay underneath. As you caught yourself having this thought, you shook your head, setting your cup down violently. Alastor turned to look at you, his smile still soft but a questioning look in his eyes. You coughed softly into your napkin and stood to meet Alastor at his desk before speaking. “So Al, what is it you need of me.” His reaction to the nickname did not go unnoticed.

Now, the original reason you decided to use the nickname he hated was to get under his skin, but instead of doing that, he smiled at you wider. Gently, he placed a microphone and headphones in your hand. You looked up at him with a curious gaze. “I believe that for people to know you are here at the hotel and will sing, they need a sample. We may have a deal on the line, but I am no cheater.” You nodded, smiling at him; maybe he wasn’t so bad. As the broadcast started, though, the same pompous ass hole came out. Boasting about being missed and how he can't wait to give Sinners of hell an actual broadcast, he introduced you. “Now, my dear patrons, I introduce Y/N. Some of you may know her and even love her, but tonight she will be singing a song for you, a taste into her performance that will be happening here at the Hazbin Hotel in two days.” 

You gripped the microphone and started singing one of your more classic songs. Only the people at Mimzys club that night had heard the new song, and you didn't want to ruin the surprise you had been working on for your concert. As you sang, you couldn’t help but notice the red eyes boring into you. Was Alastor checking you out? No, of course not. This is just to even out the deal. However, how his eyes softened and he hummed gently to your tune made your heart flutter. He sure learned one of your songs for someone who hated your music. 

As you finished your part in his broadcast, Alastor played some old-time Jazz, muting the mics before leading you out the door. You said your goodnights and began to walk away when Alastor grabbed your arm. You turned to look at him, a sweet, innocent look in your eyes; a part of you wanted him to kiss you right there. However, you could see his conflict. After a few seconds of staring at one another, Alastor let go of your arm and cleared his throat, “Good night, Y/N. Be prepared for our deal.” You nodded, and before you could ask him what was wrong, the door was closed and locked in your face.

~~~Present Day~~~

The day you had finally come for your concert. You had spent most of the day resting and preparing for the show. It had been over a week since your last live performance. You took your time getting prepared, wanting everything to be perfect. You double-checked your hair outfit and even dabbed on an old perfume you found while shopping with Angel. Did you buy this specific sent because it was trendy in the 1920s? No, of course not. You weren't trying to impress the famed Radio Demon during your performance tonight. It finally dawned on you as you did your last touches. You either become soulless tonight or beat the Radio Demon. A shiver ran down your back; you were so caught up in falling for the man that you forgot he was ruthless and owned you now. It's not that you minded the owning part; you minded the soulless part. 

A soft knock was heard at your door, and you released a quiet “come in.” As you turned from your vanity to see who had entered, before you stood, Mimzy, you ran to your mentor and hugged her close. “You came, you came. I thought you would be too mad at me to come.” Mimzy slapped your shoulder gently before speaking. “When have I missed one of your shows since you started working for me? Plus, Alastor personally invited me and gave me a front seat. I don’t know if it's to torment me that he's going to take your soul or if mister Deer likes you.” Mimzy began nudging your side. You stifled an almost forced laugh, your cheeks growing warm. “Mimzy, you need to lay off the alcohol. That is an absurd statement. Alastor doesn’t like me.” She gave you a knowing look. “You may think he doesn’t like you, but I can tell you sure like him.” You looked away at the floor.

Mimzy gave you a few more encouraging words before returning to the drawing room. According to Mimzy, there was already a large number of people filling the place. Charlie must be going nuts trying to recruit people. With a final glance in the mirror, you began to walk to your call point. Instead of your average tan and brown ensemble, you wore an elegant blood-red dress for tonight's performance. One that just so happened to be in your closet this morning when you started to get ready. You did your hair up and let some pieces frame your face, your makeup soft and subtle, giving you a sweet, angelic look.

Charlie introduced you to the crowd; as you took center stage and waited for everyone to calm down, you began your set. You looked out to the crowd like you did all those nights ago, and sitting right in front of you were your new friends and him. He didn’t look smug or dominating this time. No, this time, he looked calm and compassionate. Even if you looked hard enough, it almost looked like he was enjoying himself. He wore a suit practically identical to your dress in color. You promoted the hotel between each song as you sang. Your first three songs went perfectly, keeping the crowd entertained to the fullest as you always did. Once your last song died down, the crowd erupted. 

A slow interlude played as you spoke softly: "I wrote this last song a long time ago when I was alive. I have only sung this song once at Mimzy Speakeasy, so if you were one of the lucky few to hear it, please feel free to sing along and enjoy it to the fullest this time.” You smiled softly before landing your eyes on Alastor. You don’t know what possessed you to sing this song, looking directly at him, but you couldn’t help it. You felt compelled, too. As the begging notes to Espresso started playing, a small group of people cheered, including Charlie. 

You began your normal choreography and sang your heart out, never taking your eyes off of Alastor for long, and from what you saw, he never took his eyes off of you for long, either. Singing your heart out as you finished the outro of the song you posed, letting the cheers and lights fade out. Charlie rushed to the stage and informed everyone about food, refreshments, and signing up to join the hotel. You, however, hid behind the curtains, blushing. Why was he looking at you so intently? Why were you suddenly so shy and concerned you sang poorly? You always had confidence in your singing.

Collecting yourself, you quickly refreshed your look in the bathroom before joining the after/recruiting party. As you were going down the hotel hall to get to the main part of the drawing room, an uneasy feeling hit you. An anxious, familiar feeling. You turn your head, and down the hall, you see a man making his way towards you. You turn around and keep walking, ignoring his shouts as you try to beeline for the entryway. You are panting at this point, memories of your death coming back to you, everything feeling too close to that moment. Just as you are about to turn the corner into the doors for the drawing room, the man reaches out for you. You brace for impact; however, nothing happens. You hear sickly screams emanating from before you as a pair of arms gently encase you in a protective embrace. As you open your eyes, you see shadows tearing the man who looked to be a part of the Vees team apart. Alastor covered your eyes before walking you back towards your room.

You didn’t even realize you had begun to cry or shake when you got to your room. The anxiety of reliving that night you died catching up to you. Alastor never let you go, even after you got to the safety of your room. Once you calmed down, Alastor went to the bathroom connected to your room. You sat there holding your face in your hands, probably looking like a mess from your actions. Alastor re-entered the room and brought you a fresh, damp towel. “To wash your face off; you probably don’t want all that on you anymore.” You nodded softly and began to wipe your face. Alastor scoffed, then took the towel from you, crouching down. Alastor gently held your face and began to clean it off. You two never broke eye contact. He was so gentle.

After your face was cleaned, Alastor took the pins out of your hair and went to find some more comfortable clothes for you. You were ushered into the bathroom and began to change when, through the door, Alastor began to speak. “Did he hurt you at all? I tried to get there as fast as I could. Before you came on, Mimzy was telling me about the night you died. I assume the Vees and their minions must have overheard and, in an attempt to weaken your resolve, make you remember that night.” You sniffled lightly, slowly opening the door, and you looked up at Alastor. Where was a man like him when you died? No, where was he when you passed that night? A choked sob left your lips as you hugged him close to you, crying into his shoulder. Alastor was amiss on what to do, but slowly, as you cried, wrapped his arms around you as well. 

As the tears faded, a green glow surrounded you and Alastor again, like when you first made the deal. No one signed up for Charlie's hotel, whether because the demon was mutilated one door over or because you didn’t come to socialize with the guests. It didn’t matter; Alastor had your soul now. Oddly enough, you weren’t as upset by this as you anticipated; you were happy about this. You felt safe, protected even. 

Alastor bid his farewell to you after you had finally calmed down. Neither one of you speaking about the contract or lost deal. You lay in bed, exhausted from all the crying and anxiety. As you drifted off to sleep, you saw your assailant again. This wasn’t an uncommon dream for you, but this time, it hurt worse due to the raw emotions. However, just as you were about to die again for the millionth time in this dream, a man dressed in red with brown hair and a soft smile protected you and saved you. 

You had been asleep for a little less than 24 hours when you woke next. Your body needed a recharge. You made your way to the kitchen to make some coffee; if you were staying at the hotel to sing, you could start putting together new songs and programs. You made your drink, noticing that Alastor's cup was missing from the cabinet. Taking your hot coffee back upstairs, you passed the hall to your room when you heard a piano playing your song Espresso. 

You made your way to the door and entered quietly to find Alastor playing your song, humming quietly in tune. You knocked gently and said, " Al, if you wanted a concert yourself, I would have given you one.” You smile softly. Alastor, unfazed by your appearance, probably already knowing you were there, hummed in amusement before speaking. “As a thank you, why don’t we perform a duet for me saving you?”  You made your way over to the piano, sitting down next to him and setting your coffee cup next to his on the piano. 

He began to play the start of the song, and you two began to sing together. Softly, you rest your head on his shoulder, allowing yourself to be vulnerable with your feelings for the man next to you. You had never sung this song like this before, and it felt special between you two. Some of you began to believe that this song was made for you and Alastor. Before you died, you knew you would meet your match—someone who met you as an equal yet also an opposite. Alastor finished the last few notes of the song. Comfortable silence surrounds you. 

Alastor smiled more naturally, “You know, Y/N, I do like your music. It did catch me off guard the first time I heard it, but your music has a lot of truths in it.” You look up at him from his shoulder, listening to his words. “From the moment I looked at you, I couldn’t get enough of you; when I met you, and you challenged me almost instantly, I knew I had to have you. You keep me awake at night thinking about everything that has happened between us in the last few weeks.” You smile softly, thinking back to the lyrics of your song. You lean up gently and place a kiss on Alastors cheek. He laughs softly when he turns to look at you thoroughly. “I’m sorry, doll, but you may have misunderstood me. I like you a lot; I feel that deserves more than a mere peck on the cheek.” You laugh wholeheartedly, this time without covering it up, before placing a soft, chaste kiss on Alastors lips. You pulled back, both of you smiling. “Now that’s an espresso I would happily take any time.” You laugh at his antics before placing your hands on the piano, now playing an old song you remembered from when you were a kid. 

All was well. Who would challenge the infamous Radio Demon, especially now that he had the notorious addictive ‘Espresso’ singer as his girlfriend? With your powers combined, he could overcome the deal he made, but that is a story for another time.

[vampiric-tempt]

౨ৎ — eustass kid x injured reader!🍒 ☆

✦ gender neutral ⸝⸝⸝ sfw. oneshot

(♡) synopsis: Eustass kid didn’t know at first. He thought everyone was fine after the battle, but when he notices your absence during the party- he finds you in a terrible state.

✦ The crew kicked the remaining bodies off the ship. The dead marines who believed they stood a chance against the notorious Kid Pirates, now littered the sea.

Kid raised his fist in triumph causing the crew to roar out in cheers. “Who’s ready for a party!” He yelled. More cheers erupted from the crew. The boisterous group rushed to grab drinks for the party. Killer, however, couldn’t help but notice that Kid’s partner was nowhere to be found.

“Hey Kid.” Killer called out to him. “Have you seen y/n?”

Kid hummed and skimmed his eyes across the deck. “Eh they’re probably huddled in the med bay like always. I’ll get them later when the party really starts.”

Killer frowned beneath the helmet. He wished Kid would be more caring, but that’s just his nature. “Alright then.” Killer dropped the subject and left to start cooking.

The party was now hours in and yet your presence was still absent. Your absence worried the massacre soldier. Killer made his way over to his captain and knocked him on the head. “Oi!”

Kid hissed and turned to Killer, the tips of his ears red from all the alcohol. “Whattt.”

“Your partner, did you forget about them?” Killer says, his voice laced with annoyance.

Kid grumbled. “They’re probably tired and went to sleep.”

“Stop making excuses Kid, they would have told you that. Why does it seem like I care more about them than you do, huh?”

“Shut yer mouth, if ya liked them too I wouldn’t mind. Y’know us.” Kid grunted, picking himself up from the table. “Alright, I’ll go check on em, you stop worrying.”

Killer’s shoulder dropped in relief. “It would definitely satisfy my conscience.”

Kid grumbled once again and made his way down to the med bay. As soon as he reached your designated room, he barged in without a care of your privacy. “Y/nnn! Where the hell are ya- the partie’s already begun!”

No answer.

“Y/n?” He calls again, a bit quieter. He notices the room’s lights are off, the only light source coming from the doorway. He hears a shuffle in front of him, and Kid squints his eyes to see the huddled figure of his partner hidden beneath his shadow’s silhouette.

“Y/n.” He repeats, walking toward your frame. “The hell are you doing on the ground?” Kid kneels down and his breath hitches when he notices you panting. The sight of you was sickly. “Y/n, what the fuck!” He grabs your face. “Look at me, mouse.” Your expression was dazed as you muttered incoherent words to him. “I can’t understand what yer saying, but lemme get you up.”

He lifts your body, a pained whine leaving your lips. Kid hurries and lays you on the med bay bed. Switching on the light, Kid’s eyes widen at your state. Blood gushed from your lower abdomen, your hand shakily putting pressure on your wound. “Fuck!” Kid curses and rushes to place gauze on it. “How come you didn’t say anything!”

In the midst of Kid’s attempt to help you, Killer walks in on the situation, his mind quickly registering what was happening. Killer’s mouth remained shut as he rushed to his friend's side.

“Stupid mouse.” He mutters under his breath.

Kid, now silent, let Killer take over. All he could do was stare, his drunk haze now filled with worry and self-loath for not noticing sooner.

“Hey,” Killer’s voice echoed, but Kid was lost in his thoughts. “Hey!” He called again louder. Kid’s eyes shot up to Killer’s mask. “You good Kid?”

Kid nods. “Yeah, uh yeah. I’m fine. How are they?”

“Stabilized, they’ll be fine. If we waited any longer they could’ve-”

“Yeah. Thanks Killer.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me to be a better partner to them. God what the hell. I could’ve lost them cuz they didn't say anything!”

Killer sighs. “They take it from you.”

Kid raises a brow. “Tch- whatever. Tell the crew I’m done for the night. I’ll be here till they wake.”

“Of course.” Killer pats Kid’s shoulder on his way out. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. Mistakes happen y’know.”

“Yeah…I know.” ✦

💌 ꒰author's note: I've been absent for a year and I finally decided to start writing again so I apologize if it's not that great. I used to write MK1 fanfictions, but I decided I might write more stuff on this blog !!꒱ ᘏ (🌷) . ˚◞🕯꒱

[horny-p0et]

incelbur blurb part four

the support on this little series has been amazing, i want to thank all of you for the likes, comments and reblogs. that support and exposure encourages me to post more and improve as a writer. so thank you. genuinely c:

also this is the longest part yet and an apology to everyone who was upset y/n didn't kiss wilbur last part lol.

part one + part two + part three

warnings: alcohol, masturbation, noncon somnophilia

wordcount: 2503

dont like, dni. please just block me and move on.

────୨ৎ────

INCELBUR who avoided you for two weeks to punish you for breaking his heart. he was furious at you, but angrier at himself. he wasn't surprised you didn't like him, no one does. and they shouldn't like him, he's an ugly piece of shit. he told his professor he was sick to skip your classes together, he couldn't see or smell you again because he'd get on his knees and beg for the forgiveness he doesn't deserve.

INCELBUR who still kept an eye on your social media, obsessing over every scrap of information he could find. he wanted to know if you were upset, if you were struggling. but you just looked as happy and carefree as you always do. it was like salt in his wounds, seeing you laughing and smiling with your friends, enjoying life in a way he doesn't know how too.

INCELBUR who got a message from you after two weeks, ignoring the notification for a few hours before curiosity got the best of him. its an apology of sorts, reminding him that you care about him. it makes his heartrate increase but he knows there has to be something more, you have to be hiding something. because if you cared about him you wouldn't hurt him like this. you ask if he wants to game with you, and he knows he should say no. he should tell you to fuck off and die, but he doesn't. he says yes. he doesn't know who he is without you.

INCELBUR who tries to put his walls up now that you guys are talking again, bury his feelings in his shoes and just be satisfied with a friendship. but he isn't. he wants you to be his girlfriend, to be owned by him. he'd be happy if you loved him, he knows you could fix him. make him a better man, teach him to love himself, he wishes he deserved your love. he knows he doesn't.

INCELBUR who drinks until his vision blurs when he see's you at another bar, another night out having fun without him. you post a photo of your little black dress and it makes him so hard he thinks he might pass out because of the lack of blood in his brain. all he wants to do is rip it off and explore your body with his hands and mouth, show you what a good lover he could be. he knows he shouldn't but before he can stop himself he calls you, his fingers fumbling on the phone screen.

"wilbur? do you need something?"

".... you. needed to hear your voice, need you to tell me you still like me."

"of course i still like you, wilbur. i've always liked you."

"why? why do you fucking like me? i'm disgusting, and you're perfect and happy. everything i'm not."

INCELBUR who feels like crying when you reassure him he isn't disgusting, tell him that you think he's sweet and cute. you tell him he's funny and way better than you at call of duty, and way smarter than he gives himself credit for. he asks you how you stay happy when the world is so awful all the time, how do you stay so beautiful when everything else is broken.

INCELBUR who doesn't believe it when you tell him you aren't perfect. he can't understand when you open up and tell him you don't feel beautiful, how you hate the way you look in the mirror and aren't happy everyday. how can you be sad? do you not see the goddess on earth in the mirror when you wake up? he hates hearing your insecurities, you shouldn't feel as bad as he does. it isn't fair, you don't deserve that.

INCELBUR who like he's been punched in the chest when you offer to come over to his house that night, ditch your friends to make sure he's okay. he hates that his first thought if you coming over to fuck him, sucking his dick to make him feel better. he knows that isn't what you're offering, you just want to come over and look after a friend. but a man can dream.

INCELBUR who agrees, scrambling to clean his room before you get there. he throws as much rubbish as he can into the bin until its overflowing, shoving his piles of dirty clothes into his wardrobe and shutting the door. he sees the way his sheets are stained and wishes he had time to throw them in the wash, you deserve better than the disgusting man cave he rots in for days at a time. you should have a castle and lush fabrics, not him. anything is better than him.

INCELBUR who thanks god his mum is away on a work conference when you show up, he's embarrassed by the fact he still lives with her in his 20's but he doesn't know how to take care of himself. he can't cook, doesn't know how to save money or do his laundry properly. he apologises for the mess, you tell him it's okay and you don't care. but you should care, he's a slob.

"sorry about coming over on such short notice, i just wanted to make sure you didn't do something stupid."

"i called you when you were busy with your friends, that was pretty stupid."

"well, yeah but you needed some help. there isn't anything wrong with that. you know you can always call me when you need help, that's what friends do."

"... i guess so. i'm just not used to having friends at all. i don't want to make people deal with my shitty existence."

"if i didn't want to deal with your existence i wouldn't have bothered talking to you at all, mate."

INCELBUR who thinks you are an angel. that's the only logical reason you make him feel this good. you sit on his bed listening to some music, and he finds himself opening up about all the things he's kept hidden. his absent father, his insecurities about his body, his paranoia that everyone is out to get him, his innate need for validation and love. you thank him for opening up and put your hand on his bicep, squeezing gently. he hates that such a simple gesture of love makes his dick stiffen in his sweatpants.

INCELBUR who listens when you tell him about your problems. how you worry about the future, distracting yourself with partying so you can ignore that voice in the back of your head that says you're a disappointment. he wishes he could press a button that would make you feel better, even if the button only worked once he would use it on you instead of himself.

INCELBUR who tells you he's a virgin, how he hasn't had a girlfriend or even kisses anyone before. he wants too, badly. any form of intimacy he craves like a drug he's never even had. it makes him insecure knowing how everyone around him did it years ago. it makes him feel like the biggest loser in the world. you remind him there's more to life than finding love but he doesn't believe it. he knows he would be happy if someone loves him, because then maybe he could love himself.

"honestly my first kiss was awful, it was with some guy when i was thirteen at school. if i'd waited for someone who actually cared about me it would have been more memorable."

"i guess, but at least you had someone who wanted to kiss you. no one has ever wanted to kiss me."

"... you sure?"

INCELBUR who thinks this must be some cruel joke when you offer to kiss him. he knows you've been drinking tonight, and you just feel sorry for him and his sad life so you're throwing him a bone. but even knowing all that he says yes, god yes. he can't say no to you, he'd jump off a sky scraper for you. you tell him the kiss doesn't mean anything and it'll help him get over that desire if he just does it, and see's its just a thing. a physical action and not some giant, life changing event.

INCELBUR who forgets to breath when you put your hand on his cheek, he can smell your perfume and the alcohol on his breath and he think's he's suffocating, drowning in you. then you kiss him. your lips are soft, gentle, loving. his hands find your shoulders, his fingers dig into the skin, he can feel the bones and muscles underneath and he knows he's already in too deep.

INCELBUR who could have died when your tongue slides against his bottom lip, gently asking for entry. he lets you, of course. why shouldn't he? he wishes he had brushed his teeth that morning but if he tasted bad you don't pull away, instead your hand moves from his cheek to grip the curls at the nape of his neck and tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss.

INCELBUR who's cock is so hard it hurts, the outline so clear in his pants but he can't bring himself to be embarrassed. he's kissing you, his first kiss is with the most gorgeous woman on the planet and she's kissing him back. His hands move on his own, moving from your shoulders to your waist, one gripping the fabric of your dress while the other snakes up to palm your breast. he moans into your mouth, his body shaking with anticipation of anything else, of more of you. all of you.

INCELBUR who whines when you pull away, giving him a small smile. you sit back but he doesn't move his hands, he isn't ready to let you go. he asks to kiss you again, and you chuckle. you tell him you're happy to make out some more but you aren't fucking him, he's too drunk. he wants to protest and tell you it doesn't fucking matter if he's intoxicated, if he was sober he would just be drunk on your lips instead. but he stops himself, he'll accept more kisses if it means you stay with him a little longer.

INCELBUR who makes out with you on his bed for what could have been hours or minutes, he can't tell. you grip his wrist to pull his hand away when it tries to sneak up your dress, so he grabs your ass instead. you're lying on top of him, your warmth seeping into his bones. eventually though, it stops and you get off him. he opens his mouth to demand you get back on him but suddenly you're asking to crash the night. now he knows he is dreaming.

INCELBUR who agrees, how can he resist you? he feels like such a slob knowing you'll be sleeping in his gross sheets but you asked, you know what you're getting into. he offers you one of his shirts to sleep in and he can't wipe the grin off his face when you agree. you disappear into the bathroom and when you come out you're just in his shirt and your panties, the fabric hanging around your thighs. his cock pulses, still painfully hard. god, you will be the death of him. he doesn't take his own shirt off, he doesn't want you to see his pasty, skinny body.

INCELBUR who spoons you from behind when you slide into bed beside him, one arm under your neck while the other grips your hip possessively. he leaves some space between his hips and yours, he knows you would have felt his boner when you kissed but he doesn't want to scare you away. you tell him goodnight, and nuzzle your head into his pillow. he presses a kiss to the back of your neck, he wants to tell you he loves you. but he doesn't. he just says goodnight, and thanks you for coming over tonight.

INCELBUR who can't fall asleep with you in his arms. he glances at his alarm clock to see he's been lying behind you for at least two hours, still hard as a rock. you're asleep though, serene and relaxed in his bed. he's imagined how you'd look asleep beside him but reality is better than his imagination. you look beautiful, your face relaxed and lips parted as you breath deeply. you should stay he every night, you look happy here. with him.

INCELBUR who can't resist shuffling forward until his clothes erection is pressed against the cleft of your ass. he bites back a moan at the pressure, he's leaking precum and its pathetic. he knows it's wrong but his hand on your stomach creeps up to your tits again, massaging the globes through his shirt until he feels your nipple harden. he pressed his face into the back of your hair, inhaling your scent as his hips rut gently against the curve of your buttocks.

INCELBUR who is being a creep. he knows that's who he is deep down, and he's desperate. he slides his hand up his shirt to play with your bare tits, his cock twitching with excitement when he feels your nipple against his palm. he wants to suck them, bite them. but he knows if he moves to much you'll wake up and be furious at him, so he keeps his movements and touches subtle. his hips roll in a gentle rhythm, its not enough to get him off but the pressure on his cock is enough to relieve some of his tension.

INCELBUR who presses kisses to the back of your neck and shoulders, sucking on the skin softly. he wants to mark you, to show everyone who belongs to him. he hesitated for only a moment before he presses his teeth into your soft flesh, increasing the pressure until he's confident you'll wake up tomorrow with a bite mark on your shoulder. he can feel the wet patch leaking through his pants from his precum and hopes to god you can't feel the wetness against your ass.

INCELBUR who doesn't remember falling asleep, but when he blinks his eyes open he reaches for you again. but you're not there. he sits upright, his head spinning from his hangover. he rubs his eyes, clearing his vision and scanning his room for you. but you're gone. your shoes and purse aren't there, the shirt you wore sits folded on his desk chair. he's filled with so many conflicting emotions he doesn't even notice the note on his bedside table.

INCELBUR who screams into his pillow, throwing a textbook against the wall hard enough to dent the plaster. of course you're gone, why the fuck would you give him the privilege of waking up beside you? god, he's such an idiot. why did he even think he had a chance with you? it was just some fucking kisses. he's just a charity case, not deserving of anything more than the scraps you give him.

--==--

taglist: @lillyspeakz @multifandomhallucinations @xxvalentinezxx @charlidog @bellelikesmcyt

[j1mmys-darl1ng]

rubberman!kai smut perchance? as in kai having a rubber suit

ur literally my favourite fanfic writer 💙

pairing : kai anderson x reader

Warnings : p in v, rough sex, degrading, its literally kai, improper use of kool-aid, spit

A/n: aaaaah thank you 🫶🫶🫶 im really feeding yall with 2 sober fics back to back

NOT FOR MINORS COMSUMPTION! IF YOU READ FURTHER THIS IS YOUR FAULT NOT MINE!!

"look at this peice of kinky shit i found" kai huffs, throwing a latex suit onto the table your sat at, the material shining under the dim light of the lamp.

"what is it?" you ask kai gently, knowing anything can set him off.

"some fucking rubber suit, i wanna try it out" kai says blankly, cutting straight to the point.

"is it clean? Where did you even find it?" your words are hesitant, not wanting to cause him to snap.

"doesn't matter. Hop up on the table. Or do you want me to force you down instead?"

Without a second thought, you hop up on the table. His lips crash into yours imediately, his fingernails pulling so hard on your shirt that you can hear the thread begin to snap.

He practically rips your shirt off you, not breaking the aggressive kiss at all. You both discard the rest of your clothes.

Kai leaves the room momentarily with the rubber suit, leaving you to desperately roll your hips as you try to cause some sort of friction.

He soon returns, his cock standing proud as i grabs a cut and a pack of kool-aid from the kitchen. After a few more minutes of trying to get any pleasure, he returns, the cup containing kool-aid mixed with something else...

"if you wanna be such a slut then go ahead and drink it" he growls, spitting into the cup and forcing it to your lips.

You reluctantly begin to drink it, the liquid thicker than water. Then it hits you.

Without saying or doing anything, you force yourself to finish it. Placing the cup aside while your thighs rub together needily.

"please kai... I really need you" your voice pleading. You see his eyes turn dark as you call him kai.

"that's not my fuckin' name. Try again or ill leave you like this. All needy and desperate with no way to relief it."

"s-sorry... Master.." you manage to whimper out, your eyes begging for him not to leave.

"that's my good little slut" he grumbles as he tightly grips your cheeks, forcing your lips together as he drains his saliva into your mouth, leaving you no choice but to swallow it.

Without any warning, he roughly pushes your thighs appart, ramming his dick into your silky hole. Your nails dig into his shoulders, loud moans and whines slipping past your lips as his dick burries itself inside you.

Hes so deep inside you swear you can feel it nudging you stomach.

"you like that you fuckin' slut? Just taking all of me like a greedy whore aren't you? Its like you want this or some shit." he groans, his balls slapping against your ass with each aggressive thrust.

You begin to feel a knot forming, your nails begining to draw blood from his shoulders due to how hard your holding onto him.

"AGH! You fuckin' bitch!" kai yells out, slapping you across the face. This is all you need for your walls to tighten around him. This causes him to slap you again as your climax crashes down.

"did i say you could cum yet!? I dont fuckin' think so! Your gonna get punished later you filthy cum slut." his voice is still loud as he clamps a hand around your throat, not tight enough to cut off your breathing but not loose enough for you to move.

After a few more thrusts, his sticky seed paints your walls white. He practically fucks it into you, wanting to increase his chance of you having his messiah baby.

"clean yourself up. I have a meeting to get to" he huffs, quickly giving you a hesitant kiss on your nose as he speedily gets changed. You would have never expected in a million years for him to give you a kiss so it was a pleasant surprise.

Guess you'll have to wait till later to see what your punishment it.

A/n: this was a 2 day process 😭🙏. This was so fun to write because i kinda ran wild with it

Thank you so much for reading! <3

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - Whomping Willow

Words: 963

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

On the outside, Remus looked calm. If anyone was to study him, they might notice an occasional tiny twitch in his left eye or the way the right side of his bottom lip pulled slightly, but his face was passive and his body relaxed as he sat at one end of the sofa in the Gryffindor common room clutching an empty glass.

Inside, every atom of his being was thrashing around like the whomping willow. His heart hammered against his ribs, he was biting the inside of his lower lip hard enough to taste blood and he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

On the other side of the room, Sirius was deep in conversation with Benjy Fenwick. Remus had counted the number of times that Sirius had thrown back his head and laughed at something Benjy said (six), and how many times Benjy had touched Sirius on the arm, shoulder, and most egregiously, his hip (nine, in total).

“Why don’t you tell him?” Dorcas perched on the arm of the sofa next to him.

“Self preservation and the knowledge that he deserves better.” Remus said, not taking his eyes off Sirius.

“And it’s just fine for you to keep all that inside forever?.”

“Perhaps.” He admitted. “I swear it used to be easier. It’s fine. Only four months of school left, though. Then I can have some space from it all.”

Dorcas snorted, “If that’s what you think’s going to happen—”

“Why are we glaring at Sirius?” Marlene appeared behind Dorcas. “I approve, I’m just curious.”

“He’s pining. Again.”

“You’d probably be happier if you didn’t insist on watching.” Marlene said. “Seems masochistic.”

“Don’t kink shame him!” Dorcas giggled. “She’s right though. Come and get another drink.”

Remus sighed and stood up, “I hate when you’re right.” Before he headed to where he’d left his fire whisky, he looked over his shoulder and was surprised to see Sirius looking at him, something burning in his gaze. Remus offered him a half smile before following Marlene and Dorcas.

He sensed someone next to him as he grabbed the bottle, and was surprised to see it was Benjy.

“Done staring, Lupin?” He asked in a low voice. Remus turned to him and raised an eyebrow slightly when he saw that Benjy didn’t look angry, but amused. “I didn’t know you’d be interested. I wouldn’t have wasted any time on Black if I—”

“Wait, what?” He said, “Waste your— what?”

Benjy took a step closer to him, “C’mon, Black’s easy. I prefer a challenge.”

“You’ve got the wrong idea.” Remus focused on pouring steadily as Benjy settled his palm on the small of Remus’ back.

Benjy scoffed, “You’re not subtle. If you’re not out, you might want to rein it in.”

“Fuck off.” Remus’ face was still passive but it was considerably more effort to maintain now. Maybe Dorcas was right, and he should just—

“Moony, a word.” Sirius appeared on his other side.

Remus nodded and shook off Benjy’s hand before following him up to the dormitory.

“What the fuck was that?” Sirius asked as soon as the door was shut.

“He thought I was staring at him and—”

“You were.” Sirius said flatly. “Look, if you’d told me that you like him, I’d have told him to piss off. I didn’t know, but still, not a fan of you poaching blokes I’m in the middle of a conversation with.”

Remus sat on the edge of Sirius' bed and rested his head in his hands, “Jesus Christ.” He mumbled, “I was absolutely not poaching Benjy, nor am I into him. I was telling him that when you interrupted.”

“Then why were you staring at him?” Sirius asked, trying to keep his voice steady and almost succeeding. “Don’t deny it, I have eyes.”

“I wasn’t staring at Benjy.” Remus looked up and met his gaze, waiting for the penny to drop.

“But you were, you didn’t— Oh.” Sirius stilled. “Moons?”

Remus braced himself as he confirmed, “Yeah.”

“But… you never flirt back or even react when I flirt with you.”

“Oh, is that what you’ve been doing?” Remus felt all of those repressed emotions rushing to the surface. “I’ve wanted you for a long time, and I never said anything because I was busy helping you through heartache and then helping you make plans of who you should go after next and you know what? My name never came up once, Sirius. You’ve never seen me as legitimate option, and you know that.”

Sirius stared at him, the colour draining from his face. “You never made yourself an option.”

“Because if it’s a choice between me and someone who isn’t a dark fucking creature, then there isn’t a choice at all. I shouldn’t be an option, but it would have been nice just once if you’d—”

“So you could just turn me down with some noble speech about being a werewolf?” Sirius snapped. “We both know that’s what would happen. Why should I put myself through that, when I can just keep pretending that we’re just friends?”

“Maybe I hoped that I’d be worth the risk. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve taken a risk on our friendship.” Remus said quietly. “You’re right though. You shouldn’t have to put yourself through that.”

Sirius’ eyes flashed dangerously, “If you want me, do something about it, Remus. Do something about it, otherwise just fuck off.”

Remus stood up. The urge to just leave the dorm was strong. It was the sensible choice, but instead he found himself in front of Sirius, close enough that he could feel Sirius’ breath ghosting across his lips. “I’m not going to beg you to want me, Sirius.”

“You don’t need to.” He let Remus close the small distance between them.

Notes:

Do you ever write a line that breaks you a little bit?

Bc that's me with 'Maybe I hoped that I’d be worth the risk. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve taken a risk on our friendship.'

Like, yes call him out, but also the prank was almost two years ago, maybe stop bringing it up in arguments, Remus, bc that's not healthy

[baldurs-writers-3]

Misunderstandings: A Baldur's Gate 3 Fanfic Rec List

This week, we have Misunderstandings! Check under the cut for nine excellent fics communication may be lacking but the meaningful relationships most definitely are not! And as always, comment and kudos if you like them!

Desperate Measures by Asidian (7270, Teen) Content Notes: None Pairings: Astarion/Karlach

Astarion comes up with a sneaky way to get what little blood he can while in the Shadow Cursed lands. Karlach is none too happy about it when she finds out, but only because she doesn't understand the severity of Astarion's hunger

Reccer says: I always adore Asidian's characterization, and they handle the misunderstandings trope so well here

Until you by bloodinwine (103345, Explicit) Content Notes: None Pairings: Tav/Astarion

"And they were roommates" the fic. Two people hurt for love and their slow-burn closer to each other.

Reccer says: This fic gently presses its foot down on your heart and gradually puts more and more weight on it. The prose is fantastic. But it's with the characters that this author really shines. Effy, her Tav, is one of the most well-written I've read--she's so godsdamned relatable. She gets wedgies, she pees, she fucks strange men at karaoke bars (and yes, this fic is set after the game) and she aches for Astarion with a conviction that just guts me.

Whither is thy beloved gone? and it's sequels by Brabbles (77903, Explicit) Content Notes: Depictions of violence, verbal abuse, unhealthy relationships. Pairings: Astarion/Tav, Wyll/Karlach

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort? The fics are a softer take on A!A and explores Tav's past and the consequences of the rite.

Reccer says: I love that it is a nuanced take on A!A, and it sticks to canon events as much as possible. It goes from right before the epilogue to a year after.

Strange Highways by NoCryptoGrapher (28939, Mature) Content Notes: None Pairings: Cazador Szarr / Original female characters, Cazador Szarr & Original male characters, Cazador Szarr & Astarion, Cazador Szarr & Petras

After a failing ascension ritual, Cazador gets transported to 1987 New York. To set things right, he reluctantly joins forces with an aspiring heavy metal band.

Reccer says: It's really funny and full of twists.

The Faithwarden and the Archdruid by Lanafofana (3355, Explicit) Content Notes: None Pairings: Halsin/Tav

An angsty with a happy ending fic about a Halsin and Tav that aren't communicating their feelings well to each other. They're each trying to keep the other from feeling guilty when their responsibilities get in the way of their relationship and it leads to some misunderstandings and hurt feelings.

Reccer says: This fic is such a perfect blend of angst and fluff. The writing really makes you feel the hurt and sadness that Tav is experiencing. And the way the author rounds it out with a sweet, happy ending? Oh, my heart melts.

Found My Voice by SheDragonOfTheWest (3683, Teen) Content Notes: Modern AU Pairings: Laezel / Shadowheart

Lae'zel has had a crush on Shadowheart for a while, but she's not sure if it's mutual. It will take a gentle nudge from a friend, a few drinks and a shabby karaoke bar for her to finally make a move.

Reccer says: Funny, sweet and rocks!

Ruin You by VakarianSyndrome (3827, Explicit) Content Notes: None Pairings: Astarion/Reader

There's an implied break up post confession (WHO DOES THAT?) and now the RI is looking for Astarion and she gets more than she bargained for. I couldn't tell if he wanted to make her pay for leaving or reward her. Am I the one misunderstanding? It's ok. Sooo good.

Reccer says: Takes place in the Underdark, for one. I suspect F*ck or die, even though it's not clear, which I love. Very sensual and indulgent. Also, Astarion is kind of a troll here... Mr. Beg Me.

Reckless Little Love by VakarianSyndrome (12300, Explicit) Content Notes: Some violence, vampire bites (obv) Pairings: Astarion/FemDurge

Astarion fumbles trying to get Durge on his side, but they almost can't figure it out. Misunderstanding is an understatement. The tension between them is killing me, I swear to God.

Reccer says: I love Astarion trying to change tactics because his advances just don't work the way he expects them, too. It's kinda funny. But there's a seriousness to the fic that I really like, too. They're both looking for the same thing, but keep butting heads instead.

And two recs for the fic:

declaw, defang by PurpleCatGhost (7390, Teen) Content Notes: None Pairings: Astarion & Gale & Karlach & Lae'zel & Shadowheart & Wyll

The whole camp gets to contribute during BITE NIGHT and Gale says the exact wrong thing at the exact wrong time and Astarion misunderstands in a very understandable way, considering his circumstances

Reccer #1 says: Peak early team dynamics. Everyone's characterizations are on point, and the resolution at the end is perfection! Reccer #2 says: I love this whole fic! Poor paranoid Astarion, not even realizing how much poison Cazador fed him about the world. He goes on a huge mental roller coaster right in this fic and each twist and turn feels so believable because why would anything good every happen to Astarion??? of course they're all waiting to stake him! What else could he really expect?

The above fanfic recommendations were pulled from our community for this weekly event. Have any questions about what this is? Check out the FAQ!

Next week, we’ll be back with another recurring theme, Rare Pairs!

Rare Pairs are any romantic ships with less than 1000 fics to their name. This recurring theme is to help highlight ships that are often overlooked or buried beneath more popular ships.

[inkyquince]

Shared Three Ways: Part 2

Remy x Wren x Male!PC x Niki

After you have Wren to keep you company at the estate, it feels like things are slowly getting better. Even if Niki is still strange towards you and Remy is an antisocial prick, at least you have someone to fall back on. But something still lurks underneath the surface...

Content Warning. Piss Drinking (Reader isn't drinking it). Stepcest. Dubcon (Reader has been drinking but gets really into it). Implied and obvious voyeurism. Camera recording of sexual acts. Alcohol. Also I lied, Part 2 is Niki centric and Remy is for part 3. Then Papa is part 4. 5.1k words.

(part 1/ part 2/ part 3/ part 4)

2 virginities remaining. 

Dawn had just about started to breach the skyline, early enough for the birds to struggle to wake up, but four people on the estate were wide awake. 

From your parent’s room, where your soon-to-be stepfather was sleeping, facing the wall, with your mother snuggled up against his back, arm curled possessively over his hip, down a separate flight of stairs, to where their brood slept. Or, where they were supposed to be sleeping. Niki was up in his red room, but for once, he wasn’t developing any photos. No, he was meticulously slipping the memory card out of his busted camera, making sure it was unharmed as he flicked the desk lamp on and examined it. With a grateful sigh, he set it down to pick up his older, spare camera from inside his desk drawer. Discarding the old card, which stored pictures of his mother and baby pictures of him and Remy, he put the new one in, and lovingly looked over his new collection of treasures. 

Across the hall from Niki’s bedroom, was Remy’s, with his door wide open and his bed deserted. 

Down from where he should have been sleeping, he stood, peeking in through the last door of note, that was open just enough to let warm, watery light creep out. His own breathing and jerking of his slicked cock almost drowned out the sound of moans and the slapping of skin against wet skin. Remy stared through the gap, one hand gripping his balls tightly, as if trying to stop them from cumming, his other hand focused on milking the tip of his cock, thumb digging into his weeping slit. Blood dripped into the precum, mixing with the milky substance, as his canine sunk deep into his bottom lip, fighting against letting his grunting get any louder. 

And inside? Inside, Wren had your ankles by your head, folding you neatly against your plush covers and splitting your ass open on his dick, yet again. Everytime you got a bit too loud, with a breathy moan or a whine, the farmhand greedily smothered your mouth with his, breathing through his nose just so his tongue could taste yours. The wet kisses you two exchanged didn’t make Remy feel dirty for watching, intruding on a private moment between you two. Neither did the way Wren playfully batted your hands away from your cock, chiding softly, gently, lovingly. Nor the way that Wren used you to reach his climax, gripping your hips and digging his thumbs into the dips, hammering into you harder and harder, becoming breathless. 

But it was the way you two periodically would chuckle into each other’s mouth, Wren’s cussing and snort as his foot slipped and he nearly fell off the bed, the way you two would take breathers and whisper something to each other before muffling your laughter. It made his teeth grind. 

He wasn’t a cuck. If it was anyone else, if it was Niki? Then he’d rip Wren off of him. He’d kick him in the stomach until he threw up and then he would start threatening. Branding, tied up for the farmhands to fuck. Then take Wren back to his room and ride him properly. He wouldn’t have watched until his toes felt numb, his head aching from his induced slow breathing so he wasn’t too loud. He would be transfixed by the way your cock lay, unattended, useless, drooling on your stomach as you whined for Wren to touch it. 

Just the memory of your cock suddenly expelling so much cum, all over your stomach had him finally tip over the edge. He cupped his hand in front of his cockhead, catching nearly all of his own cum, forced to bite down on the edge of his shirt to keep quiet and not to stain any of his clothes. A few drops rolled down his palm and landed in front of your door. Remy glanced inside for a moment, to Wren kissing along your throat, before backing away and slipping away to the bathroom diagonal from your room. You didn’t get an ensuite, like he did and for the first time, he was happy about it. 

Shutting the door behind him, he exhaled low and heady, letting his shirt, crumpled with saliva, fall back over his lean stomach. Remy went over to the toilet, about to let his cum drip freely from his fingers into the bowl, before freezing. He turned back towards the sink, ignoring his reflection that showed a ruffled young man, with coloured cheeks and saliva streaked lips. 

He eyed your face wash, your mouthwash, your toothpaste… His cock twitched with interest as he reached for your toothbrush. 

The next morning rolled around slowly, and then all at once. It seemed like only seconds passed between Wren pressing kisses just behind your ear, down to the nape of your neck, and him yanking on his jeans as the whole house slowly came to life, creaking of your mom and step dad walking around upstairs, the slamming of Remy’s door and the pitter patter of Niki’s quick feet. 

“You’re making me lose track of time up here.” He gave a rush of laughter, grinning at you as he made sure his cock was out of the way before he hurriedly zipped up his trousers. “Same time tonight? Maybe see you at lunch? Tell you what, slip away from breakfast and I’ll be at the stables-” 

“Has anyone told you that you’re fucking insatiable?” You grumbled half heartedly from your place on the bed, slowly getting the feeling back into your thighs. 

“Nope.” Wren shrugged on his dusty suspenders and pinged them against his chest as he emphasised the ‘p’. “Must be whatever makes that ass so addictive.” 

You snorted softly, the faint memories of him tangled up with Remy probing at your good mood, as if tempting to sour the morning. Something must have shown along the curve of your lips, or the look in your eyes because the farm boy immediately crawled over to you, across the bed, insisting on kissing along your exposed skin. 

“Are you the jealous type? Cause that’s pretty hot.” You batted at his chest as he tried to capture your sore lips. “And if you are, just keep in mind I’m a cuddler. I like to stay the night and see if I can hot dog my dick to keep it warm.” 

You wrinkled your nose before snorting again, this time with laughter at the image. 

“Gross. Anyway, pretty sure everyone else kicks you out before you can start cuddling.” There was an underlying challenge in your tone, as if egging him to refute your claim. 

He just looked at you, his easy grin turning more into a half sneer before he fixed it into a smirk. 

“Believe what you want.” Wren finally responded, pulling his sturdy, dusty boots on. His shoulders were tense with displeasure. “I’ll see you whenever, I guess-” 

Grown tired of his melodrama, you hooked your finger into his mouth mid-snide-farewell and, like hooking a fish’s cheek, yoinked him to face you. 

“I don’t care that Remy kicks you out before you get to try and squish your dick between his ass cheeks. Just don’t lie to me, alright? Or, omit shit. Just be frank with me.” You made sure to keep eye contact. 

Wren’s posture slowly relaxed. In fact, seemingly agreeing with your request, raised his eyebrows and sucked on your finger with a faux look of seduction. You quickly yanked your finger out of his mouth, letting forth a boyish stream of his chuckles, freckled nose scrunching as you wiped the saliva off, onto your sheets. 

“I could make a really bad joke about how can I be ‘Frank’ when I’m ‘Wre’- nevermind, I wanna stay in your good graces.” He quickly leaned over and kissed you on the mouth, his fingers coming up to brush your cheek. “Just wander outside and I’ll be sure to be ready to drop trousers and see to you.” 

You dropped back against your pillows as Wren, looking oh-so happy with himself, slowly opened your door to peek out. He was about to slide out when his eyebrows shot up into his messy blond waves and quickly shut the door, instead practically diving under your bed, knocking into your suitcase with a loud cuss. You barely had time to ask him what the hell when your door suddenly opened without warning, and you quickly wrenched your sheets up to cover yourself properly. 

“Give it back!” Niki stood there, ruffled and unkempt, looking like he barely slept a wink. “Give it!” 

“Nik- Wha-” You barely managed before the smaller boy was on you, uncaring about your half naked state, gripping your wrists with freakish strength, unexpected from him. 

“I know you fucking took it! You were in my room, you took it! I didn’t do anything wrong, they’re just candids! Give it back you fucking thief!” Niki, despite his anger, was pale with panic. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You finally barked back, trying to push him back. 

“You’re not…You’re not allowed…” Niki huffed, as if struggling to breath through his temper. “I’ll fucking kill… You… Give…” 

His panic crept through his wrath, and he slowly stopped trying to hit you, his floppy box-dyed hair sticking to his skin. Niki slid off the side of the bed, and landed on his ass on the carpeted floor by your bed, breathing heavy. A part of you wondered if Wren had a good view of his ass right now, but instead quickly covered yourself properly with your sheet before swinging your legs out of bed, resting them against Niki’s shoulder. 

“Hey… Niki?” Your voice was very gentle, as if anything louder than a polite murmur would set him off again. “I… I didn’t take anything from you, I swear. You can check my room if it makes you feel better.” 

You didn’t know why you were being so polite with one of the people that had made your stay so bad, ignoring you at every turn and obviously not attending “family” meals with the rest of you. Something about his pure blind panic, and the tears shining against his dull eyes made you feel sorry for the guy. 

“... Really?” He finally said, fighting back a hiccup. 

“Really. I don’t even know where your room is.” You tried for a smile which Niki seemed to stare at. 

“... Yeah. You don’t.” He said, more to himself. He wiped a ratty jumper sleeve against his eyes and breathed hard through his nose. “... Sorry.” 

Something inside you celebrated. You felt like you gained a bit of mileage with him, even if it did cost you a peaceful morning and several hits to your chest. You offered some of the tissues in the box to him, hoping that he hadn’t seen the scrunched up ones from when Wren was cleaning both you and him up. 

He took a few and dabbed his eyes. 

“Thanks.” He muttered, pushing back his hair, only for it to flop back into his face. 

“No problem.” You put them back, jerking a bit when you felt a finger poke your heel. Fuckin’ Wren. “I’m sure whatever you’re missing has just fallen down somewhere or something. Yknow?” 

Niki gave you an inscrutable look, the tip of his nose slightly red. 

“... Maybe…” He stuffed the tissues into his pocket. “I’ll check. Sorry about… Y’know.” 

“No worries,” You lied. “... I hope next time you feel like you can come in and talk, instead of… Y'know. Hitting first.” 

Niki gave you a small smile, amused. 

“Maybe.” He repeated, softer this time. He looked so docile, it made you feel sorry for him for the first time. 

“Yeah, maybe.” You echoed. “Maybe you could knock and come in and I’ll be a cooler big brother than Remy and let you vent?” 

You felt in an instant that you took it too far. Niki’s face immediately flushed and he gasped out something that you couldn’t even decipher. Then he ran for the door and slammed it shut behind him with a loud bang. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Wren poked his head out from underneath your bed. “1. What the fuck was all that about? And 2, I think you fucked it at the end there.” 

“Yes. Thank you, Wren.” You rubbed at your eyes, already feeling weary despite the fact it was barely 9am. “Wasn’t it time for you to scatter?” 

Wren pulled himself out from underneath your bed, dusting off his ass. 

“I’m just sad that I didn’t get to find anything fun under there. Like your diary where you talk about how much you looove me and my dick. Or dildos. Or maybe girly underwear that you like to wear.” 

“Wren-” 

“Yeah, yeah, sunshine, I’m going.” Instead of trying the door again, he shimmied open your window and slung one long leg out, giving you a parting grin. “You’re also nicer than me. I’d have pried into what he lost that would have caused that crybaby melt down.” 

Before you could reply, he promptly dropped down from your window. You heard the sound of him landing on a balcony below your window before the creak of the old vine being weighed down. Then the crunch of gravel. Finally, the cheery whistle of him walking away from the house, towards his cottage. 

The day passed normally. You threw out your toothpaste because it tasted weird before going downstairs to the rest of them, your mother picking and then pecking at small pieces of grapefruit, next to your stepfather who reads through a newspaper, cup of black coffee steaming next to his hand, where a lit cigarette winked its orange eye at you. Remy was down here too, tearing a piece of toast to pieces with his fingers but, thankfully, ignoring you this time. 

Your mom started chatting the moment she saw you, perking up and talking about “taking her boys” out shopping in town, blind to the disgusted look on Remy’s face. You coughed a bit, partially from embarrassment but also the smoke curling from the patriarch's section. He glanced at you and stubbed out his cigarette, instead taking a sip of coffee. 

“Sadly,” He finally said, folding up his newspaper, silencing your mother with just one word when you were used to it taking a small barrage of polite noises and coughs for her to quieten down. “There is too much to be done right now. It’s going to be especially busy for Remy. Niki also needs to have more lessons added before he can graduate. And…” 

He turned his eyes, steely and inscrutable, to you. 

“I’m sure he’ll find something to do while his brothers are busy. I heard you’ve taken up riding lessons with Wren.” 

You struggled not to joke on the juice you were sipping and Remy threw down his torn piece of toast and stood up. Your stepfather’s face remained impassive but there was something amused deep in his eyes.

“Oh, riding! That’s good! Girls love a good rider.” Your mother gave you a soft, dreamy smile, lost in the fantasy of her with her own horse rider husband and you marrying a girl who apparently liked exactly the same thing. 

Remy muttered a vague ‘excuse me’ and stalked off as you wondered which one of your step brothers decided to make your morning just a bit worse by telling your step father these things. 

So life dragged on. Niki shut away, either in his bedroom, or elsewhere in the house. Remy ignored you, the only contact being when you two passed each other in the halls when he would ram his shoulder into yours and let you stumble in the wall. Your mother organising outings that she was excited to ‘bring her boys’ on, and your mother’s husband usually out in the fields or shut up in his office. You also noticed with alarm that your mother had started to rest her hand against her belly with a soft, content sigh. The one time you had to use her bathroom while she was with a personal tailor to make you a suit for the wedding (you had already put her fiance into the category of stepfather, knowing the only way the union not to happen at this state is for him to back out, which he didn’t seem interesting in), you noticed a stash of pregnancy tests in the cabinet under the sink. You felt dread prickle at the back of your neck and when you came out, your mother checked your forehead for a fever. The tailor quickly took your measurements but fled the estate, saying that he’ll just send samples of the fabric ahead. 

The event left a bad taste in your mouth, one that you couldn’t explain. It preyed on you more than you knew it should have. 

“Divorce is easy, babies are forever.” Wren hiccuped from his place next to you, abandoning his cards for another swig from the dusky bottle you two had been sharing, more on his insistence than anything else. 

“Amazing.” One of his friends hiccuped, squinting at his own line up. “Any other zingers up that sleeve, or those aces you pretend to win fair and square with.” 

Two others cackled and Wren flicked one of the extinguished butts of squashed cigarettes at the other one. 

“So, the big man is aiming to squeeze out a… Fourth-” 

“Third-” Wren interjected. 

“-Kid. Good for him. No offence kid.” The one to your right burped, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth before taking another swig. “At least this one is going to be from in-wedding lock.” 

“Wedlock?” 

“Cockblock?” 

“That doesn’t even-” 

“Anyway!” The one opposite you interjected. “You sure that your mam is already pregnant? Or just trying?” 

“I dunno.” You shuffled your own cards again, the little numbers just squiggles before your fuzzy eyes. God, you should stop letting Wren give you alcohol. “It’s just weird.” 

“You can say that again.” One of them was eyeing down the lip of the bottle suspiciously. “Imagine having a screaming shitting pissing monster running around that isn’t what’s his fuck, the one with the rat name. Oi, you didn’t spit into my drink did you?” 

“Oh, what if I did? It isn’t the first time you’ve had another man’s saliva in your mouth.” 

“Hey, I didn’t notice the bulge until we were leaving the pub-” 

“I’m not saying it’s bad, Wren has done worse than kiss another man-” 

“What the fuck you mean worse-” 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” 

“I need to go piss.” You finally said, standing up slowly, using the table to maintain some stability, only to stumble when Wren slapped your ass the first chance he got. “Hey!” 

“Sorry, I’ll kiss it better later.” He grinned, this time just pinching your thigh, before turning back to the card game. “Were we talking about me kissing men? I’ll show you more if you want.” 

“Yeah? Do I have to pay to watch you fuck-” 

“Why don’t we shut up and continue with the game?” 

The door swung shut on that good idea. Their bathroom was out of commission, with the missing friend having passed out, head mostly in the toilet bowl, so for the last 45 minutes everyone else had been going outside to piss and come back in. You took a long, deep breath of crisp, chilled air, ignoring the gentle throb from your bladder for a few moments to enjoy the refreshing breeze before fumbling with your belt. 

Your head swam thickly with the amount of drinks you had in such a short time with minimal food- you once again skipped dinner to hang out with Wren and that decision caught up to you stupidly quickly. You didn’t even notice a smaller figure peeking out at you around the corner. Not until they shut their video camera with a soft click. You blinked, glancing over and seeing Niki crouching underneath one of the windows to the cottage, clutching his camera close to his chest. 

“Hey, Nik.” You slurred, brain far too foggy to register anything weird about this. 

“Hi.” He whispered back, all bug eyed and flushed. 

You went back to fighting with your belt, not noticing his big stare, his mouth slowly parting to swipe his tongue along his lips. Finally getting it unbuckled, you fumbled for your cock and slipped it free from your trousers and gave a soft groan as you finally got to piss into the bushes, resting your forehead against the side of the cottage. The sound of urine hitting the ground and leaves seemed so distant to you, at first you didn’t notice it ceasing  and instead it sounded like it was hitting another liquid. You didn’t notice anything until you heard a soft whine. 

Opening your eyes, you fully believed that you were hallucinating at first, a combination of too much drink, not enough food, and something Wren had you smoke that you really hoped was weird weed. You blinked a few times at the scene before you could even make sense of it. 

Niki, with his camera abandoned at his knees, had crawled forward, his fingers digging into the dirt and his cock straining at his trousers, a small drop of precum seeping through the fabric. His eyes were closed, and his mouth opened, wide enough to catch the stream of piss you had been aiming at the ground, now gathering rapidly on his tongue. Only a few droplets dribbled free from his lips. You didn’t even grasp what was happening fully to pull away or do anything. Even then, what would you even do? You could just stare until your bladder was fully empty and only a few drops slipped past your slit. Niki slowly opened his eyes, mouth still full and closed his lips, refusing to break eye contact with you. Then, with a pronounced sound, he swallowed. Then sighed, low and pleasured. 

You still said nothing, mouth open just a bit and swaying on your feet. He obviously wasn’t put off by this, leaning forward and giving your slit a few kitten licks, as if cleaning the head free of any remaining droplets. He made soft moans with every lick, almost pornographic in their utterance. 

Your cock started to get hard at the stimulation, despite all you had to drink. The moment Niki felt it perking up, he gave an excited little gasp, his eyes closing shut again before taking your cockhead into his mouth, sucking gently. The sound was wet and sloppy, with his soft whines growing louder. Even when it was just the head getting stimulated, it was easy to make you stupidly hard, the little amount of blood that was already mostly alcohol, immediately going from your head to your crotch. You knotted your fingers into his hair, putting weight on Niki as he slurped on your dick more, moaning louder. 

“N-Niki…” You groaned, his dyed locks so soft in your grip, your head swimming, the world around you tilting, and everything feeling so good as he gripped the back of your thighs. 

“Big brother.” Niki pulled off your cock long enough to whine his words, before slapping it back against his tongue, letting the precum bridge between your slit and his taste buds. 

Those words shot through you. It made your balls tighten and throb. It made you twitch. Niki felt it, and you remembered back to that morning, when you playfully called yourself the better older brother. 

“Want it.” Niki whispered against your head, before sucking it back into his mouth, drool slipping down his chin. 

This was going beyond dizziness. Wren didn’t want you touching your cock, only using your ass to make you cum, and it all felt like too much stimulation. Too much alcohol, too much cold air, too much of a hot, tight mouth sucking at your dick desperately. You were going to cum, you needed to warn him. You opened your mouth. 

“Fuck.” You croaked out. Then came down his throat, hips stuttering as your balls emptied. 

Niki made a soft noise of surprise and then whined so loudly you were surprised no one inside came out, asking if you had stepped on a rabbit or something. His own body quivered, one hand dropping from the back of your thigh to cup his crotch as the fabric of his trousers darkened quickly, the smell of cum heady and heavy in the air. 

You managed to pull away from him, slumping against the wall of the cottage, panting hard. Niki was dabbing at his crotch, his ears red, but there was still an obvious tent in his jeans. You were too busy trying to catch your breath to notice him snatching up his camera and press record, focusing first on his stained trousers, before panning to your soft, flaccid cock and then up to your face. He held it there for a few moments, his hand creeping up to rest against your stomach then dropped it again. 

Finally, he settled it against a small stump next to the cottage and began to pull his trousers down, his erection springing up. 

“Come down here.” He whispered up at you, and you slowly blinked at him. Impatient, he gripped your belt loops and tugged you down, not caring about the sting of wood against your lower back as gravity dragged you. 

You landed with an undignified thump onto the hard ground, and Niki shuffled closer on his knees, reaching out to gently hold your head between his hands. His fingers eagerly caressed the skin of your temples, but you could only notice the fact his own cock, his own pretty, flushed, dripping cock was twitching in front of you, inches from your lips. 

Niki pressed your head back a bit, to look up at him, for the first time ever. His eyes, for the first time, reminded you of your stepfather, of Remy’s eyes, dark and glinting and full of promise. His bitten lips were parted, swollen from sucking you off, glinting with saliva. His hair flopping into his face, sticking to his sweating skin. He was horrifically pretty. 

Too lost in his face, you didn’t notice one of his hands dropping to grip the base of his cock, already throbbing with anticipation. 

“Suck it.” He whispered, eyes blown wide and abyssal. “Suck my cock, big brother.” 

It would be the first time. Wren often liked to have you kiss his cockhead before he pressed it into your ass, “for a good ride”. You had thought about it, being forced to take his girthy cock, but you two had yet to get around to it, even as Wren teased at the chance. But it sounded so deeply perverted coming from Niki’s pretty pink lips, with such a lewd nickname, more than it ever could coming from Wren and his innuendos and dirty talk. 

You immediately leaned forward and swallowed his slim cock down, taking him down to the base. You had nothing but liquid courage in your veins, you forgot gag reflexes were a thing. His cockhead hit the back of your throat and you started to gag immediately, but couldn’t pull your head away. Niki had curved his body over you, his hot breath hitting the top of your head and his arms wrapped around you. You didn’t even get a chance to start sucking, he had already started to hump into your mouth like a jack rabbit. 

“Oh, fuck. Oh….” He whined out, as you reached up to grip his thin hips, his pubes tickling the tip of your nose, even as closely trimmed as they were. “Yes… Yes…” 

You slowly shut your eyes with a low sigh, your gag reflex acting up less, giving you a chance to enjoy the taste of his precum infiltrating your mouth, salty and heady. You didn’t notice feeling Niki scramble for his camera, lifting it up to be level with your face as his cock fucked eagerly into your mouth, saliva coating it and your lips. The device shook in his unsteady hand but he refused to put it down, needing this, needing evidence, needing it all. 

You sucked, you stuck your tongue out a bit and swiped it along the base of his cock, nudging his balls. You switched between gentle and hard sucks, finding out Niki had all kinds of different sounds for everything you did. He whined and groaned and moaned and hissed through his teeth, nearly losing the gum he had kept hidden against the roof of his mouth. 

“Fuck… Fuck!” He whispered in between all of his musical noises. “Oh, god, I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum!” 

He gave you more warning than you did for him, but it was still a surprise when ropes of cum coated your tongue and slipped down your throat within seconds, and it was a miracle you didn’t choke on it. 

“Thank you…” You weren’t completely sure but you heard him whisper against your skin, panting hard. “Best big brother.” He added, almost dreamily. 

He slowly pulled out from your mouth, your lips and his cock glinting in the low light and tucked it back into his ruined jeans. You swallowed thickly, a part of you finding it funny that you finally got something warm to eat to balance out the alcohol. Niki hit stop on his camera and tucked it against his tummy, with a satisfied sigh. He wetted his lips with his tongue and slowly stood up, looking down at you with a strange, self satisfied crooked smile. 

“Come with me to my Red room.” He murmured, low and extending his hand. 

You only somewhat remembered the card game and Wren waiting inside of the cottage, but it didn’t seem real. The outside, the wind and the leaves and Niki felt real. His hand, warm, if somewhat sweaty, felt real, as you took it and he led you back to the house, his camera tucked under his arm as he gently swung your connected fingers. The low chatter from the dining room felt like a hazy dream as you and Niki ignored the doors leading to where the rest of the family ate. The carpet, when you both kicked off your shoes, underneath your feet felt real as he led you up, up, up, past the floor with your rooms, your parents rooms, up to the attic. 

The door swung shut behind you two, not slow enough for you both to notice someone following behind, but not quick enough for Remy not to spot that Niki was pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, bathed in red. 

The eldest son stared at the shut door, and heard the loud click of the lock turning. He ground his teeth together. 

Remy spat onto the ground in front of the attic door and went back downstairs, making up his mind. 

1 Virginity Remaining

[raihann1]

STOP

When I tell u the corpse bride and CP fic was so unexpected but so needed. Basically

I LOVED IT OML😭 IT'S ACTUALLY A REALLY CREATIVE CONCEPT AND A FUN READD AHH

Anyway, if you could make a part two I would be forever grateful. But don't push urself, I don't mind waiting<3 AND UR ART IS ADORABLE--

Okay, I'll leave you be now. Have a great day/night 🤧

🦋The other man⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖Eyeless Jack x Reader 2.

NOTES: AW THANKS!! Im going to continue this series untill its basically the whole thing, who should Victoria be? 😭

OLD!Notes: Gosh I love Corpse bride.. how about eyeless jack as a corpse husband though? 😼

Unaccurate E/J

This was made to fit F!readers sorry :( 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚✶🦋☆🦋★🦋☆🦋★🦋✶ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

You ran, ran for your damn life. What even was that thing?! No way in hell would you get catched by that! You ended up bumping headfirst into a large tree, whimpering in pain you saw the figure slowly making its way towards you. Your vision was blurry but you knew it was him. It had to be. You tried running agian only for you to embarassingly hit your head once agian on the same tree. You shook your head and dashed out of there. Slipping on ice and dashing through the forest as the figure seemed to try and reach out for you. The sharp branches you dashed through seemed to grab you and hold you in place as you gasped as one clung onto the collar of your shirt.

"Oh god!" You whispered as you trudged through them making it towards the bridge.

Crows seemed to appear out of nowhere and soon everything seemed peaceful once agian. Your breathing was heavy as you conciously looked around. Sighing in relief once you saw no trace of the man. You walked slowly backing away when suddenly.

BAM

Staring right back at you was the man, or demon or whatever this monster was! You gasped in shock. Backing away eyes widened as he slowly stepped closer to you reaching out for you.

"You may kiss the bride." The mans raspy demonic voice said as you could just sense he had a shit eating grin behind the mask. ---------------------------- Ｔｗｏ Your vision was blurry as you noticed two figures. One was the man, and another.. a skeleton.

A skeleton?!

"A new arrival?" The skeleton said intrigured.

"She must have fainted, are you alright?" He said tilting his head and reaching to place one hand behind your head.

"W-what happened.." you said seeming dazed.

"Looks like we got a breather!" The skeleton said its face inching closer to yours.

You gasped in shock.

"Does he have a dead brother?" A lady said shoving the skeleton out of the way.

"She's still soft!" A child like skeleton said joyfully.

You backed away, slowly moving upwards and taking in your surroundings.

"A toast!" A short skeleton with a cutlass shoved into its body said raising his glass. Another skeleton removed the weapon as the weird drink dispensed into his cup.

"To the newly weds!" He continued as the cutlass was once agajn plunged into him.

"Newly weds?!" You said astonished.

"In the woods! You said all those vows.. so.. perfectly!" He said gently grabbing your hand where a gold rusted ring was.

"I-i did?!" You said staring at your ring finger.

"I did!" You said realizing, you fell hitting your head over and over agian.

"Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP!!"

"Coming through! Coming through! My name is Paul," a talking head said.

You gasped agian.

"I will be creating your wedding Feast!"

Suddenly a boy with blonde hair, black eyes and blood seeping from them appeared. He seemed to be some kind of glitch, a virus? His voice sounded of a child.

"Wedding feast?! Fuck yes!!" He sajd giggling as his whole body seemed to glitch.

"Your "husband" smiled and nervously laughed."

"Viruses.. hah.." he said.

"Oh!" You said almost falling AGIAN..

"Keep away! You grabbed the cutlass from the tiny skeletons body, struggling to retrieve it."

"I- i've got a.. dwarf and am not afraid to use it!" You said shaking.

The room gasped.

"I want some questions...NOW."

"Answers." The skeleton corrected you.

"I think you mean answers.."

"T-thank you yes..answers, I need answers."

Your "husband" seemed shocked.

"W-whats going on here! Where am I!" You said fumbling.

A pool ball fell from a pool table awkwardly.

"Who are you?!"

"Well.. thats kind of a long story."

"What a story it is, a tragic tale of romance, passion and a murder most foul." A skeleton in a top hat said.

"This is gonna be good!" The small skeleton said as you looked confused.

---------------------------------------

Notes: you should listen to Remains of the day so it makes it more realistic :). Here are the changed lyrics!

Hey!Give me a listen, you corpses of cheerLeast less of you who still got an earI'll tell you a story, make your skeleton cryOf our own judiciously lovely corpse spouseDie, die we all pass awayBut don't wear a frown 'cuz it's really okayYou might try and hide, and you might try and prayBut we all end up the remains of the dayDie die die, yeah yeah, die die dieWell! A man is a gem known for miles aroundA mysterious stranger came into town she was angel like good lookin' but down on her cashAnd our poor little baby he fell hard and fastWhen his mother said no, he just couldn't copeSo our lovers came up with a plan to elopeDie, die we all pass awayBut don't wear a frown 'cuz it's really okayYou might try and hide, and you might try and prayBut we all end up the remains of the dayDie die die yeah yeahDie die die yeah yeahDie die die yeah yeahDie die die yeah yeahYeah, so they conjured up a plan to meet late at nightThey told not a soul kept the whole thing tightNow her fathers suit it fit like a gloveYou don't need much when you're really in loveExcept for a few things or so I'm toldLike the family jewels and a satchel of goldThen next to the graveyard by the old oak treeOn a dark foggy night at a quarter to threeHe was ready to go, but where was She?She waited(And then) There in the shadows, was it a Girl?(And then) His little heart beat so loud!(And then) And then baby, everything went blackNow when he opened her eyes, he was dead as dustHis jewels were missin' and his heart was bustSo he made a vow lyin' under that treeThat he'd wait for his true love to come set him freeAlways waitin' for someone to ask for his handThen outta the blue comes this lovely young girlWho vows forever, to be by his sideAnd that's the story of our own, corpse husbandDie, die we all pass awayBut don't wear a frown 'cuz it's really okayYou might try and hide, and you might try and prayBut we all end up the remains of the dayYeah

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚✶🩸☆🩸★🩸☆🩸★🩸✶ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚

Part 3 anyone?

[wolftheawoo]

Chapter IV - How things go.

NSFW FANFIC - DDDNE

Reverse Fall(s) - Twisted Realities

Relationships: Bill Cipher/Ford Pines, Will Cipher | Reverse Bill Cipher/Ford Gleeful | Reverse Ford Pines, Will Cipher | Reverse Bill Cipher/Dipper Gleeful | Reverse Dipper Pines, Will Cipher | Reverse Bill Cipher/Mabel Gleeful | Reverse Mabel Pines, Bill Cipher & Will Cipher | Reverse Bill Cipher, Dipper Gleeful | Reverse Dipper Pines & Mabel Gleeful | Reverse Mabel Pines, Dipper Gleeful/Ford Gleeful, Mabel Gleeful/Ford Gleeful, Bud Pines/Gideon Pines, Mabel Gleeful | Reverse Mabel Pines/Pacifica Southeast | Reverse Pacifica Northwest TAGS/TW: DDDNE, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Rape/Non-con Elements, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Underage Rape/Non-con, Underage Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Underage Kissing, Anal Sex, Anal Gaping, Piss, Vomiting, Object Insertion, Gore, Visceral, Violence, Reverse Falls, Alternate Universe - Reverse Portal (Gravity Falls), Alternate Universe - Reverse Falls | Reverse Pines (Gravity Falls), Reverse Pines Family (Gravity Falls), Ford is sadic as fuck here, Dipper and Mabel are very very bad, there will be blood, Bill is a spectator and voyeur, Voyeurism, Mabel suck his grunkle to get what she wants, Incest, Sibling Incest, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Uncle/Niece Incest, Stancest, pinecest, Spanking, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Oral Sex

Summary:

Bill Cipher, the most chaotic triangular demon in the universe, is about to discover that not all cosmic power is hole-proof. Stumbling into a dimensional rift, he plummets straight into the universe of Reverse Falls, where everything is twisted, sinister, and a little more broken than he remembered. Instead of looking for a way back, Bill decides to do what he does best: turn this chaos into his personal playground. With constant misfortune and characters darker than ever, he plunges headlong into a universe where nothing makes sense, but everything is potential for fun. For Bill Cipher, the more wrong the situation, the better. And in the end, he may even discover that the chaos of Reverse Falls is where he really belongs.

Chaos, acid humor and a lot of misfortune guaranteed. After all, for Bill, hell is an amusement park.

-------------------------------------

(⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ NOTES: Grenda and Pacifica, Mabel and Stanley, Will and Dipper... yeah, this chapter is full of people having intercourse. NOTES 2: I'd like to thank everyone who's been following my fanfic, and for all the kind comments and Kudos. You're all in my heart. Thank you very much.

Pacifica's body shook violently as Grenda thrust inside her. She was bigger than Candy had imagined, and watching what was happening made her wet, even though she didn't want to admit it. Mabel had told them both to clean up the place, but she hadn't said they couldn't have a little fun first. As Grenda drove her cock deeper and deeper into Pacifica, blonde strands stuck to her face and saliva dripped from her mouth; her legs spasmed slightly and her insides tightened. Southeast's small womb was brutally beaten by Granda who, close to the climax, grabbed Pacifica and held her body in her arms, crushing her until she heard her bones crack and, inside her canal, emptied herself until not a single drop of semen remained. Candy was perplexed and very excited, and as Grenda pulled out of Pacifica, her seed ran down the girl's legs who, when she was released, only fell to the floor in her own urine.

Mabel's two friends, as ordered, cleaned the bathroom of any residue that might have remained from the "game". They mopped it with the janitor's mop, and used a lot of toilet paper to leave everything clean. Pacifica, on the other hand, was left a mess of saliva, tears and cum.

“What do we do with her?” said the Asian girl, fixing her glasses.

“We leave her here. She must be too embarrassed to go out like this, and even more embarrassed to tell anyone.”

“Yes, you’re right…” and crouching down in front of the blonde, Candy smiled mischievously: “If she tells anyone, I doubt they’ll believe her. It’s easier to think she did it because she wanted to.”

Bill, in the little corner he had taken, stayed there the whole time Pacifica was fucked by Grenda. He had liked the way those girls were... they reminded him of his own henchmen who carried out his orders without question, but who were still his friends. The band of misfits and exiles from their own planets and universes. The gang of forgotten and despised people. Just like the six-fingered one who, if he wasn't so altruistic, might have been on his side. In any case, the triangle stuck around to see what the girl would do. And the two girls were right: she was too embarrassed. There was blood, urine, and all sorts of fluids on her body, running, dripping, dirtying her. When she tried to get up, her legs gave way and she fell miserably to the floor, and with her, the tears fell. She was pitiful.

With a restrained sob, Pacifica clung to the walls and, on shaky legs, got up to go to the sink where she turned on the water and began to clean herself. She took her hand between her own legs and touched it, rubbing her fingers against her vagina to remove the excess semen. When she looked at her own hand, her face twisted in a mixture of disgust and sadness. The smell, she contested, was horrible, and she almost vomited. In fact, she regurgitated some of what she had eaten in the canteen into the sink and, completely dazed, washed her hand under the cold running water. As if she had turned on autopilot, she did the same thing a few more times: she used her wet hand to wipe her pussy and then washed her hand in the sink, and repeated this until she felt clean and there was nothing left on her palm.

Then it was time for the legs, and the body. At least, the places Mabel had scribbled on. She rubbed the pieces of paper she'd torn from the dispenser until her skin turned red, and when blood balls were forming under her dermis, she stopped. Leaning against the sink, she lowered her head, letting the strands of hair cover her face. As curious as Bill was, he didn't have to move to notice that Pacifica was crying copiously and the more she cried, the more she trembled. She was on the verge of a breakdown: she threw, pushed, hit, punched, kicked and finally sat down. She punched the wall, kicked the garbage cans, knocked over the soap dispensers, threw paper rolls away and pushed open the cabin doors, then let herself fall to the floor to cry and cry.

It was a long time. Long and tortuous minutes until the bell finally rang, telling them to return to their classrooms. Two more bells rang before Southeast had enough courage to get up. She was more or less dry now, and finished drying herself with toilet paper. She washed her face to uselessly hide her tears and reduce the swelling a little, and, taking a deep breath, smiled at the mirror before leaving. She had to grab her backpack, and she did so, telling the teacher that she wasn't feeling well and needed to go home. Sent to the nurse's office, the poor woman who attended to the students there let Pacifica call her parents, noticing the girl's visible emotional distress. She needed her home. She needed her mother's lap. She needed to go back, that's all.

[…]

Mabel wrapped her legs around her great-uncle's waist as the thrusts became more intense and less spaced out. The girl's thighs pressed against his sides and her heels on the older man's lower back squeezed him enough for his fat, hard cock to enter his grandniece's little pussy completely, making even more of the juice that wet her drip. He was so close to cumming inside her that his moans became even hoarser and lower, close to the girl's ear, who felt shivers run down her spine. The pleasure was overflowing just as was the liquid that dripped from her tight entrance, and as Stan thrust his cock deeper and deeper, Mabel let her voice be heard more and more, moaning like the little slut she was.

"Ohhh, darling... like that, like that... my god, what a delicious pussy... and all wet like that for your great-uncle... what would they think of you if they knew you were my personal little whore?"

The laugh that came from his throat made Mabel arch her back and groan. The girl couldn't think clearly, much less contain herself. Meaningless words left her mouth as her nails dug into Stanley's back and served as an incentive for him to hold Mabel's waist in his arms, lifting her hips off the bed, lifting her so he could fuck her harder and faster. He was going to cum, he was sure he was going to cum because she was squeezing him tightly, and when he reached her womb, the walls of her vagina contracted and crushed him inside.

Stanley's belly rubbed against Mabel's thin abdomen, and his hair tickled the girl. He was sweating like a soccer player on top of the girl, and the strong smell coming from his old body was masculine; a mix of wood, aftershave, cheap perfume and manly body. That delicious body smell that men produce when they work out. Mabel was so horny for it that she would sink her face into Stanley's neck, chest and sometimes armpits just to smell him while she was being fucked hard by him. The rogue's fat cock gave another three thrusts before he buried his cock as deep as he could in his grandniece, making her moan and melt all over his cock as his testicles contracted and he spilled his sperm inside her, filling her up. They didn't usually use condoms, and Mabel loved that. She liked it when she was full, full of cum. She liked it when she put on her panties and, in no time at all, she'd get her entire panties soiled with her uncle's sperm. She liked to feel it running down her legs, and to force it out, and she liked it even more when Stanley decided to fuck her with his fingers, pulling the cum out before shoving the same fingers he'd used in her vagina into her mouth. And Mabel sucked; she sucked with pleasure, moaning and delighting in Stanley's thick, rough fingers.

“Ugghn... yeah, like that... good girl, good girl...”

When he pulled out his still dripping cock, Mabel's pussy was throbbing. She hadn't cum yet, so the old man slipped two of his fingers inside her, bringing his mouth closer to her clitoris and sucking on it. Gleeful wriggled on the bed and tried to push the old man's head away, to no avail: he licked and rubbed his mouth on her, sucking on the labia minora and smacking his lips on the girl's sensitive little button, as she moaned Stan's name. She even grabbed him by the hair, but as he was bigger and stronger, he wrapped both of Mabel's wrists in one hand and held her like that, still, trapped and receiving a pleasurable oral while he lasciviously fucked her little hole with his fingers.

The orgasm came when Stan stuck his index finger up Mabel's already trained urethra and she spasmed and urinated all over the bed, soiling not only her grandfather's hand but also the mattress. The orgasm had been so intense that afterwards she didn't even have the strength to move or clean herself up. Stanley just laughed at the situation, slapping his niece's pussy, teasing her about being a pisser; and he absolutely loved it. He loved knowing that he was making her piss herself with pleasure. He loved knowing that he was making her almost pass out from exhaustion. He loved being able to empty his sack into her and have her beg for more. Mabel was his sex toy, and as much as he loved it, she loved it too.

The girl's calls for Will to go to her room and clean up the mess while she showered were in vain, as Dipper was already busy with the blue triangle demon of that universe.

Stanford wanted to be left alone, as was often the case. He dismissed Will who, still wondering how he was going to find the extra-dimensional being, found himself pacing back and forth until Dipper called out to him.

“I need your help,” he said, grabbing the thick chain that was welded to the metal collar around Will's neck. Tugging hard just for the fun of watching the demon stumble, Dipper dragged him into the very room he affectionately called his laboratory. It was there that he trained his spells and, when he managed to steal Ford's books, studied them to understand more about science and the weirdness of the Falls. As they entered the place that Will already knew with the palm of his hand, Dipper pulled the chain so that Will was forced to kneel down, hitting his knees on the wooden floor, making a loud sound. The wooden door closed and Dipper sat down, staring at Will.

“About this creature you sensed... what else can you tell me?” The way the boy crossed his legs and leaned his head on his hand, that... was typical of Ford. Furthermore, not only did he imitate the posture, but he also kept the chain in his free hand tensioned, forcing Will downwards the whole time. “Answer, slave.”

“I only know that it was as powerful as me, if not, more...”

“And that's possible?”

“...but of course it is.”

A tug was given, and Dipper clenched his jaw. With the back of his hand, he slapped Will across the face. It was never as strong as Ford's slaps.

“Sir! You refer to me as sir!”

“Yes, sir”

“Well? Is it possible?”

“Yes, sir, it's possible”

“How?”

“Well... there are many universes. Many beings in countless timelines, dimensions and alternative realities. The time baby, for example, is very powerful. Just like me, who came from a place with beings from a very different dimension to yours... where I come from, people are 2D, whereas your reality is completely 3D... sir.”

“...I understand. And this being? What is it?”

“I'm not sure, sir... but... if you want, I can find out.”

“Not only can you, but you will.”

“Yes, I will, sir.”

“With you by my side, Mabel doesn't stand a chance. I order you, while we're hunting this creature, to obey only my orders.”

“...but your uncle...”

“My uncle won't mind. He didn't say anything about us not being able to use you. And I'm sure he'll be too busy studying or doing whatever it is he does in his spare time.”

“Yes, sir...”

“Good boy, Will. You're a great dog.”

Despite wanting to, Will held back the urge to roll his eye. The more Dipper tried to look like Ford, the less respectable he seemed. Still... he wanted to please him a little. That's how he got the things he wanted when it was with Dipper.

“Sir...” the boy muttered, crawling across the floor towards Dipper. “Let me... look after you... you look tense.”

As much as he hated it, he crawled towards the boy and, when he was very close, knelt down in front of him. Carefully and with great caution, he slid his velvety fingers up Gleeful's legs and untangled them, placing himself between them.

“When we find this creature together, your uncle will be so proud... and as a wish, perhaps you could ask him to give me to you, to serve you only and exclusively, what do you think?... Or maybe he could give you this creature... and it will be yours. Your first acquisition.” As Dipper's eyes glazed over at the thought of being noticed, Will deftly and quickly unzipped his pants. It wasn't long before he had the boy's meat out, and wrapping his hand around it, he began to stimulate it with slow movements. It was noticeable when he shivered, and when he locked a moan in his throat, since Ford would never moan. “Still... Mabel could get in our way... don't you think it would be more useful if I looked for this creature while you distract her?”

He was careful with his words so that there would be no suspicion. If he looked for the being on his own, and if he found it on his own, he might be able to hand it over on his own. Without Dipper, without Mabel. He would be the one to give Ford what he wanted, and receive the desire in return. The movements were slow, and puberty was brimming through the boy; his erection was already beginning to form, and he clutched gently at the swivel chair he was sitting in, panting softly.

“If we look together...” he started to say, and before he could finish, Will took him in one go, putting the length of Dipper's cock in his mouth. He didn't want him to finish his thought. He couldn't let him think clearly. He had to clear his head. The boy contracted and, moaning low, grabbed onto the blue hair of the tanned-skinned demon with both hands. Will's mouth was warm, welcoming and moist. He'd spent too many years sucking cock at Ford's behest, and had acquired enough experience to provide excellent blowjobs. Dipper's cucumber was nothing compared to Stanley's thick cock or Fiddleford's long dick. When Cipher had swallowed it, he touched his lips to the boy's waist and sucked on it, even smacking his lips around it.

There, he began to move his head, sucking him, slurping him, causing Mason to lay his head back and open his mouth, letting the hot breath escape. Will looked up to see Gleeful fully flushed, with his jaw clenched to stop him moaning and wriggling, twitching, close to cumming. Yes, he was fast, and that was great as it meant Will wouldn't have to keep his jaw sore. Pulling his mouth away from Dipper's cock, Will sighed, jerking him off with one hand while the other stroked the boy's testicles.

“Mabel can get in our way... she has Stanley, Fiddleford and Soos on her side... and you have me... if you can distract her, I'll find this extra-dimensional being and bring him to you, and then you can do whatever you want... Master Stanford will give you what you ask for, and it can be anything. Anything,” he said emphatically, noticing that Dipper was so close to cumming that he couldn't answer. He therefore decreased the frequency of his masturbation, “What do you say, Master Dipper?”

'Master Dipper', that had been his last card. Mason couldn't think with two hands so soft and so skillful caressing his cock and balls at the same time, and in his urgency to cum, with his ego softened: “Fine! So be it!”

Ohhh, but the happiness Cipher felt was great enough to bury his mouth once again, this time with real enthusiasm, in Gleeful's cock. He sucked and licked it, making noises with his mouth, so excited was he. Dipper, for his part, grabbed his slave's blue strands and pushed his head against his own intimacy, contracting his testicles as the seed filled Will's mouth, who, in turn, swallowed it without hesitation. In the end, Mason was limp in the chair, his pants down, and Will, licking his lips, helped him get dressed and clean himself up with wet wipes. It was only at the end that he heard Mabel's calls, and when he got to her room, he realized what had happened. She wouldn't be waking up any time soon, so he left everything clean so that he could start his search.

Was it possible? Could everything have turned out so well?

[...]

That night, Mabel slept like a baby, not even waking up to drink water. Dipper spent the night making plans on how he could keep his sister occupied, one of which involved drugging Stanley with enough Viagra to keep his cock hard. Pacifica cried when she ate dinner in her room, unable to eat without throwing up afterwards. She cried in the shower, scrubbing herself until bruises formed on her body. She cried herself to sleep in bed, and had a strange dream about a yellow triangle offering a deal. Gideon went home without his best friend, and his father counted the money his strange friend always gave him when he wanted to see the white-haired boy. And Will? Well... Will went off in search of the creature that had shaken the structures of that world with its presence.

If only Axolotl could see him now.

[bardicbeetle]

sitd bsi (or maybe a proper snip I am still deciding) - take what you need

Hi, completely unedited and also suggestive content under-cut. Do I need to put it under cut, probably not it's very tame, am I mostly asexual and feel a tiny bit weird about tagging folks in something that even hints at sex? Yes. Will I get over it because I want to share it since early days Jesse and Daniel wreck me as a person and i'm a goddamn adult? Yeah.

So here have some consensual blood drinking that is totally definitely not immediately post anything else happening (lie), anyways this piece brought to you by Teeth from Aviators.

There is a singular line break indicating a POV change.

Enjoy <3

“You’re cold again,” Jesse is talking around things and he knows it, he cannot bring himself to fucking care right now. “you—”

“I’m fine. Just tired.” Jesse just shakes his head, pulls Daniel towards him and finds no resistance in the motion. Daniel follows, lets himself be tugged back into Jesse’s lap, forehead resting on his shoulder. “You’re insufferable.” There’s no bite to the words, no malice, Jesse can still see the ghost of a laugh in his expression when he looks down.

Daniel will push him back into the bed and they will fall asleep like this. He knows that.

Fuck it.

“You promised not to do this to yourself again,” Jesse says softly, fingers tracing lightly up Daniel’s back, scar to scar to scar. “I told you—I don’t mind—”

“Jesse,” It’s mumbled against his skin, “sleep.”

“Take it,” Jesse growls, fingers threading through Daniel’s hair and pulling him back enough to look in the eye. “I know you need it, drink.” It’s low and sharp, and his fingers dig into Daniel’s side as he speaks.

He is rewarded with the slow slipping shut of Daniel’s eyes, the barely audible fuck that comes before he lets Jesse guide him back. Lips to throat. Teeth to pulse.

He is also not awake enough to lie to himself and say that Daniel’s teeth in his neck isn’t doing things to him this time. He could lie last time—he almost died—this is different. He can feel every time Daniel pulls away, the sharp sting of air on an open wound—the heat of his breath and drag of his tongue just before teeth follow into another bite. Daniel is exhausted and starved, but not to the same point he was on the beach, this is controlled, this is—

—fuck.

The next time Daniel pulls back, Jesse feels blood starting to run down between them, warm and then cooling in the air against his skin. None of the bites ever bleed long. Someday he’ll bother asking why. Not right now. He drags Daniel up, back to his lips—the taste of his own blood should probably be a lot more unsettling and yet. He thinks maybe it’s offset by the sight. Eyes blue and then red and then back. Like Daniel is trying to keep something in. Keep a handle on it.

There is a small part of Jesse that wishes he wouldn’t.

Daniel laughs into the kiss, small and breathless and Jesse has the distinct feeling he has thought something too loudly again.

~*~

At some point or another, Daniel is going to regret this.

Not right now, mind.

Not while he’s got blood in his mouth and Jesse’s hands in his hair.

So Daniel gives in to it. Drowns himself a little in the endorphin rush that comes with Jesse’s blood right now. Drags teeth from his throat down his chest just for the shiver it elicits and the way Jesse drops his head back and moans.

This is unfair to one of them.

Maybe both of them.

It’s going to make tomorrow night a lot harder.

But for now he’s going to pretend that doesn’t matter. Take a goddamn break from thinking about how much of a mess this has all become and lose himself in the fact that Jesse touches him like he’s precious. There are nails digging into the flesh of his back and a hand wrapped up in his hair but both are controlled like Jesse is afraid of hurting him. Jesse pulls and guides him along and demands that Daniel take what he needs but it is all within an undercurrent that he won’t push too far.

It’s not that night on the beach again.

The promise goes both ways.

Daniel broke his half.

Jesse is holding his.

@cjjameswriting / @falling-rivers / @maabonwrites / @blve0 / @inexorableblob / @blueberrypoptart / @betwixtofficial / @drowsy-quill / @ezwriting / @ofinscriptions / @vaguelyhumanekid / @meatandboneasmr / @h-faith-marr-writeblr / @necros-writings / @poetinprose / @flyingbananasaur / @oldestenemy / @multi-lefaiye / @dotr-rose-love / @abalonetea / @albatris / @incandescent-creativity / @kaiusvnoir / @vampireposter

[sammygender]

i’ve never been as angry on behalf of a character as i am for sam winchester

[casualavocados]

Learn from who? Learn from you? You are still a brat. What do you know? You're only three years older. Like you are any better than me. You're 21, and still a virgin. What are you proud of? I think you can't do it.

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 06

[hijinxinprogress]

Coffee addict Never sleeps Tim drake ❌ 

Solving cases in his sleep off 87 energy drinks Tim Drake ✅

The coffee addict never sleeps perpetually tired Tim Drake thing is a widely accepted headcanon however that was elementary school tim but after he stayed up for a week straight subsisting entirely on coffee to decipher the bat weekly patrol schedule and how it aligns with rogue attacks/Arkham breakouts, he crashed then when he woke up it was fucking wednesday so he missed his chance to commemorate his discovery with pictures of Robin and he decided that shit would never happen again and made himself an ‘efficient’ sleep schedule so he could run around doing fuck shit, add to his robin shrine, and stay on honor roll bc he was even more pissed to see the gotham gazette had pictures of Robin with an on site interview credited to Vicki Vale (listen bowl cut tim had a one sided beef with vicki vale that included tim judging who gets better pics of the bats but she isn’t even aware that she’s competing with a whole ass child 😭 he’s sitting at the table with a mug of orange juice and looks at the newspaper snorts and goes ‘fucking amateur I could do better’) 

Regularly unsupervised tiny businessman in training Tim ‘Ten hours of uninterrupted sleep?? That’s so inefficient not to mention fucking stupid’ Drake is so pissed he missed getting shots of Robin dropkicking a rogue from 6 six stories up (for absolutely no reason dick just thinks it’s fun) that he just takes at least 3 hour naps every eight hours 😭 he refuses to spend almost half a day sleeping ‘for no reason when he could be doing something productive’ 

And he still does this as a bat but it’s just easier to tell if he didn’t take his nap bc he has less than zero impulse control and he’s just fucking done with everything like the gcpd is terrified bc tim’s saying shit like ‘This guys a fucking moron, I could’ve done this in half the time without killing anyone fucking loser doesn’t he know if you keep them alive you can prolong the torture?’ and ‘you’re like all hysterical and for what 🤨 ‘you blew up 83% of Bristol waah’ stfu and fucking rebuild it?? It’s only rich mfs that live there, it’s just a matter of them opening their fucking wallets’ once a new recruit made the mistake of asking if robin had adult supervision regularly and Tim responded with ‘well if you’re gonna snitch to cps like a little bitch then yeah’ and that cop did snitch so tim fucking doxxed him

Yj has just accepted that sometimes they will find tim in an air vent, on the roof, in one of their closets, or something just fucking knocked out then an alarm will go off and he’ll just get up like nothing happened but for the first couple of months they were probably concerned bc ‘I’ve never seen you sleep?? wtf are you on man’ and Tim’s confused bc ‘I slept next to you this morning wdym??’ and that’s how yj discovers tim sleeps with his eyes open

But one of the worst things about Tim’s ‘time efficient sleep schedule’ nonsense is that it fucking works he’s one of the most well rested and coherent bats even after back to back Arkham breakouts however the absolute worst thing about his sleep schedule is the likelihood of going into the cave and seeing tim staring in a daze but wide eyed yet somehow never blinking at the batcomputer with 57 tabs open on top of being unresponsive and thinking he has a fucking concussion or he’s been replaced but he’s just doing case work while muttering nonsense in his fucking sleep for some reason