#dress form advertisement

[batshit-auspol]

So a bit of background first for our international followers: Clive Palmer is one of Australia's many mining billionaires who like to meddle in our country's politics, and as such he is utterly despised by all of Australia.

Picture for context:

He is most commonly known online by the title "Fatty McFuckhead", (problematic as it may be) because he tried to sue a youtuber for $500,000 for calling him that - and he lost. So the name stuck.

Up until his most recent foray into parliament, the legally certified Fuckhead was best known for his batshit business ventures, such as attempting to build "The Titanic 2" (failed) and trying to build a dinosaur theme park (also failed, but at least nobody got eaten by a T-Rex in this one).

For a very long time Clive played the role of sugar daddy to Australia's largest conservative party, the ironically named Liberal Party, until they had a falling out in 2012 after Clive claimed there was too much money influencing politics (lol), at which point he started his own party, days after saying he totally quit and wasn't fired and he only left because he didn't want to be a distraction.

His initial run at parliament was actually kinda successful, with Palmer's group winning 4 seats, plus a member from the "Motoring Enthusiasts Party" joined them too after accidentally getting elected and not knowing what the fuck to do.

Despite this initial success however, Palmer's party (which ran on basically no platform other than "I'm rich") hit an iceberg (titanic 2 achieved) and seven elected state and federal politicians quit within the first year.

By the time the next federal election rolled around, only one Palmer party candidate was still running for re-election. The most successful of this group - Jaquie Lambie - quit to sit as an independant and is still in parliament today.

Here she is with a painting of herself strangling Clive (she sells signed copies of this)

And here the senator is posting about liking sausage:

Anyway, we're getting to the point: which is the yellow posters. By the 2016 election, just two years after forming, the party was in complete freefall. It won just 0.01% of the vote at their second election, and it was announced shortly after that Clive was quitting politics and the party was being shut down. Australia breathed a sigh of relief.

It was, of course, short lived.

Clive, in desperate need of attention, restarted the party for the 2019 election, fielding candidates in every seat and spending $60 million in advertising in an attempt to win votes.

Every single candidate lost.

It was in this campaign however that Australia really started to fall out of love with Palmer, because most of that $60 million went towards putting up the world's least compelling marketing billboards on almost every single free space in the country.

For a good six months this was basically the only thing you would see in Australia if you went outside:

Clearly Graphic design is his passion. And yes, the genius did just straight up try and copy Trump's homework while changing a few words, hoping nobody would notice.

Very quickly these all got vandalised and it seemed the ad companies didn't care enough to replace them.

We could go on posting examples, there are thousands, but the best is definitely the one Ikea put up shortly after Clive lost the election:

In 2022, Clive's party contested the election AGAIN, this time also opting to send millions on spam text messages to every person in Australia begging for people to vote for him, as well as buying almost every youtube ad for a year, at the cost of $100 million.

He won a whopping one seat.

During this election Clive ran on an anti-lockdown, anti-vax platform with the slogan "freedom, freedom, freedom". That message, however, was slightly undermined when his goons, dressed in 'Freedom!' shirts, made national news for trying to beat up a protester who turned up at a rally dressed as an annoying text message, shouting "pay your workers" at Clive.

As if that wasn't bad enough, at another rally Clive knocked himself unconscious while trying to jump up on stage, and then a few weeks later was rushed to hospital with covid, while his anti-vax ads were still in regular rotation on TV, at which point it was also leaked to the press that Palmer had been alledgedly trying to buy Hitler's car.

Utterly humiliated, the party deregistered again shortly after the election.

Can't wait until he runs again in 2025.

Anyway, on the other "Clive tweeting Miss Kobayashi's Dragon" thing, we have no idea what that means but here's a screencap:

[mcmansionhell]

this house may or may not be real

on grayness in real estate

Allegedly, somewhere in Wake Forest, North Carolina, a 4 bed, 5.5 bathroom house totaling more than 6,600 square feet is for sale at a price of 2.37 million dollars. The house, allegedly, was built in 2021. Allegedly, it looks like this:

A McMansion is, in effect, the same house over and over again - it's merely dressed up in different costumes. In the 90s, the costume was Colonial; in the 2000s, it was vague forms of European (Tuscan, Mediterranean), and in the 2010s it was Tudor, dovetailed by "the farmhouse" -- a kind of Yeti Cooler simulacra of rural America peddled to the populace by Toll Brothers and HGTV.

Now, we're fully in the era of whatever this is. Whitewashed, quasi-modern, vaguely farmhouse-esque, definitely McMansion. We have reached, in a way, peak color and formal neutrality to the point where even the concept of style has no teeth. At a certain moment in its life cycle, styles in vernacular architecture reach their apex, after which they seem excessively oversaturated and ubiquitous. Soon, it's time to move on. After all, no one builds houses that look like this anymore:

(This is almost a shame because at least this house is mildly interesting.)

If we return to the basic form of both houses, they are essentially the same: a central foyer, a disguised oversized garage, and an overly complex assemblage of masses, windows, and rooflines. No one can rightfully claim that we no longer live in the age of the McMansion. The McMansion has instead simply become more charmless and dull.

When HGTV and the Gaineses premiered Fixer Upper in 2013, it seemed almost harmless. Attractive couple flips houses. Classic show form. However, Fixer Upper has since (in)famously ballooned into its own media network, a product line I'm confronted with every time I go to Target, and a general 2010s cultural hallmark not unlike the 1976 American Bicentennial - both events after which every house and its furnishings were somehow created in its image. (The patriotism, aesthetic and cultural conservatism of both are not lost on me.)

But there's one catch: Fixer Upper is over, and after the Gaineses, HGTV hasn't quite figured out where to go stylistically. With all those advertisers, partners, and eyeballs, the pressure to keep one foot stuck in the rural tweeness that sold extremely well was great. At the same time, the network (and the rest of the vernacular design media) couldn't risk wearing out its welcome. The answer came in a mix of rehashed, overly neutral modernism -- with a few pops of color, yet this part often seems omitted from its imitators -- with the prevailing "farmhouse modern" of Magnolia™ stock. The unfortunate result: mega-ultra-greige.

Aside from war-mongering, rarely does the media manufacture consent like it does in terms of interior design. People often ask me: Why is everything so gray? How did we get here? The answer is because it is profitable. Why is it profitable? I'd like to hypothesize several reasons. The first is as I mentioned: today's total neutrality is an organic outgrowth of a previous but slightly different style, "farmhouse modern," that mixed the starkness of the vernacular farmhouse with the soft-pastel Pinterest-era rural signifiers that have for the last ten years become ubiquitous.

Second, neutrals have always been common and popular. It's the default choice if you don't have a vision for what you want to do in a space. In the 2000s, the neutrals du jour were "earth tones" - beige, sage green, brown. Before that, it was white walls with oak trim in the 80s and 90s. In the 70s, neutrals were textural: brick and wood paneling. We have remarkably short memories when it comes to stylistic evolution because in real time it feels incremental. Such is the case with neutrals.

Finally, the all-gray palette is the end logic of HGTV et al's gamified methodology of designing houses with commodification in mind: if you blow out this wall, use this color, this flooring, this cabinetry, the asking price of your house goes up. You never want to personalize too much because it's off-putting to potential buyers. After twenty years of such rhetoric, doesn't it make all the sense in the world that we've ended up with houses that are empty, soulless, and gray?

A common realtor adage is to stage the house so that potential buyers can picture their own lives in it. In other words, create a tabula rasa one can project a fantasy of consumption onto. Implied in that logic is that the buyer will then impose their will on the house. But when the staged-realtor-vision and general-mass-market aesthetic of the time merge into a single dull slurry, we get a form of ultra-neutral that seems unwelcoming if not inescapable.

To impose one's style on the perfect starkness is almost intimidating, as though one is fouling up something untouchable and superior. If neutrality makes a house sell, then personality - at all - can only be seen as a detriment. Where does such an anti-social practice lead us? Back to the house that may or may not exist.

In my travels as McMansion Hell, I've increasingly been confronted with houses full of furniture that isn't real. This is known as virtual staging and it is to house staging as ChatGPT is to press release writing or DALL-E is to illustration. As this technology improves, fake sofa tables are becoming more and more difficult to discern from the real thing. I'm still not entirely sure which of the things in these photos are genuine or rendered. To walk through this house is to question reality.

Staging ultimately pretends (sometimes successfully, sometimes not) that someone is living in this house, that you, too could live in it. Once discovered, virtual staging erases all pretensions: the house is inhabited by no one. It is generally acknowledged (though I'm not sure on the actual statistics) that a house with furniture - that is, with the pretense of living -- sells easier than a house with nothing in it, especially if that house (like this one) has almost no internal walls. Hence the goal is to make the virtual staging undiscoverable.

If you want to talk about the realtor's tabula rasa, this is its final form. Houses without people, without human involvement whatsoever.

But what makes this particular house so uncanny is that all of these things I've mentioned before: real estate listing photography, completely dull interiors and bland colors all make it easy for the virtual furniture to work so well. This is because the softness of overlit white and gray walls enables the fuzzy edges of the renderings to look natural when mixed with an overstylized reality. Even if you notice something's off in the reflections, that's enough to cause one to wonder if anything in the house is real: the floors, the fixtures, the moulding, the windows and doors.

This is where things are heading: artifice on top of artifice on top of artifice. It's cheap, it's easy. But something about it feels like a violation. When one endeavors to buy a house, one assumes what one is viewing is real. It's one thing if a realtor photoshops a goofy sunset, it's another to wonder if anything in a room can be touched with human hands. I won't know what, if any, part of this estate costing over 2 million dollars actually exists until I visit it myself. Perhaps that's the whole point - to entice potential buyers out to see for themselves. When they enter, they'll find the truth: a vast, empty space with nothing in it.

The better this rendering technology gets, the more it will rely on these totally neutral spaces because everything matches and nothing is difficult. You are picking from a catalog of greige furniture to decorate greige rooms. If you look at virtual staging in a non-neutral house it looks immediately plastic and out of place, which is why many realtors opt to either still stage using furniture or leave the place empty.

Due to the aforementioned photography reasons, I would even argue that the greigepocalypse or whatever you want to call it and virtual staging have evolved simultaneously and mutualistically. The more virtual staging becomes an industry standard, the more conditions for making it seamless and successful will become standardized as well.

After all, real staging is expensive and depends on paid labor - selecting furniture, getting workers to deliver and stage it, only to pack it back up again once the property is sold. This is a classic example of technology being used to erase entire industries. Is this a bad thing? For freelance and contract workers, yeah. For realtors? no. For real estate listings, it remains to be seen. For this blog? Absolutely. (Thankfully there is an endless supply of previously existing McMansions.)

The thing is, real estate listings no longer reflect reality. (Did they ever to begin with?) The reason we're all exasperated with greige is because none of us actually live that way and don't want to. I've never been to anyone's house that looks like the house that may or may not exist. Even my parents who have followed the trends after becoming empty nesters have plenty of color in their house. Humans like color. Most of us have lots of warmth and creativity in our houses. Compare media intended for renters and younger consumers such as Apartment Therapy with HGTV and you will find a stark difference in palate and tone.

But when it comes to actually existing houses - look at Zillow and it's greige greige greige. So who's doing this? The answer is real estate itself aided by their allies in mass media who in turn are aided by the home renovation industry. In other words, it's the people who sell home as a commodity. That desire to sell has for some time overpowered all other elements that make up a home or an apartment's interiority to the point where we've ended up in a colorless slurry of real and unreal.

Fortunately, after ten years or so, things begin to become dated. We're hitting the ten year mark of farmhouse modernism and its derivatives now. If you're getting sick of it, it's normal. The whole style is hopefully on its last leg. But unlike styles of the past, there's a real, trenchant material reason why this one is sticking around longer than usual.

Hence, maybe if we want the end of greige, we're going to have to take color back by force.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including extra posts and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar, because media work is especially recession-vulnerable.

[bettyfrommars]

Touch my cheek before you leave me, baby

gigolo!Eddie x virgin!older!Reader

(part 2) (part 3)

18+Only, mature themes, intimacy smut, protected p in v, oral (f receiving), paid sex, pet names, insecurities, reader is wearing a skirt, f & m orgasm. WC: 2.8k

Summary: Reader is a 29 year old virgin introvert in need of a confidence boost. Eddie is hired to make our first time a good one. Eddie catches some feelings that he wasn't expecting. Tummy rolls are briefly mentioned, but not in a disparaging way.

A/N: I had this idea last night about him needing the intimacy as much as reader. And then my head started running with all of his possible other clients and the debauchery they could get into together, but this one is just sweet.

Today is your 29th birthday, and your friends pooled their money together to get you the one thing you desperately wanted: to not be a virgin anymore.

You hadn’t been holding onto your virginity for any particular reason, but there had been several factors at play.  First of all, you didn’t like to leave the house much, aside from going to work and the rare meetup with friends, and so the chance of bumping into a promising sexual partner in your hallway was remote.  Secondly, you considered yourself to be fairly plain; you weren't one of the babes that men drooled over or tripped over themselves in the street for.  The crushes you’d had thus far were never reciprocated.  No one had openly pinned over you or held a boombox over their head outside your window, and on the occasion that someone did show interest, they often did not earn your affections. 

Your friends decided, and you agreed, that your first time should be with a professional, a guy who could give you the best first time that money could buy.  

Enter, Eddie Munson.

Covered in tattoos, he played in a band, and  had a reputation around town for being a favorite sexual companion for bored housewives and curious young women alike.  He was notorious for being particular about the clients he took on, though, and he didn’t just advertise in the paper—you had to be referred by a friend.  

That friend came in the form Robin Buckley, one of the baristas your friend Nellie worked with at the coffee shop.

“He’ll treat her right,” Robin assured her, jotting the number down.  “Now, I’ve never needed his services, personally, but I’ve never met an unsatisfied customer.  He makes women feel…desired.  As they should.”

So, there you were, two glasses of wine later, perched at the edge of the sofa in the lobby of the hotel where you’d been told to meet him.  Your friends knew exactly where you were, and there had been paperwork to fill out and sign—you didn’t know gigolos needed official signatures, but all the same, it stripped it down to a business transaction which is basically what it was. There were a few boxes to check off regarding things that turned you on and, conversely, triggers that he should avoid saying or doing during your time together. Did you have a praise kink or a daddy kink? Did you enjoy the use of pet names within intimacy, or was that something he should avoid? Hair pulling, choking, spitting, ass play, all of it was available for a check mark and you felt like you had the potential to compile one seriously huge fuckfest ice cream Sunday.  

He knew you were a virgin, and that you might not even know if you’d like some of the things offered, and he promised to take that into consideration to enhance your experience on the whole. 

Once he had accepted you as a client, he gave Nellie a safety list of things that would make your experience more enjoyable, and one of them had been not to drink too much, because he didn’t want you to engage in any activity you might regret.  Another one was to dress comfortably; there was no need to try and impress him—he was the one who needed to impress you.  

And impress you, he did.

He showed up earlier than expected, beard stubble grown in and a little scruffy (because you said you liked it that way), long hair tied back, button down black shirt cuffed at the elbows exposing his tattoos, and black jeans.  He also had a bouquet of yellow daffodils clutched in his fist, wrapped in cellophane.

His eyes locked onto you immediately and you watched them light up; a smile breaking the sigh that hitched in his chest.  He put the palm of his free hand over his heart as he walked toward you.

“Damn, baby, you are a sight for sore eyes,” he was beaming genuinely, as if he really meant it.  “Even better in person.”  Your friends had shown him a photo of you so that he would know what you looked like, but you had no idea which photo it was.

You didn't feel like you looked good, though, so you lowered your eyes as you got to your feet on wobbly legs, feeling frumpy and bloated, taking in the sharp reminder that he was being paid to lie to you.  You were so nervous, your palms were sweating, and the wine was churning sour in your stomach from the swarm of butterflies in there.

“Hey,” he got close enough to crook his finger under your chin and tilt your head up; his golden flecked, rye bread eyes were serious.  “You know how beautiful you are, right?”

All you could do was nod under the kind assessment of his stare, and it made a smile stretch across his lips. “That’s my girl,” he said, introducing himself properly, handing you the daffodils.

He knew that daffodils were your favorite flower, because of the paperwork you filled out, but you never expected to receive any, since they weren’t even in season.  There must’ve been a flower shop somewhere that had them, and Eddie had found it.  He offered his elbow for you to take.

There were two other people in the elevator, and he pulled you back flush against him, possessively holding you by your hips.

Eddie had a key to the room, and once he pushed the door open, you could tell he’d already been there.  The lights were all off, but for a lamp on the opposite side of the bed near the window, and two candles lit on the desk near the TV.  What you assumed was his leather jacket was the only thing hanging in the closet.  You even spotted Magnum condoms and a fresh bottle of lube on the nightstand.

“How’s the lighting, sweetheart? You want me to turn that lamp off?” 

You specified that you wanted the room to be dark, maybe just enough light to see what each other was doing, but you didn’t want him to see you in full brightness.  This whole time, you’d been too nervous to say more than one or two words.  

“Because, if I’m being honest,” he slid his hand up the side of your neck, palm warm against your skin.  “I really want to see you.”

“It’s fine,” you choked out, unable to hold eye contact with him for too long.  God, you bet he was already regretting taking you on as a client.  What a waste of a boring evening for him; but, at least he was getting paid.  

Yet, not even a flicker of his enthusiasm for you left his eyes.  He took the daffodils from you and put them on the dresser at the foot of the bed.  

When he turned back around, he cupped both hands around the sides of your throat, thumbs at your jawline.  “You can trust me baby.  If things start moving too fast, you let me know okay?”

You nodded.

“Have you ever been kissed before?”

You bit your lip and then, “a couple times. I had a boyfriend once, but it was long distance and it—”

But then Eddie’s hands slipped up to cup either side of your jaw, fingers slotting at your ears.  He nudged your nose with his, then then he kissed your top lip, parting them with his tongue.  

You closed your eyes, letting him move your head from side to side, and you couldn’t help the moan that squeaked out of your throat as arousal built between your legs.  He smiled against your mouth, nuzzling your nose.  “You’re a good kisser, baby.”

Deciding you liked it when he lied, you allowed yourself to become an active participant and slid your hands up his ribs, clutching him, pulling him closer.  He kissed you softly a few more times, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, and your hand found the courage to travel down yonder and see what was below his belt.  

What you found made your eyes fly open: not only was it huge, but it was hard.  

Eddie chuckled.  “See what you do to me?”

The one thing you had done several times was given a few blow jobs here and there, and so you were working his belt open and dropping to your knees at the same time when he stopped you, catching you at your ribs to pull you back up.

“Tonight is all about you, angel,” he assured, urging you back to drop down to take a seat on the bed.  You stared up at him while he straddled your legs and unbuttoned his shirt.  Once the defined muscles of his chest and scattered tattoos were exposed, he helped you take your shirt off, pulling it over your head, and then he knelt before you.  

You braced your hands behind you as he pushed your skirt up  your thighs, maintaining eye contact.  He caught a glimpse of the lacy underwear you had on and he lifted an approving eyebrow.  

You swallowed hard, and then he was sliding the underwear down your legs and off, kissing your knees as he went.  He came closer, arms nudging your legs wider, taking a glimpse at the glistening gift you had for him underneath.  

Eddie bit his bottom lip, making a hungry groan.  “You gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?”

“I think so, um, yes?” your hips twitched forward a bit, begging.  Normally, you were too shy to let others go down on you, but you were determined to get all you could out of this night, knowing it was a rare opportunity.  

He brushed his lips along your thigh as his hands worked your skirt up higher.  You shivered when you felt the warm breath on your swollen lower lips, and then he was watching you as his tongue flicked out in a few kitten licks.  After a taste, enjoying the way you writhed, he buried his mouth, moaning, fingers clutching your thighs.

“Grab my hair, baby,” he said.  “Tell me how much you like it.”

So, you did just that.  His ponytail tie was off, so his hair was around his shoulders, and you slid your fingers in to hold on as he took you in his mouth and rolled your bundle of nerves around with breathtaking accuracy.  

He'd only intended to tease you a bit, but once he tasted you, he couldn't stop. He had his tongue buried inside as soon as he was able, feeling the tip of his cock leak at the gift of your arousal.

It wasn’t long before you could feel yourself beginning to unravel, at it was the first time another person had brought you to that peak. The tension mounted in your belly, going taunt, before it sprang loose and a fizzy warmth gushed through your nerve endings. “just…like that,” you told him.  “I think you might make me…”

You held his head as you were cumming, leg jerking, head falling back, pining his ears wth your thighs.  

He wanted you to kiss him right then and there so that you could taste your release on his mouth, and you obliged, holding his face as you did so, melting into the moment.

For the next minute, you helped each other undress, and it was all happening so organically—it felt so real—that you could almost imagine he was actually your boyfriend, or someone who at the very least, wanted to be. 

Both naked now, he held you close as you stood next to the bed, tracing a finger down the side of your face.  “Are you ready, baby?”

Truly, you’d been ready your whole adult life, and you were glad you had waited for Eddie, even if this was a paid arrangement and you’d probably never see him again.

His lips tended to your neck and your breasts while he worked the condom on, making the educated decision that you were so soaking wet, he wouldn’t need any extra lubrication.  

It was the intimacy that you’d specified wanting to feel; like he was no stranger to you and this moment was something special between two people who felt deeply about each other.  So, he came down close and gave you exactly that, putting his forehead to yours.  “I’m gonna go slow at first, okay?” He breathed.  “You tell me if it’s too much?”

“I will, baby.”

He smiled at the way you returned the use of the pet name, feeling your body open up beneath him as anxiety and doubt morphed into trust.

“Shit,” Eddie broke character for a second as the tip sank in, caught off guard at how tight you were, and he had to pull out again for a second to catch his bearings.  

It was the closeness that he loved, too---he craved it.  He’d never had a client who wanted it this way, and it was the main reason he’d taken you on.  It wasn’t the virgin aspect—surprisingly enough, he’d been a first-time experience for a good handful of his customers.  It was the opportunity to pretend he was someone’s boyfriend for the night—a role he hadn’t played in real life for far too long.  The chance to pretend that you both cared deeply for each other and no one else in the world existed.  

He sank in this time a little further than the tip, and you cursed, but then nodded for him to keep going.  “All of it, baby,” you urged, leaning into your role.

Your core was rippling around his length, aching for more.

He went half in and dipped it back and forth a few times, pausing to watch your face.  

“I’m worried that I–” he started, but then he realized he was breaking character again, and the vulnerability made him stiffen.

“What are you worried about?” You whimpered as he stretched you out a bit more.  Your legs were wide, bottoms of your feet planted on the bed.

He thrust in with a shudder, both of you gasping.  “I’m worried I might like this too much.”

Inside, there were party streamers exploding in your soul at the mutual yearning that ebbed between you.  As you gave yourself over to him, there was a feeling that he was also giving himself over to you, and it felt so real, that you rode the wave with every fiber of your being, wrapping your legs around him, kissing him deep.

The kissing and the endearing moans were about to make him cum, so he sat back, shaking his head, and hooked your knees over his elbows.  

He took you in from under hooded eyes as he made long, slow thrusts inside.  “You’re so fucking hot, sweetheart."

You were so deep in it, you actually believed him this time.

“Harder, baby,” you coaxed. 

That elicited a coy smile and an eyebrow wiggle from him.  “Oh, that's my girl,” he breathed, and then he was fucking you so hard your tits bounced, as did your belly rolls, and you could tell he was getting off at the sight.  His thumb found your nub and worked there, making you expose your throat with a whine, enjoying the wet slap of your arousal as your bodies met.

The connection and intensity between the two of you was palpable, and you couldn’t tell if it was manufactured or real, but regardless, you could feel another velvet bomb inside of you about to explode.  

His eyebrows were pinched when you found his eyes.  “I’m close, I’m close, I think I’m…”

The closest you’d ever been to knowing the sweet pull of a mounting orgasm be gore that night was from those moments alone with your vibrator, and having your hole satiated by Eddie thick cock enhanced it in a way you could’ve only imagined.

“Fuck, me too,” he grabbed your thighs with both hands and buried himself over and over.

It never happened this way.  In fact, there had been several times when he had never cum at all: he was always very content to make it about the other person.  He fully intended to wait for your second orgasm before he even tried to relieve himself, but this time it felt too good; he wanted it too fucking bad.  

Your head snapped to the side as you came, babbling his name, walls clenching around his cock in a way that sent his hips jerking, pounding against you, pretending his seed was filling you up instead of a condom.  

Eddie bit his lip as you both chased the high, and then his sweaty forehead was on yours again, long hair grazing your cheeks.  He needed to kiss you when he was done, and that was how you liked it, too.

Your friends had only been able to pay for two hours' worth of Eddie’s time, but you ended up staying for much longer than that, at his urging.  He coaxed you over to lay all of your body weight on him, and the two of you stayed like that, listening to each other breathe. You called to give them this update, and the confusion in Nellie’s voice was priceless.  

When you were both getting dressed, Eddie started buttoning his shirt while you sat down to put your shoes on.

“Hey, so, if you ever want to do this again,” he swallowed, thinking of his words while you waited, head turned to look at him.  He couldn’t meet your eyes, he just kept fumbling at a button.  “You wouldn’t have to be a client.  I mean, I wouldn’t charge you.”

Part 2

[yonch]

it's been 15 years and you can see better than ever

(design notes under the cut) (there are spoilers)

ok this got really long. here you go

sif:

ditched the cloak. it was collecting dust in their closet until recently, but they realized they don't need to cling to their grief so much anymore. someone else will need it more soon.

ditched the eyepatch. the prosthetic eye is a labor of love designed by isa, as is literally everything else they're wearing.

they cut their bangs finally and started braiding their hair back so it wouldn't obscure their vision as much anymore.

they like darker/tighter clothing and prefer function over form but unfortunately their gay ass boyfriend keeps treating them like a dress up doll so they're stuck wearing waistcoats and a fancy cloak. (they don't mind. it's designed to look like loop.) they keep flowers in their many pockets to give to people.

they're a woodworker in their free time. they don't usually talk about being any sort of savior so he just becomes sif the guy who's really good at carving birthday presents for people and also tags along with isa to charity parties and fundraisers

41 year old 5'1" they/he absolutely zero intention of Changing. bonded to isabeau. they adopted a kid who leo or i might post about some other time i think. her name is estelle.

isa: i'm not taking credit for the design that's by my friend @fembard /@leoweooo. i'll include his design notes

isa dresses mostly for comfort, he doesn't like wearing stuff that might get stained or ruined when he's dyeing clothes or chasing stelle around in the mud or something, all his fashion sense goes into his handiwork

he Changed a few more times over the 15yrs, eventually settled. picked up she/her pronouns again on the side but was never really able to ditch the name isabeau and he kinda ran out of names anyways...

kept the long hair, kept a few inches in height, very happy to fulfill the role of male (space) wife

can't ditch the kimono jacket it's the piece de resistance. odile influence and Wisening Of Age means its made with a little more knowledge of ka buan technique but still very clearly an Isa Design. the fabric is imported silk sif!!!!!!

39 year old Tall with a capital T he/she "i swear i'm not a weeaboo i'm just really into ka buan fashion" vaugardian indie clothing designer in your area help support this man in his attempts to use his family members as living advertisements for his brand

mira: with design input from @jastertown thank you my friend

i took a lot of inspiration for the sparkly, sheer fabric on her dress from euphrasie. she's not head housemaiden yet because she doesn't feel like she's ready but everybody knows it'll be her

speaking of inspiration. she's been taking a lot of fashion cues from a certain lady in dormont that she thought was kind of scary, but it turns out she's very nice? they're besties now.

she got rid of the earrings for a little bit but then she realized she just liked how they look on her. so now they go ding ding! it's for her and nobody else, and that's how she likes it.

moved her ornaments to her skirt because they ding ding more often there. her necklace also jingles with merriment.

38 year old she/her advanced cisgender+ legend who's realizing that people are trying to get her to be the pope but all she really wants to do is write yaoibait fiction that looks like it came straight off of ao3

odile:

my glorious hag. she started shrinking about 3 years ago. all those years of bending over books has finally caught up to her. her hips are fuuuuuucked. but she has a sick cane that sif carved for her so everything's okay

she was already pretty comfortable and settled in her sense of style when she was nearing 50 so i don't think she would change much. darker clothing maybe. ditched the high-waisted pants for some looser slacks.

she's started writing a familytale of her own. the only person she's told about it is bonbon, who caught her up way past their bedtime, and scribbled all over one of the pages. she'll pass it on to sif when the time's right, after she's written down everything she can remember about their family.

64 year old she/her wasian researcher recovering from hernia surgery who's getting really into things like "political activism" and "body craft law reformation in ka bue" and "making sure people aren't sourcing their hrt from back alleys"

bonnie:

prefers to go by boniface these days. it's cooler. more mature. please stop calling me bonbon that's a nickname from when i was 10 guys c'mon guys ugh fine frin you can still call me bonbon but not around my girlfriends ok (nobody calls them boniface except for odile)

speaking of which they have 3 butch lesbian girlfriends. this got established as a joke but i think they have it in them. they're still young!!!!!!! they should be at the club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

they traveled for a while with everybody but eventually settled down back in bambouche to start a little family owned restaurant with nille featuring dishes from all over the globe. people travel from all over to get a taste of boniface's good eats... bambouche is bustling. (they have a few recipes that are sourced from the country. they meet people every once in a while who find something achingly familiar about it, and they usually direct those people to jouvente to get in contact with frin.)

26 year old they/them "i dont know how tall i am but i'm taller than za" chef cooker whose restaurant keeps lighting on fire because this time i swear nille i can figure out how to do cooking craft i swear i wont explode the kitchen this time please i promise

loop:

ok. this is where lozy gets to just talk about what he thinks happens post game. i think they stick around for way longer than they really should and follow the crew around on their travels (mostly invisibly) because they're sooo fucking scared of change they're sooo scared and they're so scared of their wish fucking up beyond belief. they're kind of incapable of aging or dying in this body and theyre like permanently 26 which is what spurs them to finally move on.

i think they go back to their timeline eventually after making a Brand New Wish to "go back to their real family." alas the universe leads and we can only follow. and it turns out loop has actually made a real family in stardust's world also. this is my justification for why they can pop in between sasasap and isat worlds without much repercussion. i think they're always permanently loop shaped in isat but i imagine they can probably go back to their original body in their home timeline... might design that later. who knows. i'm fucked like that

i just think they deserve a chance for their own happy ending you know. isat's a game about how it's never too late to communicate and how you shouldn't punish yourself forever and ever. and i think theyve punished themself enough you know.

ok tank you for reading if you read this far. it's really big and long so i would understand if you didn't. but i hope you liked it. thoughts appreciated. here's a little something for the people who read all the way through.

[rederiswrites]

You can train your tastes. You can choose what you see beauty in.

Lemme go further, actually. You are constantly doing so--or letting others do it for you.

Nearly two decades ago, when we were planning our wedding, I made a very firm decision not to look at any wedding planning magazines or anything with marketing material for wedding products. I wanted our wedding to be uniquely us, and I also wanted not to be bombarded by product advertisement and beautiful photo shoots of very expensive weddings. Consequently, maybe we wasted a little bit of time reinventing the wheel, but we had a wedding we were very happy with that only cost perhaps four thousand dollars at most, probably not that much, spread out over our finances and those of both our families. Our guests went home with live potted plants that we'd paid pennies for at end of season, our florist had a great time getting to design a bouquet that tested her skills because I didn't have any preconceived ideas, my dress was utterly unique--and I really do feel that those magazines would have had a corrosive effect on all that.

When we moved to this property three years ago, I spent a LOT of time looking at images online, trying to form a coherent vision for a property that was at the time a fairly blank slate. I found myself scrolling through a lot of Russian dacha Instagrams, of all things, and they unlocked something for me. Seeing the same homey make-do decorations and techniques I grew up around a continent away, the same plywood cutout old ladies and tractor tire flower planters, somehow chewed through that last binding cord of classism, and suddenly I saw the art in it. The expression of a desire to embellish and beautify, even when you have very little, even when all you can afford is things the more well-to-do consider trash. I saw the exuberance of human love for beauty in a brilliant flower bed planted next to a collapsing shed--it didn't need to be perfect to be worthwhile. They didn't wait til everything was pristine to start enjoying things. And now I earnestly and unironically covet my own version of the tractor-tire Christmas tree at the farm down the road.

We've spent centuries now idolizing the manicured estates and quaint country retreats of the European wealthy elites. We've turned thousands of miles of living ecosystem into grass deserts in service of this vision. We need to start deliberately retraining our tastes. Seek out images of a different idea of beauty and peace. I'm not telling you what it'll be. I'm telling you this is not involuntary. You can participate. You can look at the many beautiful examples of native xeriscaping for arid climates, or photos of chaotic tangles of wildflowers, tamed by narrow paths, a bench under an arbor overwhelmed with wisteria. Maybe instead of trying to get lawn to grown under your mature trees, you'd actually get far more joy out of a patch of dirt. A hammock. A firepit ringed with log sections for seats.

You can free yourself from harmful conventions of taste and beauty, and you do it through imagining something better.

[liveontelevision]

Demon Barber | Lucifer X Reader

IT'S DONNNEEEE

FuCk i slaved away on this one but y'all wanted a novel, so here she is!

Content Warning: Smutsmutsmutsmut +18, a little bit of angst and fluff, and Lucifer and Reader being kind of shitty people

☆☆☆

Everybody knew how much of an icon Queen Lillith was. She immediately blew up any form of media when she started uplifting demonkind. As time went on and more sinners were sent to Hell, a ripple effect of styles and trends rang throughout the city. It was important to Lillith to stay up to date with them. She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t keep up. She decided to take the opportunity to bring a new face to her team. At that point, the Morningstar family had already hired a handful of imps to keep little things in line, but this was a position that needed the point of view of a sinner on the streets.

Lucky you, you were one of the first sinners to work personally with the most powerful couple in Hell! You weren't that different from anyone else, but you are a chronic people watcher. It was an important hobby that helped you keep up with what everyone was decorating themselves with. A perfect pair of eyes for adorning the most beautiful creatures in the realm in a modern fashion. You started your glamorous job a couple of thousands of years before the Hotel was built. Even with your immense age, you did a surprisingly good job at keeping an open mind and becoming knowledgeable in most cosmetic and costuming work. You managed to make it through every extermination and more in this career. The protection from being housed with royalty definitely had its benefits.

On your first day, you went through Lillith's already existing wardrobe, in awe at the quality and unique aesthetics that she had. Even with your praises on her gowns, she insisted she needed your knowledge of street style incorporated into her wardrobe. You definitely fit into the Pride ring of hell at that point. The queen of Hell needs your personal opinion on what she wears? That went straight to your head. You became the head of a team and were credited with dressing up Lillith in some of her most iconic outfits. It didn't exactly bring you any fame, you weren't advertised or really credited in any other form than writing. Sometimes, if Lillith was put in an outfit she really enjoyed and her makeup and hair lasted through an entire performance, she'd give a little shout-out. You didn't really mind, you loved doing what you did, and the sweet praises Lillith gave you sufficed your need for validation. It felt amazing to see her face plastered all over Pentagram City, and being able to say hey, I did that. The salary helped, too.

As time went on, you noticed how little Lucifer made public appearances. When he did they were exclusively with Lillith at his side. And of course, he looked.. He was definitely a handsome ruler, but he didn’t have a lot of variety in his wardrobe. And it wasn't exactly up to your or Lillith's standards. She would often suggest taking some styling tips from you, almost begging at times, but he would refuse every time. You did little things, steaming and restitching his wardrobe, doing some touch-up makeup for shoots, but his suit? It stayed the same almost every day.

One day, Lucifer suddenly had a change of heart. He looked disheartened but begrudgingly agreed to be dolled up for a shoot that was happening soon. You were almost as ecstatic as Lillith was, getting this chance.

"I want you to give it your all, dear. Maybe I can convince him to do some more in the future if all goes well..." She'd tell you in a hushed tone, the two of you standing in front of the double doors that led to your studio." Do what you do best!" She said cheerfully, her hand on the small of your back. She practically throws you into the room once it's open, leaving you alone with Lucifer. There was no music, none of your other artists had shown up yet, and the only thing you could hear was your breath shaking. You breathed in heavily, then put on your best customer service face as you exhaled. You played professionally at the beginning, but it's always easier having some personality and small talk when you're planning on being in close proximity to clients for so long.

"Your Majesty! I hope you're doing well today, I'm glad you decided to join us this time!" You spoke in your people-pleaser voice, trying to hide the nerves that suddenly washed over your body. "Why the change of heart?" You started questioning, in a desperate attempt to find some sense of small talk with the intimidating figure seated in front of you. As you spoke, you stepped in front of the vanity he was seated at, having to stretch by his crossed legs to lay out your supplies. "I'm doing fantastic. Obviously." He spoke in an aggravated tone. You sucked in your lips, unsure if you should laugh. Luckily he didn't need a response before answering your other question. "You've seen Lily, she can be quite convincing." He puffed out his chest in his seated position, insinuating something vulgar. Your eye twitched, trying your best to not let them roll.

That didn't stop your face from heating up, the image suddenly materializing in your head. You cleared your throat, turning your attention back to the array of makeup brushes and some colored powders you had picked out specifically for this shoot." She is a beauty, I agree." You felt the need to respond in some way before getting to work.

You loved doing your job. No matter who you worked on, you'd always focus on your technique before anything else, which helped calm you down while you delicately held Lucifer's jaw, twisting his head around to get a general idea of what you were working with. You examined a solid purple bruise that decorated his neck before he had the chance to stop you. "Oh! I just - ran into a doorknob. Yeeah.. I.. tripped." He rambled a pathetic excuse, learning away from your touch." Sure, let's go with that." You replied, finally rolling your eyes at his words. "But you said it yourself, the Queen is indeed quite convincing." You teased, twisting around and grabbing a brush. When you went to move behind his chair to start running a comb through his impossibly soft golden hair, you caught how red he had turned at your remark." Oh, it's okay, I'm just teasing. You know how long I've worked on Lillith, I've had to cover way worse." You added, genuinely thinking that would help calm him down. He let out a quiet groan of embarrassment, smacking his hand against his face.

It went silent for a while as you worked on his hair. You saw how it usually was put up, and you didn’t want to scare him with too drastic of a change, so you only added some subtle layers that left it a bit fluffier than normal. You’d stop every now and then, placing your hands on his shoulders and looking at your work in the mirror. He'd flinch at your touch each time, leaving you concerned at first, then just giving him a suck it up attitude for the rest of your session. You went on to do something that didn't need your full attention and looked over his shoulder to get a peek at his phone screen that he used as a buffer for the awkward silence. It displayed a little calendar, he swiped through each day mindlessly. "Looks like you have a packed schedule, huh? How's that been going?" He looked up and pulled his phone into his lap, a squint across his face. "It's fine, I'm handling it. It's my job after all, ya know. Important things." He didn't seem to want to get into too much detail, so you let out a nervous chuckle and agreed before immediately finding some music to play to cover your mistake. You were convinced he would fire you at that point. Or worse.

As you finished up, you viewed him from multiple angles, twisting him around in the chair. You leaned down a bit, your eyes at his level then reached both your hands out and took the pieces of hair that framed his face, curling them up a bit at his cheeks. You stepped back again and placed your hands on your hips, letting out a satisfied hum.

He definitely calmed down by the time his hair was done, leaving behind the crude jokes and little rude quips from before. Now onto the makeup. This was far more intimate, so you gave him a quick rundown as you rummaged through your things." Alright, you definitely don't need any makeup, since your skin is perfect, but there's a chance the cameras and the lighting could wash you out, so I'll just use a blurring effect with this pow - " you stopped talking when you saw his confusion." I'm.. I'm gonna doll you up. Basically.." You summarized it bluntly. It was clear to you how uncomfortable he was with being touched excessively, you did your best to accommodate. You applied some translucent powders to his skin, then brightened up the cute little red circles on his face, after mentally kicking yourself for thinking of them as cute. This is the king of Hell, knock it off. You cleaned up the heavy bags under his eyes, then noticed a tired purple hue to his eyelids. Going in with a lilac color, you emphasized them.

As you were gathering some other things, stepping back a bit, he turned his head to look at his appearance in the mirror. He was expecting some ridiculous and dramatic work, but he really just looked brighter. More alert, more alive. He shut one of his eyes to see the color you had added to his lids, "I.. like that.." He spoke quietly and sounded surprised as if he didn't want to admit that to you. You let out a little chuckle, the compliment completely going to your head, before passively scolding him for touching his face before you had finished. He let his hands fall back into his lap with a pout on his face. Adding any color to his eyes or lips required precision, so you were lifting up his face by his chin to do what you do best. You were honestly a little surprised about how well he handled the rest of the session. For someone who's refused any sort of cosmetics for literal centuries, he looked like he was enjoying the pampering.

You had only worked on Lillith before, and even if she was intimidatingly gorgeous, you adapted to being physically close to her. Going into a sort of auto-pilot mode, you held your breath, tracing out his best features. Pulling away to check on his full appearance again, you noticed that he seemed to be holding his breath as well. He finally let it out once you stepped away, his face already a little flushed. You didn't think too much about it, you were mainly annoyed that the composition of the makeup was being thrown off by this sudden blush.

"Well! Once wardrobe comes in, you'll be taken down to set. What do you think?" You stood behind his chair and spun him back around to face the mirror. He leaned in, making sure not to touch his face since you scolded him before. He moved his head around, even admiring the coverage of the hickey that Lillith so generously gifted him." Hm! I suppose this works. As long as Lillith likes it, that is." His voice wasn’t enthusiastic, but you recognized the satisfaction plastered across his face. He looked up to meet your eyes in the reflection of the mirror. "She's right, you are good at what you do, I'll give you that." You gave a little nod and began to pack up your things. "I'm glad it's acceptable, your highness." You pulled up some finger quotes as you spoke the word acceptable. "You were really nice to work on actually, your hair looks great and your face is already near perfection, so I didn't need to do much. Plus, you sat very well." You spoke nonchalantly, compliments like that coming as second nature in this field.

You turned once more and bowed your head a bit before sending a smile his way. His eyes were wide, and it looked like he was struggling to stiffen a grin. He cleared his throat, covering his mouth with his fist and looking to the side. "G-Good.. Glad you enjoyed the.. Uh - Enjoyed it.." His voice muffled behind his hand. You didn't overthink his nervous reaction since you were in a hurry to get Lillith ready next. "Oh, for sure! I hope I see you around more often! I'm sure the shoot will be great." You chimed in, finally dipping out of the room as a crowd of imps barged in, finishing up his look.

The rest of the day was spent getting Lillith ready for the shoot, which took considerably longer than Lucifer's preparations. The whole time you chatted with her about how Lucifer did, calling her out on the damned bruise that you had to cover up, and general catch-up that had become routine at this point. Once everything was up and moving, you floated around the set fixing up some small details on both Lillith and Lucifer's look when needed. And of course, the shots they got were fantastic. You couldn't stop yourself from admiring your work once the posters and advertisements were distributed.

That was the first time you worked with Lucifer. Not much changed after, you became a little more popular around the staff; getting complimented on how you dressed him and answered some silly questions about what he was like. You did see him around more often, and you’d make small talk. After a few weeks, while working on Lillith, she brought up another shoot that was proposed for a big event coming up. "And get this! Lucifer asked me to put him in the shoot!" She was absolutely giddy to tell you the news. "Well, of course, he wants to be in the shoot, it's because I prettied him up so well!" You bragged in a joking tone, making Lillith let out a sultry chuckle. She placed her hand over yours, a sincere smile across her already-painted lips. "Thank you, dear. He needs the pampering sometimes." You blushed at the sudden contact and grinned in response.

---

Lucifer did in fact join that shoot. The process was about the same, but he seemed to engage in conversation more and asked more questions about what you were doing at each step. It warmed your heart to talk about your passions, you were unknowingly gushing about your interests every time he asked.

As the years went on, he joined more and more shoots, accompanied Lillith to more public appearances, and generally just wanted your opinions on his looks more often. It didn't take long for you two to become close. He'd ask for help on outfits, sometimes becoming a nervous wreck about what to wear on dates. With his wife. It was adorable the way he worried about how he looked after being with Lillith for so long and essentially running a new world together. He seemed to really enjoy having his hair and makeup done, occasionally making a fuss if you weren't the one to do it. You would scold him, talking about how he's wasting your time, and that you trained each of your stylists, so he has to trust them. He pouted the whole time.

Being around the power couple of the century unfortunately had its flaws. Like having to witness its downfall. Both of them became quieter a decade or two before Lillith's disappearance. Any time you'd try and tell a funny story about Lucifer to Lillith, she would change the topic almost immediately. On the opposite end, Lucifer wasn't supplying you with the same amount of jokes and puns as usual and reverted back to flinching at your touch. You couldn't ask about what was going on, that'd be rude.. Right?

"You know, Lillith was just talking about some sort of Gala for the Sins, are you going with her?" You had some hidden intentions by bringing this up while you were fixing Lucifer up for his day. "A Gala, huh? Haven't heard anything about that, so - I guess not!" He blurted out, clearly irritated. Shit. " Are.. Are you okay? Is something going on?" You leaned against the back of the vanity, stopping what you were doing to give him your full attention." Well, if you want to talk about it, that is.. Aaand as long as I won't get in trouble by asking." You shrugged and crossed your arms over your chest. That happened once or twice, but it was for little things; spoiling an anniversary gift one time, or accidentally getting an imp fired when you were venting about workplace struggles. "Yeah, of course it's okay! We're fine. It's fine. I'm fine! Stop asking so many questions!" He got increasingly aggressive as he spoke, you threw your hands up, stepping away and returning to the back of his chair. "Okay, okay! I believe you, jeez!" You responded to it as a joke, hoping you could recover.

You didn't talk about it after that, lifting his mood a bit by asking about his projects and other little things. As you finished up his hair, you noticed him closing his eyes and leaning his head into your hands as you ran your fingers through his hair to coat it with some kind of styling product. He'd fallen asleep in the past, so you didn't worry about it too much. You went on to work on his makeup. He asked you recently if you wouldn’t mind coming up with a more subtle everyday look for him. Apparently he just really liked your work. Or, he needed the pampering. Either way, you couldn't refuse.

He was loving the treatment today. He would hum every time you used your thumb to brush a speck off his cheek, and would start leaning forward when you stopped touching him. You pushed him back by his chest mindlessly, just needing him to sit back in his chair.

You then started to apply makeup to his eyes. Covering the bags underneath them became increasingly difficult throughout the years. You pulled him in like usual, your hand lightly leading his head up towards your face. When you paused at some point to evaluate whatever you were doing, he suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours, then flashing a quick peak at your bust that had been accentuated by your stance. He leaned back, a nervous look on his face.

"Um, hello?? I was kind of in the middle of something! That’s it. Tell me what’s wrong." You scoffed, confusion and irritation plastered across your face. He quickly dismissed it, letting you work again. He could feel your shallow breathing fan across his face as you went on. His breath was picking up, heart rate elevating as you kept this proximity. The leather on the armrests of his chair squeaked as he gripped his claws into the fabric.

After a while, you silently leaned back, only now noticing him falling apart. He leaned in slightly, dropping his jaw to let out a shaky breath. He would've hit your face if you hadn't stepped away. Possibly even met your lips.

"Uh – Your higness..?" You were oblivious, so you decided to question this behavior. He popped his eyes open and immediately leaned back into his chair." A-Are you done yet?" He squeaked out, examining the damage he had done to your chair with a nervous chuckle. "I'll uh.. I'll get you a new chair." He muttered, before looking into the mirror for just a moment. "Looks good to me! Excellent job as usual, my dear, I better get going, I have a meeting to get to so – " You watched in silent confusion, seeing him squirming and screwing up his words. He quickly stood up, not assessing how close he would be to you and how close your back was to the vanity. You stumbled backward, placing your hands on the vanity to keep yourself from falling any farther, and acting as a buffer between the counter and Lucifer. He tripped over your stumbling feet, his flailing arms landing beside yours. You were effectively trapped, his knee had bent between your legs while trying to find his balance.

A moment of silence. All you heard was the beating of your heart ringing in your ears. He looked down at you in a way that clouded your judgment. Neither of you said anything, but you fluttered your eyes shut subconsciously. He did the same, then cocked his head to the side and slowly lean into your face. He roped his arm around your waist, pulling you forward a bit, but not quite flush to his chest. Yet. You felt his shaky breath fanning over your lips, before snapping back into reality. "No! Nope - " You quickly broke free of his arms and began cleaning up your things, avoiding his gaze as it followed you frantically getting your things together. "You have a meeting, right? I just finished up, so you should be all good now! I'll just – I-I'll see you around! Have a good day, sir!" You quickly left the room, not letting him get a single word in. He reached out to you as you left as if that would suddenly draw you back towards him, but of course, it did nothing. "Well, shit." He let out bluntly, waiting for a moment in your own studio before b-lining it back to his office.

What the fuck was that?

You avoided Lucifer after the incident, and he seemed to respect that. He let one of your stylists do his daily pampering, knowing that stopping that routine would cause too much suspicion. He didn't enjoy it as much, but stopping altogether would make Lillith ask about it. Fuck. Lillith. A flood of emotions wash over you. In reality, you were closer to Lillith than her husband. You two gossiped and chatted on the daily. It was a struggle to face her after this, but what choice did you have? 

She was completely silent during her last few sessions, so you drowned out your guilty thoughts with music. She disappeared a few years after that. You absolutely panicked. So did many of the staff members, but your sole concern was if it was your fault. You were quick to find Lucifer after the announcement was made, only to see him in your studio, running his hands across the rack of gowns that Lillith had left. "Lucifer. What happened? Where did she go? What did she say?" You rambled approaching him, but being careful not to get too close. "She didn't say anything. She left a half-assed note, and she's just.. Gone." He pulled a dress into his arms and gripped it tightly before letting it drop to the floor. He let out a vicious roar, throwing the rack to the side." How could she do this?! What about the kingdom? What about Charlie? Dammit.. What did I do?? We slept next to each other that night.. The same night she left… I-I could’ve stopped her, I should've - She just disappeared..!" He rambled on, quickly unraveling in front of you. You watched his tail and horns start to form, and you hesitantly gripped his shoulder. He finally stopped, taking a deep breath before turning to face you. He hadn't looked into your eyes since..

His horns shrunk back into his temples before he let his head fall onto your shoulder. You almost stepped away, but.. He needed this. And you needed answers. "Sir.. Was it because.. Did she leave because of me..?" You spoke softly, your breath a cool sensation against his heated skin. He quickly shot up, planting his hands on your shoulders and looking at you with a stern expression. "No! No, I promise it wasn't your fault. Fuck, none of that was your fault. She.. I-I'm not sure why she left, but that's not your burden to bear." He spoke calmly, a stark contrast to the raging mess he just displayed moments ago. 

You two stood there for a while, his hands drifted down to hold your arms. What was he supposed to do now? He looked around the room for some kind of answer. Before he could realize what was happening, he was pulled into a tight embrace, his head just barely reaching the top of your shoulder. "It's gonna be okay.. I’ll be here, Lucifer. No matter what." It felt.. weird for a moment. This was the first time you'd gotten close to him this way. And actually, the first time you'd said his name without any sort of title. He let out another exhausted sigh, his hands snaking around your back and accepting the much-needed affection. As his head pressed against your collarbone, you stood there until he decided he’d had enough. You were there for a while.

It wasn't Lucifer's fault, but after that, you didn’t work much. There really wasn't a lot to do, without someone pushing public appearances and emphasizing the importance of image, you generally just mended and fixed up the staff's uniforms and Lucifer’s wardrobe. You were technically a stylist, but you've been doing this long enough that you could handle these jobs entirely by yourself. Actually, you did handle the job by yourself. Lucifer fired or sent most of the previously employed stylists away, along with most of the staff. About five years into Lillith's disappearance, the place had widdled down to a handful of workers. Some in the kitchen, basic housekeeping, a noisy secretary to answer some calls, and you. You started to question why he kept you around. You hated to admit that you still blamed yourself for Lillith leaving, but why else would she suddenly disappear? She was cold to you as soon as you kissed – almost kissed – Lucifer that day. You tried your hardest to avoid that thought process since you stuck around the mansion.

You were surprised to find out that Lucifer accepted an invitation to be on the cover of a magazine for Helluva Times. He hadn't needed makeup or hair done since Lillith left, and in reality, you barely saw him around. You were ashamed about how excited you were to see him again. Of course, it won't be the same as before, but you were looking forward to it nonetheless. You were taken to the studio where the shoot was being held since the one in the mansion was turned into more of a workspace for mending clothing. The studio was brightly lit and bustled with imps and some stylish sinners doing their part. You wondered if It was always like this, or if it was just because of Lucifer. You approached the vanity, the king of Hell seated in a movie set chair, with a golden star on the back, his name embroidered to the center. You were stopped in your tracks when you saw the dark circles that surrounded his eyes. Jesus, he was exhausted. You weren’t exactly surprised, more like distressed. Now that you think about it, Lillith really did a lot of heavy lifting when it came to keeping Hell in line.

"Your Highness." You gave him a little smile and nodded your head, beginning to display your usual setup on the vanity in front of him. "Heyyy! You..! Good to see you, Ahha.. ha.. h-how've you been..? How's... work been..?" He put on a fake smile and propped his head on his hand in a sad attempt to act casual. He switched to crossing his arms, unable to sit still and make eye contact with you at the same time. You didn't know how to react. The last time he was this nervous, he ended up pinning you to a table with his arms around you. You quickly got to work, trying to get the image of that day out of your head.

You go to comb his hair, recognizing that it's been a while since he let anyone tend to it; it was nearly grown to the bottom of his neck and wasn't exactly the cleanest. "Do you have wrinkle-free, clean, clothes every day?" You asked in response to his nervous ramblings from earlier. He nodded slowly," Then work is fine." You picked up on the sudden attitude you had, and it even surprised you. He quickly shut his mouth and started to spin the wedding band on his finger as a nervous fidget.

You had to put some effort in since he wasn't getting the same attention he used to. You gave his golden locks some much-needed attention, running a number of products through them and taking the time to restore it to its usual length. You found yourself peaking at his face every now and then, which he didn't notice. He was too indulgent to even keep his eyes open. You tried to stop yourself from looking at his relaxed expression, but you found yourself turning away only when he opened his eyes. You checked the clock, you definitely had some time for a more thorough session. You dug your fingers just a bit deeper into his hair, lightly running your nails across his scalp. In several swirling motions, you had him melting in your hands. You had to stop every now and then and push his head back up after it lulled to the side. It usually kept him alert for a moment, but it never lasted long. He let out a subtle hum every now and then, making you bite your lip in some attempt to keep whatever you were feeling at bay.

After you finished your little massage, you quickly finished up his hair, giving him a very-needed trim and styling it to its usual glory. You instinctively placed your hands on his shoulders once you finished and leaned in a bit to look at the results.

"So? What do you think? You needed a haircut, sir, you should… keep in touch.. If you need me, I'm here." A grin grew on your face and he couldn’t help but sigh at the sight of your smiling face. He turned his head to the left and the right, reaching up to touch his face delicately. He was less worried about messing it up and more worried about you scolding him for it. He let out a little huff and he opened his mouth, with no words coming out. It took him a moment." It's great, but uhh.. Could you do the – " He spun his fingers around his cheeks," you know, the.. Little loopy.. Bits..?"

God, what a cutie.

You let out a little chuckle and nodded, turning his chair to face you." My bad, how could I forget the loopy bits?" You teased, reaching out to either side of his head. Your hands lulled over his cheeks for some reason you wouldn’t explain. Finally, you untucked the bits of hair from behind his ears, pulling them forward and twirling them with your fingers. You placed your hands on your hips, still bent to be at his eye level.

"There. Ready for makeup, Lucifer?" Your words didn't come naturally, it took you a few seconds to debate whether or not to call him by his name. With his voice cracking in an attempt to respond, he just nodded, attempting to keep some dignity intact. You did your best to act professional, despite his lovely reactions. You started as you usually did, applying an easy base and highlighting his rosy cheeks. You never needed to do much to his face, and even after all this time, you still didn’t need to. Must be his angelic abilities, that his skin never really changes. You shrugged off the thought, getting ready to focus on his eyes. Instead of keeping his chin up, you took a light hold of his jaw, your fingers grazing his neck and your thumb placed dangerously close to the side of his lips. You both reacted to this new method, but you quickly went to work to prevent any more eye contact.

You took your time and it was clear neither of you cared to bring it up. He was past his call time, but when some poor stylist working for the news team came in to get him, Lucifer used his threatening status to give you both more time. After you finished covering the dark rings surrounding his eyes and prettying them up a bit, you mirrored your other hand and essentially cupped his cheeks. You did your best to make it look like it was for work purposes, but damn you were enjoying this. Such a beautiful creature in the palm of your hands, looking away because he was too embarrassed to meet your eyes." Look forward, please?" You spoke softly, lightly tapping his cheek to get him to follow your commands. He let out a huff, then finally prepared himself to look into your eyes. The noisy workers coming in and out of the room suddenly disappeared, the room going silent. He had your complete focus, and suddenly there was nothing more important than gazing into his red eyes. His hand moved to your wrist, holding one of your hands in place while he pressed his cheek against your palm. What a sight. You leaned in, not knowing what would happen, but also not really caring. Any chance to get close to –

"Alright your Highness, we're gonna need you on set in five." The harsh sounds of the room suddenly returned, a Hellhound making a more stern request to get this shoot over with. You quickly stood straight, taking up a brush and fixing up the small smudges you had created by holding him. "Rrright! Yup, pretty sure we're almost done, sooo... I'll be right there..! Thanks." He clenched his pointed teeth, as he thanked the brute, who walked off with a scoff. "Good golly – I'm their king! What gives that mutt the right to – " He stopped his rambling once he saw your sheer embarrassment. He took it as a sign that he went too far, that just maybe, he read you wrong.

He turned his head, looking back to his reflection and tracing his little curls with his fingers before letting out a satisfied hum. "Great work as always, my dear." He stood from the chair, stretching his stiff legs with a groan." I should uhm – I'm gonna get going, I have to.. Do the.. Thing – with the thing.." He walked backward towards the exit, pointing over his shoulder. "You mean go to set and get the shots? Hope everything goes okay, sir." You chuckled, going back to cleaning some things up. "Okay, well – oh! Thank you! Right, forgot that part. So, thanks..!" He just kept talking. Like he might never see you again once he left the room. "My pleasure, Lucifer." You hummed, still attending to your tasks. Oh, you should’ve seen the winded look on his face. He let out a wheezing chuckle, tripped over himself, then finally left the studio.

Once all your things were neatly tucked away, you were invited to the shoot. They had an extensive team of people behind the scenes, so you got the chance to just observe the process. They had him run through a number of poses, some regal, some more.. Provocative. Just for fun, they said. It made you cringe, it definitely wasn't his style. Finally deciding on a composition, he had his arms crossed over his chest, and he rested his thumb just below his chin, drawing your eye to his devilish smirk. How could someone who's been hurt as badly as he has, smile for the cover of a magazine?

You made some mental notes on his makeup and his hair, which they squished down with a comically oversized tophat. Trying to keep your mind purely professional became increasingly difficult when he kept looking over at you, his smile twitching every time. He must be tired. That’s clearly why he's acting this way.

"All right, we got it! Wrap it up, people!" An aggressive shout took you away from your phone screen, and you looked around at the rush of workers. You tried to catch anyone's attention to see if you could help with anything, but you never got anyone's attention. It was definitely a change of pace from your past experience, considering you were the lead on a team that really only dressed two people, even if they were royalty. By the time you got back to the studio, it was basically cleaned out, other than your little cart with all the supplies you brought from home. You assumed you were good to go straight home and find something to do other than feeling up the king of Hell; speak of the devil!

"Oh! I.. didn't know you were still here, I thought you left..?" A soft, and mildly raspy, voice came from the door, making you catch Lucifer's eyes in the reflection of the vanity you stood in front of. "No, I was enjoying the show." You leaned against the tabletop after turning to face him, a little smirk on your face. "You did good, by the way. The shots came out really well." You pulled up some of the shots that the company sent to your phone. "These are some very handsome photos.. You're welcome, by the way." You were gloating. He had walked forward to get a better look at your phone screen, squinting his eyes like he needed glasses, despite it being impossible for him to have poor vision. He scoffed at your comment, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well don't let it go straight to your head, dear, you didn't do all the work. I'm just naturally gorgeous, right? You used to say that all the time." He nodded his head to either side as he spoke like he was winning some argument.

"Well, I meant it and it's still true. So, don't let that get to your head." You responded like you were trying to one-up him. He immediately turned red. He can shoot his shots, but deflates at any quick or clever rebuttals." W-Well! I'll try not to.. T-thanks for being here. Not like, here, but like – helping with the shoot, and doing meee – my hair! Love my hair, came out great." Good job, Lucifer. You startled him by running your hands through his locks, attempting to fix up the mess they made by putting a heavy hat on him." Ugh, they ruined it.. It should be an easy fix, I guess... that stupid hat." You grumbled, running your hands along the sides of his head to smooth it out. He was biting his lip when you sent him a quick look." I-I like the hat..." He said weakly. You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh, beginning to pull your hands away. Clawed hands took hold of your wrists, keeping them hovered on either side of his face. "You said... that you'd be there for me no matter what. Do you remember that..?" He relaxed his face, but his hands were shaking just a bit. You nodded slowly.” Well, I’m - I appreciate that.. And you.. I-I appreciate you..”

“If you still.. I don't know, it's been a few years since – but if you still wanted to.. Ugh, dammit..! I don't know how to – " He stuttered over his words, becoming visibly upset, something stopping him from speaking coherently. You couldn't assume he was talking about the little incident from years ago, but if it was still on your mind after all that time, maybe it was still on his. He stepped forward just a bit, his grasp still lightly holding your wrists, keeping him close to you. Waiting for you to respond to a question he never really asked, he gulped, then let out a breathy, fuck it. In one fell swoop, he released your hands and immediately pulled you into a tight embrace. This wasn't like before, this wasn't to console him. His hands were wrapped around your back and cradled the base of your neck, leaving no space between the two of you.

Your entire body tensed, the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in was knocked out of you, and your arms were stuck with your hands pressed against his chest. He loosened his grasp as soon as he held you, but never actually let you go. His head had sunk into your shoulder, trying to hide some kind of adorable expression, you were sure. You had the opportunity to push him away, nothing was truly keeping you there. Physically, at least.

As you stood still, deciding what your next move would be, you'd feel him adjusting his head and turning it to plant his cheek on your collarbone, his breath hot against your chest. You knew he had to feel how hard and fast your heart was beating with how he was nuzzling into you. Focusing on one thing at a time, you tugged your arm out of his hold and lifted his face upwards, at least preventing him from being too close to your rapid heart rate. The next problem was your noses almost touching due to how close you were. His eyes were wide, full of some sort of desperation or fear, and a little bit of excitement. Your fingers still lightly hovered under his chin, and you could feel his pulse. Just as fast as yours, maybe even faster.

You felt him gulp, his face now heating up. Maybe the look in your eyes was too much for him to handle. You looked at the vanity that was just a few feet away. That should make him understand. Taking small steps backwards, which he didn’t understand, but also didn’t question, you kept moving until you felt the table hit your back. You leaned back slowly, forcing him to brace himself against the table to keep his balance. His eyes darted around as it clicked finally. You had put yourself in the same position that you were in years ago. His hands caged you in, and his knee sat between your legs for stability. You remembered it so clearly, you had no trouble bringing the two of you right back to where you left off. You took one of his arms and guided it to support you by the small of your back, then snaked your arms around his shoulders. Then, you closed your eyes and just waited. Just sitting there, anticipation bubbling in your stomach.

Before you knew it, he had softly pressed his lips against yours. You jumped at first, startled by something you were waiting so patiently for. You felt his lips pull away in response, but you were quick to pull his shoulders in, closing the gap again. He let out a little cry against your lips, as you pulled him even closer by wrapping your arms around his neck. He kept one hand at your back and sent the other to your outer thigh, slightly lifting your leg to sit against his hip. With a more secure hold on you, he leaned forward further, until you felt the back of your head hit the mirror with a light thump. "Mmph! Are you okay?" He pulled away for a moment to ask, which only upset you even more. You looked at him as if the answer was obvious, and fisted the collar of his shirt, pulling your lips back together. Clearly, you were fine.

Becoming intoxicated by your lips, he practically begged for a more intimate kiss. He placed a hand on your chin, pulling your mouth ajar with his thumb and quickly entering his tongue in your mouth. The sudden motion left you muttering incoherent praises onto his lips. He pulled away, leaving you in a daze. Once you regained your focus, you were able to reassess your situation. You had slid down the entirety of the vanity, your back fully against the cold material of the counter. One of his hands were propping himself up directly above you, the other still holding your leg, and keeping you from moving away as he pulled you impossibly closer. While letting you catch your breath, he sent a few kisses down your jaw and neck, making you grip his shoulders and hold your breath. He pulled himself away after pressing another quick peck on your lips. "Hey. Breathe. I'll take care of you, don't worry - " How dare he. How could he act so flustered when you did his hair and applied his makeup for literal centuries, then tell you to calm down? You scoffed and smashed your lips back against his, mainly to shut him up, but he wasn’t complaining.

He let out a little yelp against your lips, struggling to keep up with your sudden change of pace. Running your hands through his hair, ruining all the hard work you put into it, you lightly tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. A shakey sigh met your lips, as you took control of the situation, taking the opportunity to explore his mouth with your own tongue.

After this went on for what felt like forever, which you didn’t really mind, you pulled away to breathe. Looking up to him, your eyes explored the lipstick that messily covered his lips. You tipped his head upward by his chin forcing him to look at himself in the vanity's mirror. He let out a pathetic little wheeze, looking back down at you with a suddenly confident smirk." Beautiful work as always, my dear." He spoke flirtatiously, "You missed a spot, though." Dipping his head back downwards and indulging in your warm presence for as long as he could.

You were clawing at his back, untucking his shirt as you struggled to keep a hold of him. Both your legs had spread, making your hips flush against his. He kept you close, as he nipped and kissed across your collarbone, his sharp teeth grazing your skin without hesitation.

Sucking on the softest part of your neck, you let out a breathy moan and arched your back into his chest. The sudden motion sent friction to his lower half, making him release his teeth and suddenly bolt upwards. The reaction made you nervous, "I-I don't - I haven't.. It's been… Awhile.." He stammered out, putting an emphasis on the word awhile." I know, It's okay." He winced at your nonchalant remark, remembering how often you witnessed his last relationship essentially fall apart, as you went back to kissing his neck. He gently pulled himself away. "Nono, it's been awhile- awhile… I hadn't been close with.. anyone… for a couple.. Decades..?" He spoke nervously like he was embarrassed to admit it. You sat up for a moment, making him question whether or not he should've said anything." But.. It's only been five years, right?" You weren't sure if this was the best time to be getting into this, but these are answers you’ve been wanting for years.

"I don't know what happened, sweetheart, but we lost what we had long before any of this. I'm sorry if you thought.. I can't have you take on that burden.. Okay?" He cupped your face, shifting to a more tender approach. You tried piecing things together in your mind, which was still cloudy from the past few hours. Of course, that still doesn’t make what you two did right. Of course, you blamed yourself after all this time. He pulled you out of your thoughts, by tucking a bit of hair behind your ear and keeping his tender hold on your cheek. You couldn’t help but smile and nuzzle your face into his hand.

"We can stop if you want, love." Oh how you wanted to say stop. To say that you were terrible people for even feeling this way after all this time, while he was with his wife. Who also happened to be your employer. How scandalous. "No, I want this." You said without a hint of hesitation in your voice. It shocked him a bit, but he didn’t have much time to react before you leaned forward, unbuttoning his coat and pushing it off his shoulders. You pulled him in by his collar again, continuing to remove his vest, then opening his shirt, letting it hang open loosely, his white skin just barely peeking out. He shrugged comically, before going back to working on your neck, pulling at the hem of your blouse that had already fallen to your shoulders.

He ran his hands along your curves, eliciting a shiver down your spine. You reached your hands into his open shirt, your warm hands trailing across his even warmer chest. Your physical pleasure was subdued for a moment, absolutely in awe. "You have beautiful skin, Lucifer." Your voice was breathy, he lulled his head to the side, melting at your words and intimate touch. After a moment he let out a sweet chuckle and shrugged his top completely off. "So I've been told." Implying your constant praises from before, he puffed his chest out.

Oh, he was loving this. You sat up, your legs just at the edge of the countertop as you arched your back into him, closing the gap between your hips. You started by pressing a little kiss on his cheek, his face heating up even after all he's done to you. You then, moved your way down to work your lips across his neck and collarbone. Gently tracing his spine with one hand the other traveled downward as you pulled his hips into yours. Messaging his hip and continuously running your fingers along the center of his back, you sent him into sensory overload. You weren't surprised by the sudden bulge you felt hitting your center, in fact, you reveled how that confirmed you were doing a good job. You began sucking and biting on the skin, stopping to let out breathy mewls into his ear. The massaging of his hip turned into you pulling him in, then pushing him away slightly, only to viciously repeat the motion, forcing him to start grinding against you. Your hand on his back continued to trail up and down his spine, only you started to drag your nails across his skin as well, digging in a bit harder whenever you heard his voice hitch. You let your fingers slip into his pants every now and then, the cool sensation of your hands making him let out a little whimper.

"Your skin really is perfect, Lucifer. You are entirely beautiful. You're absolutely stunning, my king." You hummed into his ear, your skilled hands continuing to drive him crazy. He could barely keep up, his head falling back whenever you'd reach up to run your fingers through his hair. "K-Kiss me.." You heard him almost whisper, making you pull back for a moment to assess his stature. He had his hands on your hips, to keep you close, but also to keep him standing on his swaying feet. "I-I need you to.. kiss me.. Please.." He spoke in choppy sentences, he was too lost in his own pleasure to keep his head up, so you kept it forward by cradling the back of his head. When his head would start to droop too far forward, you gave his hair a light tug to remind him where he was. Did he need permission? You enjoyed the 180 he had made from the flirtatious tease just moments ago, humming in thought and tapping your chin like you were still deciding. Like you were considering not kissing him as passionately as he could handle.

He was lightly grinding his hard-on into you but still seemed patient enough to wait for your answer. "Well.. Since you said please." You finally said after far too long. He let out a sigh of relief as you inched towards him. You left your lips just over his, only letting him feel your heated breath against his lips. He shifted his stance but never moved towards you. You brushed your lips against his, not locking them together, just barely grazing them. He let out an impatient groan, his eyes clenched shut as you teased him so cruelly. Who knew this is what would bring tears to his eyes? You ran your hands up his chest, then dug your nails into him as you went back down. You finally met his lips, deciding he had enough after you wiped away a tear from his watering eyes. You don't know how he still managed to keep the kiss so tender after acting so desperate beforehand. You continuously wiped the tears off his face, keeping your hands on his face and caressing his cheeks with your thumbs. As you pulled away, he followed your lips, disappointed in the sudden disconnect. He took the silence and the look on your face as a sign, that he needs to tell you what he wants.

He dropped to his knees, the warmth you had sitting between your legs was hit with the cool air of the room as he did. He kept his hands off of you and himself but fiddled with his thumbs to keep them busy in some way. He took in a deep breath, before speaking quickly," Can I taste you?" His voice was embarrassingly loud like he was just waiting and waiting to finally say it. It sort of shocked you, you assumed he’d be nervous after admitting he hadn't done this in a while. You pulled your legs together, finally feeling how wet you were becoming, but needing to commit to the bit. You crossed your ankles to furth prevent access. "I suppose so.. But what do you saay?" you reached down and tapped the tip of his nose, as you dragged out your words like you were speaking to a child. "Please..! I need to touch you, please.." He quickly replied, with no hesitation at all. "Good boy." That was it for you.

You realized you sealed your fate, as you felt him take a hold on your knees and pull them back apart gently. He moved forward until he could rest his head on your plush thigh, which he did for a while. He lifted your skirt up to your waist, then took a moment to appreciate the view. You were finally becoming a bit embarrassed, attempting to close your legs instinctively, but he pushed your legs farther apart, keeping a tight hold onto your thighs. When he looked up at you, his eyes were wide and innocent, as if he wasn’t keeping your legs apart and wiggling his hips to give some much-needed friction to his own growing problems.

He blinked, then looked back down, trailing his clawed finger across your wet underwear. You covered the sounds you were making with the back of your hand, still struggling to keep your legs open for him. He bent his finger and pressed it deeply into your still-clothed entrance. The sensation of the fabric digging into you made you groan, but that didn’t affect him at all. He licked his lips and began gathering spit in his mouth and he pushed your legs back in place, keeping them apart this time. Running his forked tongue across your panties, you squirmed under his touch. As he lapped at the fabric, the heat from his breath and the wetness he was coating you with caused you to fall back onto your forearms. "L-Lucifer - " You said weakly, quickly drawing his attention. "This is cruel." You pouted, continuing to let out a little whimper as he kept running two of his fingers across your underwear.

He cocked his head to the side as if he didn’t understand the damage he was doing. He was playing dumb." Oh? I'm sorry, love, how should I touch you then?" He was way too calm for your liking. He let one of his fingers just graze the hem, only touching a bit of your skin. You let out an annoyed groan, and move your underwear to the side, guiding the tip of his finger to your entrance. With your hand holding his wrist, you pushed his fingers inside of you, a strange sensation to say the least. It was embarrassing. He noticed your discomfort and finally dropped the act, sending you a sweet smile and kissing your thigh before starting to pump his fingers inside of you.

You let out a sultry moan, a mixture of relief and pure pleasure finally hitting you as you felt him add another finger without any real warning. You lulled your head back, not able to see his absolute focus on matching the rhythm of his fingers to the circling of your clit. Before you could fully comprehend, he pulled his hands away and back onto your thighs, delving into your center with a heated, open-mouthed kiss. Letting out a gasp, he delved into your folds, his tongue easily slipping from your entrance and back up to your clit. He lifted a hand to continue to slowly rub his thumb in small circles, so he could focus his tongue on thrusting in and out of your entreance with ease.

He showed no sign of faltering as you bucked into his face, desperate for more of him. Your hands moved to his hair, taking a tight hold as he hit right where he was supposed to. He scrunched his face, letting out a low growl as you yanked at his scalp, the vibrations startling you in a wonderful way. He only sped up when you started to babble about being close, letting your thighs tighten around his face as you finish into his lips. He continues his rapid pace, the adrenaline from being squeezed by your shaky legs taking over. You finally pulled his head away from you after the pleasure of overstimulation started to ache in your core. You sunk backward, your body twitching on occasion.

He planted a kiss on your thigh before rising back to his feet. He leaned into you, the fabric over his groin coated in your juices the longer he pressed in. He pecked your temple, looking at you, completely unphased." Too much? How did I do..?" He seemed genuinely interested in whether or not he did a good job." Y-you did.. Great.. It was g-good.. Felt good.." You gave a pathetic thumbs up as you caught your breath." W-what happened to the whole it's been a while thing? Fuck, Lucifer." You sat up finally seeing that he split the fabric of your underwear at some point to gain better access." Guess I've still got it." He said with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows at you. You couldn’t take him seriously. Your wetness and lipstick stained his mouth, the eyeliner you had applied had ran down his cheeks and rubbed under his eyes. Not to mention, he was covered in your marks. It's fine you can cover those, you thought. Even with his sudden burst of dominance, you took pride in the fact that this was all because of you. He was all yours.

☆☆☆

If you're curious, that one is pushing 10k words ;)

(Tagging some people who might appreciate it) @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @bat-boness @christineblood

[allfearstofallto]

Where I think their darling is from + How they met them - headcanon drabbles

Yandere! Scaramouche, Diluc, Ayato (separate) x reader.

AN: I couldn't think of one for Childe, but spoilers, I think his darling is from Liyue. I'm also writing a full fic based on Ayato's section, just putting on the finishing touches!

Scaramouche -

A Drunk from Mondstadt

The city of freedom. A cute name. A lying name. He knew better than to think there was such a thing as actual freedom, but if it helped the drunken residents sleep at night to believe that, then so be it.

Missions to Mondstadt were short work for him. Partially because he was one of the few Fatui who didn't want to stop and take a drink or enjoy the scenery and “freeing wind” as they called it. He’d rather get things over with and just go home.

“Free samples! Free samples!” That was another thing he hated about Mondstadt. It was constantly noisy. Whether it be advertisements or the people themselves, the city was never quiet.

“Would you care for a sample?” He wanted to ignore you and just walk past, but of course you had to call him out personally. He scoffed and shot you a glare, something that would make most people tremble, but you didn't even flinch. Were you dumb? Or just plain ignorant, either way he didn't see your future as being very bright.

“Wow, you're very angry. Maybe you need two samples,” you reached over to the table next to you and handed him two cups. A sickly sweet smell hit his nostrils and he resisted the urge to gag, “It's a new mead recipe, including this season's fresh fruit. A very popular flavor, I designed the recipe myself.”

He raised an eyebrow at what you said? The hopeful look in your eye made him actually want to drink this sugar concoction. Pure anticipation on your face, a look that was normally annoying to him, but he found your hopefulness rather charming. Cute even.

Scaramouche eyed the cup for a second longer. Then brought it up to his lips. Disgusting. It was absolutely disgusting. That syrupy sweetness coating his tongue damn near induced vomiting, but he held back any emotions. The only pleasant part of the entire drink was the bitter liquor aftertaste.

“So?” You asked. There was a sparkle in your eyes like a gem, he felt himself falter, a feeling he hadn't felt in years. He wanted to be soft to you.

“It's good,” he muttered, a bold face lie of he'd ever told one before, but you seemed to believe it.

“Thank you, sir!” You exclaimed and he could help, but to partially match your smile.

As you continued to talk and recommend wines and beers to try, he barely listened, but he couldn't walk away. The eccentric way you spoke and moved had a hold on him. He wanted that at home with him. Maybe Mondstadt wouldn't be so bad to visit again after all.

Diluc -

A Scholar from Sumeru

Diluc’s mornings consisted of walking around the vineyard, checking on the grapes, and pulling away any that weren't purely perfect. It was a job that started long before the sun even rose and only ended right before the winery opened.

The day looked average. Nothing too out of place. Nothing except for you. With the way you were crouched so still, he almost didn't notice you, your unmoving form practically making you blend in with a bush of grapes. But there you were. Dressed from head to toe in the green Akademiya garbs, he hadn't seen a scholar outside of Sumeru in some time.

“You're quite a long way from home,” he finally spoke to you, crossing his arms to make himself look more intimidating, “And you're trespassing. The winery doesn't open for another four hours,”

You finally turned your head to look up at him with a look of confusion on your face, “But I'm not here for wine?” You said, tilting your head to the side. Finally you stood, picking something up that was next to you. A small notebook, an obvious accessory for a scholar, “I'm here for the grapes.”

One of Diluc’s red eyebrows raised in confusion, “We don't just sell the grapes,”

“I know that!” You laughed like he said something truly funny, even lightly hitting him on the shoulder. Your strike felt no heavier than a feather's touch against his built shoulder, “I'm studying them. Wine from Mondstadt is known to have the best taste, and I'm researching that.”

“By trespassing?”

“By studying your grapes. Good wine starts with its grapes,” you affirmed. You opened your notebook in front of him to show him doodles and notes that you’d written, all actually pertaining to grapes. So you actually weren't lying.

A small smile formed on his lips. It was like it was forced out of him. You were truly passionate about what you were doing, even if it was something as mundane as the grapes that went into wine.

“How about you study the grapes when the sun is up? I have a spare room in the manor that you could use,” Diluc wasn't one to shy away from kindness, but normally staying a night in the manor costs more than a few fun drawings and a charismatic character, but he felt himself falling into an ease around you.

“Could I? Really? Thank you,” You followed him as he led you up the steps to the manor. He knew he was getting ahead of himself, but he still let one of his hands fall and hold your waist as you walked up the stairs.

He was attracted to you, yes, his red eyes couldn't seem to leave your face as you talked on and on, but the hand wasn't placed there because of that. He wanted to make absolutely sure that you wouldn't stumble, like he didn't trust you not to trip and fall over your own feet.

If you noticed the hand, you didn't say anything and as the two of you walked into the manor together, the idea tickled his mind of never allowing you to leave.

Ayato -

a sneak thief from Inazuma

What you were doing was bases to have you killed. He wondered if you knew that. If you did then you were even more bold for doing it.

The maids in the Kamisato estate all had the same face to him. Obviously, they looked different, but remembering their faces and names wasn't too important to him. All that mattered was that they worked.

And worked you did, diligently at that, until all eyes were off of you. The first time he saw you do it, he thought he'd misunderstood. Obviously, you didn't notice that he was there, so when you took a silver teaspoon off of the tray, and dropped it into the sleeve of your obi, his eyes went wide.

He thought that it was a one time occurrence, that maybe he caught you when you were truly desperate. But then you did it again. And again. And again. You were outright stealing from the Kamisato estate, whilst being one of his loyal employees. And yet somehow he couldn't find it in himself to be angry about it.

Your brazen display of disrespect towards the Kamisato name was honestly a little refreshing. Yes, you still bowed when he approached you and referred to him by proper honorifics, but to know that right under his nose, you were still taking from him, that thought was rather thrilling.

While you thought you were being stealthy, and in truth you were. Your sleight of hands was one to be reckoned with. You were good, but not good enough for him to not notice. What you were doing was something you could be killed for. Treason. Blasphemy even. And he fawned over how he could use that against you.

[chlerc]

trouble in paradise ; jude bellingham

— summary; somewhere between the lines of being okay with everything, Jude, social media and the marriage. She wonders if she dodged the bullet or just lost the love of her life.

pairing — jude bellingham x university-student!f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 1270.

content — angst! long distance relationship hurts more than expected. Jude coming home to her to find himself losing her wasn’t the first thing on his list.

NAVIGATION + author’s note: i’m losing myself in angst, i love it so much you don’t understand. There’s nothing else but angst for me.

BEING MARRIED TO YOUR first best-friend, first crush and first love must have been everyone’s dream. She got exactly what she wanted with Jude, the best thing she could ever ask for. Yet at this point in life, it’s not really what she wanted anymore.

In London, there was no one else with her at home, their home besides the stacks of books and waste paper cluttering her desk. Her university mates and Jude, the Corgi she adopted and named after him just to have a reminder of him with her, was her only form of interaction. The picture of Jude and her when he first played his first professional football match, sitting on the nightstand beside her.

He promised, promised that he’d fly over and celebrate her birthday together. She should’ve known out of the countless promises he made, Jude would have never kept to them. And she tried, tried being okay and understanding of the demands of his job, his schedules. This career was everything he wanted in life, besides her.

Eight hours passed the clock striking midnight, passed her birthday and yet he was still nowhere to be found within the compound of their home. Her home, now. The sound of unlocking a door ricochets through the hallway, his tall figure coming to sight. Dressed in his white sweats and a graphic hoodie thrown over, a cap worn backwards.

“Love, you’re up early.” His voice gruff, outstretched his arms for a hug but she only stood there eyeing him, waiting for him to say more. Waiting for him to ramble his apologies and excuses or reasoning just like he always did. “You’re late, eight hours late.” The smell of the Dior Sauvage cologne penetrated her nose; he had been using the same one for as long as she remembered. The same cologne she’d gotten him the first time and he hadn’t used others then.

She’d like to believe that he loved her preference but truly, Jude didn’t care about anything else unless it’s related to his career or football. There wouldn’t be any changes simply because he didn’t care about it enough to put an effort into changing it.

“I’m sorry love, I was caught up in a shoot for an advertisement and I swear- Love, no no why are you crying? I’m sorry, I was late.” It wasn’t the fact that he was late or not. It was how he had been late even despite her reminder last Thursday and he said he knew it was as important to him as it was to her. Where did he end up being anyways? Late, like always.

It was the fact that along the lines of football and making a name for himself, she lost herself in the unwavering support she had for him. Lost herself to his list of reasons for missing out on a date, an important event or day. She was so okay with it that it wasn’t okay anymore. Birthday’s had never been important to her as long as Jude was here, but this birthday was important. It was more than a birthday, it was a revelation.

“I’m sorry for being late, love. I swear I tried flying in earlier but the shoot kept going on. I’m sorry, please tell me how I can make this work. How can I make you feel better?” Except there was no solution to making her feel better anymore. She always believed his promises but what was the point of making promises if you no longer kept to them?

“Just go Jude, I’ll be better that way.” She mumbled, crystal tears running down her cheeks and she wiped at them hoping Jude hadn’t seen it but he did. He always notices everything when it comes to her, when anything is related to her. “You’ve made it clear time and again that I’m not a priority.”

“That’s not true.” He sounds baffled, stepping closer towards her with his hand reaching for her only to watch her take a step back, putting the distance between them. “Isn’t it? Everytime you promised you’d be here, you’d always end up late. If you were wondering, it didn't matter if you were late or not. I wondered if there was an emergency at home and in Madrid, would you have been with me or in Madrid?”

“You know I’d always choose you, without a doubt love.” His vision filled with something foreign, something he had never felt in a long while, blurring his vision. “I don’t Jude, I don’t even know if you would choose me because you haven’t, in a long time.” A groan escaped, the burning sensation in the back of his throat like he just downed a shot of vodka.

“Please baby, I promise I can make it better, please just tell me how.” Usually his pleas and those tears running down his cheeks would have done it for her but not this time. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Jude.” He shuffles forward, engulfing her in his arms as his tears fall and probably wetting her shoulders.

“No, I’ll keep to this promise. Please just tell me how I can make it better. I can’t lose you baby, please.” Without her, there was no Jude. But he had lost her a long time ago when he missed those countless dinners, events, days and everything else when they should’ve been together. “Don’t be foolish Jude, you’d be happier without this, without me and I know it. Don’t hold on to something that doesn’t belong to us anymore, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“No, I’m not being foolish. All I ever wanted in life was you and I have you now, why would I let you go. I don’t ever want to let you go, please baby.” He snapped, voice so vulnerable it was strange to them. Why do people only realise what they have when they lose it?

She removes herself from him, wiggling out of his grasp and he yearns for the warmth of her body. It was truly then that he realised how long it had been since they even hugged. He was so caught up in his move to Madrid and settling down that he had forgotten about the girl that had been there with him throughout every step. The girl that he lost because of himself.

You are my one and only, today, tomorrow and forever. There’s no one else but you, and in every universe, I’d always choose you. She’d always kept to her vow even when she was in London studying and he was in Madrid making a name for himself. She’d always love Jude even if shouldn’t, even if she didn’t have the right.

I promise to be there for you forever, always. Jude always meant the vow when he said it, he still does. Yet between his intentions and actions, it couldn’t replicate what he said and promised. And he only realises it when it was all too late, when he should’ve been there and made the effort, the bare minimum he could have done.

“You’d let us go if you love us, Jude.” I love you enough for the two of us but there’s never enough with you as time passes. Those words were left unsaid and it’d always be left unsaid. He’d rather lose his career than lose her, but he doesn’t even have the chance to choose now.

20 September. He’ll always think of her on this day, eight hours after her birthday and the day he lost her. The day he lost himself. Without her, there’s no Jude Bellingham.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 . |Webs And All|.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

《When a Spider falls into a new world, she didn't expect it to be so.. "Batty" than the others she's been in.》

-

Hurriedly swinging on rooftops and walls, you gaze in awe of the night sky. Warmth filling your body as the night air floats on your suit. Taking in the night sky...

Before smog and gas cover it as you jump down on the roof top. Pouting at the loss of the clear sky as you frown.

"I forget how polluted this city is.." You grumble, going to the ledge as you place your arms on the railing. Gazing down at the city lights and billboards.

Blinking innocently at one of the paid advertisments, you squint at it curiously.

"Wayne Enter.. Prizes? Technology.." You giggle at the guy on the board. His charming smile and flirty wink was not something you've seen often for an ad for tech.

Well...

You start re-calling a few worlds that did, but with a another billionare..

"Hmm, well. That's enough day-dreaming!" You shake your body, wanting to get your jitters out before taking a deep breath... Shooting out one of your webs to a near by ledge as you run and jump off.

Feeling your body pulled downwards, you pull your web as you glide through the air. Twirling slightly as you smile underneat your mask. Laughing once more as you swing forward.

..Let's do things differently this time.

Your name is (Y/N) (L/N), you were bitten by a radioactive spider..

Yet you weren't the only one.

But now.. Your on your own, though you weren't the only one.

With a fleeting glance at you, the supposed.. Dark Knight: pays you no mind. Eagerly taking down villians left and right, as the two of you finish them off together.

You were supposed to be back at HQ.

Things didn't go as planned.

You made it work, with this "new" life of yours.

Stumbling over your shoes in a hurry, you place down the box of donuts on the big fancy board meeting table. Glad that the stairwell was open, sighing in relief, you miss the eyes that watched you leave the building. While you headed to your next job!

In this Au, Spider!(Y/N) is a temp-worker and delivery girl. Just an odd young gal doing jobs around Gotham, ordinary and sweet.

She has a multiverse-watch, handmade specifcally for her by Miguel. Being one of his first recruits to the Spider Society, yet with the new Multiverse-Canon she's stuck in, the watch forms within her body to make it more acceptable to deal within the world.

Due to this, she doesn't "glitch" is the best term

"Welcome! Lord Hades!" The man dressed in a toga greeted cheerfully. You squint in confusion. Glancing at your companion as you walked closer to his side.

"Ah.. And fair Persephone, it seems you've taken form as garden spider. How quaint!" He spoke jovially as he held out a golden goblet to the two of you.

"Be serious Max! That's Batman and-"

"But Batman is a mere mortal! And what mortal has reached the summit of Olympus and survied!" Placing a hand on Batman's shoulder, the man gestured to his cup.

"Come! Brother! Unveil yourself and your bride in the nectar of the gods!"

-Batman The Animated Series 1992 Ep: Fire From Olympus

Spider!(Y/N) doesn't know Batman's idenitiy, and funny enough. He doesn't know hers, in the beginning. I'd like to think maybe down the line there's a possibility! I just think it's silly-er.

I'd like to think the dynamic between the two is Batman served as a comedic foil to Spider!(Y/N). Sorta, "brooding guy-and happy guy". Also, I like to point out, they can both can be silly in their own ways!

Just them figuring it out with Batman is hilarious in itself.

Biting into the dish, you beam in joy! It tasted so sweet! And.. Tangy, with a bit of sour. Invested with the tasty dish, you fail to notice the striking blue eyes glancing at you from a distance. Naively standing alone in your waiter uniform as you nibble on the treat.

"Ah, Mister Wayne, good to see you." Jim Gordon, dressed outside of his usual detective get-up greets. Flattening down his suit before grabbing one of the fancy champange glasses from one of the servers.

"Oh, Commissioner!" He spoke in suprise, greeting him as the two started to chat. "-And there it was... Mister Freeze and that giant lizzard."

"Dinosur." Gordan corrected.

"Whatever, doesn't make any sense. What does Victor Freeze gain by destroying a bunch of bones?" The billionare huffed.

"That's the question alright, I wish I had the answer." The Commissioner sighed, brows lowering in thought.

-Batman The New Animated Adventures 1994 Ep: Cold Comfort

-

[This was a small personal project for me, I had this idea since Into the Spiderverse! I would honestly love some feedback for this! I also would love to hear your guys own ideas in the aak box!]

[your-averagewriter]

Lipstick kisses.

Summary: At the wrap party, Cooper and (y/n) get closer and closer before (y/n) leaves him with some lipstick marks as a reminder and a promise for later (pre apocalypse!Cooper Howard x fem!reader).

Word count: 1.4K

Warnings: kissing, sexual references

-

-

“Right here in the vaults is where you can live, so get your spot now before they run out and you can be as happy as us.” I say, looking into the camera, wearing a Vault-Tec suit that is molded to my body. Cooper’s arm is wrapped around my waist as we wear matching smiles, playing husband and wife for one of the new ads. They’re cheesy but they pay well and afford me a spot in one of the vaults which I wouldn’t be able to pay for myself.

“She’s right.” He places a well-planned kiss on my cheek. “It’s as easy as pie.” Cooper says, winking and dipping his finger in the apple pie they left for the shoot. “These walls allow us to stay safe and live the all-American lifestyle, they keep out the radiation and the Reds.” He says into the camera and it finishes filming.

“That’s a wrap.” Someone from behind the camera says.

“Great, are we done then?” I ask and everyone disperses, including Cooper and me.

“Wrap party.” Someone pats me on the shoulder, I turn around and it’s Cooper.

“Wrap party? We’ve only filmed a few ads, it’s not like we filmed a movie.”

“Damn feels like it sometimes with all the takes.” I chuckle.

“So where’s the party?”

“My house starts at 8:00, most people won’t turn up until past 8:30 - you know how parties go.”

“Well, I’ll see you later then.” I say with a small smile before walking away to get into my usual clothes and head home before going to Coop’s party.

Getting home, I lay out my outfit, picking out a long red dress that is form-fitting and pack a little black handbag with my matching lipstick, a box of cigarettes, a lighter, keys and phone. Double-checking my makeup in the mirror, I slip on my heels before leaving and driving to Cooper’s house.

There’s a crash on one of the roads so the traffic is awful as I try to get to the wrap party but I end up getting there quite a bit later than expected - definitely past 8:30. Finally I pull up, having to park down the hill a little due to all the good car spaces already being taken.

It’s a short walk to get to his house, when I go to knock on the door, it’s already open and I can hear the music vibrating throughout the house. 

I navigate my way through the people, talking to some as they greet me - being one of the main actors in the advertiser means my name is plastered on the billboards. I find the kitchen easily despite the people crowding it and pour myself a drink in the tacky red cups.

I busy myself with the drink, trying to ignore the eyes on my figure, noticing that I didn’t understand the dress code, ending up in a much fancier outfit than anyone else. Tiring of the loud noise and not seeing anyone I truly knew, I head outside, walking over to one of the benches, facing away from the building and towards the pool and pulling out my cigarette pack and lighter. I place a cigarette in between my lips and try to light it but my lighter doesn’t work. 

I flick the lighter again and again.

“Hey darlin’, need some help?” I turn around to face Cooper with his lighter in hand. Looking up at him, he lights the cigarette for me.

“Thanks.” He sits down on the bench next to me.

“Not enjoying the party, sweetheart?”

“I don’t really know anyone here. They’re all on the business side of things and they seem to know me, it freaks me out.” I chuckle, taking a drag from the cigarette.

“Well, at least you look the part.” He grins. “You look stunnin’.”

“Thank you, I feel like I stick out.”

“You always stick out ‘cause you’re so pretty.”

“Not what I meant.” I chuckle as he takes the cigarette from my hand, lingering a second longer, his eyes on mine before lifting it up to his mouth and taking a long drag.

“Oh, I know exactly what you meant and I still think it’s a good thing. Don’t know how I didn’t see you sooner with this little get-up.”

I look him up and down, looking at the suit he’s wearing. “Since when did you wear suits?” I take another hit.

“Since I got a reputation.”

“I like you better with your cowboy attire.” I show a slightly dopey smile, maybe slightly influenced by the drinks I had earlier…

“Me too, darlin’, me too.” He laughs, taking a sip of a glass of whiskey he brought out with him. “I’ll wear the cowboy hat for you next time. Maybe we could have a party for two, dinner maybe.”

“Are you asking me out for dinner?”

“I’m asking you in for dinner. I make a mean spaghetti bolognese.” He wears a small grin on his face. “So what do you say?”

“That sounds nice. I like pasta. And you, of course.” I say, turning to properly face him, blowing a ring of smoke towards him with a smile

“Well, that’s good because I like you quite a bit.” He leans forward slightly, matching my smile, and moving forward slightly.

“Cooper, (y/n)! I hope I’m not interrupting.” Sebastian walks over, sitting down on the bench opposite the both of us.

“‘Course not.” I say, quickly pulling away with a slightly flustered look.

“You were interrupting actually, Sebastian. I was just about to kiss this pretty lady.” Both the men laugh while I sit there looking mildly embarrassed.

“Well then, I’ll be on my way. Hopefully I’ll see you later on, if you two don’t get too carried away that is.” He jokes, laughing.

“So embarrassing.” I mumble, head in hands once Sebastian leaves.

“I was just being honest, sweetheart. Now, where were we?” I look back up at him.

He pushes his lips against mine gently as I reciprocate, matching the delicate nature - almost as if he thinks I'll break. After a few seconds I pull away and can't help but chuckle as I look at his face.

“What? What is it?” He asks with a small grin.

“Nothing.” I decide not to tell him about the lipstick smudged on his lips. “Sorry.” I chuckle.

“C’mere, you.” He says, arm around my waist to pull me closer to him, a smirk on his face before he presses his lips against mine again.

I wrap my arms around his neck, resting them as we pull each other closer. I pull back to press a few kisses to his jaw, relishing the little lipstick kisses that are left behind.

“You're a little minx, you are.” He mumbles, I smile softly against his skin, continuing before making my way back to his lips.

I feel one of his hands travel up my thigh, his rough hands against the smooth skin exposed by the slit in my dress. He caresses the skin gently, rubbing little circles.

I play with his hair, my arms still resting over his shoulders gives me access to the back of his head also allowing me to pull him closer.

I feel his fingers reach under the slit of my dress and I pull back to reach for the hand with a conflicted smile.

“Cooper.” I say almost like a warning. “We're at your party and in your garden.”

“I don't mind.” He shrugs with a dopey smile.

“I mind.” I say, “Besides, people will be looking for you.” I stand up, holding his hand and leading him to stand as well. “C’mon.”

“Fine.” He huffs, worried he's missing out as he walks back into his house.

I lean over until my mouth is just by his ear.

“Y'know, if you wanted I could stay back a little later?” I whisper but it’s barely a question as I already know the answer, pulling back with a teasing smile before walking away again, leaving him with the lipstick marks as I find a bathroom to reapply my lipstick with a knowing smile.

Re-joining the party, I try to socialise with some other people but I make sure to keep an eye on Cooper talking to people trying to hide their hushed chuckles. Finally, I watch someone break the news to him as he walks over to one of the mirrors in his house, turning his face to examine the damage before he looks over at him. I send a small smile, feigning innocence as he shakes his head.

“Little minx.” He mumbles with a small grin.

-

AN: I hope you enjoyed reading!

I'm actually in love with Cooper, I swear (Ghoul form and not)

If you want a part two to this fic then let me know (I don't write smut though)!

[morganitering]

Survive the Night (Mahito x fem!reader)

Warnings: Non-con/Rape, Graphic Depictions of violence

Contains: Smut, PWP, PIV - penis in vagina sex, degradation, psychological/emotional manipulation, face-fucking, threats of violence, fuck or die, sexist language, reader is into it lowkey

Word count: 5,1k

Summary: You had readied yourself for a party with your best friend, only to find Shibuya in a disarray, and yourself caught up in a war that wasn’t yours. Somehow escaping the monsters, you end up running into the lap of another kind of predator - an intelligent one.

A/N: Hey hey, this is my first fic and first smut! And ofc, I started with the most degenerate bs I could do. I don't even simp Mahito, but my bestie is down bad and what type of friend I'd be if I didn't help them out. English isn't my first language and no beta. Be aware of the warnings, they are there for a reason. Otherwise enjoy and feel free to like and comment <3!

Read on ao3

It was utter madness. There were screams so chilling that your heart started to ache in an empathetic rhythm, but this was no time to be kind and understanding. It was time to survive and survive you wanted, but your legs refused to move.

You saw people running around like headless chickens, crossing the roads, bumping into each other, as creatures of various sizes and colors roamed the heart of Shibuya, hands and mouths gaping open, reaching to anyone they could. You stood still despite the sheer fear in you.

You looked at your friend, cold sweat forming on your brow as you assessed the situation. Her golden wig falling on the ground in the force of a purple hand grabbing her. She cried out to you. Her Sailor Moon wand replica fell to the asphalt with her other belongings. You had a good bit of distance between the two of you since you tried to run over the crossing road in a hurry towards KFC.

The purple hand squeezed remorselessly. You could see it in her face, the sound of little crackling of her rib cage turning to bits and pieces inside her body, puncturing every vital organ one by one.The hand kept on squeezing, probably not even using force. The creature dropped your friend’s body next to her items. She was disfigured and limp like a soggy rag doll. You had seen death once after losing your grandparents, but this was no peaceful death due to old age, this was a god forsaken massacre.

It was supposed to be a fun night out. You hadn’t dressed up in anything special, but you wanted to support your friend so you had gone to her place, a few hours prior ending up going outside, hoping for the warm buzz of alcohol in your veins and maybe, if you were lucky, a lover you could regret in the morning.

But in all honesty, this was a script from a horror movie. You had always joked with your friend how you both would be the first ones to die in one, but neither of you had been serious about it.

“Fucking move!” You heard a man yelling, snapping you out of your trance. The purple creature’s multiple eyes were all looking in different directions in search of another victim.

You did what the stranger told you to.

Your body pumped out adrenaline forcing your limbs to finally move with strength you did not recognize in yourself. You started running as fast as your legs could take you, neon lights of advertisements flashed on your face as blood of other party goers covered you as they were snapped open, ripped in half, guts and viscera leaking on the ground. Puddles of blood splashed on your calves when the soles of your boots hit the ground. You were just livestock running away from the butcher in a small room, knowing full well that there was no escape.

Metallic taste popped in your mouth as you evaded monsters and people alike. Some folks were brave enough to fight against the creatures of the night. You were not one of them.

You took a turn on the left. An alley behind some type of shady restaurant. You noted that somehow the screams had quieted down. Your breath came out at an uneven pace as your lungs fought for their life to give enough oxygen to your struggling body.

You leaned on the brick wall, heart beating in every part of your body utter exhaustion knocking on the door. Instead of collapsing you just trembled. This is not real. This is not real. This is not- a sob interrupted your frantic mind.

Searching for the source of the sound your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit alleyway locating a hunched over figure. A man? He cried heavily, rocking himself back and forth on the dirty ground as his hands fisted the black fabric of his trousers. He was sitting next to a dumpster that was filled to the brim with plastic bags almost not being able to contain the multitude of waste. In hindsight you probably should’ve left the man on his own to tend to the trash.

You assumed him to be a victim of the attack too. Or maybe he was just drunk, you told yourself with suspicion in your mind.

“Sir? Are you ok?” You asked as you got closer to the sobbing man. It seemed like he didn’t even notice you, he just kept shaking and muttering to himself in between sobs. You were fairly sure that he knew you were there and since there was no answer you decided to attempt consoling him.

You dropped down on his level and stroked his arm gently. You weren’t the best at this type of stuff, but you felt pity towards the blue haired stranger wallowing in his thoughts. Suddenly you felt his arms stretching around you holding onto you like a child embracing their favorite toy during duress.

Panic seeped into you. You didn’t know this man at all, but you figured that he needed this and honestly maybe you did need it too. Awkwardly you placed your hand on his head, your blouse getting wet from the stranger’s snot and tears. His hair was luscious and soft, in a different situation you might have even been jealous.

“It’s going to be.. okay?” That was honestly the best you could do in your state of shock. There was a weird sort of kinship in his breakdown. Had you not been still full of fight or flight reaction you would probably be in the same situation as he was. Instead you felt calm as a day almost clear headed.

Bit by bit he collected his demeanor. His shoulders still shook, but it no longer felt like he was a spare leaf in a summer storm.

“I know a place,” he said, head still against your chest. You heard him but you were confused by his words.

“What?”

He raised his head now looking at you with his mismatched eyes. His face was full of stitch patterns as if he had been broken down and put together multiple times. You soon noticed him having that on his arms as well.

“Sorry, I meant that I know a place. I don’t think we are safe on the streets yet,” he said sniffling pathetically.

“You’re probably right. Where is it?” You asked.

Patch faced man stood up and offered his hand towards you which you gladly took and pushed yourself off from the asphalt. Having been in this place longer now, you really did not want to spend the last moments of your life next to the smell of biowaste and piss.

You walked behind the man who took determined steps towards the main street that was completely empty.

“Sorry I probably gave you a big scare,” he brushed his hands through his hair, swaying a few sections of almost ponytailed hair to the other side of his shoulder.

You wanted to say that there was no bigger scare, than the stuff that went down in the heart of Shibuya. A crying weird dude was a welcome change to the horrors, but you stayed quiet.

“My name is Mahito. Thank you for being there for me,” he smiled gently at you. You tried to return his smile as you told him your name.

“I like your name,” his tone was easy going and friendly.

“Here,” he pointed at an empty restaurant a few blocks further away from the alley.

The restaurant was still lit up, but completely empty. Its decor was homely and somehow very industrial. The lighting was warm and yellow with few pink-ish tints on the brick wall with a statement piece made out of pipes and lightbulbs. Overall it looked like a hipster’s favorite lunch place.

Some of the tables had half drunk beverages and meals. There were some spots where tableware had dropped on the floor and pieces of porcelain lay on the ground with napkins soaking into cream sauce.

Mahito found you both a clean booth and sat you down there as he sauntered over to the restaurant bar. You looked at him in confusion as he grabbed two clean glasses pouring soda from the soft drink dispenser.

“No harm in drinking something sweet after all this, right?” He said trying to smile again, yet it did not really reach his eyes. He seemed awfully cheery for a person that you had found crying just moments ago. It was as if he was wearing a mask. Maybe it’s a shock reaction, you intellectualized his behavior to yourself.

Mahito placed the drink in front of you as he sat next to you on the booth. You were squished between him and the restaurant window with nowhere to go. You hadn’t really noticed how big he was until now. You took a sip from the sweet drink looking at the bubbles that were forming on top of the dark liquid.

“So what happened to you?” You asked him, curiosity taking the best of you.

“I-,” he started confidently but quickly stopped. Mahito looked down at his hands that were placed on the cold table. You saw sadness on him.

“I watched how my friends died," he said quietly. “It was horrible. We were supposed to go to our favorite club. They were supposed to have some type of costume competition,” he explained.

“What are you supposed to be? It looks neat though, really real.” Maybe you tried to lighten the mood or maybe you were just really socially inept.

“Thanks, but uh, I’m not really supposed to be anything. I just learnt to play around with some sfx makeup. My big sis taught me,” he reminisced.

“I hope she’s not here too.”

You both fell silent, whether it was awkward or kind of nice you couldn’t decide. You had not even thought about your other friends that might have been stuck in the area as well. If there were any gods left you would make sure to pray to them every day were you to survive this hell of a night.

“I saw my friend dying too, by those monsters,” you said, sharing your own story.

“Really? What was it like?” His face seemed to light up in awe and as he did that you raised your eyebrow in slight annoyance.

“Sorry, that came out wrong. I just. I don’t know. It all happened so fast,” he quieted down again, seeming regretful of his words.

“Disgusting,” you said, not addressing his apology.

Mahito’s eyes were now on you staring at you like a hawk. You didn’t really notice that as your eyes seemed almost glassy looking at nowhere in particular.

“She had spilt her guts onto the street,” you choked out the words as the picture of your friends dead body stayed on your mind like a thistle.

“Was there a lot of blood?” You felt the warm breath on your cheek, but you were so deep in your mind that only displayed the picture of the hand closing on your friend. You saw her eyes again, her mouth open in a shrilling scream that almost got drowned in the other voices, but to you it was almost amplified, it was the only scream that really mattered. You saw the blood that she coughed up as her own body got crushed and what was meant to protect her and hold her upright punctured her to death.

“Yes.” It was just a whisper of a voice. A tear fell down on your lap and your lips were slightly parted, your body shuddering at the horrible memories. Mahito’s face was now nuzzled in your neck and his eyes were half lidded with a slight smile decorating his face.

“You poor thing,” he cooed. “I’m sorry”, something about his words did not feel sincere at all. The blue haired man’s body started shaking and you heard the most absurd sound that returned you to this moment. You knew you had not said anything funny, so why was he laughing?

Mahito was almost doubled over as he roared next to you. He started clapping his hands like this was the best thing he had heard in the century. He opened his eyes that were now watering from all the laughing and placed his hand on your shoulder.

“You humans are truly pathetic!” He kept on giggling. You pushed his hand off from your shoulder, your mind still in disarray trying to grasp the things he was saying. His words hurt you and it felt unbelievable that this is the way he would react since he had lost someone too or was his sob story a lie? Part of you wanted to curse at him, but some part of you, supposedly the sane one, told you to tuck your head down.

“Oh noo, my little friend had spilt her guts onto the street. Oh woe me! I saaw someone diiiee.” Mahito drew out every syllable as he was mocking you and your tone, making exaggerated sad expressions and he brought his fists to his cheeks to make a boo-hoo movement.

“You idiots die all the time.” Mahito’s face turned serious as he sneered at you. His mismatched gaze steeled on you as he stared you down saying nothing for the time being.

Every alarm was blaring in your mind. Time felt like it was stopping just like it did during the attack. Mahito no longer looked like the almost boyish lost figure that you had found having a panic attack. Now he reminded you of a crazed beast toying with its food and you weren’t about to stay to find out how far his unhinged behavior could go. You had to take your chance of leaving.

You pushed the table with all your might as you took hurried steps out of the booth quickly giving thanks to whoever had decided to not to nail the furniture on the ground permanently. Glasses of soft drink toppled over and rolled to the floor and shattered into hundred little pieces as you hopped clumsily over the crazy man’s body.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” Mahito grabbed your wrist, his nails tugging into your flesh painfully. He had now stood up and was towering over you with an unreadable face.

A faint smile appeared on his face and he looked almost gentle again.

“I’m not going to kill you,” his voice was smooth like one of the finest silk.

“Look- I’m sorry for you and whatever happened to you, but this clearly was a mistake. I hope you have a goo-”

“Shut up.”

Mahito inhaled as if he was smelling the most appetizing meal, relishing in the lack of your voice.

“Much better.”

He was still holding onto you as he raised his free hand on your face to caress your cheek in an attempt to calm you down. Guess it was his turn to be in this role, although at least you had been sincere about it.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Mahito repeated, his eyes trailing down to your lips.

“I do have something else in mind,” he said, taking his gaze back to your eyes.

You gulped audibly and managed to squeak out a question of what he had in mind then. You knew already. Of course you did.

“This theme of death and destruction. It reeaally has got me worked up,” Mahito monologues on.

“I might be a curse, but I’m not beyond needs. I am interested in the human soul and its weaknesses as well as its wickedness,” he kept talking as his thumb started to trail down slowly towards your jawline “but I’m also interested in this”, his hand stopped at your throat.

His touch was feather light and had it not been this psychopath of a man touching you you’d gladly welcome it. Mahito’s words didn’t make a lot of sense to you, but you got the gist of it with threats and all.

“You can choose to fight me.”

He now had his whole palm on your oesophagus, his mismatched eyes shining dangerously.

“But you will lose.”

Mahito squeezed gently as a warning and let go of the wrist he was holding. He grabbed you by your scalp, bunching up some of your hair to tilt your head upwards.

“Do this with me and I’ll let you live. Maybe you even have a good time as well, or maybe I don’t care for your comfort at all and I’ll ditch you to the streets half dead with your panties tangled up in your ankles for the whole world to see your shame,” he blabbered on and stopped. He looked like he was thinking about something really important, pursing his lips together, tipping his head side to side like a cartoon character.

“I haven’t really decided yet,” his voice was sinister.

Your body had gone cold. Do this and he’ll let me live, you thought to yourself fighting the urge to flee. You didn’t want to anger him further, not that there was any winning chance with this man at all. Everything had gone the way he wanted from the moment you had laid your eyes on him.

“Okay, I want to live,” you rasped out.

Mahito looked content, almost affectionate. ”They always do.”

After those words the world turned into a haze. His lips were soft and plump. He was a demanding kisser, not that you even had imagined him to be a kisser in the first place. You thought that you would be simply bent over, but Mahito proved you wrong. Not because he cared, but because he simply did what he wanted to and this was what he desired.

He might have promised you pleasure, if you agreed to do this somewhat willingly but his soul was tainted, and you knew that were you to find enjoyment under him, it would be just a happy surprise to you.

His tongue delved into your mouth. It felt gross. Invading. His hands had moved to your waist going all the way down to your ass squeezing too hard to your liking. He swiftly lifted you up and placed you on the now dirty table where you had been hanging out just moments prior. His boots made crackling sounds as he stepped on the pieces of glass.

You felt sticky as the cola seeped onto your skirt’s fabric but Mahito did not seem to care. He pulled your hair, exposed your neck and bit as his other hand groped your breasts with force bordering on pure pain. Tears were forming in your eyes as your body and mind fought each other.

“You know you should feel special,” his breath felt hot against your neck. “Not everyone is able to see me, let alone touch me”

“Yet here you are.” He pressed his tongue on your cheek and licked away the one spare tear.

He ripped open your blouse cold breeze kissing your torso, before Mahito’s hands were on it. He grabbed your bra, stretching out the fabric with both of his hands until it snapped. He threw the remnants of your underwear on the ground placing his palms on your bare chest. He played and kneaded the tender flesh, arousal waking up in your core.

Mahito pulled you closer to him, your skirt hiking up till your hips with the fabric pressing on your skin, leaving you feeling uncomfortable. You felt him against your clothed sex, only his trousers, your stockings and panties between the two of you. Your breath hitched and his eyes darkened even more.

“I like this look on you humans, when you feel conflicted as to what to feel,” he teased you with shadows dancing on his face as the overhead light got covered by his head.

“He’s a bad man, he’s a crazy man, but why oh why do I like it?” His voice got higher as he imitated a feminine voice, playing up the caricature of a woman.

He pressed his hand between your legs, swiping slowly up feeling the moisture that had gathered there.

“Case in point,” he grinned satisfied. His fingers stopped at the sensitive bud and he started making slow circles looking intently at your face savoring every micro expression as you involuntarily bucked your hips up.

Your cheeks were burning up as small moans escaped your lips. You fought with yourself, tears threatening to spill over as your body moved on its own. What would your friend think if she saw you like this? She had suffered the most tragic death and this man had mocked you in the middle of a crisis and now you were enjoying his attention.

It was as if Mahito knew what buttons to press to get you going. You closed your eyes as you panicked under his touch. He applied more pressure on you as you helplessly grabbed the side of the table. Mahito’s grin widened the stitches on his face stretching out.

“Any self respecting woman would have run by now, even if it meant that they’d get killed in the process, yet you chose to spread your legs wide open to me,” he mused as he continued playing with you.

“You really must want me!” He let out a cold chuckle. Everything he said and did felt like an amateur theater student’s performance. He loved excess, big movements, big emotions - he was like a chaos incarnate. Insane, you thought to yourself, that’s what he was.

His fingers traveled on your panties over to the spot where he reckoned your entrance was and pressed lightly inside leaving a wet mark on the fabric.

He snaked his hands under your stockings waistband and started pulling them down with your panties. The only clothes you had on yourself were the buttonless blouse and a miniskirt that hid nothing. Mahito opened his trouser’s zipper and pulled himself out, giving a few languid pumps to his length.

“What do you say, you show me how much you want me and we’ll see how wet you can get when you service me?” He proposed already dragging you off the table and pushing you towards his cock.

You lost your balance and both your knees and an arm pressed on the glass shards on the stone floor as you tried to not to fall on your face. You winced from pain and you saw blood trickling down as Mahito laughed at your discomfort. Thankfully the pieces were not very big and they’d only leave a surface level wound but it still didn’t lessen the pain.

“Say aah!” Mahito grabbed your chin pushing his cock on your lips, smearing himself over your face.

You took him in your mouth hesitantly, a slightly salty tasty spread on your tongue. Unlike you, he did not hesitate and quickly snapped his hips forward setting up a brutal pace. You tried to be careful of your teeth as Mahito’s hands found themselves in your scalp.

It was hard to breathe, drops of saliva dripping on your chin and bare chest. All you could do was gurgling pathetically at his assault.

Mahito’s grip on your hair tightened as he hummed and moaned happily, an expression of pleasure on his wicked features. His voice got loud, unashamed of the way he was sloppily face fucking you. His sounds did something sinful to you, sending sparks straight to your core. It was a losing war you were fighting and Mahito reveled in it. You moved your own hand into your folds in a desperate attempt to relieve the burn in you earning genuine laughter from the man.

“Now we are talking, you’re getting into this aren’t you?”

Mahito pushed you towards his pelvis forcing himself down your throat, your nose pressing onto his skin. You were choking and your body involuntarily thrashed around him, but he kept you firmly in place.

“Relax, keep it there,” his voice was out of breath as you spasmed around him helplessly. You tried to bear it, but every passing second proved your task harder. You squeezed your eyes shut feeling the trails of mascara in various stages of drying on your cheeks.

Mahito pulled himself out with a loud groan. You were gasping for air as violent coughs shook your frame, his cock still standing in front of you in all its glory.

“You’ve got a splendid mouth, but right now I’m craving your cunt.”

There were no breaks for you as he manhandled you up and pushed your torso against the table. Your tits pressed against the cold wood, your hips pressing on the sides of the table. You felt messy, degraded even, as your slightly wet face came in contact with the surface.

Mahito started pushing in you carefully and you gasped, when you felt him widening you forcing you to make space for him.

“W-what about protection?” You talked for the first time.

“Not on the pill, eh? Well don’t worry your pretty head about it, it wouldn’t work anyways,” he said and sheathed himself fully in you.

Then it began. Skin against skin, noises of pleasure filled the empty restaurant leaving only your ever increasing cries reverberating in the establishment. His hips kept snapping onto yours, chest heaving as he panted and moaned. You loved the sounds that you both made your cunt tightening around him when an especially beautiful whine left his mouth.

You cried out loud when he found that one spot inside of you after one particularly powerful thrust. Your brows furrowed, hands seeking a place to hold onto as you quietly said his name. You hoped that he wouldn’t notice, but of course he did. Riled up from your reactions he made sure to angle himself so that he’d get to see your further succumb to the decadence of his actions.

His hands trailed towards your neck admiring how your hair was sprawled out messily, some strands sticking to your swollen lips. He massaged your back finally digging his nails into it and scratched it for fun.

“Isn’t that- ah- something”, you tried talking, “I’m supposed to do?” You were referencing his peculiar actions.

“Already thinking of the next position? We’ll see about that,” he jested but his words lacked bite as he pleasured himself using you.

Your back was burning as he kept swiping across leaving pink streaks on your skin. He grabbed your throat and squeezed gently, not trying to restrict the flow of your breath. He had had enough of that for now. It was merely a gesture to show who had the real power here.

You were getting close feeling the familiar coil about to snap. His movements got rougher and more sporadic. He drove into you like a beast, going deep into you at times hitting your cervix. You babbled incoherently, no longer caring for how you appeared, the only thing occupying your mind was the need to sprint to the finish line.

Your thighs trembled as you were on your tiptoes. The table inched forwards every time Mahito drove his cock in you. He was nearing his own end. He placed his fingers on your clit rubbing it haphazardly, partially disregarding how sensitive it was, hoping that this would drive you off the edge.

You didn’t know where pleasure and pain started or ended. They melt together creating one hell of an addicting concoction and you wanted more. Gods, how you did want more, your juices dripping on your thighs. You felt lightheaded and suddenly the sparks turned into a flame that engulfed you, spreading to even the most distant parts of your body.

Mahito fucked you through your orgasm and somewhere in your haze you felt him still when his cock pulsated in you as your body involuntarily returned the favor. Some part of your brain that was still present wanted to push him off, tell him to mark you somewhere else, anywhere else but there.

The blue haired man collected his breathing as relaxation coursed in his body. He pulled himself out of you looking curiously at the spot where you were just connected, delighted when he saw him trickling down your cunt. “Beautiful,” he muttered to himself as he looked at the wreck of a woman in front of him. The woman stayed put, probably too tired to move.

The restaurant door opened and heavy footsteps thumped on the floor.

“Is this really the best usage of your time?” He was disapproving.

Ah Choso, ever the killjoy. Mahito turned around not caring that the man who just came in would see all of him.

“God, put that thing away,”Choso said exasperatedly.

“We’ve been looking for you. Geto’s getting antsy when he doesn’t know our whereabouts,” Choso explained, taking a quick peek at the woman laying against the table not looking one bit more aware of her situation.

You were vaguely conscious, body and mind bruised from the event that just took place. Hands still ghosted over your skin even though you knew that Mahito was not paying attention to you at all. You felt exhausted, so exhausted that you felt yourself slipping to your mind looking for somewhere safe. It was like a dark veil was put on you, your vision blurred looking at the two outlines of men. Who was the other one again?

“Aw, that’s a bummer. I wanted to have more fun,” Mahito said, pouting.

“I think you’ve had enough of that already. Let’s go,” Choso turned his back to the idiot of a curse.

“Goodbye sweetie, try to get into a better position. You’ll break your neck like that,” Mahito addressed you jokingly as the wooden door shut behind them.

Breathing heavily you watched the two men walk outside from the huge windows. Mahito was practically skipping forwards while the dark haired man put his hands in his pockets and shook his head. Muffled laughter reached your ears and you were sure you’d recognize that sound for the rest of your life.

You maneuvered yourself up, body wobbling as if you were training to walk on a tightrope. You stretched out your arms rolling your shoulders to relieve the tension gathered in your tired muscles. You pulled your skirt down and tugged at the remnants of your blouse against your chest in a desperate attempt to cover yourself up.

You looked around the restaurant spotting a low table with couches as the seats. They were too small for an adult to lie down on, but that would do. You fluffed up the pillow and curled up into a ball skin feeling sticky due to all kinds of substances, but that was the least of your problems.

You wondered miserably, did this count as survival. If it did, the gods that let you still draw your breath had a shit sense of humor.

[eternalsa2z]

GGLAM: Krystal

"Hiiiii Krissy! Welcome to GGLAM!"

Kristie had been going to "GGLAM By Polly" for a few weeks. Normally a high end salon wouldn't be her thing. But after "Paula's Cuts" shut down and was replaced by this Barbie-like boutique, her choices were limited. Of course, it also helped the the bubbly and beautiful Polly 'grandmothered' in all of Paula's old clients, offering the old prices for whatever their old styling used to be.

Of course, Polly was always pushing for this or that. Telling her client that she'd look cute with extensions. How she should totally go blonde. That thick and curvy waves with a full body were sooooo in right now. Kristie would always decline the over-enthusiastic bimbo, who to her credit would always drop the subject and do something simple. Kristie did appreciate that her stylist always listened and obeyed her...or maybe the ditz just forgot she offered a total makeover just a few minutes before.

"You're hair is soooo soft and shiny and pretty! Do you trust me?"

Honestly, she did. Polly was exciteable but never did anything Kristie didn't want. So whether it was the stylist's adorable eagerness, the endless happy salon music, or an inner curiosity wearing her down, she relented and consented.

With a squeal of excitement, Polly got to work. Blowing. Teasing. Fluffing. It felt like forever and Kristie almost dozed off as the bubbly beautician tried something new and exciting. When the makeover artist's long acrylic nails tapped on her shoulder, Kristie stared at the mirror in a daze.

"You're such a good girl letting me give your hair a makeover! Do you like it?" Polly asked hopefully.

Kristie nodded. It was...pretty. Sexy almost, but not too over the top. She liked it. Somehow, for some reason, she wished Polly had gone further.

"OMG your face is flawless! You're, like, a literal Barbie!"

Kristie blushed, even if her face didn't show it under all that foundation. Polly's compliments were what convinced her to do more this time. Sure, her hair was kept simple, just washed in a special silicone enriching bath that Polly kept gushing about. But this was the first time Kristie had agreed to pay for the 'Pretty Girl Package'.

The results were stunning. The pink lipstick, the pink top, the little sparkly earrings all made her mind sparkle. She couldn't help but giggle with giddiness alongside her stylist, especially after Polly told her that the package meant she could take all the products home for free.

"Look at you Krissy! Ur, like, a living advertisement for GGLAM! An adorable doll on display!"

As Kristie posed, she processed the words. Her new blonder and curlier hair. Even her somehow curvier form that fit that new dress juuuuuuust right. For a moment she tried to think about it, whether the change was too much. But Polly played that catchy little jingle from the salon as she snapped some photos and Krissy forgot what she was worried about.

There was nothing to worry about! All she had to do was let Polly make her pretty. Wear the cute clothes. Be a GGLAM model. It was soooo easy and soooo nice to let someone doll her up and dress her so sexy. It's like Polly was always saying - Good Girls Love A Makeover!

"Yesssss Krissy! Look at my little blonde angel! You're shining like a diamond...or like, a Krystal!"

Krissy felt amazing. After weeks of makeovers, special supplements, enriching hair treatments she finally went blonde. 'Bimbo blonde' as Polly called it. They left a bit of Krissy's dark roots as a reminder of her old self...but, like, Krissy could barely remember what she looked like before she started working with Polly.

But Krissy didn't worry. Or think. She just did what she was told. Sat obediently in the chair. Gave a smile for the camera. Did a little twirl on command. Polly knew best. Krissy trusted Polly. Krissy would be GGLAM's good girl model.

"Krystal you've been, like, an uh-may-zing client! I've sooooo loved helping you become the super pink girly girl bimbo you told me you were on the inside!"

Krystal just posed and pouted prettily. She, like, didn't 'member telling Polly that she wanted to be a bimbo. Or even looking like such a girly girl before. But, like, Polly must've known. She always knew what was best!

Now Krystal looked her best. She was a bit sad Polly said that after her latest pink makeover her 'Good Girl Package' was done. But quickly happiness took over as her cotton candy pink brain saw her candy pink new hair and yummy new body. As pink and pretty on the outside as she was on the outside, with a hawt new bod to match her mind.

"Hiiiii this is GGLAM by Polly, 'cuz Good Girls Love A Makeover! I'm Krystal...how can I, like, help make you beautiful?"

She stared blankly at the mirror, absent-mindedly brushing her hair and admiring her makeup. Her simple little mind couldn't memorize much beyond that silly short intro line, but luckily Polly had a 'lil repetitive tape that helped drill the greeting into her head. GGLAM's new reception needed to make a good first impression!

After month going to GGLAM, Krystal always made a good first impression. Especially after Polly plumped up her lips even more. It was sooooo worth it quitting her old job. Not only did she, like, get to hang out at the salon allllll day, but Polly gave her comp...complimen...like, free makeovers for working there! It was totes the best deal ever!

She was a total GGLAM girl now. But as she talked the next client...she hoped she wouldn't be the last. Good girls love a makeover...and bimbos need besties...

[roguelov]

Crimson Stained Petals (Chapter 5)

Summary: Set in the 1880s, rumors and mysteries swirled around a quaint town, mostly about a lord tucked far into the woods. Arriving in town, you could not deny your curiosities, but you were not here to stay. Or so you thought. Low on funds, and a job for a live-in servant advertised in the paper, you now found yourself in the home of Lord Morpheus - the source of all rumors. Passions and tensions will grow. Questions will be answered, but may come at a hefty price. And a promise may be broken. But, is Lord Morpheus, and those few residents, truly as scary as they seem?

Words Count: ~6.1k

Reader: Fem

Warnings: fluff, pining, heated makeout, bloodlust, some angst

Chapter 4, more chapters to come!

With a single exhale from the universe, days flew by on the breeze. Your once tense nerves for the party suddenly formed into bubbling excitement. Yet, before you could stew in such emotions, the day of the party arrived. As the sun slowly descended, you began to get ready and luckily Lucienne happily offered to help.

“You look stunning,” Lucienne commented as she finished up the final touches.

Your hands ran over the fine material. A bashful smile curled over your lip and you muttered, “Thank you.”

She smoothed out the dress once more. She stepped back, smiling at you. “Now go, you don’t want to be late.”

You stumbled out your thanks as she ushered you out of your room. You laughed then walked towards the front door. From the front entrance, Morpheus heard your footsteps and sweet melodic laughter. His back faced you, yet as you rounded through the corner he peered over his shoulder. In a single look, you revived his ancient heart.

You were draped in a matching color: an inky midnight black. The neckline plunged rather far, a revealing cut. Thick, velvet, straps looped over your shoulders with fine silver fabric mimicking tassels draped and swayed over your bicep at every fraction of your movement. The dark corset delicately cinched your waist, elongating your figure. Silver embroidery - swirls, spirals, with floral accents - trailed across the top of the corset. The same pattern was added onto the skirt, winding down the side and along the bottom. A single slit ran up the dress revealing the dark ruffling underskirt - or so the illusion. With every movement, a small train behind you swished. The final touch were silk black gloves pulled up past your elbow.

It was elegant, it was expensive.

It was also a gift from Morpheus for this special night.

Morpheus slowly remembered how to breathe again as he fully turned around taking you all in. “You’re beautiful.”

You bowed your head, feeling a heat rise to your cheeks, “Thank you.” It was such a simple compliment, yet coming from him it meant the world to you. “And you look handsome as well.”

Morpheus wore a pristine three piece all black suit. A notable design was the similar swirling, floral pattern on his vest, however it could only be seen up close. It was black on black, and still striking. His pale skin glowed against the void of color. His eyes sparkled like gems, blue topaz seen dangling from high society ladies’ ears and necks. He was the epitome of night, not an ounce of color on him this evening, not even his usual ruby.

“Thank you,” he smiled softly. He extended his arm out to you. “Shall we?”

You easily returned his smile, and looped your arm through his. “Yes.”

Morpheus led you out to the carriage, and the awaiting driver. He kindly opened the door for you and helped you in. For a moment, you were royalty. And you secretly indulged in the fantasy of riches and glamor. You were from wealth and not a lowly worker. You were about to have an evening of adventure and fun with your date -

Date?

Plopping down into the seat, you stewed in such thoughts as Morpheus joined you. He slid into the seat across from you and asked the carriage man to please go. It would be a long ride and it was best to start now. The sun had already set, leaving hints of its warm light still clinging on the horizon. Yet, neither of you panicked. It was a ‘midnight gathering’ per Robert Galding’s words.

You jerked in your seat as the carriage lurched forward.

Date? You thought again. Is that what you truly were tonight? Were you his date or was this a simple act of kindness? Yes? No? Somewhere in between? No, you were a simple employee who struck gold with such a generous employer.

Or, so you continued to tell yourself.

Even if a part, deep down, wished otherwise. A part of you with a voice so small and neglected over the years. If it could just speak, if it could just have this for a moment. But, perhaps it was best to not indulge in such dizzying fantasies. He was your boss and -

“Are you okay?”

Jolted by his voice, you snapped out of your thoughts. You blinked, staring wide eyed at him. “I’m sorry, what?”

Morpheus offered a soft lopsided smile. “You seem … lost in your thoughts I suppose, are you okay?”

You laughed nervously, pushing aside your previous thoughts. “I guess I’m a little nervous. I haven’t had much experience in parties.”

If any.

“I’m sure you will do well. It will be fun, a nice change of pace,” he offered.

You nodded. “I’m sure it will be.”

Hopefully.

He smiled, leaning back into his seat. “Relax, we have a long journey ahead.”

Your eyes dropped down as his leg gently bumped into yours, a small reassurance. Your heart flipped then quickly settled. His calm aura, his charming smile, the way his head tilted back further into the seat, how his eyes softened as you stared, you were spellbound by him.

His calmness radiated, making you calm.

In a few short hours, you arrived at an extravagant home - a mansion. Warm light oozed out of every window and opening. Soft chatter and laughter of people enchanted your senses.

Morpheus stepped out, graciously took your arm and guided you to the front entrance of the home. Standing inside the main hall, a man talked with a woman. His laughter was so loud and so contagious. His smile radiated. He was a dash of sun during these dark hours. His chestnut hair, flecked with grey streaks on his temples, was slicked back and nearly touched his shoulders. His chin was stubbled with a faint beard, a certain ruggedness to his otherwise soft appearance. His suit was a fine charcoal grey, soft and subtle, like the color of a rain cloud blowing away on the wind revealing the sun behind it, or grey found in the pebbles of a riverbed full of fish and life. He was a breath of life, and you were instantly in awe of him.

The woman giggled then shuffled off into the ballroom off to the side. The man’s warm eyes swiveled, locking onto the pair of you. His eyes instantly lit up. “Morpheus,” he greeted, smiling ear to ear.

“Robert,” Morpheus said with a far more reserved smile. Morpheus turned his head addressing you. “This is my dear friend, Robert Gadling. Robert, this is my company for tonight, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Robert reached over, taking your hand and politely kissed your knuckles. “Pleasure, and do please refer to me as Hob most of my friends do.”

“Pleasure, Hob. You may simply call me, (Y/N).”

Hob smiled, beaming and bright. “So, how do you know our dear dark friend?”

“Oh, well, I’m actually one of his employees,” you mumbled, slightly embarrassed. “I’m a live-in servant. I mainly do house chores.”

“She is my plus one,” Morpheus interjected. “And that is all I wish to hear from tonight.”

He didn’t need, nor want, more gossip.

Hob glanced at Morpheus with a certain flint in his eyes and nodded. He glanced back at you, still smiling, “Well, I do hope you enjoy yourself tonight.”

“Thank you.” You returned the smile.

Morpheus led you into the room. He greeted a few others and introduced you, but you quickly forgot their names. It was a bit overwhelming. He steered you to a table filled with refreshments. Picking up two filled glasses, he passed one to you. You both silently cheered before taking a sip. A sweet wine coated your tongue and down your throat. You hummed, thankfully for the alcohol hoping to settle your nerves.

Morpheus leaned into you. “I am going to speak with Robert, will you be okay by yourself?”

You couldn’t deny the quick douse of fear over your heart. Your eyes darted to the other guests who laughed loudly. However, you simply smiled at him. “I believe I will be, I’m more than capable of handling some social interactions.”

He chuckled lightly. “Good, I will be back shortly.”

He strolled off to Hob, who stayed by the ballroom entrance to greet any other late guests. You eyed the crowd, sipped your drink for a boost of courage, then decided to try to talk with others. You hadn’t spoken to many on your way in, you might as well see what these fine folk are like.

Morpheus slid up beside Hob. His eyes were still on you as you made your way to the crowd of people. Hob followed his line of sight and snickered under his breath. He turned to look at his dead old friend with his ever charming smile. “So, a mortal?”

Morpheus did not respond initially.

”Although. I did specify not to bring Lucienne, you still somehow managed to bring an employee of yours.”

”Is there a point you are trying to make?” Morphues tore his eyes away from you.

Hob continued to smile, one that was endearing and kind. “I’m simply glad you came.”

Morpheus was slightly taken back.

”It’s good to see you out again. You haven’t visited me in years, and had declined my other invitations so I’m happy to see you are doing well.”

Morpheus’s gaze slowly peered back at you amongst the crowd. Your smile was wide and beautiful, and your laughter was still the most wondrous melody he had ever heard. “I am, better than I have been in years.”

“Good.” Hob pushed himself off the wall. “I do believe it is time we start the party, I hope you don’t mind what I am about to do.”

Unaware, you laughed as a woman recounted her lively escapades with countless partners.

“Excuse me?” You twisted around to see the host, Hob, with his hand reached out to you. “May I have the honor of dancing with you?”

“Oh, um,” you hesitated, seeing how Morphues was nowhere to be seen. But, you couldn’t be rude to the host of the event. You carefully placed your hand in his, “Yes, you may.”

Hob smiled and led you over to the dance floor. It was nerve wracking. It wasn’t the honor of dancing with him, but also the first dance of the night. Your nerves must have been apparent because Hob joked, “You don’t have to worry, if anything I should be. I have two left feet.”

A smile tugged on your lips as your nerves settled. Hob gently spun you around and instantly the musicians - who eagerly waited - began to play a beautiful melody. Hand in hand, arm on waist and shoulder. hob led the two of you in a circle to the heart of the song. Quickly, and thankfully, others began to join. The dance floor was filled with a sea of people and a cacophony of noise.

“So,” Hob began as he twisted you around, “how did you come to know our dear brooding friend?”

You laughed once. “It’s not an exciting story, quite plain actually.”

”Tell me, if you can.”

”Well,” you sighed, “I travel often, and wanderer I suppose, never in one place for too long. I was in town and saw an advertisement in the local paper for a live-in servant to do housework. I was low on funds and decided to take a leap.”

Hob nodded, “I see, so happenstance?”

”Correct.”

”And I hope you do not mind me asking, but why haven’t you set roots somewhere? I understand the need to see the world, I also don’t stay still for long.”

“Like you said, to see the world and sometimes my feet are already moving before I can hear the call myself.” Your smile turned somewhat sorrowful. “I am always looking for something. I’m not sure what it is, but I’ll know it once I see it.”

Hob’s eyes softened. “And I hope you find what you are looking for.”

Suddenly, Hob’s eyes flickered behind you. A knowing smile curled on his lips. A new hand tapped on your shoulder and a familiar voice asked, “May I have this dance?”

Looking behind you, Morphues stood in the moving sea of spinning people with his hand offered out. You glanced back at Hob, and he gave a small nod. You can go, it said. You faced Morpheus smiling widely, “I would be honored.”

You placed your hand into his and instantly the world faded away. Taking your hand, he spun you around almost as if he was showing you off. He brought you close as his free hand landed carefully on your waist. Despite the layers you adorn, you still felt it.

“I hope Hob wasn’t too much for you,” he asked, leading the dance.

You laughed lightly. “No, not at all.”

“Good.”

Dancing with him, the world melted away. It was you and him, nothing else. Two hearted pounded in unison as feet echoed the chaotic beat. If others were watching - and they certainly were - you did not care. Sparks flew. Words needn’t be said. Each of you were utterly entranced. You danced and danced, pulling and pushing each other. The gap between the two of you seemed to shrink and shrink with every step and turn.

He was so close.

So tantalizing close.

Morphues spun you around, bringing your back to his chest. His hand laid flat against your stomach. His other hand held your wrist still leading the dance. He dipped his head, his hot breath fanned across your ear.

“Care to join me for a breath of fresh air?” He whispered.

You tipped your head back, and hummed, “Yes.”

Off the dance floor, and your arm looped through his, Morpheus led you away from all the commotion. Through the pair of double doors, he stepped outside onto the terrace. On the lawn, there was a cobblestone path leading to a fountain with an assortment of bushes and flowers lining the path. It was open, and freeing, with its rolling hills surrounding the property. You could see to the farthest home with its lights still aglow inside. You could imagine picnics in the sun, or tumbling down the hills like a child. It was gorgeous, yet the hills brought a silence unlike the constant chatter of the forest.

Morpheus guided you down the cobble path and around the fountain to a bench. He sat down, his back to the fountain and manor. It was a miser of privacy, but he was willing to take it. He needed the fresh air, he needed just a moment alone with you. He gazed up ahead at the twinkling stars and crescent moon. You carefully sat down beside him, however you did not look uo. Instead, you looked at him. He was the night. The color of his hair plucked from the dark corner of the night sky, his skin bathed in starlight, and his eyes were like two moons brought to life from legends.

He was a god of night.

Stunning, lovely, and frightening all at once. He was dangerous, you knew that. A man of power, and a man of prestige. And yet, you could not stop your heart from fluttering in his presence, you could not stop yourself from constantly seeking him out, you could not stop thinking about him.

Delusion, such blind delusions.

He was dangerous and charming, a wicked combination.

But, for a moment, you allowed yourself to live in these dizzying emotions. If just for a single night. Let me have this, let me pretend, let me dream. You leaned over, with your heart in your throat, and pecked his cheek. “Thank you for bringing me,” you whispered. “Even if I was your only choice.”

Morphues whipped his head. Surprise and confusion battled in his eyes. You were so close. He could hear your wild heartbeat, and he knew his own matched it. He could smell your impossibly sweet blood coursing through your veins igniting his courage while also driving him to near insanity. Your soft breath hitched, your lips parted, and your face under the moonlight beckoned him - like a moth to a flame.

Or a predator to its prey.

Your words finally broke through his stupor. “Only choice?” He repeated those words, almost unsure he heard you correctly. “My dear, it was never a choice. I brought you - I came here - to show you a good time. If anything I should be giving my thanks that you agreed to join me.”

”But, you didn’t have to, even if your friend heavily suggested -“

”If I did not wish to come, I wouldn’t be here/ And you have been so kind and wondrous with your stay. I wanted to repay your kindness.”

He didn’t have to. He didn’t need to say a thing to you, yet he constantly sought out your options and checked in on you. “Why?” You asked.

Why me?

“Because I wanted to, is that so wrong?”

”No, no, it’s not,” you shook your head, “I just cannot fathom that a man of your stature acts the way you do.”

It doesn’t make sense.

“Should I ignore you? Scold you? Treat you poorly so that you hate working for me?”

”No, I -“

He leaned forward, his hand rested on top of yours. All you saw and felt was hime. His hand sparked a fire across your fire and burned its way into your chest. ”Please, stop questioning my generosity. I do what I do because I want to. I wanted to bring you here, I wanted you to meet my friend, I wanted to dance with you, I wanted you to be here with me.”

You couldn’t breathe. He stole your breath, your thoughts, and any sane reasoning. Don’t. Don’t do it. Your logical side urged you, it was here to protect yourself. However, you could not hear it over the sound of your own heart, a heart full of want and blinded by rose colored glasses. You couldn’t hear it over Morpheus’s voice that sang sweetly in your ears. You couldn’t see reason when he was directly in front of you, and how his soft lips tempted you.

Damn everything for just a moment.

In a flash, you closed the gap and kissed him. It was short, a quick peck on the lips. You may have gathered the courage to act, but you didn’t want to overstep. You pulled away - a small sliver of space to breathe and collect your thoughts. Opening your eyes, you were met with the most beautiful blue imagainable, a blue which haunted your dreams. You leaned away as an apology formed on your tongue.

However, Morphues was a viper.

His hand shot out and wrapped around the back of your neck, bringing you back to him. His lips collided with yours. This time he wanted to savor it, he had a tasting and it wasn’t enough to satisfy him. He eagerly parted his lips, begging for entrance. And why would you deny him? It was messy, it was intense, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. You were set on fire by him, consumed by him.

He tilted his head, and slipped his tongue inside. Instantly, you moaned, unabashedly and surprised by how easily he pulled out such a sound by you. You gave yourself over, letting him learn how to make you sing.

And sing you would.

His tongue swirled around, making your skin flush. You grabbed the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. Your bodies flushed together like puzzle pieces. A hum rumbled in the back of his throat. His lips were impossibly soft and addictive. The touch and taste seared into your mind, a memory to always look back on. A hauntingly sweet memory.

More. He wanted more.

He gently lowered you down on the bench. His hands landed on either side of your head. He finally broke the kiss, staring down at you - you who was somewhat sprawled out so lovely on this stone bench. You looked delectable, you looked ravishing, you looked like a goddess he was ready to drop to his knees and pray to. Your chest heaved frantically. He could hear how your heart raced, and how it raced in tandem with his ancient one. You had brought new life back into this immortal.

Staring up, Morpheus was casted in the moonlight. An angel of mythos or the devil of temptation, you couldn't decide. However, in this moment, you frankly didn’t care. Salvation? You never cared for it, especially now. Under the moonlight, his eyes almost seemed to glow, unnaturally so. A trick of your drunk mind - drunk on alcohol, sin, and love. You reached up, caressing his face. He immediately leaned into your touch. He turned his head and kissed on top of your glove on the inside of your wrist.

A flare of desire and hunger swirled inside of him. It was deadly to play with them, but he couldn’t leave this moment yet. He weaned to savor every possible second until the clock struck.

Or before the monster called.

He kissed down your arms. You hummed, craning your neck. You threw your arm over his shoulder, not wishing him to leave. He nuzzled his face into your neck, inhaling your scent. He groaned.

Dear lord -

His lips traced over the vein in your neck. Your blood called out to him. He could feel the pulse by his lips, beckoning him. He tentatively kissed the crook of your neck. Hearing you sigh in delight, he continued. He trailed butterfly kisses up and down your neck, feeling you squirm under him. He slowly placed an opened mouth kiss on your neck and you shivered. Desire surged through him. His teeth grazed over the unblemished skin, and he thought it a crime to not tarnish it.

Part of him, lost in the moment, wanted others to see. He wanted them to know you were his. No hands shall touch you unless they want repercussions. He began to nibble on your skin. You breathed out a moan, drawing him closer. You didn’t dare let him leave now.

He could imagine countless nights tangled together. He could imagine you laid out on his bed, on his silk sheets. He could imagine how you called out his name like a prayer. He could imagine mapping out your body with his lips. He could imagine how your back would arch under his touch. He could imagine how your eyes would droop in lust and want. He could imagine himself begging for a taste. He could imagine you smiling and turning your head to reveal a faint scar where he already fed before. He could imagine how sweet you would taste and how the pain brought ecstasy. He could imagine -

His incisors lengthened, beginning to poke at your skin. Unaware, and drowning in bliss, you hummed softly. Morpheus slowly began to apply pressure. His once playful intentions were replaced with something more sinister. Pain and pleasure mixed. Morpheus could not, and would not, stop. He had you in his grasp, and all he wanted was a taste. Just a mere taste. Back in the garden, it wasn’t enough. You lingered on his tongue constantly all day and all night.

More. Just a little more, a voice growled in his thoughts.

However, pain grew to discomfort, it was no longer pleasure. You hissed. He felt it. He felt your heartbeat jump, not out of lust but fear. He smelled the surge of concern wash over you. It was bitter. He instantly lurched back. He hovered over you. You opened your eyes, meeting his. His eyebrows furrowed together as sorrow stained his eyes. You tried to say something - anything - to calm him, to keep this going. But, he was gone. He muttered under his breath, then ran off.

It happened all so fast, like in a blink. One moment he was drawing out such desires, the next he vanished. Like a mirage, a dream. Now, you were left on your back, breathless, trying to claw at the fleeting memory. You wanted to savor, to hold it close to ensure it was reality and not some fantasy of the night.

“I’m sorry.”

That was what he said. The two words finally caught up to your ears. He was sorry, but why? Why would he be apologizing? Was it you? Was it -

You sighed, deeply. The fantasy, the allure of the night, had finally washed away. You shouldn’t be delving into such delights. Not with him. You sat up, and ran your hand over your neck. You winced slightly under the tender flesh. You glanced back at the light of the manor, to the cheers of people and music. Now, you had to walk back and pretend to others as if they did not know what happened, as if the signs were not slowly forming on your neck.

You walked away, not daring to glance back at the space which held a new secret. It was best to get back to the manor, best to get back to reality. You shouldn’t mix yourself with him, you knew better. Slipping back inside, you scanned the room. No one paid any mind to you, perhaps too drunk to care. However, you did not see Morpheus, no signs of the regal dark king.

The idea of the ride back, those long few hours, weighed on you. The tension, the awkwardness, and the obvious confrontation was going to be unbearable. Yet, you continued on your search because you wanted to go back, you were done with this silly dream, done with your delusions. You only needed Morpheus to return back with. If you can find him, which was somehow proving to be more difficult.

You did, however, find Hob. He was leaning on the wall near the doorway to the main foyer and ballroom. He was watching over his guest ensuring they were still enjoying themselves.

You approached him, “Excuse me, Hob?”

Hob, who was enjoying a moment of solitude with a drink, smiled at you. “Yes?”

You glanced around once more, yet still no Morpheus. You sighed deeply, addressing Hob. “I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Morpheus?”

“I’m sorry, I have not.” Hob frowned, “Has something happened?”

“No, I just wish to go home now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to see you go. But, I will keep an eye out for him. If I see him, I will tell you straight away.”

“Thank you, Hob, I appreciate it.” You turned and fell into the crowd, moving through the crowd of people trying to find him.

Hob sighed and leaned his head against the wall. “I suppose you heard that.”

On the other side of the entrance, Morpheus was pressed against the wall hidden in the edges of darkness. Yes, he heard it all. And, it pained him greatly. He ran his hand over his mouth, still feeling your lips and skin on his lips. Most of all, he felt his incisors still out seeking your blood.

“I did,” Morpheus mumbled.

“You should talk to her.”

“And do what?” Morpheus hissed. “I nearly killed her tonight, Robert. And I can still feel myself being pulled in by her.”

“And what should I do?”

“I’m not sure. I simply can’t be alone with her, for I am afraid I will hurt her gravely.”

Hob sipped his drink. “I understand.”

A silence hung over the pair. Hob watched as you circled the party still looking for Morpheus and even asked a few others. Meanwhile, Morpheus was only a few feet away.

“I’m surprised you brought her.” Hob whispered. “A mortal and one in your care, it’s just like -“

“Do not speak his name.” Morpheus’s tone was cold, and intimidating. Hob was crossing a line, one neither spoke of but knew existed.

Hob, however, quickly brushed over Morpheus’s threat. He wouldn’t speak his name, but he would warn his friend. “I worry about you, Morpheus. That is all, we all do. I just hope you understand what will and what always happens to mortals.”

“I am very aware of their lifeline, Hob.” More than most realize, he bitterly thought.

“… I … I just don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Morpheus frowned at Hob’s gentle tone. Hob was truly his closest, and only, friend he had. He trusted him without a doubt. “I believe we both know pain is permanently ingrained in our long lives.”

Hob snorted, taking another sip. “Yes, I cannot disagree with that.”

“Please,” Morpheus mumbled, completely broken. “Tell her I fell ill, or that I already left. Send her away in our carriage, and I will find another transportation home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I can’t be near her now.”

“Okay.”

That was all Hob said, before he pushed himself off the wall and walked towards you.

Morpheus peered out from behind the wall, and watched. Hob smiled as he approached you, only for his smile to drop like a well timed act. He told a lie, and said to take a carriage home. Your face dropped, but before sadness could take hold you smiled. You thanked Hob, and wished him the best and to hopefully see him again. You held yourself high, and buried your emotions deep. You would not break, at least not now in public.

Morpheus’s heart squeezed. To think he caused this, to think he brought heartache upon you, it nearly ruined him. And in a way, he believed he deserved it. Was he not a monster after all? Did he not almost lose himself and try to kill you?

Hob, taking your arm, led you out. While, Morpheus slinked away into the darkness, into halls unseen. Like the monster he was. Hob walked you outside and saw you out. With a flick of the reins, with a whine of a horse, Morpheus now knew you were safely away from him. When Hob returned, he headed directly towards Morpheus casted in his shadows.

“She is gone.” Hob stated.

“I know.”

“And so how will you get home?” Hob asked.

“I have my ways.”

Anger and discontent roared inside Hob. “What will you do? Run the whole way? Ride a carriage and pray the sun doesn’t touch you? You are not even wearing the charm I gave you, how will you protect yourself now? You think you are faster than the sun, or do you want the sun to catch you? Or do you think my magic can do such great feats of sending you away in a blink or stopping the sun from rising?”

Morpheus’s lips thinned.

Hob sighed heavily, dropping his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I am just worried for you.”

Morpheus’s expression softened. “I know and I appreciate your concern. But, I can see myself out.”

“Morpheus, please -“

“I will be fine, I assure you.”

Hob wanted to argue more, but Morpheus had been set in his ways. “Okay, but do make it back alive. If not for my sake, but for her sake.”

Morpheus blinked, then sighed. “I will. Thank you for inviting me, Robert. I do apologize for the inconvenience I thrusted upon you.”

Hob waved him off. “Nonsense, it makes for an exciting night, just keep in contact more.”

“You have my word.”

Morpheus was out the door before Hob could properly say goodbye. Outside under the moon, Morpheus tipped his head back, exhaling deeply. He opened his senses allowing the world to flood through him once again. Hob’s comment about running home was partially true. Perhaps if he was in his younger years, and if he had fed properly recently, he could have surpassed you in the carriage. However, he was older and muscles had not been used in so long. He had resigned himself to a chair and desk, dealing with stories and business. Instead, he could make it home before sunrise, but not before you. No, you would walk into an almost empty manor with questions and thoughts he could not answer.

No, not until tomorrow. Or if he had the courage to do so.

He looked towards the direction of home, towards you in the carriage vanished from sight. Inhaling, he turned then stepped once then twice then sprinted away. One moment he stood in the driveway of Hob’s home, the next Morpheus was gone. All that was left behind was the sounds of wiping wind, and regret.

Meanwhile, you stewed in your thoughts. Hob had lied. You knew that. It was evident on his face. Morpheus was not sick, he was hiding. But, why? Why the lies? What happened by the fountain? What changed?

And why did you care so much?

You closed your eyes, and rubbed your temples as a headache slowly formed. To think tonight ended in such an unbelievable way. You nearly wished to go back in time and warn your younger self. But, you couldn’t. So, instead, you sat here with bitter thoughts and a confused heart.

When you arrived at the manor, in the dead of night, you quietly thanked the carriage driver. He said nothing, only rode off. You slowly approached the door, and it dawned on you: you had no key. You internally groaned, but knew one person was home. Ringing the bell, you winced at how long it resonated throughout the silence. You, thankfully, did not wait long. The door swung up revealing a slightly disheveled Lucienne. Her glasses gone as she blinked trying to get her bearings.

“I am so sorry, Lucienne,” you apologized. “I truly didn’t wish to wake you, but I didn’t have any choice.”

Lucienne’s eyes landed on you, then darted behind you. “Where is Lord Morpheus?”

“Still at Robert Gadling’s. He had fallen ill, and insisted I go without him.” You so easily spewed out the lie you were told.

Her eyes widened, “Is he okay?”

“I believe he is, he is under Mr. Gadling’s care that I see no reason to cause concern.”

Lucienne nodded. “Right, well, I do hope he comes home soon.”

You didn’t respond to her statement. “May I come in?”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Lucienne stepped aside and allowed you through. She shut and locked the door behind you. Turning towards you, Lucienne asked, “Are you okay?”

“What?” You spun around.

“Are you okay? Traveling alone and for so long, not to mention having to leave Lord Morpheus, I suspect you might be in some distress. Which is unfortunate after what I hope was a lovely evening.”

“Oh, yes, well the night was fun, certainly unforgettable.”

Lucienne smiled, softly. Her eyes were clearly tired.

“I should let you go,” you said. “You must be tired, for I know I am.”

She chuckled lightly. “Of course, goodnight.”

The two of you started to parts way, but Lucienne froze halfway up the stairs. “Oh! Before I forget, there is a letter for you.”

“There is?” You glanced up at her from the bottom floor.

“Yes, I went to the post office this morning and the worker there asked me to give it to you. I placed it on your desk in your room.”

Your eyes darted to the hall, to your room. “Thank you, and again I apologize for waking you.”

“Nonsense, it soothed me knowing you made it back okay. Maybe we can talk more tomorrow about your adventure,” she smiled, making her eyes crinkle.

“Yes, maybe.” You returned the smile, despite it not being as genuine as hers.

“Goodnight,” she hummed sleepily.

“Goodnight, Lucienne.”

Walking into your bedroom, you first started the task and annoyance of undoing the corset and peeling off the layers. You sponged yourself off, then threw on a nightgown and robe. You nearly crawled into bed, utterly exhausted when you remembered the letter. You changed course heading towards your desk. Picking it up, the sender was titled: Alvin Sheng. A pen name you recognized. And instantly, you were greeted with relief and dare you say some nerves. Opening up the letter, you moved to the window using the moonlight to read it.

My Dearest,

I hope this letter reaches you well while on your new chapter of your life. In your previous letter, you spoke of your new job - one you implied of utmost importance. I am impressed to say the least, but I do hope you know what you are doing. If anything - and I do mean anything - arises please do contact me. But, as you are like myself, I know you will accomplish what you set out. I just implore you to be cautious. So, all I want to say is I wish you luck, and I hope to hear - or to ease my old heart, see - from you soon.

Please write again soon.

Much love and sincerely,

Alvin Sheng

To you Alvin Sheng was your loving uncle, to most he was a nobody, however to the hidden dark world lying beneath it all he was a legend: he was Van Helsing.

[katareyoudrilling]

The Sweepstakes: Dave York (Porn Star AU)

Pairing: Porn Star Dave York x Female Reader

Summary: You’ve never been able to explore your kinks with a partner.  Could a night with a porn star give you that opportunity?

Word count: ~2.6k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: kink negotiation, some choking and breath play, unprotected PiV (paperwork is involved), oral sex (m and f receiving), multiple orgasms

A/N: This is rougher sex than I have written before, and I definitely got in my head about it.  Please heed the warnings, but also know that it’s still me writing it, no matter how much Dave York tried to say otherwise.  The company mentioned is heavily inspired by Bellesa.  Bonus points to anyone who can guess which performer in particular inspired this one.  Enjoy!

Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio and on my Masterlist

You can’t believe you’re standing in the room you’ve seen so many times on your laptop and phone.  White walls, hardwood floor, gauzy white curtains, and most importantly… the bed.

You take a deep, calming breath and wipe your damp palms down your leggings as pace around the room waiting for him to arrive.

It all started when you saw an ad for “The Sweepstakes” advertised on your favorite porn site.  It said, “Enter for a chance to win a night with your favorite porn star!”  You filled out the form before you could even stop to think about it.

You won and now you wait anxiously for your choice to arrive – Dave York.

You love Dave’s videos.  He can go from laughing and flirting to intense and demanding in the blink of an eye. It’s ridiculous how much that dichotomy turns you on.

You don’t feel turned on right now, though.  You feel very, very nervous.  You take another calming breath just as the doors open and Dave York walks in.

In his more scripted videos, he’s often cast as a businessman, wearing a suit and tie, or maybe just a dress shirt and slacks.  In the casual, unscripted ones, he wears all black.

That’s what he’s wearing today.

His black sweater strains across his broad, muscled shoulders.  Track pants hang low on his trim waist.  He’s clean shaven and his dark hair is short and neat. If it weren’t for the intensity of his gaze, he would probably just look like an average guy.

He’s anything but.

Dave extends his hand to you and introduces himself.  You manage to fight through the haze of nerves and arousal to do the same.

“Erin asked me to go over your sexual interest survey with you to make sure we’re on the same page, since your tastes run on the rough side.”  His deep, gravelly voice vibrates through your body sending jolts of need to your core.  It’s so much better in person than through a tiny phone speaker.

You met with the director, Erin, earlier in the day to sign releases and fill out paperwork related to your sexual history, health, and interests.  You even agreed to be filmed for your private use.  A chance like this doesn’t come around every day.

You nod and Dave looks down at the papers he’s holding.

“Let’s start with spanking, how hard do you like it?” he asks, warm brown eyes meeting yours.

“I… uhhh…. I don’t actually know,” you stammer.  Dave waits patiently for you to continue.  “My partners have never been willing to uhh… try things with me.”  That’s an understatement.  Not only have your partners not been willing, they have looked at you like you were crazy.  “I like watching it.  I like it when you do it,” you choke out, heat flooding your cheeks as you look anywhere but at him.

Dave sets the papers down on the bed and reaches for you, lifting your chin up so you meet his eyes.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed.”  His hypnotic, liquid chocolate gaze starts to melt the tension you’re holding in your shoulders.  “We can try these things and find out if you like them, but you have to talk to me.  If you can’t, then we can’t.  Can you do that?”

You nod.

“Say it,” he commands, but not unkindly.  Heat floods your center.

“I can do that,” you answer, a bit breathlessly.

“If you say no, or stop, or anything else to indicate something isn’t working for you, I will stop immediately.  Understood?”

“I understand.”

“Good,” he smiles and picks up the paper again.  “Let’s talk about breath play.”

A burst of adrenaline floods your body as Dave moves closer to you.  Holding your gaze, he lifts his arm and places the heal of his hand against your collarbone.  Your heart beats loudly in your ears as he gently wraps his fingers around your throat.  You can still breathe normally even as he squeezes gently.

“I will not squeeze harder than this, is this ok?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Good, remember at any time you can tell me to stop, and I will.  Now…” he removes his hand from your throat and brings it towards your mouth.  “I will only cover your nose and mouth for five seconds at a time, ok?”

“Ok,”

“Let’s practice.”

Staring intently into your eyes, he covers your nose and mouth and counts to five.  Your fingers and toes tingle as the adrenaline courses through your body.  Dave’s pupils dilate as he watches your reaction.

Five seconds isn’t very long at all, but you gulp in air when he removes his hand.  The rush goes straight to your head and you sway towards him.  Large hands steady your shoulders.

“How was that? Are you ok?” he asks, his voice husky with his own arousal.

“That was… very good,” you reply shakily.  Your pussy is already throbbing, and you’ve barely begun.

“Good,” Dave murmurs.  He’s still so close.  You can feel the warmth radiating off his body, he squeezes your arms before letting his hands drop.  “Is there anything else you want?”

“I want…” you take a shaky breath, locked into Dave’s hypnotic gaze, “to be thrown around a little.”

Dave licks his lips, “Fuck yes,” he replies, closing the distance between you.  “You want me to use you?”  His eyes are as black as his sweater as he crowds your vision.  Desire ripples off him in waves.  It hits you that he desires you and it and makes your knees weak.  You nod, hypnotized by his gaze.

“Can I kiss you?” he practically growls.

You whimper yes and melt into him as he plunges his tongue into your mouth.  He’s so intense and overwhelming.  God, you hope the cameras are already recording.

Your head swims with arousal as he explores your mouth, pulling you tighter against his broad frame.  Your hands fist in his sweater as you fight the urge to climb up his body.

You break apart panting.  Dave steps back, his large hands helping keep you steady.

“I have to take this back to Erin,” he swallows and holds up your paperwork, now slightly crinkled from getting crushed between your bodies, “and give you a few minutes to make sure you haven’t changed your mind.”

Dave steps away from you and heads for the door.  You can’t help but notice the bulge in his pants that wasn’t there before.  You lower yourself to sit on the edge of the bed on wobbly legs.

He pauses at the door and turns back to you, “One more question.  Are you wearing underwear?”

“No,” you blurt out, surprised.  He smirks and leaves the room.

You collapse backwards onto the bed, taking in a deep lungful of air to try to calm down.  You’re embarrassingly wet between your legs.

No.

Not embarrassing, you correct yourself.

Just because your previous partners haven’t been open to trying these kinks does not make it embarrassing that you are into them.  There wouldn’t be a whole industry devoted to these things if you were the only one.  Dave certainly seems to be.

You push yourself back up to sitting.  The nerves you felt when you waited for him the first time have burned away in the wake of your arousal.  Your knee bounces impatiently as you wait for him to come back.

You pop back onto your feet when you hear the door handle begin to turn.  Dave enters the room with a question in his eye.  You nod.  There is no way you have changed your mind.

He stalks towards you like a jungle cat and pulls you into another kiss, hands cradling your face.  He’s less desperate this time, but still eager, confident, demanding.

You allow your hands to run down his sides, over the rippling muscles under his thin sweater.  You feel the divot at his hipbone, but instead of trailing down to explore the swell you feel against your abdomen, you slip your hands under his sweater and draw them up his back.

Dave chuckles and breaks the kiss, allowing you to pull his sweater off over his head.  You drag your fingers down the smooth, golden skin of his chest.  You whimper as your fingers get to the waistband of his pants.

He reclaims your mouth with a curse and turns you, so the backs of your legs knock against the side of the bed.  His large hands roam down your body and hitch under your thighs.  Before you realize what he’s doing, he lifts you up and tosses you onto the bed.

You squeal as you bounce.  But before your bottom hits the bed a second time, Dave whips your leggings down past your ass and pushes your knees into your chest.  He dives into your pussy like a man starved.

Your squeals of surprise rapidly turn into moans as his expert tongue sweeps over your throbbing cunt.  His question about underwear makes sense now.

Your hands scrabble for purchase on the bedding as Dave presses you open and feasts at your core.

All the buildup of being here, discussing your list, and finally getting to kiss and touch the subject of so many of your fantasies has you pulsing against his mouth in no time.

Dave pulls back from you to stand by the bed with a satisfied smirk on his face, pulling your leggings the rest of the way off and tossing them on the floor.

As your orgasm fades, leaving you boneless on the bed, you can’t help the huge smile that spreads across your face, or the laugh that escapes your chest.

“What’s so funny,” Dave watches you from beside the bed, eyes twinkling.

“You just… just…. that was so good and I’m just so glad I’m here,” you smile up at him.  You’re no longer nervous.  You’re excited to be here and experience all of this with him.

“I’m glad you’re here too.”  Dave begins to pull down his track pants and you scramble up and over to him to kneel eagerly at the side of the bed.  Now it’s Dave’s turn to laugh.  “Do you want something, beautiful?”

You preen internally at the nickname and don’t even bother to hide your enthusiasm.

“I want to suck your cock.”

“Look who has things to say now.  I think that orgasm loosened your tongue,” he teases you gently, his eyes flashing with humor and want as he frees the cock you’ve been dreaming about.

He’s so perfect.

You lick your lips and pull your top over your head before lining up to take him in your mouth.  Dave hisses as you draw him in.  He strokes your cheek and neck as he watches you.

With every flick of your tongue the ache between your legs builds, until you’re moaning around him with every stroke.

You pop off to catch your breath and Dave eagerly claims your mouth.  He climbs on the bed, pushing you onto your back and crowding your vision, never taking his mouth of you.  He kisses down your neck and nips at your shoulders and breasts as he lines up at your entrance.

“You ready for this cock, beautiful?”

You nod and pull him towards you with your heels.

“So eager for it,” Dave growls as he presses into your wet heat.

Your eyes roll back in your head as he fills you so perfectly.  He plies you with long, firm strokes, pressing you deeper into the mattress, covering your body with his.

He’s all you can see and feel and you melt beneath him, giving yourself over to the force of him.  Your orgasm begins to build in the distance, but before it can take hold, Dave rolls the two of you so that you’re now on top.

His hands stroke up your torso, cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples as you adjust to the new angle.

Dave pistons up into you, his abdominal muscles tensing with the effort.  His strong hands hold your hips firmly against him.  A boldness you’ve never felt before washes over you as you grasp one of his hands and bring it to your throat.

He places his hand exactly as he said he would, at the base of your throat.  You lean into him, knowing you are in control and could lean back at any time, but the theoretical danger of it sizzles under your skin.  His strong fingers squeeze slightly sending dizzying waves of pleasure through your body.

You stare into his eyes, never breaking contact, as he brings you to the brink.  Your clit throbs, seeking the friction of his body, you’re so close to breaking when he pulls out and flips you over onto your stomach.

He drags your hips in the air and presses your shoulders down onto the bed as he drives into you and smacks your ass.  Your pussy clenches in response.

“You like that don’t you?”

“Yes, oh my god yes,” you babble incoherently.

“I feel that tight pussy grabbing me.”  He smacks your ass again for emphasis and you clench around him again.

He is so deep in this position.  He thrusts into you slowly, dragging his cock against your sensitive walls, allowing the orgasm to ebb away in favor of slow sensation punctuated with the stinging of his palm.

You press your hips back into him, savoring every thrust and allowing your mind to drift.  You are not in control here.  He will move you when he’s ready, you don’t have to think, just feel.

Seemingly to prove your point, he pulls out and flips you once again.  This time onto your side before pulling you into his chest.

His strong arms band around your hips and shoulders as he enters your slippery cunt from behind.  You are at his mercy and nothing has ever made you feel more alive.

He nibbles at your ear as he spews praise and filth under his breath – how good you feel, how wet you are, how he’s going to make you come so hard.

You don’t doubt his promises and when his hand comes up to cover your mouth, all you can do is take and take and take his cock.

You are only need and sensation, unable to move other than how he moves you.  Everything else falls away except the white hot pleasure taking over your body.  He has edged you over and over and you half expect him to do it again, but this time your climax is barreling towards you at full force.

“Give it to me,” Dave demands in your ear, and you launch off a cliff.

He removes his hand and you gasp for air, sparks clouding your vision.  He doesn’t let up as you pulse and scream around him.  He presses on your mound, intensifying the waves of pleasure wracking through your body.

He stutters and moans raggedly behind you, emptying himself into your fluttering pussy.

You sag against him, spent and floating.  He presses kisses between your shoulder blades and up your neck as he helps disentangle your bodies.

You catch your breath, staring at the ceiling above you and then over at the glistening man next to you.

“That was…. amazing.”  A whole new world has been opened to you, and you definitely like it.  “Thank you.”

Dave props himself up on his elbow and looks down at you, angular jaw and aquiline nose catching the light of the fading sunset.

“That was just round one, beautiful.  You have me all night.”  He winks before kissing you once again.

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

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist- in reblog

[bnha-headcanonss]

Today got so, so much weirder

Bakugo one-shot. Super light. Hopefully sweet? Idk I don’t write this type of stuff. Apologies for any typos or confusing bits. It’s 4 am. I have not slept.

Slight swearing (expected)

Word count: 1875

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I woke up, sun shining into my eyes first thing. Basically blinded as soon as I wake up, on top of that, I’m going to be late, lovely start to the day!

I get up, get dressed in my uniform, and leave for school.

“Honey what about breakfast??” Mom calls out after me.

“I’m going to be late if I stay any longer! I’ll pick something up on the way, love you!” I yelled while speeding out the door.

I hear a faint “I love you too!” As I slam the door shut and make my way down the street.

“Stop walking so fast will you?!”

Bakugo and I haven’t always been close, he’s got an explosive personality, quite the temper on him. After both of us getting into UA and finding out we were in the same class, we grew closer. Originally it was banter back and forth and absolutely kicking each others ass in matches. Basically wiping the floor with each other.

He’s got this explosion quirk which goes hand-in-hand with his personality and I have a time shift quirk. I use it a lot to dodge others attacks and find way to make their attacks blow up in their own face, in his case, literally. And he hates it.

After our back and forth harsh banter that went on for months, it turned more playful. Eventually we just became each others closest friend. And I’d hate to admit it, it’s been kind of nice. Over time I developed a small crush for him. Nothing too major. But just underneath all the anger and aggression, and ego, he’s not half bad.

“My apologies your highness.” I did a stupid little curtsy and he attempted to push me down. I grabbed onto his arm so his attempt failed. Still funny though.

“What’re you doing out here so late? Usually you’re early.” I questioned. Being late or barely on time was my thing, not so much his.

“Somebody kept me up all night.” He gave me a dirty look.

“You were the one who didn’t want to go to sleep until you got a win. You just got to get better at the game.”

“I’ll blow your fucking face up, shut your mouth.” I burst out laughing. Bakugo sucks big time at Mortal Kombat. He wasn’t much for video games in general but he saw me watching an execution clip online and got interested, typical.

We reach the school and go on with our day. We don’t talk much in class, we sat and did our work. Lunch came and we ate together.

“Hey try this.” He proceeds to dump some green sauce on my food.

“What is it?” I questioned. Bakugo loves his spicy food, pretty on brand but I can’t stand it. I do not have the tastebuds strong enough for that like he does.

“It’s nothing too bad, it’s really good, I made it myself. Try it.” He demanded.

“If I burn myself, it’s on you.”

“Nah you’ll be fine. Go on.” He sits back. I already know how this is going to go, but he made it himself and I can’t say no to that.

As expected, it burned.

“Holy shit Bakugo, this burns so bad.” I’m up and looking for anything to drink but I finished my water a while ago and don’t have anything else. Meanwhile Bakugo is practically dying of laughter in his seat. I swear he’s got tears of joy forming and I’ve got tears related to death streaming down my face. Everything feels like it’s on fire.

“Here here, you’re causing a scene.” He hands me his water bottle and I start chugging.

“I don’t care.. if I cause anything.. that shit BURNS!” I manage between chugs of water. He breaks out into even more laughter.

He was right though, I am causing a scene. I sit back down and try to gain my composure.

“What is that stuff?”

He pulls out the unlabeled bottle and holds it up like an advertisement.

“Lord Explosion Murder hot sauce, available near you.” He’s got a giant grin on his face. You don’t see him smile much, even if it is artificial, it ties my stomach in a knot, that could also be the hot sauce.

“Oh my god you’re such a nerd.” I say with a stupid smile on my face, compensated by an eye roll.

“You find it funny so clearly you love this nerd. Wait- nevermind that sounded weird.”

“Yeah right, cool it hot shot.” I laugh and brush it off, I wouldn’t say love, but I think I definitely like that nerd? I have no idea.

He looked oddly vacant when I brushed it off though. There was no emotion, just stone faced. Completely changed the tone. Luckily the bell rang, we cleaned up and continued the rest of our school day.

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“Roof?” I approach his desk as the final bell for the day rings.

“Yeah let’s go.” He packs away his things and we make our way to the roof.

We’ve been coming up here a couple times a week since becoming friends, just to talk, watch the sun go down, watch a movie or something. It’s like a moment of peace for me. I think this is originally where I started developing feelings for him. It’s just us, there’s no playing an act or anything. We learned to be ourselves and I really like who he actually is.

“What’s it gonna be today?” He questions, pulling out his laptop and turning on his Apple TV application.

“Hmm. What’s on the list?”

We made a list of all the movies we think about but can’t watch at the moment.

“So far there’s 27 dresses, uh 13 going on 30, 10 things I hate about you, god what is up with all the romcoms? All girly shit.”

“You realize who you’re talking to dimwit? 10 things I hate about you.”

“Yeah yeah.” He rolls his eyes, turns on the movie and positions the laptop in front of us both. It’s a nice day. Not cold, no breeze, just nice, warm air. Quiet.

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I must’ve been more tired than I thought because I felt my eyes getting heavier and I’ve had to catch myself from falling forward once or twice. The movies only about half way done.

“Fucking loser.” He says.

“What?”

“You’re falling asleep.” Pointing out the obvious.

“No I’m not, I’m watching the movie.” Uh-huh..

“Right.” He pulls me towards him until my head hits his shoulder. This is different, Bakugo grew some balls or something. I don’t remember much else from there though.

I must’ve been really exhausted.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I open my eyes to the night sky and Baby Driver playing on the laptop. I barely made it through 10 things I hate about you I guess. I’m still laying on his shoulder but I feel pressure on my head, it feels like his head. And I feel a hand on my waist. Is he asleep too?

“Hm.” I test.

“Finally, fucking nerd. You fell asleep.” He’s got that softer, sleepy voice. Maybe he was falling asleep. He lifts his head and moves his hand from my waist.

“Sorry, I guess today was not my day.” I laugh it off.

“Movie was good. Liked it. I put this on right after though and it’s almost over.”

“Baby Driver?”

“Yeah.” One of the first movies we watched up here. Only because he didn’t give me much of a choice, at all. It was good though, I liked it a lot more than I thought I would, I thought it was just a car movie at first.

“Let’s finish it then.” I offer.

“That was the plan. At least until you woke up.”

“Yeah yeah. Shut up and watch.”

“You’re one to talk.”

As the movie continued I could feel his arm snake around my waist again, right back to where it was before. We haven’t moved otherwise. I’m still really close to him, I can feel the heat radiating off of him, and it’s a lot. I can’t necessarily complain though. Realistically, who would?

The movie finished and we pack up to go home. It started getting colder as the time passed and neither of us had a jacket. The school issued skirt for my uniform was killing me at this point.

I let him rant on about the movie I picked the whole way home. It sounds like he liked it. He really liked the main character because she wasn’t like all the other main characters who are all boy crazy.

“She kind of reminds me of you.” He says. I take that as an absolute win. I love Kat so much. She’s the main reason I watched the movie in the first place.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Despite the fact that I’ve never fallen asleep on him like that before, nothing was weird. Nothing felt weird. Today was a weird day, don’t get me wrong but that was the most normal feeling part, and it was the most not-normal. I’m confusing myself.

We reach my apartment complex which is a couple streets away from his house and we make our way up the stairs.

“Again tomorrow?” He suggests. Or demands? No clue at this point.

“Tomorrow? Theres no school tomorrow?”

“You come over to my place. We’ll rewatch your movie so you can finish it this time and we can pick another one from the stupid list. Yeah?”

Me go over to his place? Today got so much weirder in just 30 seconds.

“You know, that sounds nice. See you around 1?”

“Yup. Don’t be Late.”

“I’ll try not to,” I start to walk towards my door.

“I’ll kill you if you are!” He’s still just standing there, you can practically hear his smile. You know how you sound different when your lips are upturned, yeah, that.

“You won’t do shit.” I laugh and pull out my keys.

I feel a tug on my arm and I’m met face to face with Bakugo. He grabs my face with his hands and suddenly his lips meet mine.

His hands lay either side of my jaw, thumbs on my cheek, holding my head up towards him. His lips are soft, he’s gentle. I practically melt into the kiss.

He pulls away, we lock eyes for just a couple seconds before he turns around to leave. His face was red. I feel red. I feel hot, and confused. My stomach did flips.

He did shit- not the shit I was referring to, but holy shit, he did shit. What.

“1 pm, don’t, be late,” he emphasized the don’t.

“I won’t.” I say, in utter disbelief. I see a small smile creep up on his lips before he’s out of sight.

What the fuck just happened?

Today got so, so much weirder.

[uc1wa]

18+ minors dni

tags: fem reader, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, frats, alcohol

songs i think r cute w this: champagne coast, les, no. 1 party anthem

rush, bidding, and pledging have finished! you know what that means, it’s formal season!

dick grayson was a proud brother of his fraternity, repping his greek letters in either crewneck or t-shirt form at least once a week. he held a position, so of course he advertised the brotherhood he was apart of. his free mornings, afternoons, and nights were consumed by volunteer work or party planning, as any good brothers would be.

and how lucky are you to be in a 9am class with the man? it wasn’t a secret that he liked you. during syllabus week, he made effortless small talk, learning your name, major, and clubs you were apart of.

dick forgot a pencil? well there’s only one person he’d care to ask to borrow one from, and it was you who sat right beside him. needed somebody to review your paper for the class? dick was already offering you his email for you to send it.

study sessions went by, grabbing breakfast after class together, and finally he was planning his first formal of the year with his brothers.

"i don’t know if you’ve ever been to one, but would you wanna be my plus one to my formal?" he asked you as he took a bite from his breakfast sandwich after class, sitting across from you at the table in your student union.

no, you’ve never been to a formal, but you knew what they were. frats renting out a bar or taking a weekend trip out of your campus city, dressing up, having dinner, dancing. it was clubbing but formal and an invite only event.

"are you asking me out on a date via your frat, dick?" you ask your friend and classmate, and he grins. "would there be a problem in that?" your head shakes and now you’re mirroring his smile.

the man gave you the details. since rush just finished, this was the lower key one, one that takes place in town rather than the one that’s held in spring in which their frat takes them to a beach a few hours away. it was at a higher end bar that was going to be rented out by them for the night and occupied by brothers and their dates.

you recognized a few of the faces of dick’s friends when you walked in, having classes with some and being in clubs with others as he dapped them all up when he walked in, hand in hand with you.

"i didn’t know you were all cooped up, grayson," a senior says to the man who has a smug smile on his lips and a shrug of his shoulders. "first date..?" dick says, and it sounds more like a question that makes you laugh.

"one hell of a place for a first date," another one of his friends says and he rolls his eyes, continuing to make his way into the bar that’s more crowded than you expected.

while brothers weren’t supposed to have alcohol at their events, it’s not like anybody was posting about the bottles of svedka their president brought in and was pouring with his back to the bartenders, offering to you and dick once he saw the two of you.

dick looks at you, to which you reply with an approving nod and take a shot with his hand still holding yours. some introductions are given to you before you both are sitting at a high top, smiling at each other stupidly.

"forgot to tell you how pretty you looked tonight," he smiles at you, looking from your heels up to your hair that was pinned back. "had to dress for the occasion," you smile before motioning to him, "i didn’t realize you could clean up this well. i’m used to hoodies and sweatshorts," and he laughs.

for a frat event, the evening went smooth and comfortably. slowly getting a bit more buzzed, you and dick went from dancing to making small talk to dancing again.

dick’s surprised himself. never did he think he’d have a crush on somebody, but he sure was slowly falling for you. the way you were getting along with all of his friends, how pretty you got for his event, and the feeling of your skin on his when holding hands and dancing.

"have any plans after this?" he says in your ear, one hand on your hip and the other holding the skin of your exposed back, moving his body against yours.

and you have to laugh at that, knowing exactly where this was leading, "yeah, told my friend i’d go to his after," you say with a smirk, tilting your head with a hand on the side of dick’s neck.

now dick hasn’t kissed you yet, after all, this was sort of your first date. but he can’t help but lean in real close, his lips feathering yours to say, "yeah? want me to drive you to his house for you, pretty girl?"

pda isn’t exactly favored at frat events, but a little kiss won’t hurt.

so, you break the space between the two of you, and dick is eager to pull you closer, tongue swiping your bottom lip until he’s pulling back with a devious smirk.

the taste of each other made you both hungry for more. you wished you could’ve held out until you were back at dick’s place, maybe to have a more romantic first time with him. but, you were thinking with your pussy and dick was thinking with his dick, and the bathroom was actually really nice, and dick was pressing you against a wall that was a full length mirror, his lips biting your shoulder and his hands fumbling to pull your dress around your waist… so what could you do?

"wanted to take this off of you as soon as i saw you," he says breathlessly, your small moans filling the small space as he continues nibbling against your skin. his lips are soft and hot against you, some of your lip gloss that were remnants on his lips now being put back onto you.

once your dress is bunched up, dick’s swiping your panties to the side and slipping two digits into your entrance, pulling his head back from your skin to gauge your reaction. and when your neck is tilted back and you’re moaning his name, he’s smiling while his chest is heaving. "yeah? you like that baby?"

"mhm," you moan, your grip loosening on him as your body is falling into a sweet bliss that only dick grayson could put you into.

hell, he wishes he could’ve fucked you in a place that wasn’t some bar at his shitty frat’s formal, but he promises he’ll make up for it later. promises he’ll take you on an actual date and take you back to his place to have a slower and sweeter pace. but for now, he doesn’t see you protesting and can tell you want this just as bad as he does.

his free hand is fumbling with his belt, and the sound of metal clinking brings you back to reality and how unfair it is that dick’s fully clothed. "please," you whine, your hands pushing his blazer off while he shrugs his should, his finger slipping out of you.

dick pauses, his fingers moving towards his own lips and he’s quick to suck on them without any hesitation. "jesus," is all you can mutter out, watching the way he’s sucking everything you currently gave him like he won’t get another taste.

"you know i’m gonna treat you right, pretty girl," he says as he sees your reaction, smile tugging his lips while his shoulder shrugs his blazer off, hands undoing his belt. your eyes meet his, "wouldn’t be here if i didn’t have expectations," you reply back, catching you breath and leaning back on the mirror behind you that’s growing an inappropriate amount of smudges.

his hands are tugging his belt off, setting it beside his blazers and the growing collection of clothes sitting on the sink. your hands are slipping the straps of your dress off, revealing your bra which is next to follow dick’s clothes.

blue eyes are taking in your figure. taking in the parts of you he’s never seen before while he’s dropping his pants around his ankles. "prettiest fucking girl," he whispers making you grin.

your hands find their way to the buttons on dick’s steamed white top, unbuttoning them while his eyes continue eating you alive. "patience," you breathe, unbuttoning him deviously slow.

dick groans playfully, a short laugh following it until his chest and abdomen are showing. now it was your time to take him in. his pecs were whorishly defined, the muscles making the muscles plump. your eyes continue traveling down, his abdomen following down to his waist that is tiny and helps to define his muscles.

"i’m all yours," he reminds, genuinely meaning it in comparison to the times he’s said it to his previous one night stands.

he’s quick to have his hands on you again, the same way that you are as his lips bring you two back together. the kidding is feverish—like this is the last time the two of you will ever kiss. teeth coaching and biting each others lips, tongues sucking one another’s.

a big hand grips your waist, turning you so that your chest and breasts are pushed against the mirror, and your backside is pressed against dick’s. his boxer clad member pressing against your clothed backside making both of you groan.

"you okay?" he asks, finger pulling your underwear down your legs, followed by him taking a step back and pulling his boxers down, hand still holding your hip.

once again, you moan, "mhm," and he’s coming close again, lining his member up with your slicked entrance that’s drooling for him.

his first moments are slow, allowing you to get adjusted to his size and the feeling of him buried deep inside you.

"fuck, you feel fuckin’ perfect around me, y’know that, baby?" he’s muttering to himself, beginning to speed up. the hand that’s holding your waist goes to the middle of your back, pressing down so that your arching all pretty for him, his other hand moving to the back of your neck, pushing you against the mirror while holding you in place.

the rough pace isn’t allowing you to think straight, but all dick can do is groan and lean into your ear, body on top of yours as he’s whispering the dirtiest things to you.

"pussy was made for me, pretty baby. filling you up perfect," he’s groaning, lips moving to bite your ear harshly which lets a chorus of high pitched moms escape your throat, eyes closing from the ecstasy that is dick continuously touching your sweet spot.

the steam from your breath was fogging up the mirror and dick’s thrusts felt like they were shaking the entire room you both were in. neither of you caring how loud you were because the music and chatter outside the bathroom was even louder.

it’s only a few minutes later that dick’s asking, "where d’ya want me baby?" the knot forming in both of your lower stomachs synced up to a tee.

"mmm," you moan, biting your own lip, one hand holding yourself up against the mirror and the other reaching behind you to claw at whatever ounce of skin you can get of dick’s. "inside, inside," you rush to say, and he’s following your request as soon as you utter the words, warmth filling you on top of dick resting his sweaty and hot body against your back.

you can only whimper at the feeling of his arms wrapping around you and him still keeping his place from inside of you, his warmth beginning to leak out of you as he pulls out.

there’s a minute of recovery, quick breaths making both of your chests rise and fall with a quickness.

"meant what i said," dick says, attempting to wipe himself off with the tissue in the bathroom, throwing it away and grabbing some to softly wipe between your legs, illiciting a whine from your lips. "remind me what you said."

he chuckles, his hands slowly wiping the inside of your thighs and the outside of your entrance. "about me thinking you’re, like, the perfect girl," you honestly don’t remember him saying that, but once he’s finished, you turn around with a grin.

"uh huh," you tease, fixing your bra straps and dress straps to fit on your shoulders correctly. your eyes watch as dick bends down, pulling your underwear back up to your hips comfortably and pulling your dress back down, smoothing it out with a wide smile. "i’ll take you on a real date, i promise," he assures, pulling his boxers and pants up in one go.

you help to button his shirt back up, the white tip filled with wrinkles that tell an embarrassing story. "i’ll have to check my schedule," you smile smugly, leaning back once he’s slipping his blazer back on, his hand pulling your hips so that you’re side by side, looking into the mirror.

"i’ll make sure it’s cleared," he winks in the mirror to you, "we clean up nice." and though both of your hair is disheveled and some of dick’s is sticking to his forehead, wrinkles are on both of your attires, and the mirror has a disgusting amount of smudges from you both, you walk out of the party with confidence that only two college students would have, and are making your place back to dick’s apartment for your first night together.

this is my formal apology for asshole one night stand frat boy dick