How They are Handling your Disappearance Pt. 3
MC Returns
Ahh you guys i'm so glad you are enjoying this little series! I wasn't expecting so many of you to like it! But as requested by many, here is part 3 where MC returns to the present day timeline and reunites with the 7 brothers. This is a bit of a lengthy one because like... we are home! It's a little less angsty, a little more happy this time haha. Anyways, please enjoy! Reblogs and feedback are appreciated as usual!
Read Part 1: Brothers
Read Part 2: Side Characters
Word count: 3,057
Rating: T, slightly suggestive.
Taglist: @amberrskiies @obey-me-posts @sassykattery @delphi-dreamin @bite-sized-devil @flemmingbamse @a-hidden-gem @otomefoxystar @siofrantic @todothedodo @ihatecorns @exrellian @vernith @sus0daddy
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rose divider by @/firefly-graphics
It feels like it has been forever since the day that you went missing, but the brothers never gave up their search. How could they when you were out there somewhere, possibly alone and scared? The thought of their little human wandering around the unknown gave them the motivation they needed to keep going. But after a long day of once again searching the Devildom up and down with no results, the brothers are settling down for the evening.
Lucifer
The Avatar of Pride is in his room getting ready for bed after a long day of searching for you.
His wings are terribly sore from flying all day, so he lays on his bed sprawled out on his stomach, allowing his feathery wings to stretch out behind him.
He rests his head in his arms, and sighs.
Yet another day of searching, but no results.
Suddenly, he begins to feel a familiar tingling sensation of magic in the air that brings goosebumps to his bare arms.
Before he had time to process what was happening, a flash of light filled his room, practically blinding him.
After a few seconds, the light dissipates and there you are, standing in its place.
Lucifer forgets all about his aching wings, and jumps up from the bed.
At first, he hesitates, terrified that you’ll disappear again at any moment.
“M-MC…? Is it really you…?”
His crimson eyes are wide as he takes in your appearance.
You appear the same, but he's confused by the horns that now rest on your head, as well as a few other demonic attributes.
Just where did you disappear to?
Your face scrunches up and your eyes fill with tears. “L-Luci… yes, it’s really me.”
Suddenly, his arms are around you, a million questions in his throat but unable to speak.
You whimper, taking in his scent. He smells freshly showered, the smell of his soap sending a wave of comfort crashing over you.
“Luci… I missed you so much…I’m so sorry…”
His shoulders begin to tremble and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck.
You feel wetness on your skin as he begins to cry.
Have you ever seen him cry before?
Just how much have they all suffered while I was gone?
Your arms wrap themselves around his neck and you squeeze your eyes shut.
You stand there in his arms, his wings wrapping themselves around the two of you protectively.
He will never let you go again.
After a few moments, he pulls away, staring into your eyes.
“MC, the days I've spent searching for you were endless… but never once did I give up. I’m very glad that I didn’t. Every second was worth my time.”
Suddenly his lips are on yours and you accept his kiss greedily.
Kissing him was the confirmation you needed that you were home.
“MC, please forgive me. You can tell me the details later, but right now I just need you. I need to know you are here and…real.”
He spins you around, guiding you to his bed so the back of your legs hit the edge, causing you to fall back.
He hovers over top of you, his crimson eyes full of love, adoration, and desire.
You giggle through your tears, placing a hand on his cheek. “I love you so much, Luci.”
He smiles, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.
“Words alone cannot express my love for you, little one.”
You give him a peck on the lips again. “We have a lot of time to make up for you know… where should we start?”
Lucifer gives you a mischievous grin. “I have just the thing in mind, darling. Something that has been long overdue.”
Mammon
Mammon returned to his bedroom shortly after arriving home.
He had to check on his ravens who were also out searching for you while they were gone.
His wings were sore as shit, and all he wanted to do was shower and go to bed.
But you are more important.
Throwing open his window, one of his ravens glides down to greet him.
“Damn, ya didn’t find anything did ya?”
The raven hangs its head sadly, and Mammon sighs.
“Thanks anyways, I appreciate the help.”
Suddenly the raven begins to flap its wings wildly, cawing at something behind him.
Mammon spins around, and his golden eyes widen in shock when he sees just who is appearing in the middle of his bedroom.
It was you, clear as day.
He’s speechless, unable to find the right words even though he’s been playing them on repeat in his head since the day you left.
“Mammon!” you shout with tears in your eyes. You begin to run towards him, but he meets you halfway, scooping you up into his arms and spinning you around.
He sets you down again, and hugs you snugly to his chest.
“MC…I… Shit. I-I missed ya so damn much…” he says with a shaky voice.
You inhale his scent as he hugs you, which smells of sweat and leather.
You’re home. He’s your Mammon. Finally…
“Mams, I’m so so sorry… I’ll explain everything I promise…”
He pulls you away from him, his golden blue gaze staring intensely at you.
“Damn right ya will! But for now…I don’t care..I just… I need ya so bad… I mean this can’t be real, right?”
You give him a small smile, taking his hand in yours.
“I’m real, Mammon. I promise.”
His tanned skin is flushed as he pulls you with him to sit on his bed, hoisting you up onto his lap.
He can’t hold back anymore as he plants a firm kiss to your lips.
You accept it eagerly.
Your tongues intertwine briefly before he pulls away, breathless.
“I love ya MC, I’m so sorry I couldn’t do a damn thing…”
You silence him with a kiss to the forehead.
“It’s not your fault, Mammon. Please don’t cry…”
He notices your own lip quivering, and let’s out an amused snort through his tears.
“Don’t you go cryin’ on me either!”
His long, slender fingers run through your hair and you sigh.
His lips are on yours once more, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
You can sense his overwhelming desire threatening to take over.
“Mammon’s got ya now, treasure. You’re safe with me. I’m never letting you go again.”
Leviathan
Throughout the search, Levi has been exploring every inch of the Devildom waters.
From seas to lakes, he still could find no trace of you.
Levi heads back to his room, a towel around his waist after Lucifer forced him to strip in the hallway so he didn’t track water through the house.
Once he’s dried off and dressed again, he sinks down in his gaming chair, sighing as his aching limbs are finally able to rest.
Tears welled up in his eyes, disappointed that he let everyone down again.
Especially you.
I’m so useless, he thinks.
A stray tear rolls down his cheek, and he wipes it away with his arm.
A flash of light appears before him, and it sends a tingling sensation up his body.
Wait a minute…that’s…!
His eyes are wide and his mouth gapes open as he looks up to see you standing there right in front of him.
“M-MC, I-Is it really y-you?!” Of course he’s a stuttering mess, but he can’t believe it.
He doesn’t know when he stood up, but suddenly you are slamming into him, wrapping your arms around his torso.
“Yes, Levi. It’s me.” you sob, burying your face into his chest.
Your voice has him melting in your grip.
He finally fully embraces you, burning his face into your hair.
Your scent is slightly different, and he can smell other demons on you.
This sends a wave of envy over him, but he ignores it. All he cares about is that you’re home.
He, however, smells of the sea.
“Levi, I'm so sorry… I promise I’ll explain. I just really need you right now. I’ve missed you so much…”
Leviathan only nods, his shoulders trembling from the sobs that are escaping him.
You stay standing there wrapped in his arms, gently rubbing circles on his back.
After some time, he calms down.
His eyes are red and puffy and his face is swollen. Your heart aches for him.
Suddenly, he grabs your hand, leading you over with him to his bathtub.
You climb in together, and you sit in his lap. His tail curls around you, holding you in place.
“M-MC…can I um, k-kiss you?” he asks, his tear stained cheeks becoming flushed.
You nod eagerly, and he places a soft, gentle kiss to your lips.
Your lips are the same as ever, soft and sweet.
Levi is overwhelmed with affection for you.
“I love you, I love you, I love you…” he mutters, rocking you gently in his lap.
He peppers your face with kisses and you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“I love you so much too, Levi. I’m so glad to be home…”
He rests his head on your shoulder, purple strands of his hair tickling your cheek.
“Please don’t leave me like that again, MC. I-I was so scared…”
The tremor in his voice causes fresh tears to form in the corner of your eyes.
“Never again, I’m staying right here with you.”
Satan
Satan steps over the pile of books on his floor before flopping down onto his bed.
His bedroom is in quite the disarray due to his last tantrum.
He can’t help that he’s just so damn frustrated!
They’ve practically searched the Devildom inside out, and still… nothing.
He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares out the window, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.
He almost doesn’t notice the burst of light filling his bedroom.
The air was practically vibrating with magic when he spun his head around to see the silhouette of a figure in the blinding light.
He squints, trying his best to make out the form. Once the light dissipates, an unfamiliar feeling washes over him.
Satan thought he’s finally experienced every emotion in his lifetime of being in the Devildom.
But what he feels when he sees you standing there in his bedroom is indescribable.
He gasps, immediately jumping up from his bed and hurrying over to you.
Your eyes are locked on him, and he thought he noticed you flinch the moment he approached you.
“MC… are… you okay? Where in the Devildom have you been?”
His voice is soft, but it trembles slightly.
He doesn’t expect answers right away, of course.
Not when you are standing here in front of him for the first time in what feels like an eternity.
You nod, trying to wipe away your tears. “Satan… It’s me. I-I’m home.”
The sound of his name leaving your lips after so long pushes him over the edge.
He pulls you into his arms and he squeezes you tight, finally allowing his tears to fall.
“M-MC… I'm so glad you’re home safe… I was so worried about you…”
You relax against his chest, finally processing the fact that this wasn’t the past version of himself.
After a few moments, you sniff, pulling away from him to gaze into his eyes. You notice a scar on his cheek, still healing from a recent fight he must have had.
You gently trace your fingers over it, and he winces.
“I’m so sorry Satan…the pain that I must have caused you all…”
He shakes his head, glancing away.
“I’m just so relieved you are home, MC. I don’t believe that whatever happened was your fault.”
His fingers run through your hair and he kisses your forehead.
“Can I…kiss you?” you ask, your cheeks flushing slightly. Normally you wouldn’t ask, but it’s been awhile.
“Of course, kitten. But just know if you do, I may not be able to hold myself back from you much longer.”
You give him a smirk, and press your lips firmly to his.
To finally kiss your Satan once more.
He slips his tongue past your lips, and you groan.
When you pull away, his emerald eyes are shining with passion.
“Every book I read told me how to find you, but they never mentioned how to handle your return.”
He moves you to his bed with him so you are straddling his lap.
“But I don’t believe I need any instruction as to what comes next. I love you, MC. Please allow me to express the longing I’ve felt for you all this time.”
Asmodeus
Asmo had made his way to his room for the evening with the overwhelming urge to climb into his silk bed sheets.
But first he really wanted a bath. The thought of the warm water soothing his aching joints was very pleasant to him right now.
He had made his way into the bathroom to start the water, the noise of the faucet drowning out the sound coming from his bedroom.
Asmo thought he heard something, and he lifted his head to the door that connects from the bathroom to his room.
He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.
Was that a flash of light just now? Is it storming?
He furrowed his brow in confusion, and stepped slowly over to peek through the door.
Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.
There you were, standing right there in his bedroom.
Your eyes were wide and looking around, still processing where you had appeared.
Asmo gasps, forgetting about the bath and hurries over to you.
“M-MC?!” he shrieks, pulling you into the tightest hug he’s sure he’s ever given.
You begin to cry, tears falling down your cheeks and onto his shoulder.
“Shhh, MC. Don’t cry now, darling…” he coos, but his own tears are escaping him.
He holds you close as you cry together.
“Asmodeus…is… it really you? My Asmo?” you whimper.
He’s confused by what you mean, but he doesn’t question it for now.
“Of course my little lamb, it’s me. You’re home now…”
You sniff, pulling away from him slightly. “I’m so sorry Asmo, I swear I didn’t mean to leave you guys like that…”
Taking your hands in his, he shakes his head. “No no, hon, don’t blame yourself for this. I know there’s a very good reason, but you can explain later to all of us, okay?”
You nod, wiping your eyes.
“I was just about to get a bath. Would you care to join me, MC?”
The thought of taking a bath with Asmo right now feels…unreal.
You couldn’t believe you were finally home with him.
Smiling, he leads you into the bathroom.
First, he steps out of his robe, and your face flushes.
You’ll never get over how beautiful he is.
Then it’s your turn.
You shiver as he begins to undress you, his fingers brushing over your skin.
He smiles softly as he notices the goosebumps that begin to form on your body.
“I’ve missed this so much. Let me get a good look at you, darling.”
His eyes tear up again as his eyes travel over your body, still in disbelief that you were standing right there with him again after so long.
“I need all the time I can get with you right now before my brothers find out you’re home.”
He takes your hand and helps guide you into the bathtub.
You sigh as the warm water envelops you and he places you in between his legs with your back to him.
You feel his arms wrap themselves around you and you blush.“I’ve only been dreaming of this moment with you, MC.” Asmo murmurs, attaching his lips to your shoulder.
You whine as he continues to kiss up your neck.
“I love you so much, Asmo…”
He smiles into the crook of your neck as he holds you close.
“My dear, if anything came out of your disappearance, it’s how much I realized that I love you. Please, allow me to show you…”
Beelzebub and Belphegor
The twins were always together nowadays.
They were both getting ready for bed in their room after their long day, neither of them wanting to speak about the disappointing results of the search.
Belphie hugged his pillow to his chest as he climbed into bed beside Beel.
He was struggling to stay awake, but he had a peculiar feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Of course, being his twin, Beel felt it too. It wasn’t hunger, or anything like that… It was…
“Belphie do you feel…”
Before he could finish, a burst of light filled the room, temporarily blinding them both.
The sensation of magic through the air sent shivers down their spines.
Once the light dulled, they glanced up through squinted eyes to see… you.
Wait, is that really…?
Despite the dull ache in their bodies, they both jump up.
“MC!” their violet eyes are wide as they gape at you, still trying to decide if this was real or a cruel hallucination.
But you seem just as surprised as they are.
Suddenly, you feel yourself being pulled into a strong embrace.
Belphie is squeezed into the hug next to you, and you both glance up to see Beel with tears streaming down his cheeks.
“B-Beel… Belphie…I’ve missed you both so much…”
You sob, burying your face into Beel’s chest.
Belphie finally allows his tears to fall. I’m so lame, he thinks.
How dare you make him cry like this?
But he’s so happy. So relieved.
Beel begins to move you both towards his bed, placing you right between him and his brother.
You whimper as you feel their arms wrap around you.
The thought of being able to do this again with them never even crossed your mind.
You feel Beel nuzzle his face into your hair.
You smelled…different. But there was no denying your familiar scent and it made his mouth water.
Belphie yawned, burying his face into your shoulder.
“Beel and I had each other, but MC… you are our missing piece.”
His twin nodded, placing a soft kiss to your forehead.
“Belphie is right. It feels right again with you here in between us.”
Your heart was so full.
You smiled wide as you kissed both of their foreheads.
“My boys…I love you so much.”
As you laid together, they took turns littering you with kisses and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.
The feeling of their lips and their hands on your body has your head spinning, and you whisper their names between breathless gasps.
After sometime, Beel turned towards you, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“I’m feeling a bit hungry…but for something different. How about you Belphie?”
Belphie immediately sensed where his twin was going and flashed him a smile back.
“I’m all of a sudden wide awake. What do you say you join us, MC? We want you to ourselves before we have to go back to sharing you.”
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the stranger the better
pairing: Dieter Bravo x Reader
word count: 5.6k
summary: Dieter gets tentacles. That's the fic.
content/warnings: uhhhh this one has a whole lot: importantly--TENTACLES!, lots of viscous body fluids, slight dubcon due to tentacles with a mind of their own??, buckets of cum, piv, tiv 👀, dieter is a switch, sex parasite, anal, masturbation, body horror, idk they're freaks and it's great, reader has a vulva but gendered language is not used
a/n: this is basically just a crackfic that i've taken far too seriously. Also, shoutout to Ozzie @ozarkthedog for listening to all my dumbass thoughts and helping me finally get this finished!! ☺️😚
Dieter doesn't know exactly how the idea came to him, but he knows the important bits. It was, he reasoned, a sign- nay, a prophecy. He wishes he could replicate the exact cocktail of stimulants and psychedelics that allowed him to see this glimpse into greatness, because the results were eye opening.
Somehow, the universe injected into him an understanding of That Which He Sought.
He sketched it, painted it, utilized every descriptor he could think of, and sat down his PA, Todd, using every medium he had adequate command of to illustrate as clear a picture for his employee as was possible.
He was very thorough.
Todd, who Dieter often found unsettling due to the degree to which he was able to stay entirely un-rattled by anything, raised an eyebrow.
(Dieter didn't want to ruin the moment, but this was a fucking win.)
The PA's first response was "Excuse me, you want me to find you something that definitely doesn't exist because you had a drug-induced hallucination about it?"
On day five of Dieter waxing poetic, Todd needed it to end. He was already well adept at navigating the dark web--this was not the first time Dieter had had him track down something weird--but he had absolutely no doubt that Dieter was about to get scammed for a whole lot of money.
No skin off my nose, he reasoned, and negotiated the definitely-not-legit sale anyway. Whatever Dieter wants, Dieter gets. Hopefully, he'll be willing to accept the truth when no magical prophecy thing materializes at his door.
It's over a month later, when Todd feels confident nothing would turn up, and just as Dieter begins to accept this crushing defeat, that a strange, perfect cube of a parcel arrives.
It was a sleek box that felt somewhere between aluminum and heavy cardstock, with a heavier, equally sleek box inside. Something about it seemed almost extraterrestrial.
Todd placed it on the least cluttered corner of Dieter's immensely cluttered coffee table and made a prompt exit. If this thing was somehow the thing Dieter was after, he didn't want to be present for even a minute of the aftermath.
Hours later, when Dieter discovers the parcel, his heart begins to pound. With shaking hands, he unwraps it.
It's a bitch to open, almost akin to one of those puzzle boxes, but even more confounding. There are no visible seams. No obvious opening. He's halfway ready to take a hammer to it when, all of a sudden, it unfolds itself in elegant, silvery, petal-like plates.
Inside is a glass-like cube. Glass-like, but definitely not glass--it didn't have enough weight to it. Not plastic, either. The density wasn't quite right. Inside the cube is a strange, pulsating something.
It's the thing from his dream.
The pulsing thing is a little revolting, but mostly intriguing. (Todd would argue the reverse.) Shape wise, it's grub-like, maybe a handspan long, with its body made up of many near-identical segments. Both ends of it taper to a rounded bulb, and both ends are absolutely dripping with some sort of viscous fluid. No flared base, Dieter notes, and then decides it’s a nonissue.
As well as being, well, somewhat disgusting, it's also quite beautiful. It's iridescent, reminding him of some kind of shimmery beetle. It looks soft, and with every strange pulse, the sheen catches the light and throws rainbows in all the crevices of its little body.
Dieter immediately pops the weirdest boner.
For a man who's impulse control is about as ingrained as his commitment to abstinence, he's incredibly proud that he manages to wait until after this Friday's particularly tedious production meeting wraps up before getting started.
He has this weekend off, and gives everyone on his team the weekend off too. When the last person steps out the door, he locks up and promptly gets naked.
If his prophecy is anything to go off of, he expects this to get messy.
The shower pressure is perfect, and the temperature is just right. Slowly, tenderly, he works himself open. Sometimes he does this even when he doesn’t intend to put anything in his ass, sometimes it’s just for the sensation. This time, though, he absolutely does.
He isn’t sure if he should run the -thing- under the tap first, cause it’s dripping so profusely he’s worried he’ll shoot it across the entire length of the bathroom like an errant bar of soap. In case the lubricating properties are necessary to the efficacy of the process, however, he holds it gently but firmly with one hand as he lifts it out of its, fuckin, transparent aluminum box, holding his other hand beneath it.
It’s slippery, that’s for certain. And when he presses it against the rim of his asshole, he experiences a very new feeling.
It wriggles. As if the nose? Tail? Indeterminate-and-hopefully-not-sentient-end of the thing seems to respond with enthusiasm the second it’s within sniffing distance of his favorite hole. He feels it pulse in his hand, gushing more of the fluid. For a moment, he’s certain the thing is going to evade his grasp and slip away but instead, as if burrowing, it slides itself up, up and away.
Dieter suddenly feels very full.
If he’s honest, this isn’t quite how he expected it to go. He thought he’d be more involved, for one. For another, he didn’t realize it would scurry so quickly into his butt. He thought he’d be able to hold onto it a little. Fuck himself with it.
Gently, he presses a finger into himself to see if he can feel where it’s gone. Nothing. He switches from his pointer to his middle finger, slightly longer than the former, and presses even deeper, spreading his cheeks with his fist, sinking in as far as he possibly can.
He doesn’t feel it.
This may be precipitating a (not unfamiliar) ER trip, but he’s not ready to give up yet. Besides, this thing seemed at least a little organic. The likelihood of it perforating his bowel seemed pretty safely nonexistent, so maybe this one can be something of a wait-and-see.
Besides, maybe this is just the process! Little in life was actually straightforward, and his vision was pretty nebulous.
Maybe, to move it along, he needed to start by busting a nut. So he takes his cock in hand and starts pumping, feeling the hot spray of the shower on his back, working out all the kinks.
He’s hard, yes, and it does feel good. But after fifteen minutes of stroking himself, he realizes he isn’t experiencing pleasure, nothing that’s building or arousing, which is in itself a new experience. He can always feel pleasure. It’s the goddamn thing that’s gotten him into trouble more times than he can count.
Now, however, the shower’s started to run cold, his dick’s rubbed raw, and he’s no closer to an orgasm than he is to becoming an elected official. He’s been beaten by his own meat.
It’s absolute bullshit, but as he feels himself start to panic he manages to tamp it down a little. Nothing good will come from spiraling. Instead, he luxuriates in covering his entire body in a particularly wonderful-smelling body oil (for combination pampering and sore skin smoothing) and smokes a fat, fat joint.
This was Tomorrow Dieter’s problem.
He gives himself a couple more half-hearted tugs, just in case the oil makes a difference. It doesn’t, and it kind of burns, but he can at least go to sleep knowing he did the best he could.
Tomorrow’s a fresh start.
He slips into bed, takes a moment to appreciate the fabric against his bare skin. With a sigh, he drifts off to sleep.
Hot midday sunlight blasts through the gaps between the blinds. He should really get some of those non-gappy blinds installed. Or drapes. Nothing beats a good drape.
As he wakes up, something feels… off. He tries to sit up, but there’s something of a mass at his abdomen. He tries to brush it away–probably some detritus he’d left in his bed and forgotten about. Instead, though, the mass doesn’t budge. Instead, he’s suddenly overwhelmed by an intense, blinding pleasure. It hits him and takes over everything, and by the time he comes back down a whole minute later, he’s certain he must’ve just creamed his pants.
He pulls back the covers to check.
Instead of the view he expects; his fat, hard cock, thighs, and tummy coated with cum–he finds a writhing, twisting heap of squirming tentacles.
He must still be dreaming.
Dieter slams his eyelids together. Presses the palms of his hands against his sockets till his vision goes brown and black spotty. Opens them again.
The tentacles are still there.
Not knowing what else to do, he reaches out and touches one of them, gingerly. The same blinding pleasure hits him again. It’s only a gentle touch but already he knows that this isn’t just some wayfaring… squid that’s decided to make a home on his belly.
Nope.
This is definitely a part of him now.
He tries tensing and untensing his core muscles. One tentacle slaps out and hits the bed. Another two tangle themselves together. A fourth smacks against one of his nipples and, with a viscid sucker, pulls a desperate whine from him. Though some of the tips seem to always be emerging from him, he’s able to unfurl even more at will. He’d only noticed seven tentacles at first, then tensed, and a second row exploded from him while the outer layer smacked against the bed like a radial motif made of party horns. He thinks there might be even more. A third layer? A fourth?
When he’s able to relax a little and re-focus his attention, shaking, the inner layer sucks back in and he notices that the outer limbs have the same rainbow iridescence as the thing. Of course. Of course!
It takes time, more than an hour to start separating the new sensations from one another. To divide the writhing limbs and control them each individually. When he finally manages to high-five each of his outer tentacles, one-by-one, he’s certain he has at least enough control to avoid causing injury.
By this point, his cock is aching. He wraps two of the lowest tentacles around his length. The tentacles are thick, but his dick is too. They’re quite cold in a way that’s actually delicious. It feels like the cousin of the sensation he experiences when he slips ice cubes in his ass, only way, way more intense.
Just like that thing, too, the tentacles are dripping with the same viscous slick.
He works himself up. It's so intense, soo much stimulation, he half-expects to cum in a fraction of the usual time.
Instead, he finds himself hours later on the verge of tears, not a single orgasm in sight.
His body simply will not allow him to cum.
It’s miserable, and clearly a horrible, horrible mistake. Will he be like this for the rest of his life, rife with tentacles and unable to clutch at his own pleasure? His dick is sore, having tugged at himself with every limb available. He has sucker marks on his nipples and throat. One tentacle is still squirming around inside his tight little hole and still he can’t reach his peak.
He needs a fucking break.
And maybe some food.
He checks the time. It’s later than he thought, nearly dinnertime. He’s spent his entire day on this.
He starts to formulate a new plan. Order food. Eat. Hydrate. Maybe he’ll scroll through his phone for booty calls and see if he can pinpoint one single person who might not get him sent away to Area 51. Maybe it makes a difference with another person?
He barely thinks as he fills up his virtual bag and places an order. Leaves a massive tip because he’s getting into hangry territory and needs his food now.
He shoots Todd a quick ‘I have tentacles now’ text, and closes his eyes.
It’s been a long day. A bit slow, which makes you itchy, but it hasn’t been too bad.
You’re about to call it a night. Grab yourself a bite to eat, and curl up at home.
Then your phone vibrates in your hand.
A delivery order pings on your phone and the tip is substantial. It’s incredibly close to you, too. You accept immediately, not wanting anyone else to get to it first. The tip alone can keep you afloat till after rent is due.
You rush, heading to the restaurant and, miracle of miracles, it’s a quiet night. The restaurant’s already working on the order and it’s only a matter of minutes before it’s ready to go.
Twenty minutes from accepting the order, you’re walking up the footpath through a well-manicured succulent garden. The house is ostentatious. An enormous lazy river wraps around the home, and you have to cross over a bridge to get to the fucking door . When you get closer, though, you notice surprisingly beautiful carvings, spandrels, and various other decorative details that make it more than just a generic multi-million dollar cookie cutter home. It’s weird, but it has personality to it.
You get to the door and check the order details. It’s not a no-contact delivery. Instead, the message reads:
very sleepy. need food. 1) knock, if no answer 2) ring doorbell, if no answer 3) bring me food and wake me up and i’ll double the tip for your trouble the door code is 6969
Frankly, it seems a great way to get lured in by a wealthy eccentric and hunted for sport, or recruited to join a cult, or something else equally unfortunate. But self-preservation has never been a priority for you, and life is made to be lived.
You knock. You really want him to open the door himself. Even with permission, going in feels like an enormous invasion, and especially if this guy is sleeping, you really don’t want to tiptoe through this stranger's house.
On the other hand, though, you really can’t see yourself turning down that tip, if it comes to that. Definitely lends itself to your ‘this person is crazy’ theory, but you’re committed. You’re seeing this through.
You knock a second time and wait. Nothing.
Thankfully, after ringing the doorbell, you hear the shuffle of soft footsteps. The lock clicks and turns, and a moment later, you’re face to face with a rather disheveled individual.
His hair is mussed, sticking out in all directions, and, you realize, he looks familiar.
But it only takes a moment to forget that thought entirely.
At first, you hadn’t noticed that anything amiss. He was wearing a striped dressing gown over a crop top and sweats. The stripes, though, looked like they were rippling. And it wasn’t an actual crop top, either, no; the shirt had just been pulled up to accommodate what was on his midsection.
It took every effort not to drop the bag of food when you realize what it is.
“Oh,” he says, noticing your expression. He rubs at his temple, infinitely exhausted as he looks you up and down.
“You’re-” you start.
“Yeah, I’m Dieter Bravo-” he finishes.
You blink, shaking your head. He is in fact Dieter Bravo, you realize, but that doesn’t seem like the most significant thing happening here. “You’re covered in tentacles.”
“Oh,” he says again. “Yeah. I guess they are tentacles."
“Um, are they… yours?”
He shrugs, disinterested.
You fumble to find something to say, instead giving up and thrusting his bag towards him.
He takes it after a moment.
“Thanks,” he says, not making eye contact.
Apparently, putting on a robe was this man’s idea of concealing them. Now, he’s not trying to be discreet. The tentacles unfurl, most of them hanging heavy from his abdomen, nearly brushing the floor. Several, however, reach into the food bag and withdraw a burrito and a sauce container.
"Are they--" you watch as two of the tentacles start to unwrap the burrito. The foil tears a bit more than he intends, and then he dunks it a little too heavily into the sauce, which shoots out from the grasp of another tentacle. Salsa verde splatters everywhere. The limbs’ movements are apparently uncontrolled. "Are the tentacles new.. to you?"
He sighs. "Yeah. They just showed up this morning."
You’re not sure what to say. “Huh,” you venture.
“Yeah,” he agrees. But then he looks at you, surveys you, and narrows his eyes. He seems like he’s weighing something.
“Uh, this might be weird, what with this-” he gestures at the tentacles, “Situation. But-”
He hesitates, and you nod, encouraging. “But what?”
Dieter winces. Takes a deep breath, and lets it out.
“Do you wanna have sex with me?”
You look at him. At his tentacles. This is admittedly a lot. It’s almost certainly a bad idea.
But you made a promise to yourself and to your best friend years ago: If you ever have an opportunity to fuck an entity that has tentacles, you’d better say yes.
And it’s Dieter Fucking Bravo. You’re not backing down now.
“Yes I do.”
It starts surprisingly gently. You lean towards him and he cups your cheek in a broad hand, pulling you in.
This isn’t your first time kissing a stranger. If you’re honest, it’s something of a hobby of yours, so the experience of feeling a new give-and-take was familiar despite its novelty.
What you’d never experienced before, however, was that from the first moment his tongue stroked into your mouth, you felt the most delicious pull.
You were already a little excited, but before even a moment had passed, you now felt yourself drench. Your pussy was drooling, the slick pooling between your legs.
You’re certain he can feel it too.
What had been a look of pleasure and curiosity twisted into absolute hunger. You swear you can see his eyes dilating. After a moment, you’re certain yours must be, too. The room suddenly feels too bright.
Whatever disinterest he’d shown when you’d turned up at his door has dissolved, replaced with an urgent enthusiasm. “Fuck I’ve been needing this all day.”
From the front door, all down the hallway to the bedroom, a trail of clothing marks your path.
Between kisses he explains.
“Ever since-” a kiss, “the tentacles–”
You grab him by the hair and he moans.
“I can’t cum. I’ve tried, for hours-”
You hop on one leg and then the other, peeling your socks off as Dieter steadies you by the waist.
“Been jacking off all day-,” he peels his own shirt off, hands flying frantically to make quick work of his clothes, “But I think I need someone else. My body just won’t work. Been hard as fucking rock but nothing happens-”
You slip an arm around his waist and drag your teeth along his collar, grinning when he melts into you.
“You poor thing,” you tell him, and you look in his eyes when you make your promise; “I’ll try and help, much as I can.”
"Amazing," He grins. “I feel better already.”
Dieter’s entirely bare, but you’re still wearing clothing. Something, you both realise, is passing between you. It’s a strange electricity that heightens every sensation. You feel the scruff of his beard against your cheek, you feel your underwear soaked. When he pinches at your nipple, you nearly howl at the pleasure that washes over you.
As you feel each touch, the sensation builds in a way that’s totally alien to you. He shoves a hand in your pants and groans when he feels the thatch of hair at your cunt. He rubs two fingers along your slit, not stimulating your clit and not even trying to. He’s just warming up what feels like every single nerve ending in your entire vulva till you’re bucking against him.
He pulls his hand away and touches a finger to his tongue, tasting you. Two tentacles make fast work of the button of your jeans. Another wraps around your waist, lifting you up from the floor and suspending you in the air to peel the denim from you, unceremoniously tossing the garment behind you somewhere.
He’s fully naked. His cock hangs heavy and a little to the right, and there’s so much precum, it streams down his thigh where his tip meets the flesh of his leg.
You reach forward and wrap your fist around him. At your touch, he shudders. It’s a beautiful, desperate noise, and already, there’s so much more slick leaking out of him that any suspicion that this amount of oozy fluid isn’t normal is entirely confirmed. You wrap your hand around his length and he melts into your touch with a whine.
The tentacles wrap around you. You’re not sure how many there are, and their movement is fast and intentional. The man in front of you is essentially a walking sex toy from your sickest, wettest dreams, and you will not waste this.
You reach for one of the tentacles, whatever is nearest to you. For a moment you think it’ll pull out of your grasp, but then it relaxes at your grip. You stick your tongue out and lick the tip, getting the suckers at the end nice and wet. Then, you realize it’s superfluous; the tentacles themselves are already leaking, oozing a pearlescent, cum-like fluid. For all you know, it is cum.
With your thumb, you swirl the slick around one of the larger suckers, and look Dieter right in the eye when you pull one of your bra cups down and press the sucker against your nipple. With barely a flick of effort, a tendril unhooks your bra, pulling it off of you before slicking up your other nipple and pulling a throaty moan from you.
His breath catches just watching you. It’s perfect suction, slick and firm and oh-so steady.
“How many do you think you can take?” He asks, pink-faced and restless. The flush is so endearing. He looks desperate.
“Give me all you’ve got,” you tell him.
He whines and hisses. You think he might be deliberating, but after a moment it’s like a switch has flipped, releasing any inhibitions he may have held onto, unlocking his filthy tongue.
“Lemme see that wet little snatch,” he purrs, “That’s it, open those legs for me-”
As if simply willing it–and that may as well be all that it takes–you both watch as one of the fat tentacles splits from the tip, sticky goo trailing between the trifurcated ends like an aloe vera leaf sliced apart. The three new tips writhe apart before slamming into your mouth. Two others pluck at your skin, marring the soft flesh of your inner thighs.
You yelp, muffled, as your legs are spread wide by slick, strong limbs, smaller tendrils prodding at your slick panties before giving up and tearing them apart. Elastic slips loose from your hips, and the gusset of the underwear is a ragged hole.
He steps closer, holds you effortlessly. You’re suspended by a whole mass of tentacles, the suckers pulsating against your skin, dark purple blooms beginning to bruise beneath them. Dieter’s face is so close to your cunt, your first instinct is to close your legs. He holds them open further, though, and breathes deep. “You smell like a fucking dream,” he praises, running a think finger along your folds, dipping in gently, stroking along you, finding where you’re most sensitive.
After a thorough examination, he steps back. “Gonna play with you, baby,” he tells you.
"Jesus Christ", you breathe. The tentacles in your mouth slip out and another tentacle presses at your opening. It slips with a lewd squelch and little resistance, pumps in a couple times, and pulls out to wrap around Dieter’s cock. He strokes himself with the slippery tentacle and lets out a groan.
"Feels like fucking heaven," he breathes, and another tentacle replaces the first, plunging into your cunt and pulsating, filling you so nicely, making you shake.
You fight against the flutter of your eyelids. There’s so much sensation it’s hard to keep your eyes open, but you need to see him. Need to see this.
“Can you feel with them?” you ask, “With the tentacles?”
“Hmm,” he ponders, “Yes, but–” he slips a second tentacle in with the one already probing your hole and you feel very full. They twist and turn, writhing, pumping in and out of you. You’ve barely gotten started but you can already feel yourself start to build. At this rate, you’ll be squirting all over him in absolutely no time at all.
“I feel it,” he tells you, “And it feels really good, like, fuuuckkk–but it feels like it’s not just me controlling them. It is me, but it’s more than just me. I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“Then don’t,” you smile, “Just fuck yourself with them the same way you’re fucking me.”
He lets out another whine. It’s cute, really. Only a minute ago he’d been telling you what to do, and with the slightest prodding, he seems eager to obey. You could get far too used to this.
“C’mon, baby,” you coax, your hips canting, thrusting against the slippery tentacles pressing deeper, deeper-, “Keep going just like that. And open yourself up, too.”
He groans, and two tentacles move around him to start spreading his cheeks. A third prods tenderly at his hole.
Just as a third tentacle presses into your cunt, and another is gently pressing it’s suckers up your throat and holding you in place, Dieter is rendered incoherent as one thick tentacle shoves its way into him. Immediately, he sees stars. If this was the result of an entire day of edging, it was more than worth it.
You’re rutting against the tentacles that are fucking you, meeting each thrust. There’s a pulse pumping through each limb, making you feel impossibly full. When you look at Dieter, you’re certain you can see the bulge of a tentacle in his belly, filling him up so full.
You barely have time to process the build of your arousal before the tip of one of the tentacles suckers against your clit and another twists inside you, hits you in just the right way, and you tip over.
Cum spurts from you, your entire body convulsing. You try to close your thighs, try to pull away from the sensation, but you’re still being held aloft and spread out, fully bared. Instead of stopping or slowing, the tentacles only fuck into you faster and deeper. You can’t stop coming, certain at this point you’ve made a whole damn puddle on the floor beneath you.
Dieter watches, transfixed by the entire show that’s played out before him. He’s red-faced, his skin mottled with purple bruises, cock so hard it looks painful, and has a trio of tendrils ass-fucking him.
When your orgasm finally, finally tapers off, you almost expect your holds to release you. A new hunger stirs in you, though, and when you’re still held tight, you’re oddly grateful for it.
Dieter lowers you, pulling you towards him. He kisses you, open-mouthed and messy, groaning into it. After a few moments he pulls away from you, slick lipped and panting. When he speaks, his voice is raspy and desperate, a monstrous echo following it to create a bizarre, two-tone sound.
The tentacles that aren’t already on or in you both start whipping around, grabbing for purchase and pulling away as if they can’t make up their mind.
Dieter pushes you back. Starts to withdraw.
You hold him in place.
Now you can see his eyes.
They’re totally black. Even the sclerae are gone, murky with inky swirls, glassy and wide and beautiful.
“I- I think you need to leave,” he begs, “It’s too much. They’re taking too much from me.”
You reach out to put a hand on his cheek, and he leans in for a moment before flinching away.
“No!” He hisses, “You need to go. It feels too good, it won’t let me stop. I won’t be able to stop. I don’t know how far it’ll go, but if you don’t leave, I don’t think I can stop it.”
Warmth and clarity floods you. You’re not sure how much is your own mind, and how much is this thing that’s taken over, but it’s sweet, really.
He thinks you could stop if you wanted to.
“It’s okay,” you assure him, and you feel the way he melts, feel the way the tentacles stop fighting and start wrapping around your limbs again, their grasp pulling tighter and tighter, “You take what you need.”
With a sob, he lets go.
The tentacles set you down. Your legs shake, and you barely have time to blink before he’s on you. Any distance you had is gone now, his hands grasping at you, his body flush against yours. You can feel the weight of his cock against your thigh, the strength of his arms holding you. He’s steadying you, or maybe steadying himself. The skin-to-skin contact feels so fucking good and, if the way his hands fly all over you, you’re certain he feels it too.
One big hand grabs at your breast, the other clutching the flesh of your hip. He grinds against you, messy and sticky and so, so delicious.
He settles you back against a surface, seats you and spreads your legs with his strong hands. A tentacle grabs at your jaw almost tenderly, plucking at the skin, holding you gently.
Dieter lines up his cock and sinks into you, groaning at the hot wet clutch that sucks him in. The surrounding tendrils wrap around you both. You’re certain there are still tentacles fucking into him, but you think another might join, right at the same time you feel the slippery tip of one prodding at your own asshole.
You relax into it, nod to let him know you’re ready, and moan as you feel the slimy length penetrate you. Dieter moans, too, entirely lost in the sensation.
He fucks you fast and deep. You’ve never felt fullness like this before. The pump of the tentacles into both you and Dieter matches his rhythm.
“Fuck-” he croaks, desperate, “Think I’m getting close-”
“That’s it, baby,” you soothe, “Makin’ me feel so fucking good. Come on, baby, come for me-”
He pulls you into him, presses his lips to your in a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, longer and deeper than it has any right to be. It’s a tentacle, too, you realize, and you moan into the suckers that have started pulling at your tongue. It’s disgusting and absolutely exquisite.
He only manages two more thrusts before he explodes.
You feel his balls pulse, cum flooding your cunt. The tentacles pulse too, though, and soon your mouth is full, your ass, his ass. Like fireworks popping off in quick succession, every tentacle unloads, one after the next, painting the entire room in dripping swaths of cum.
He lets out a noise that sounds like something between a sob and a laugh, final blessed release at last reaching him.
Dieter pulls out, but continues rocking against you, humping your thigh as his alien limbs continue to surge with spend.
After several long, sticky minutes, you unfurl from one another. With some distance between you, you’re able to see the damage that’s been done. The room is a disaster. You can literally see cum dripping from the ceiling.
Dieter’s looking around the room, too, but he doesn’t look concerned. No, he looks impressed.
“Well shit,” he surveys everything around him. “That was fun.”
You’re still catching your breath as he rummages around and procures a stash box. You can see a variety of substances; baggies filled with powder, assorted pills, a few things you don’t recognise, and a fat pouch full of bud.
He rolls a joint, licks the paper, packs it, and sparks it.
“So, uh-” you start, unsure where you’re going with it.
He beats you to it.
“You wanna stay over?”
You stare at him.
“I mean, it just seems rude to send someone home after sharing some life-altering tentacle sex, right?”
“I was unaware there was standard etiquette regarding tentacle sex.”
He shrugs. “All etiquette is just made up, right?”
A glob of cum drips from the ceiling and lands with a dull splat against the top of your head.
You burst out laughing.
Dieter’s eyes crinkle, and he’s laughing too.
He passes you the joint. You take it, wiping cum from your forehead.
“All right,” you tell him, “I’ll stay over.”
Dieter checks his phone, pulls up Todd’s text thread.
Beneath his tentacles text is Read 1:43pm. He rolls his eyes and follows it up.
you remember those cleaners? the good ones? the crime scene ones?
I need em
soon as they’re free
promise it’s not a crime scene this time
there’s just a lot of cum
After you’re both showered, you go to Dieter’s spare bedroom. Hazy from the weed and exhausted from the hands-down weirdest and best sex of your life, you collapse together.
Dieter’s tentacles look different. Smaller, maybe? Less hungry. Sated.
You fall asleep with his tentacles around you.
When you wake up, his arms are around you instead, holding you close. His abdomen is bare, only skin left.
You start to wriggle, to turn over, but something’s in your way.
There’s something at your abdomen, blocking your movements.
Dieter begins to stir. He stretches, rubs his eyes, and takes you in.
“Babe-” he grins, “You’ve gotta fuck me with those!”
Your own set of shimmering tentacles slip and writhe from your body. You pull him close, suddenly hungry, and get to work.
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