#liquid handling companies

[theinnermeyoullneverknow]

I fucking hate "wealth management" companies.

[shawnrealty]

Maximize Your Estate Sale with Professional Liquidators | Tips for Downsizing Homeowners

Some individuals unknowingly sell valuable items at a loss when downsizing or managing an estate. Estate liquidators can assist with pricing, marketing, and selling, but it's crucial to vet them carefully. Prepare by organizing, researching values...

Someone pays $10 for $2,000 worth of gold coins and $30 for a $3,000 1960’s Gibson acoustic guitar.   These are extreme examples, but some homeowners sell their family estate items at big losses because they didn’t know the values of those items.  Also, some coffee mugs sell for $100 and vintage bottle caps sell for $20 each. If you are downsizing and have time, then you may research sale…

[stvrmhondss]

i hope red bull liquidates actually

[bhupatiengineering]

Storage Solution Providers in India - Bhupati Engineering

Bhupati Engineering is committed to providing high-quality products and services to its customers at competitive prices. The company's products and services are used by a wide range of industries in India, including agriculture, food processing, chemicals, and storage solution providers. Bhupati Engineering is dedicated to providing sustainable solutions that meet the needs of its customers and the environment.

[ohproserpine]

iii. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, gorey-ish descriptions of love, murder

The next night, Alastor returned in unusually high spirits. He practically dragged you onto the dance floor, twirling you around in dizzying circles for eight whole rounds. If you hadn't asked him to stop, you might have ended up collapsing from sheer exhaustion.

As it was a Saturday night and you weren't scheduled to perform, the trio of you settled in at the bar, enjoying drinks and each other's company as the night wore on.

"Come on, doll! Bottoms up!" Mimzy cheered, her laughter bubbling with infectious energy. The blonde pressed a crystal-clear glass against your lips, tilting it up and urging you to indulge further. The cool liquid burned as it slid down your throat, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. The room turned into a swirling blend of jazz melodies, clinking glasses, and loud, loud chatter.

After a few seconds, unable to endure the relentless flow of alcohol, you finally pushed her hand away with a sputter and a cough. The taste of the giggle water lingered on your lips as you slumped against Alastor's chest, your burning cheeks squished against the fabric of his coat.

"Had a bit too much, have we?" he smirked. The radio host smoothly wrapped an arm around your shoulder, the fine fabric of his suit brushing against your skin as he held you upright against him. You nestled against Alastor, swaying slightly to the music, the alcohol-induced haze casting a dreamy glow over your vision. "My, it looks as though the night's got its claws in you, cher."

"Not yet it hasn't," you grinned, your words slurring slightly as you shifted against him, a hand outstretched to grab your drink off the counter.

"Ah ah ah," Alastor chuckled as he took your glass from you, setting it aside with a careful motion. "Let's not push our luck, shall we?"

"Aw, don't be such a wet blanket!" Mimzy snorted, her curls bouncing as she plopped onto the seat beside you. "She's just having a good time! Ain't that right, doll?"

"Mhm!" you nodded your head eagerly before stopping, the ceaseless nodding causing a dull ache in your head.

"There's a good time, and then there's getting plastered. I'd hate to see the star of the show here end up on the floor. Ha ha!" Alastor boomed out with a laugh, catching you off guard. You would have stumbled off the seat if it weren't for his swift reflexes, his gloved hand wrapping around your arm to pull you back up.

"Such a klutz," Alastor tutted with a smirk as he steadied you. "See? What ever would happen to my favorite showgirl if I don't keep a watchful eye?" 

"Oh, please!" Mimzy snorted as she slid another cool glass of giggle water in front of you, leaving a glistening trail of water from the condensation. "She's handled worse than this. We're just getting started!”

"Mimzy, my dear, it seems my words didn't quite get into that thick skull of yours," Alastor enunciated with a tight-lipped smile. "Allow me to say it in much more simpler terms; she has had enough."

"Oh, come on—"

"Do you want all your patrons to witness yet another fiasco in this establishment?"Alastor smiled as he bore his gaze into the blonde's doe eyes. "Because it does sure seem like a night can't pass here without a fuckup!"

Mimzy's shoulders raised in surprise. She stayed silent for a while before forcing out a response through gritted teeth. "No."

Alastor leaned in, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, voice devoid of his usual eccentricity. "Then dry up. Understood?"

"Understood," Mimzy rolled her eyes, tucking her chin to her chest as she stared at her feet.

"Lovely." Alastor hummed before straightening himself. And just like that, the tension dissipated, replaced by an air of nonchalance.

"Well! This has been a delightful night, but I do believe it's time to escort this lovely lady home, don't you think?" Alastor's tone shifted back to its usual charm, as nothing had happened. He wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging your ditzy self out of the bar stool as he began to guide you out of the speakeasy.

"Best of luck, chums!"

.

"Can you believe it? That lousy, two-timing rat! You introduce him to the girl of his dreams, and what does he do? He high-tails it outta here with her, leaving us all high and dry!" Mimzy ranted, shaking her fist in frustration before pouring herself another drink. "Not a word for a whole week! I had to call in Nitwit Nancy to cover her Friday shifts! And you know that broad sounds like a screeching cat on a hot tin roof."

Beside her, Angel Dust was flabbergasted, his jaw hanging open with the champagne glass dangling loosely from his hands, its contents long spilled onto the counter, creating a shimmering puddle on the bar. Husk grumbled as he wiped the counter clean with a worn-out rag, eyes flickering between Mimzy and Angel.

The spider was staring at Mimzy as if the blonde had just sprouted a third tit, his eyes wide and struggling to process everything he had just been told.

“Why is you gawkin'?!” Mimzy leaned away from Angel, unsettled by the look on his face. “Aww. Is it 'cuz I'm adorable?”

"Fuckin' hell, toots," the spider coughed out a laugh. "I'm having difficulty understanding all that you just spat at me, blondie. What happened to you ‘keeping a secret’?"

Mimzy's body tensed, a sudden realization flashing across her face as she belatedly registered the fact that she had been running her mouth.

Shaking her head, she pulled herself back together with a huff. "Whatever, alright?! I doubt—"

Suddenly, a loud bang at the door echoed through the room, causing the two demons to startle in their seats. Mimzy's head snapped towards the source of the noise so swiftly she nearly gave herself whiplash. In growing horror, she watched as the hinges of the hotel's entrance door began to creak, the walls around them starting to crack and shed plaster.

"Mimzy! We know you're in there! You lousy bitch!"

"Oh, shit," she winced sinking into her seat.

"What the fuck—" Husk cursed, his words drowned out by the sudden explosion that violently rattled the lower windows. Shards of glass rained down onto the floor as dust and debris filled the air, choking their senses. Husk whipped his head around to glare at Mimzy when she vaulted over the bar counter, seeking refuge behind the sturdy wood.

"I fucking knew it. What shit have you brought to us this time?" Husk demanded, his grip tightening on her dress as he lifted her up. Another explosion echoed through the building, the shockwaves pulsing through the floor causing Husk to stumble and drop her. 

With a pained grunt, the blonde crashed to the floor, her bruised front absorbing the brunt of the impact. As she lifted her head, she met Husk's glare.

"Ahah... Well," Mimzy sheepishly smiled, her eyes darting nervously as she cowered on the floor. The banging on the door grew louder and more aggressive, echoing through the hotel lobby like a menacing drumbeat.

Angel Dust stood frozen by one of the living room walls, his hands pressed against it to anchor himself. Suddenly, he noticed the television set flickering with an eerie glow, emitting dissonant static noises that seemed to crawl under his fur. The crackling sound took on an unsettling pitch, and an odd pink electricity surged through the screen, casting a sickly hue across the room. "What the fuck...?!"

In that moment, Vaggie and Charlie stormed onto the scene, their eyes widening in disbelief as they absorbed the chaotic sight. The hotel lobby, once orderly and serene, now lay in ruins—furniture overturned, glass shattered, and the wallpaper charred.

"What's happening?!" Vaggie exclaimed, swiftly drawing her spear and slicing a chunk of concrete in half before it could reach her. The broken pieces ricocheted off the walls, adding to the destruction.

"We are under sssiege!" Sir Pentious screamed as he scrambled to get Nifty into his arms, slithering behind the toppled-over couch for cover. The banging on the door intensified, accompanied by muffled threats and angry shouts from outside. "It'sss all that harlot'sss fault!

"Harlot?" Vaggie questioned, her fiery gaze sweeping the room for a familiar mop of blonde hair. Upon spotting Mimzy, her eyes narrowed as her lips curled into a snarl. "Explain."

"I may or may not be in trouble with an overlord! Well, maybe a couple of 'em," Mimzy rushed out, her words tumbling over each other in a nervous babble. "And I may or may not have 'borrowed' one of their top showgirls. And, well, got that girl killed… but she had it coming!"

Vaggie's patience waned with each new sentence Mimzy added, and a low groan escaped her lips.

"Leave this to me," she hissed, red-hot fury flashing in her eyes as she tightened her grip on her spear. "Everyone, get somewhere safe."

"I'm afraid that will not be necessary, my dear."

A sudden crackling static, skin to the ominous hum of a radio, seeped through the room as Alastor emerged from the shadowed corners. The demon's grin twisted unnaturally, stretching up to his glowing crimson eyes, which emitted an eerie, hollow glow. Tendrils of inky shadow began to writhe and sprout from Alastor's back, emitting sickening cracking noises.

In the blink of an eye, he dashed outside, engaging in his unholy work, swiftly and effortlessly ridding the area of its assailants. The air outside carried echoes of screams and the sharp, metallic scent of blood.

Before everyone could fully comprehend the whirlwind of events that had just transpired, the screaming ceased. Shortly after, Alastor returned to his usual demeanor. Nonchalantly stepping back into the damaged lounge, he dusted off his suit, traces of blood marking his path on the floors.

"Alastor! Babyface! Good show!" Mimzy began clapping, seemingly unfazed by the gorey scene as she stepped out of her hiding spot. "Bravo! bravo!"

Upon hearing Mimzy's voice, Alastor's head fully twisted around with a loud, bone-chilling crack accompanying the movement. The radio demon moved toward her, his towering 7-foot form eclipsing her much smaller figure. He bared his sharp teeth in a menacing smile as his antlers began to grow in length, curling and twisting over his head—a display nothing short of terrifying.

"You—"

"Alastor~" Charlie's voice quivered with forced cheerfulness, her hands wringing together anxiously. "Haha! Let's, uh, try to keep our cool here, okay? We really don't need any more messes, do we? Haha!"

The princess's attempt at forced cheerfulness made her look desperate, her manic expression surfacing as her pupils visibly shrank, darting around the room like startled prey.

Alastor closed his eyes, the tension in his form visible as he took a moment to regain composure. Gradually, his antlers reverted to their usual size. With an eerie calm settling over him, he reopened his eyes, though the strain was evident in his smile. "My apologies, chum. I'll be out of your hair in a bit."

He spared Charlie one more glance, his gaze piercing, before redirecting his attention to Mimzy. The intensity in his stare bore into her as he spoke, his voice low and measured. "Since you are so eager to catch up, why don't we have a talk? In private."

With that, the radio demon snapped his fingers, transporting both of them out of the lounge.

"Dumb bitch," Husk grumbled under his breath, covering his eyes with his paws and slamming his head onto the bar counter. "We're all fucked once he finds out."

"Find out what?" Walking up to him, Angel Dust shot Husk a confused look. The spider delicately brushed away the dust that clung to his grey fur, picking out the bigger pieces of cement and plaster. "I thought they were friends?"

Husk raised his head off the counter, mismatched eyes meeting Angel's own. "Not anymore."

.

Mimzy slowly opened her eyes, greeted by the surreal sight of a blood-red room surrounding her. It housed a radio station complete with an array of dials and a microphone, the very tools she knew Alastor utilized for his broadcasts.

'His broadcasting station?' she noted, curiously looking about the room.

Suddenly, Alastor's firm grip closed around her shoulder, causing her to whirl around with disorienting speed. His bloodied claws moved to cradle both of her rosy cheeks, their sharp edges looming dangerously close to breaking skin while he squeezed her face as though dealing with a disobedient child.

"I thought I made it very clear that you were to step nowhere near me," Alastor forced her to stare up at him. Despite the discomfort caused by Alastor's claws digging in, Mimzy maintained her confident demeanor and glared straight back up at him. "Did I not, dearest?"

"Oh, I just ran into a spot of trouble, and I thought, who better to lend a helping hand than you?" Mimzy rolled her eyes as she pulled herself away from his grasp, massaging the tender flesh of her cheeks. "You always love helping lil ole me."

"Enough. What is it you want?" Alastor snapped. "Should you persist in wasting more of my precious time, I will relish tearing you apart limb from limb, and the symphony of your sweet screams will be a broadcast for all of Hell to revel in."

Mimzy, unfazed, leaned in with a sly grin, her fingers playfully tracing the lapel of Alastor's coat. "Alright, tall, dark, and creepy. I know you aren't going to do shit."

"After all," she batted her lashes at him, "Hurting me would be hurting her, now wouldn't it?"

The blonde pressed her finger into his chest, poking him repeatedly. "That was in the contract~ You. Heartless. Son. Of. A. Bitch."

A low, guttural chuckle rumbled in the depths of Alastor's throat. "Oh, sweetheart," he drawled, catching her finger mid-poke. "You seem to be overlooking the delicate nature of contracts. It might be wise for you to tread more carefully, relying on such flimsy assurances."

"Flimsy?!" Mimzy scowled. "I got your girl on a leash!"

"Lets make this very clear," Alastor's voice deepened into a growl, eyes flashing red in warning. "This contract doesn't grant you a carte blanche to play games with my patience. If not for her plea to spare you, your fate would have been sealed by now."

As Alastor's grip moved to tighten around her throat, Mimzy's eyes nervously tracked the sharp edge of his claws, her breath catching in her throat.

"W-Whatevah! A contract is a contract," she retorted. Mimzy roughly pulled away from him, scrambling to gain the upper hand again. "Even if there ain't a soul exchange, it's still binding!"

"Yes, indeed! I am well aware of contractual obligations, dear," Alastor grinned, his cane tightening in his grip, claws leaving indents on the dark steel. Bending down to meet her gaze, he continued, "But you seem to have forgotten that time's almost up! The expiration for your contract is nearing. And when that happens, I do intend to reclaim what is rightfully mine – my wife. At that point, you will find yourself plunged into an abyssal world of unrelenting agony."

"Abyss, schmabyss. I've dealt with worse," Mimzy scoffed, her hand waving dismissively. "Now look, I got what I wanted outta you, and I don't have to take this."

With that, the blonde turned with a dramatic flair, her heels clicking against the floor as she stomped towards the door. She adjusted her hair and straightened her dress, a smug smirk dancing on her lips.

"Have fun with your little princess and your little project," she quipped.

Over her shoulder, she shot Alastor one last look, a sly glint in her eyes. "Because I sure am having fun with mine~"

Dry up - Shut up Giggle Water - Liquor Carte Blanche - Complete freedom to act as one wishes

[tekmaticinc]

Advantages of Laboratory Automation Systems

Laboratory Automation Systems and data accuracy can both be significantly increased by using lab automation technologies. Lab automation technologies can aid in enhancing the dependability and reproducibility of research results by decreasing the possibility of human mistakes and delivering more accurate and consistent results.

[thebibliosphere]

I apologize if you’ve been asked this question before and I missed it in the craziness that is Tumblr, but can I ask what type of foundation you use? I don’t have MCAS, just rosacea-slash-really sensitive skin, which I used to have a fairly good handle on. Unfortunately, going through menopause dialed everything up to eleven somehow. So now I’m having to reevaluate every single skin care product that I’ve ever used.

Ooft, solidarity, the struggle is real.

So, the foundations I use are the pressed mineral powder from Gabrielle Cosmetics/Zuzu Luxe* (same parent company), which can be applied either dry or wet. I've also got their oil-free liquid foundation, which I think gives a bit better coverage during the winter.

I will say they are not overly good at covering up rosacea or red skin (I have the "MCAS flush" on the sides of my face and high on my cheeks and sometimes on my nose that I can't hide, so I make it look like aggressive blusher, lol. Assigned e-girl by my immune shit)

I'm actually about to patch-test a red-correction liquid foundation from Daniel Sandler*, which I've heard from a few other MCAS people has been helpful at covering up the MCAS flush and not caused too many reactions for those of us who have extra sensitive skin. I use their liquid watercolor blush without issue as well, so here's hoping. I can post an update if anyone is interested when I've done testing it.

I was also recently recommended a Korean skincare brand called Dr. Jart+* by someone else with rosacea, which looks interesting, but unfortunately, they've all got some level of sunscreen in them, and the last time I had serious anaphylaxis was from an absorbent sunscreen so I'm not supposed to use them. RIP to my skin, I guess.

Anyway, that's what I use. Good luck in your skincare journey.

*not sponsored or affiliated, just sharing what I use/have been recommended by other folks with super sensitive skin.

[tddyhyck]

14 FOR THAT SMUT PROMPT UGHHH, i need it 🫶🏽

threes company [ l.jn n.jm]

i went very ham with this sry … also didn’t know what members so i did jeno x jaemin 🤭

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 ⇢ jeno x jaemin x afab!reader

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩 ⇢ “how do you feel about two at once?”

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ⇢ smut, double vaginal penetration, threesome, slight mxm, fingering, squirting, lube, multiple orgasms, filming, big schlong nomin

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 ⇢ 1.7k

masterlist

“you’re taking him so well, baby,” jeno leans over you, brushing your hair from your face. your mouth is hanging open and tears are rolling down your flushed cheeks while jaemin pounds you from behind. you can barely hold yourself up as he thrusts into your pussy while his thumb is pressed against your rim making your head spin.

“she’s so fucking tight,” jaemin groans from behind you, making you clench tighter around him. jeno is in front of you, cock hard in his fist right in front of your mouth. you stuck your tongue out to take him but he just smirked down at you tapping the head against your wet muscle. you look up at him through wet eyelashes silently begging him to fuck your mouth but he wasn’t obliging.

you see jeno making motions with his eyes having a silent conversation with the boy behind you, but you don’t really care when jaemin is filling your walls up so well. until he pulls out and you sob at the emptiness, your pussy clenching around nothing making creamy wetness drip down your lips and onto your thighs.

jeno moves from in front of you and you feel so vulnerable and lonely all of a sudden empty and on full display. you’re about to roll over and protest to the two boys until a hand slaps your already red cheek.

“c’mere,” jeno says, while hands grip your hips raising you to your knees you can tell by the calloused roughness it’s jeno. once you're pressed into jeno’s chest, jaemin appears in front of you with tousled hair and sweat gleaming on his chest. he slides in front of you laying back on the soft bed. jeno’s hands have crept their way up to tweak your nipples.

“how do you feel about two at once,” he asks from below. you gasp in surprise not expecting that but not put off either. the thought makes you press your thighs together.

“i think she likes it,” jeno smirks against your neck, making you shiver.

“do you? want me and jeno to fill up your pussy?” you nod quickly.

“do you think you could handle it?” jeno asks, fingers dancing down to your wet heat. one arm gripping your waist to keep you in place while the other brushes over your clit.

“i can, i can take it.” you splutter as jeno’s fingers fill you up suddenly. jaemin grins at you from below, eyes flitting between your cunt and your face.

“can you?” jaemin teases hand gripping his cock beneath you. you feel the head press against your hole that jeno has three fingers buried deep into. whining you grind down against jeno’s hand making the head brush your entrance again. you reach down gripping at jeno and jaemin wrists to ground yourself at the intensity. jeno speeds up the sloppy sounds of your cunt filling the room along with your moans.

“oh my god, oh my god,” you cry, grip tightening on the two boys’ wrists. “i’m gonna. i’m cumming,” you mewl, feeling liquid squirting out of you, making you arch against jeno’s fingers. you look down in embarrassment seeing your squirt covering jaemin’s lower abdomen, but he just looks up at you with a grin dipping his fingers into the liquid and bringing them to his smirking lips.

“fucking wet pussy,” jeno says from behind, removing his fingers you don’t see him but he pumps jaemin’s cock making the younger groan before plunging it into your soaking hole. you whine still sensitive when he rubs against your warm walls. you lean your head back against jeno’s shoulder as you bounce on jaemin’s cock.

“full baby?” jeno whispers.

“not enough, need you,” you shake your head. reaching behind you pumping jeno’s length making him grunt against your shoulder. he pushes you down pressing you into jaemin’s still wet chest.

“pretty girl, take me so well. gonna take jeno well too right?” jaemin asks his fingers, gripping your ass and helping you move on him. you nod against his shoulder mewling when jeno leaves another slap on your ass.

you hear a cap open before cool liquid drips down your hole and onto your pussy making you shiver. you feel jeno’s large digits rubbing the slick liquid against your hole even onto the base of jaemin’s cock. you want to watch your cunt swallow them both so bad it makes you dizzy.

“wait,” you say, pushing off of jaemin’s chest and looking over at jeno, making both boys pause looking at you. “can you film? wanna see?”

“you’re so dirty,” jeno groans before spanking you again, making you fall into jaemin’s chest again. you hear him leaning off the mattress grabbing someone’s phone and fiddling with it.

“wanna see your little cunt filled up?” jaemin croons up at you before gripping your chin and pulling you into his lips, kissing you tenderly. he’s distracting you from the boy behind you whose fingers are dipping into you, pressing tightly against jaemin’s cock to fill your walls. you whine into jaemin’s mouth at the two fingers fucking into you alongside jaemin. he’s rocking you gently down onto his cock as jeno’s hand speeds up inside of you.

you pull away looking over your shoulder at jeno in a deep state of concentration, phone in one hand shaking slightly as his other pounds into you. you grip your ass spreading your cheeks as much as possible wanting so badly to feel his cock in you too.

“fuck,” you sob when he adds a third finger. his head shoots up looking at you from under his hair and smirks when he sees your fucked out expression. you’d never felt so full and so empty at once. wanting his cock to stretch out your pussy. you knew you would pay for it tomorrow but right now cock was the only thing on your brain.

“taking it so well, pretty. almost ready for my cock,” you moan when he slips his fourth finger in.

“feels good baby,” jaemin asks, making you nod your head and look back down at him. he’s so pretty, hair spread on the pillow messily and sweat beading on his forehead. you wondered if he liked it, feeling fingers alongside his cock.

“so good. so full. do you like it?”

“it’s so good baby, your tight little cunt feels so good around me. jeno’s practically giving me a handjob,” he says looking down at you. you want to make a smart comment about how he would like that but you don’t get a chance to answer before jeno’s fingers leave you. you can’t be sassy because the head of his lubed up cock is pressing into you making your eyes roll back.

“so fucking tight,” you hear jeno hiss, gripping your ass as he fills you up.

“oh fuck,” you groan into jaemin’s neck as jeno bottoms out. “so fucking full. shit.” you feel hands gripping your sides, hips everywhere. you feel them all over you and in you.

“please move please fuck me,�� you moan, biting jaemin’s neck when jeno finally pulls out before thrusting back in softly. you hear jaemin groaning in your ear and jeno grunting behind you. they’re filling your brain, taking over all your senses, you hear them, taste them, feel them, smell them, and see them everywhere.

“so fucking tight,” jeno groans you can tell he’s holding back from fully blowing your back out.

“don’t hold back please,” you whimper as loud as you can. jeno listens, gripping your hips tighter before speeding up. you felt your cheeks growing wet again you weren’t sure if it was tears or drool, but you didn’t care either way.

“can’t believe you’d let us both fuck you. knew you were a slut,” jeno says through gritted teeth. you clench at his words making both men groan out at the tightness. “and you’re so fucking wet, soaking us both and the sheets.”

“you’re dripping baby,” jaemin adds. you can’t feel the juices that are practically pouring out of your cunt like a leaky pipe. you only feel the cocks drilling into you bringing you closer to the edge of a cliff you’d never been to before.

“fucking shit.” jaemin moans his fingers digging into your hips. you feel the knot in your stomach tighten as his cock twitches against your walls. was it even his cock or jeno’s?

“gonna cum jaem?” jeno asks over your shoulder and you feel jaemin nod. you press your lips to his neck and move your fingers that had been gripping his arm up to his nipple tickling at the skin around it before brushing over the sensitive nub. you tried to focus on him, upping his pleasure but all it did was up yours. feeling him tense beneath you had you reeling. you loved that he was enjoying it, not just you.

“so fucking good. holy shit, gonna fill you up,” he says before pressing his head back into the mattress with a groan. and that was all you needed feeling his hot cum squirting inside of you and jeno drilled into you and you were cumming. harder than you ever had legs shaking between theirs, eyes rolling, mouth hanging open a cry trying to leave your mouth before getting caught in your throat.

“shit,” you don’t know who it is at this point, walls fluttering around them, milking jaemin’s cock. you can feel the cum being fucked out of you forming a white ring around both cocks.

“fuck jeno,” jaemin groans. you know jeno is loving this both of you under him being driven into overstimulation.

“i’m close, just a little more,” jeno grunts sloppily fucking into you. you’re whimpering into jaemin’s neck gripping his shoulder when jeno finally cums, making you shake. he thrusts deeply into you as his cum fills you, mixing with jaemin’s inside of you before stopping. there’s no talking for a moment, just heavy breathing.

“fucking hell,” jeno finally says pulling out of you before lifting your hips causing jaemin to slip out of you. jeno spreads your cheeks bringing the phone between your legs watching the mixture of cum drip out of your pulsing, spent pussy.

“you did so well,” jaemin says, brushing your hair from your face. you whimper when jeno’s fingers graze your lower lips.

“dude she just came like 4 times and had two dicks in her, let her breathe,” jaemin said to the other boy.

“right sorry,” he apologizes, making you laugh before hearing the ping indicating the recording had stopped.

© tddyhyck

[freedomfireflies]

Three to Make Ready*

Summary: The third part to One for the Money*

Mr. Styles, your boss (and the CEO of the company you work for), offers to help you expand your OnlyFans business.

One of his suggestions?

Piercing your nipples.

Word Count: 5.4k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Deep breath for me, Peach, yeah?”

You attempt to obey his instruction, exhaling as calmly as you can. But the next intake of air catches in your throat as Mr. Styles runs the needle through the flame of your lighter.

He’s already convinced you to do quite a few things you wouldn’t have considered before.

But piercing your nipples has to take the cake.

When his request is met with silence, his eyebrow cocks up, and he looks over. “What did I just say, hm?”

“To breathe, yeah. I just, uh…kind of forgot how.”

He chuckles as he crawls back over to where you lay on the bed, newly sterilized object in hand. “Do you doubt me?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you retort through a thick swallow. “I wasn’t expecting nipple piercer to be on your resume.”

“Funny.” He takes the ice cube from you. “For your information, I happen to be a man of many talents.”

“Clearly.”

“Yes. So, you have nothing to worry about. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah? You pierce a lot of your client’s nipples?”

He smirks. “Only the good ones.”

With a rather stressed laugh, you settle back into the pillows, heart racing the closer he brings his tools.

In turn, he scoots a bit closer as well, eyes falling to your chest before his chin juts up. “Gonna have to take them out.”

“Oh. Right.” You glance down and hook your finger around the lacey covering over your breasts, gently pulling until your tits pop free. “Uh…there?”

He grins, attention flicking back to your face. “You seem nervous.”

“Gee, really? What was your first clue?”

“Your voice is shaking.” He nods at your arms. “And so are your hands.”

“Yeah, well…getting stabbed with a needle isn’t exactly a talent of mine.”

“You’ve been pierced before, haven’t you?”

“I mean, yeah. But not in my nipple.”

“It’s no different than a clamp,” he responds, moving toward your right breast. “Perhaps a bit more uncomfortable, but I know you can handle it.”

Your eyes narrow. “Yeah? And how exactly do you know that?”

A beat as a teasing smile tugs at his lips. “Because you like pain.”

Shit.

He brings the ice cube closer, running it gently down your feverish skin before encircling the hardened bud and coating it with the melting liquid. 

You hiss, back arching, and features twisting into a wince as you squirm back. “Oh, shit—”

“Easy,” he warns quietly, but he seems entertained. “This is just the ice.”

“I know, and it’s cold.”

“Gee, really? What was your first clue?”

You scoff. “Not funny. God, are you done?”

“What? You don’t like it?” he retorts, continuing to hold the freezing object over your sensitive skin. “Thought you’d be into something like this.”

“I…I am, I just…it’s cold.”

“Yes, you mentioned. Do you not like temperature play?”

You hesitate. “I mean…this is different.”

“Is it? It’s ice.”

“Yeah, but…normally it’s not followed up with a needle.”

He laughs again, eyeing your hardening nipple with great intrigue and calculated focus. “Relax, Peach. I know what I’m doing.”

“Mhm. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Good girl,” he hums as your heart suddenly lurches in your chest. Then, he pulls the melting cube of water away from your body and brings it to your mouth. “Hold this for me, yeah?”

A tad stunned, you nod mutely and part your lips to take the ice between your teeth.

He’s pleased, smiling to himself before he continues his work on your breast. He plucks the nipple between his fingers and rolls it around a time or two, pinching hard in order to stimulate the nerves and make sure it’s ready.

“Are you breathing?” he asks quietly, sneaking a glimpse of your cautious expression.

You nod again, muscles going lax as you anxiously await contact.

With this assurance, he brings the needle to the pebbled bud, studying it with the utmost concentration as he smooths the skin out in order to create space.

“Ready?” he whispers, and your throat goes dry.

“Ready,” you stammer around the cube between your lips. So quietly, you’re surprised he hears you at all.

But he does, and he offers you a look of encouragement before he brings the sharp tip closer.

The sting is no worse than that of a bee, perhaps slightly more prominent. But even with your high pain tolerance, you can’t help gasping some as you feel the needle pierce through to the other side.

“Shit,” you murmur, eyes rolling up toward the ceiling in an effort to keep yourself from looking. “Oh, that’s…god—”

“You all right, Peach?” he asks calmly.

“I’m…I…yeah,” you manage, teeth grinding into the hard block of ice. “Fuck—”

“Easy,” he reminds you, now leaning some of his weight on your leg as if to discourage you from moving. “Hold still, yeah?”

“Yeah…sorry—shit.”

He reaches over for the only earring you had available, getting it into position so he can slide it through. “I’ll pick up the correct bar tomorrow,” he decides. “But until then, this should do.”

Once secure, he leans back to admire his work. “There. Easy.”

Venturing a glance, you look down as well, and notice the shiny, gold hoop glinting in the light from your tit. “…huh.”

His eyebrow raises. “What?”

“It’s…pretty,” you admit, cheeks warming some. “I like it.”

He grins, reaching back up to take the ice from your mouth. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You swallow the extra liquid before running your tongue over your lips. “You were right.”

“Always am,” he retorts coolly before he’s bringing the frozen water back to your other breast. “Still doing okay? Need a break?”

“No. It wasn’t so bad.”

“Good.” He hums again, repeating the previous task of running the cube over your skin. “Doing really well, Peach.”

“Thank you. Sir.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “And you behave. How nice.”

“Haven’t I always?”

“Incredibly well,” he concedes, and it does something strange to the butterflies in your gut. “I knew you’d make an excellent business partner.”

“Ha.” You squirm a bit under the cool trailing of ice across your chest. “I think you just like bossing me around.”

“I like watching you obey,” he corrects smugly. “And I like watching you grow more confident with yourself. And with me.”

“Sure, sure. And it has nothing to do with the fact that my pussy was on full display?”

“Oh, was it? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Very funny. Now who’s got jokes?”

“Like I said. I’m a man of many talents.”

Again, he stimulates your breast a bit before smoothing it back and lining the needle up just so.

And again, you keep your focus anywhere else but his hands, instead content to stare at the bridge of his nose as he goes.

It’s quite a nice nose. One that you’d absentmindedly run your finger down. That you’d boop before pressing a kiss to the tip. 

You don’t imagine he’s into that kind of affection, but your mind wonders about him anyhow. You ponder what his behavior might look like with somebody he cares about. Somebody he loves. If he’s just as calculated or if he loosens up a bit. If he shares his darkest secrets and devotes his time to caring for them.

You rarely see him slip. Sometimes he drinks but even when fully inebriated, he’s still the thoughtful man you’ve come to know. Or when he’s tired, or stressed, or aggravated. Everything he does is carefully concise. He doesn’t lose his temper. He doesn’t sulk or throw tantrums. He rarely raises his voice and he’s never one to belittle somebody for a mistake.

A few of the many reasons you admire him.

“There,” he declares, and you blink yourself back to reality only to realize that he’s finished, and the second hoop is in place. “Done.”

He sits up, removing his weight from your legs, and a part of you is sad to feel him go.

Nevertheless, you push up as well, wincing some as the residual ache begins to settle. “Fuck—”

“It’s gonna be sore for a bit,” he tells you, taking the cube of ice from between your teeth and popping what’s left of it into his own mouth. “Take some Aleve and wear loose clothes. Swelling should go down in a bit.”

You watch him stand, eyebrows raised. “Uh…okay. Now what?”

He’s studying you. In that same way he had the other day in his office. Focus solely on your tits as he sucks on the frozen water with a wry smile.

“You look good, Peach,” he says again, and your lashes flutter. “Really good. S’might be my best work yet.”

“Glad to hear it,” you tease before clearing your throat. “So, um…are we…are we done? Is…I’ll just edit the video and we’ll…I’ll see you at work?”

You’re not sure why you feel so…awkward but what else could he possibly expect of you? He’s essentially done what he came to do and now…

Now what?

He chuckles, tucking the ice into his cheek. “Yes, I’ll see you at work,” he agrees before hesitating. “I just wanna do one thing first.”

Shit. “Oh, uh…yeah? What’s…what’s that?”

He turns around and strides back over to your desk, hand outstretching for your Polaroid camera. “Think we need something to remember the occasion by.”

You can feel the way your pulse goes stagnant, a breath catching in your throat. “…yeah?”

“Yeah.” He studies the settings before turning to you. “And it’s something else you can post if you’d like.”

There’s a strange sort of rush between your legs as Mr. Styles steps up to the edge of the bed, Polaroid in hand.

“Is that all right?” he asks, finger poised over the shutter release.

You nod so quickly, your head begins to ache. “Yes. Yeah, that’s…mhm.”

He smiles, and it’s soft. Amused. “Lay back for me, honey.”

You do, resettling into the pillows, careful not to move too much. “Like…this?”

He nods, lifting the camera and hovering it near his chest so he can peek through the viewfinder. “Yeah, just like that. Arch your back.”

You do as instructed, lifting from the bed until your tits are a bit more prominent.

“Good. And let your hands kind of…rest,” he suggests. “Maybe one just above, one just below. It’ll help draw in the attention.”

“Are the bright, gold hoops through my nipples not enough?”

He chuckles. “Having your hands in the frame reminds people of what your hands can do. How they might squeeze, or pinch, or pull. How you’d look playing with them as you squirm and gasp for more.”

Shit, shit, shit. “Oh…right. Smart.”

With shaky arms, you gently lay your palms near your breasts, framing the handiwork as Mr. Styles leans closer.

“There you go,” he murmurs, peering through the camera. “Just like that, Peach. So fucking pretty.”

The flash goes off, forcing you to suck in a sharp breath as the photo slowly begins to slide out with a mechanical whir.

Pleased, Mr. Styles leans back, slipping the image free before placing the Polaroid back on your desk. “Perfect.”

“Good,” you whisper, biting the inside of your lip. “Good, yeah…”

Sensing your hesitancy, he smirks. “You did good, Peach. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Monday. Right.” You clear your throat as you sit up. “Good. Yeah. I’ll…yeah.”

“Yeah,” he echoes playfully before nodding his goodbye and slipping from the room.

Eventually, you hear your apartment door open and shut, leaving you alone yet again.

And left to wonder what the hell just happened.

“Good morning, Mr. Styles.”

Your greeting is met with nothing more than a short, almost unperceivable nod as you make your way into his office, a coffee in one hand and his schedule in the other.

“Morning,” he mumbles, eyes flicking across his computer screen as you approach and place the hot drink on his desk. “You’re late.”

“I am. Sorry.” You take a seat in front of him, notebook landing in your lap. “I, uh…had a weird start to my day.”

He says nothing. Doesn’t even glance over. All he does is offer the raise of his eyebrow, his sign for you to continue. 

So, you do. 

“I posted the, uh…the picture? That you took?” you explain quietly, glancing around the empty room almost as if you expect someone to be listening. “Which was great, by the way. Really nicely done. The framing…and all that.”

He smirks.

“Anyway, and I, um…I got a message,” you continue slowly. “From another creator. On OnlyFans.”

Still, he’s distracted, replying with a nonchalant, “Okay.”

“He…he asked if I wanted to maybe collab,” you tell him. “Do a…short video together. Or something. Maybe…maybe make it a series?”

The rapid typing on his keyboard suddenly stops as his attention drifts to you. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Your fingers strum rhythmically along the notepad. “I’ve seen a couple of his videos before. He’s good. And he’s got an impressive following.”

Mr. Styles blinks, seemingly unfazed. “All right.”

“Yeah, so…” You shift. “Yeah. What do you…what do you think?”

He leans back in his seat, focus now directly on you. “What do I think of what?”

“Of…him. The idea. Collaborating.”

His head cocks. “Are you asking my permission, Peach?”

Are you? “I’m…yes? No? I don’t…I just want to know if you think it’s a good idea.”

He considers this, humming to himself as he places his elbow on the arm rest. “Are you asking me as your boss or as your investor?”

“Uh…the second one?”

“As your investor, I don’t think it can hurt. More exposure means more subscribers. It helps elevate your content and gives them something they haven’t seen from you before.”

“And as my boss?”

“As your boss, I’m legally obligated to direct you to HR.”

You smile, eyes glancing down toward your folded hands. “Right.”

The large office grows quiet.

“I can’t tell you what to do,” he adds, leaning forward. “This is your business. Your body. Your choice. My input is nothing more than mere suggestion. It’s not rule.”

“I know, I just…you’ve been right so far,” you sigh. “As much as I hate to admit it. And I like what we’ve…created. But I’ve never made a video with anybody else before. I mean, not like what he’s suggesting anyhow.”

“Are you opposed to the idea?”

“Honestly? No. He’s nice. We’ve spoken briefly before, and he made sure to let me know we would create a safe environment.”

Mr. Styles nods, considering this. “Are you attracted to him?”

You blink. “I mean…I don’t…I don’t know? He’s…cute. Yeah. Sure.”

“Can he fuck?”

You lean back. “What?”

“Can he fuck?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“You said you watched his videos. Did it seem like he knew what he was doing?”

“I guess? What does it matter?”

“It matters because if he can’t, you’ll spend the entire scene having to fake your moans, and I don’t think that’s very fair.”

You ponder this. “Okay, well. I’m pretty sure he can.”

“Do you think he’d be worth your time?”

“I don’t…know. I guess? If anything, it gets me out of my comfort zone.”

“All right. Last question.” He leans his weight on the desk and meets your eye. “Do you want to?”

You take a beat before answering. You honestly aren’t sure. You used to think you didn’t want anything, but Mr. Styles changed that for you. And you realized earlier this morning that you don’t think it will ever feel like it did with him. Comfortable, and safe, and…right? 

You don’t understand any of it.

“Yes,” you finally say. “I do. I just…I think I’m nervous.”

“Then take your time to find your nerve,” he suggests. “Get to know him first. Discuss how you’d like the scene to play out. The technicalities, the boundaries, the point.”

You groan a bit as you flop back into your chair. “God, it was so much simpler with you.”

The dark hairs of his eyebrow quirk up. “How so?”

“I don’t know. It just was.” You shrug. “You showed up, you told me what to do…it was nice. I already knew you. Felt comfortable with you. It wasn’t about the camera or the technicalities. It was just about…pleasure.”

He nods. “How it should be.”

“Right. And I liked it. I liked how…normal it felt? In a sense?’ 

He’s amused by this. “Sex only works if you’re comfortable.”

“Agreed. It would be so much easier with you.”

The statement seems to catch you both off guard as you clear your throat and glance at your shoes.

“I mean…you know what I mean,” you mumble, shifting some. “I…yeah. I’ll just…I’ll message him and work something. Great…great talk.”

You feel him watching you. Eyes raking over every inch of your fame before he straightens up.

“Peach,” he calls, pulling your attention back. “Come here.”

Your head tilts. “What?”

“Come,” he repeats, motioning you closer with a jut of his chin.

Confused, you stand, allowing your feet to carry you to his side of the desk as he scoots back to create room.

Once settled before him, he travels his focus up to your face. “How are they?”

“How are…what?”

“The piercings.” 

“Oh.” You both glance toward your chest. “Uh…good? I think? They don’t hurt as much anymore. Still a little tender, though.”

He nods. “Show me.”

Despite the chill that travels straight to your cunt, you swallow. “I’m sorry?”

“Show me,” he repeats. “Let me make sure they’re healing right.”

A ruse if you’ve ever heard one, but you can’t deny the small inkling of intrigue as you reach for the buttons on your blouse.

You pop them free, slow, and deliberately as he watches. The office is quiet but the tension in the air is palpable. 

When you get to the last one, something in his expression shifts.

“Peach…” he begins slowly, almost as if warning you.

Your smile is innocent.

His large hands outstretch for the silky shirt, gingerly pushing it back and down your shoulders until your torso is revealed to him.

The air is cool against your bare chest, your nipples even more prominent now with the delicate jewelry catching the light outside his large window. It sends yet another shiver rippling across your nervous system as you twitch beneath his touch.

He hums. “Think you forgot something,” he muses, steady palms ghosting over your ribcage.

“What? Oh, yeah.” Your voice is nonchalant and blasé. “Well, you said loose fitting clothes. Thought wearing something so…tight would defeat the purpose.”

He’s amused. “So you came into my office with no bra, hm?”

“Seems like I did.”

He begins to pull you closer, legs parting to create the space you need to stand. “And how do they feel?”

You look down at him, heart in your throat. “Uh…like I said, a little tender, but…fine.”

He’s nearly eye level with your tits and his concentration is resilient. “How about when you touch them?”

A breath catches in your lungs. “Um…when I…I haven’t. Really.”

His fingers lift, thumb gently and oh-so delicately stroking under the swell of your breast. “How’s this, hm?”

Your muscles stiffen. “Um…good?”

He looks up. “Is that a question or an answer?”

“An…answer?”

His eyebrows raise.

“An answer,” you repeat, sucking in a quiet inhale. “It’s…fine. It’s good, yeah.”

He nods before you feel him move up. “And this?”

He’s getting closer, hand gently cupping your tit and squeezing it softly. 

Your lashes flutter, knees suddenly going weak. “Good. Fine. Mhm.”

He hums again before the tip of his finger ghosts across the piercing.

You jolt, a soft gasp slipping between your lips as you subconsciously push yourself into his touch.

He smirks. “Good, then?”

“Mhm,” you repeat, nodding quickly as you swallow a whine. “Really…good. Yes. Good.”

He holds you in his hand for only a moment longer…before he’s letting go and scooting back.

“Still sensitive,” he muses. “But that could just be you.”

You force a laugh as you pull your blouse back up and begin redoing the buttons. “Well…what can I say? I’m a peach.”

It’s an awful attempt at a joke but Mr. Styles smiles anyway, nodding for you to return to your seat so you can begin going through his schedule.

The next week carries on as usual. You set up meetings, return emails, and help your boss divvy up his itinerary for the next few months. 

You rarely chat about his…investment. In fact, the topic is hardly broached at all except for when you give him small updates on Max.

Turns out, Max (your future collaborating partner), has been only OnlyFans since it started. He’s got an entire routine and dedicated fanbase and has at least a hundred ideas on what the two of you could explore.

He’s nice, as far as you can tell. Interested in your thoughts and feelings on the matter. Never pushes something you seem to hesitate on. And is willing to wait until you��re ready.

You tell Mr. Styles that you’re meeting Max for coffee this coming Friday, and his reaction is about what you’d expect. A simple, “All right,” before he’s moving on to his next task. 

You can’t help but wonder if he’s losing interest in you. Or in your…business. He doesn’t ask for any details. Doesn’t pry for information. Doesn’t even suggest he check your piercings.

You know this stoic behavior isn’t unusual for him. He’s always been incredibly focused on his work and his real business.

Still, you can’t deny a part of you misses when he devoted some of his attention to you.

No matter how fucked up.

Coffee with Max is good. Better than good. You spend over four hours getting to know each other, planning the scene, and deciding what you’re both comfortable with.

By the time you leave, you’re actually excited. The ideas and positions will be incredibly riveting for the viewers, and you can’t deny that you’re interested in how they might feel.

Mr. Styles offers you nothing more than an understanding nod when you tell him. You explain that you’ll be meeting at a hotel, that you’ve already discussed a safe word, and that you’ll be taking extra precautions to make sure you both feel comfortable.

Secretly, you suppose you’re searching for his approval. For him to tell you that you’ve done a good job. That he’s signing off on this collaboration.

Yet the nod is all you get.

By the end of the workday, you’ve lost some of your spark for the impending video. You’re not sure why. Maybe you’re sulking. Maybe you gave Mr. Styles more credit than he deserved. Maybe you’re just crazy.

Either way, it strikes your boss as odd.

“Peach,” he calls, and hearing him use your pseudonym makes your heart leap. “What’s going on?”

You look up from the sofa, ripping your eyes away from your laptop. “What?”

He nods at you. “You’re distracted.”

“I’m…working?”

“Exactly. It’s weird.”

You snort. “Sorry, I’m just…I’m thinking.”

“About?”

“About…” You hesitate before your head shakes. “Nothing, forget it. I’m fine. Did you get the email from Lance?”

“I did. Are you going to answer my question?”

“Only if it’s a question about the email.”

His tongue swipes across his bottom lip. “Fine. When forwarding me the email, were you thinking about this Matthew fellow?”

Despite yourself, you smile. “Max. And that’s cheating.”

“It’s not cheating. It’s rearranging the rules.”

“Oh, is that what it is?”

“Yes. Were you?”

You lean back against the cushions with a sigh. “Kind of? I don’t know. I feel like maybe it’s a bad idea.”

He mirrors your stance, allowing himself to settle into his seat. “Why is that?”

“Because…I’ve just…I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“You didn’t seem to think so earlier.”

“Yeah, well…I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Why?  

“Yes, why?”

You shut the laptop and toss it onto the couch beside you. “It’s stupid.”

“Probably but tell me anyway.”

You throw him a playful glare. “It’s because of you, actually.”

“Me,” he repeats. 

“Yes, you. Okay, I keep…I keep thinking about how easy it was with you, and how we’ve kind of…found a way to be cool about all this,” you explain with a frustrated exhale. “Right, and then with this…something just feels…off. You know, you’re really quiet about it. Haven’t really said much, and I don’t know. Maybe I just…wanted you to be okay with it.”

He takes a moment to mull over his answer. “I told you, this is your choice. My opinions don’t matter—”

“Yeah, except that they do,” you argue. “I don’t know why but everything you’ve suggested so far has worked. So you being so uninterested in this thing with Max makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong.”

“You can’t do anything wrong,” he says calmly. “It’s your body. Your content—”

“Yes, I know. I just…I want…god, I want…”

Silence stretches between you as Mr. Styles tilts his head. “You want what, Peach? You want…my permission? My approval?”

Do you? “I don’t…I don’t know. Maybe?”

He considers this before nodding once and lifting his hand, fingers beckoning you closer.

You sit up, tossing a curious glance his way.

However, when you don’t move, his expression grows stern. “Thought you knew how to behave.”

You sigh to yourself and stand, legs carrying you back to his side of the desk for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Take off your shirt,” he instructs, and you feel a weird rush of déjà vu. 

But you obey, nonetheless, lifting the satin hem and pulling it over your head as he reaches into one of his drawers.

When his hand retreats, you see something shiny in his palm, and your breath hitches.

He’s grinning as he nods for you to sit on the table, rather entertained by your flabbergasted response. “Take them out.”

Once your ass is settled, you gently pull the lace of your bralette down, revealing your chest to his gaze yet again.

He smirks before standing as well, fingers uncurling.

Inside his fist are two nipple rings in the shapes of perfectly plump peaches.

And monogrammed on each one? An initial.

H. S.

Your lashes flutter.

“Would you like my honesty?” he begins as he brings them closer, sneaking a glimpse of your face in search of permission.

You nod quickly.

He reaches for the piercing already in place and gently starts to remove it. “I like what we’ve created, too. Perhaps more than I should.”

Your pulse stutters.

“And I like that you take my advice. Like that you’re more confident in yourself,” he continues, the rough pad of his thumb brushing over your nipple until your eyes nearly roll back. “That you feel more relaxed in your own body.”

Your hands grasp onto the edge of his desk, steadying yourself just before you can keel over.

He carries on, voice calm and deep. Like melted butter. “I like the way you react to me,” he murmurs. “The way you hold your breath. The way you squirm. Or the way you beg me for more with just a look.”

The peachy H is slipped through your right nipple with great care as you glance down.

“What you choose to do and who you choose to do it with is your decision.” He moves to the left. “That will never be up for debate.”

His palm cups the underside of your tit as you mewl a bit and shift in his touch.

He pretends not to notice. “So, you will make this video. You’ll do what I taught you. You’ll make it worth it.”

With a final pinch, the last ring is locked into place. 

He leans closer, both hands now softly taking hold of your tits until his thumbs can brush over the new jewelry.

“And I will be…right here,” he whispers, eyes falling to his initials that glitter across your chest. Almost as if claiming you. “So while he’s fucking you…you think of me.”

His touch constricts, squeezing you subtly as you gasp.

“Whenever he touches you…whenever he looks at you…” His head dips until he’s so close, you can feel his breath fan across your cheek. “…you think of me.”

You whimper, legs squeezing together. “Harry—”

“Uh-uh.” He tugs on you, expression hardening as his voice deepens. “Not here.”

“Sir,” you correct, and he nods. “I’m wearing your name, and I can’t even use it?”

“This isn’t for you,” he corrects, the tip of his nose momentarily brushing against yours. “This is for him. So he knows who you’re really in business with.”

Your hand moves to his arm, squeezing the bicep beneath his nice jacket as you swallow thickly. “So, this is just part of your investment, then?”

He’s quiet, a minute passing between you as the office fills with the sound of his clock ticking the time away.

“Yes,” he says, nodding once but the cadence is thick. Labored. “You said it would be easier if I were there. So, now I will be.”

“That’s not quite what I meant,” you breathe, lashes fluttering at the prospect of his lips being so dangerously close. “But I appreciate the gesture.”

“Then what did you mean, Peach?” His hands move to your hips, squeezing onto your skin as if to cement you to your spot. “Hm? What do you really want from me?”

You’ve asked yourself this very question more times than you can count.

“I…” Your fingers curl into his arm. “I want whatever you’ll give me.”

Everything whittles down to right now as he debates your proposition, and you can see the intrigue in his eye.

Then he pulls back, releasing you from his hold as you nearly wilt.

“Then I’ll give you my blessing. If that’s what you need,” he says with an air of professionalism. “Do what you need to do.”

Not exactly the answer you were looking for.

With a hint of disappointment, you nod mutely, grabbing your shirt and slipping it back on as he returns to his seat, and you return to the sofa. 

“Peach Valentine,” Max greets, smile wide as he swings open the hotel door. “Right on time.”

“What can I say? Punctuality is sexy,” you tease, slipping inside and tossing your things onto the dresser. “So…this is it, huh?”

Max nods as he looks around the large hotel room, arms crossing over his chest. “Yeah. I’ve used it before. People seem to like it. The bedding is silk which looks nice on camera. And something about a hotel room makes people think of...taboo cheating scandals? I don’t know, it’s weird, but…they like it.”

You hum your understanding and step closer, taking note of all his equipment. “Oh, shit. You’ve got…you’ve got everything.”

He laughs. “Well, it’s what they’re paying me for.”

“Touché.” Shaky fingers lift toward your coat. “So, um…how do you wanna…where should we start?”

“I wanna go over some ground rules,” he begins, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. “Things we’re comfortable with, what we want to avoid, what the limits are.”

Nodding, you lean back against the large desk. “That’s fair.”

“All right, first…what are your thoughts on kis—”

There’s a knock on the door.

The sharp rapping pulls you both from the conversation as you look toward the front of the room, eyebrows raised.

“Are you…expecting anyone?” you ask hesitantly as Max’s lips turn down into a frown.

“No?” He stands from the bed and makes his way for the door. “Maybe it’s room service? I ordered some water and champagne just in case we needed an extra kick.”

“Sure, sure…”

He peers out of the peephole before swinging the door open just wide enough that it allows you to see who’s on the other side.

And your heart just about drops to your ass.

Mr. Styles.

Standing in the hallway, hands in his pockets, expression smug, and suit freshly pressed.

Max clears his throat. “Hey, man. Can I help you?”

Mr. Styles looks to you, mouth curling up into a rather devious grin. “I’m here for Peach Valentine.”

Max turns, seemingly curious. “Oh, uh…I didn’t know you were bringing someone.”

“Neither did I,” you murmur, straightening up as both men make their way into the room. “Is there…a problem?”

“Not at all,” Mr. Styles replies calmly. “Just figured you might like my advice.”

Now you understand his game, and the blood drains from your face as Max quickly looks between you. “Oh, all right. And you are…?”

Mr. Styles smirks.

“The investor.”

Don't be mad, I swear there will be smut and action and angst in the next part!!! I SWEAR IT!!

Next Part:

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[seungisms]

🖇️📁 𝐒𝐊𝐙 … 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐔𝐌

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, do not interact if you’re under 18

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, cumplay, creampies, degradation, mutual masturbation, jisung eating his own cum idc and perv!jeongin cause i said so

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry for being mia for a hot minute there (boss has been riding me at work and not in the way i want) take this absolute filth fest as an apology 👍 reblog for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! 

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍

poor guy was so flustered at the thought of cumming anywhere near you at first, just doesn’t wanna come off as too intense and weird you out cause when he cums, he cums hard. will generally stick to pulling out and cumming into his hand or a condom for a long while and literally has to do everything in his power to resist the urge to cover every inch of your pretty skin in his thick cream. very much relies on stealing your underwear when he’s getting himself off, staining the cute pink fabrics with his heavy cock while imagining it was your pussy all messy and ruined instead. loses his goddamn mind the next day when he sees those exact panties peaking out from under your skirt when you bend over - wanting nothing more than to push them aside and stuff your little cunt full until you were completely cum drunk and dripping in the liquid. won’t be able to hide the fact that he’s a dirty perv for long though and before you know it he’ll have you covered in his cum every other day, absolutely loves the sight of your cute face stained in it and has definitely snapped a few photos with you on your knees, doe eyes staring up at him so innocently while the tip of his softening cock sat on your tongue - cum leaking past the corners of your lips and he swears you’ve never looked prettier. 

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐎

so obsessed with covering you in his cum and has no shame in filling each of your slutty holes up until you were a sticky, fucked out mess. gets extremely carried away with it and becomes soso pussy drunk when he’s about to orgasm, painting your cunt with his thick cum so much that it starts to drip past your puffy folds, only to be fucked back into you with every rut of his softening cock. gets such a kick out of ruining the innocent image everyone else has of you in their minds, cumming onto your face, thighs, tits - literally anywhere he can - while spitting the most vile words at you. says shit like ‘such a greedy girl, look how hungry you are for my cock’ and ‘wonder what everyone would say if they saw you eating up my cum like this? they’d finally realise how much of a slut you really are’ and you can’t even find it in yourself to fight him on it cause he’s so right <3 his fav is definitely finishing inside of you though, fucking into your poor pussy until he’s made a complete mess of it, creamy and hot and full of his cum - watching it drip onto your plush thighs so prettily that he can’t help but smear it around and finger it back into your cunt. so mean and will laugh straight in your face when you whine and struggle against his hold, claiming you can’t handle anymore but your sore pussy was still eating up his fingers, begging to be stuffed once again.

𝐒𝐄𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍

this guy has such a fixation with your thighs and constantly finds himself obsessing over them - brushing his fingers under your cute little skirt in public just to feel your soft skin against his own, only to pout and whine like the annoying brat he is when you push his hand away as if he wasn’t just trying to finger you in the middle of a company dinner :( this fixation definitely spills over into sex, if he’s not gripping onto your thighs for dear life while fucking up into your messy pussy then he has his mouth pressed against your skin, rutting his hips into the mattress as he continues to worship the plush flesh. absolutely l o v e s the sight of his thick cum dripping down your thighs and likes to cover them until they’re sticky and wet and messy to the touch. gets off so much on public sex and will have no problem dragging you to the nearest restroom whenever you show up to practice looking extra pretty in your little sundress, thighs so plump and begging to be in his hold. pulls your flimsy straps down until your tits are exposed and eagerly fingers your underwear to the side, fucking you hard and fast against the sink and tangling his fingers in your hair - tugging your he’d back as the drag of his cock against your pussy walls becomes increasingly more lazy and slow and before he knows it he’s pulling out and creaming on the back of your thighs. loves the thought of you going on about your day with his cum staining your skin so he’ll skimpy push the skirt of your dress back down once he’s finished, the image stuck in his head every time he steals a glimpse of you.

𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍

forever on the agenda that hyunjin is an ass man through and through. doesn’t matter whether you’re fucking yourself on his cock or letting him use your pussy until it’s raw and sensitive, he’ll have you on all fours in no time - ass high in the air and head shoved forcefully into the pillows as he fists his cock, cum painting your cheeks and thighs in the prettiest way and he won’t be able to stfu, shoving his head into your neck as his limp cock pressed against your folds, groaning and cursing and muttering the filthiest shit in your ear. another to have multiple pictures of you on his phone in this exact position (and a few polaroids <3) really into cum eating and gets so damn pussy drunk whenever you have your mouth wrapped around him. sometimes likes to keep your head shoved down to the point your nose is pressed tightly against his pelvis, cock being fed down your throat before he’s cumming so hard there’s tears stinging your eyes, cum leaking out past the corners of your lips and you’re choking around him - this guy has to fight the urge to just fuck your pretty mouth once again.

𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆

he cums so hard and so much that every time you fuck every inch of exposed skin is gonna be covered in it whether you like it or not. mostly sticks to cumming inside of you cause he loves the warmth of your fluttering cunt milking him for all he’s got and gets off soso much from the risk of it all. even when he finishes inside of you though there’ll still be such a mess, your poor cunt not able to handle all of his loan and it’ll be dripping out past your folds and onto the sheets, both his and your own wetness covering his cock and making your bud all cream and sticky and it’s just absolutely everywhere. really into having you swallow his cum too. gets really whiney and overstimulated whenever he catches sight of you on your knees, mouth still milking his twitching cock and greedily lapping up the salty liquid. also has a major thing for finishing on your tits. will edge himself in your cozy cunt, your walls fitting snugly around him and only coaxing him closer to orgasm, pulling out at the very last second and watching your perky tits catch his cum, choked whimpers leaving his lips and dick filling again at the sight. literally so in love with the sight of you covered in his cum and has no problem licking it off your chest when you’re too tired to clean yourself up, lapping and kissing your sore breasts as his half-hard cock nudged against your folds - ready to stuff you with cum once again.

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗 

such a tender boy that he finds it hard to actually cum anywhere that isn’t a condom during sex out of consideration for you :( but as soon as he realises how much of a cum slut you actually are there’s no holding back. really fond of your thighs and swears they’re your prettiest feature, especially when you’re donning cute little frilly panties and matching stockings. literally b e g s you to keep them on and will constantly call you his ‘angel’ while h’es filling you up, underwear flimsily nudged to the side as his nails dug into your legs, keeping them spread wide open for him. really likes getting himself off with dry humping and will be soso whiney when finishing, burying his face into your neck while rutting his swollen cock against your clothed clit, drenching the fabric in his cum and there’s whiney apologies leaving his lips for making a mess but you can’t even find it in yourself to care when he’s looking up at you so 🥺 obsessed with the sight of you looking so cute in your pretty underwear, eyes staring up at him so innocently as he covers you in cum - dick just begging to finally sink into you and fill you up instead of just creaming on your panties. just loves to get you all messy and ruined and completely drunk of his cock with a mere rub against your bud before actually fucking you. another that really likes it when you clean up his cum with your tongue and will deliberately pull out of you to cum in his fist or on his stomach just to feel your hot tongue pressed against his skin.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍

this guy is so in love with the sight of you dripping in his cum and is soso mean about it - will spend hours between your legs, overstimulating and edging you on his cock until you’re messy and covered in it. so cruel and won’t stop until each of your holes are fulled to the brim with his hot cum and will use his long fingers to fuck it back into you. literally just laughs straight in your face when you whimper and twitch from the sensitivity of your abused cunt being stretched around him once more, hiding your face in his neck as the wet sound of his fingers pressing into you hit your ears and he just finds it all so funny. loves how your pussy looks all puffy and creamy just for him, no matter how much he loves to humiliate you for it. another to fuck you out in public and be so shameless about it, playing with the end of your skirt and pressing his hard dick against your clothed cunt whenever you cuddle up against him on his lap and before you know it he’s dragging you to the nearest empty dressing room - creaming on his cock and knowing for sure everyone outside can hear him fucking you so well. will have you keep his cum stuffed deep inside you and gets such a kick out of the look of discomfort that settles on your pretty face, feeling his liquids drip down past your folds and onto your thighs while chatting to jisung. reminds you not to clean yourself up unless you want everyone to know how much of a cum slut you are that you’re sitting next to them with your pussy filled with him. becomes soso unhinged later when he has you on your knees, pushing your underwear to the side just to see his cum still glued to your folds, all used and sticky. 

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍

extremely reserved at first and will hold himself back a lot in the early stages of your relationship - will make sure to get you off so well that you’re left completely cock drunk and fucked out and covered in your own wetness that you wouldn’t even notice him sneaking off to the bathroom to fuck his own fist - cumming at the thought of finally painting your pussy in the white liquid. just feels like such a perv every time he’s close to cumming cause he wants nothing more than to cover your entire cunt, tummy and thighs in it but he also doesn’t wanna freak you out :( another one to rely on your underwear a lot and l o v e s taking a few pairs them back to the dorm with him, shoving a pair into his mouth to muffle his choke whimpers while using another to wrap around his cock, head empty except for the thought of finally being able to fill your pretty cunt up until it’s leaking out of you. and then just beats himself up when he comes out of his fucked out daze and sees he’s made a mess out of your cute panties. always washes them before giving them back to you and you’re just like?? since when did i leave this much underwear at the dorms?? still extremely respectful whenever he does get more comfortable and will probably prefer to cum on your tummy. likes the look of it dripping down past your bellybutton and towards your folds and he has to do everything in his power to resist the urge to smear it across your cunt and finger it back inside of you.

© 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐬 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.

[ausetkmt]

Pharmacist Lunsford Richardson made Vicks a household name throughout the nation, but his popular product did not do the same for him.

Even in his native North Carolina, where his most celebrated of chemical concoctions has been right under our stuffy noses and on our congested chests for generations, the mention of Richardson’s name elicits blank stares from all but those who study and cherish history.

Richardson’s salve, Vicks VapoRub, helped the world breathe easier during the devastating influenza pandemic of 1918 and during the countless colds and flus of our childhoods, yet most of us couldn’t pick Lunsford Richardson out of a one-man police lineup, much less a who’s who of medical pioneers.

Why didn’t Richardson — by all accounts a creative inventor and smart businessman — ever become as famous as those vapors packed into the familiar squat blue jar?

Because his name wouldn’t fit on the jar.

That’s one version of the story. According to company and family lore, Richardson initially dubbed his promising new product Richardson’s Croup and Pneumonia Cure Salve. Realizing that this name didn’t exactly roll off the tongue nor fit when printed on a small medicine jar, Richardson changed the name to honor his brother-in-law, Dr. Joshua Vick. Another account suggests the inventive druggist plucked the name from a seed catalog he’d been perusing that listed the Vick Seed Co.

The truth may never be known. What is known, though, is that Lunsford Richardson created a medicinal marvel for the ages, the likes of which may never be equaled.

Croupy beginnings

A Johnston County native born in 1854, Richardson loved chemistry and hoped to study it at Davidson College. The college’s chemistry program at the time wasn’t as strong as he’d hoped it would be, so he studied Latin instead, graduating with honors in three years. He returned to Johnston County and taught school, but it wasn’t long before the young man’s love of chemistry got the best of him. In 1880, he moved to Selma to work with his physician brother-in-law, Dr. Vick. It was not uncommon in those days for doctors to dispense drugs themselves, but Vick was so busy seeing patients that he teamed up with Richardson, allowing him to handle the pharmacy duties for him. Richardson relied on his knowledge of Latin to help him learn the chemical compounds required to become a pharmacist, and that’s when he began to experiment with recipes for the product that would become Vicks VapoRub.

It wasn’t until Richardson moved to his wife’s hometown of Greensboro in 1890 that his magical salve and other products he created began to take off.

“He was a man of great intellect and talent,” says Linda Evans, community historian for the Greensboro Historical Museum, which has an exhibit devoted to Richardson and Vicks.

“Druggists at the time fashioned their own remedies a lot, and he created a number of remedies, in addition to his magic salve, that he sold under the name of Vick’s Family Remedies. He was obviously a man of such creativity.”

In Greensboro, working out of a downtown drugstore he purchased (where he once employed a teenaged William Sydney Porter, the future short story writer O. Henry), Richardson patented some 21 medicines. The wide variety of pills, liquids, ointments, and assorted other medicinal concoctions included the likes of Vick’s Chill Tonic, Vick’s Turtle Oil Liniment, Vick’s Little Liver Pills and Little Laxative Pills, Vick’s Tar Heel Sarsaparilla, Vick’s Yellow Pine Tar Cough Syrup, and Vick’s Grippe Knockers (aimed at knocking out la grippe, an old-timey phrase for the flu).

These products sold with varying degrees of success, but the best seller in the lineup of Richardson’s remedies was Vick’s Magic Croup Salve, which he introduced in 1894. And by all accounts, necessity was the key to its success.

“He had what they referred to as a croupy baby — a baby with a lot of coughing and congestion,” explains Richardson’s great-grandson, Britt Preyer of Greensboro. “So as a pharmacist, he began experimenting with menthols from Japan and some other ingredients, and he came up with this salve that really worked. That’s how it all started.”

Another version of the story suggests that all three of the Richardson children caught bad colds at the same time, and Richardson, dissatisfied with the traditional treatment of the day, which included poultices and a vapor lamp, spent hours at his pharmacy developing his own treatment.

Richardson’s salve — a strong-smelling ointment combining menthol, camphor, oil of eucalyptus, and several other oils, blended in a base of petroleum jelly — was a chest-soothing, cough-suppressing, head-clearing sensation. When the salve was rubbed on the patient’s chest, his or her body heat vaporized the menthol, releasing a wave of soothing, medicated vapors that the patient breathed directly into the lungs.

Vicks in the mailbox

In 1911, Richardson’s son Smith, by now a successful salesman for his father’s company, recommended discontinuing all of the company’s products except for Vick’s Magic Croup Salve. He believed the salve could sell even better if the company stopped investing time and money in the other, less successful remedies. He also suggested renaming the salve Vicks VapoRub, according to the company’s history timeline, to “help dramatize the product’s performance.” Richardson agreed, and a century later, the name’s still the same.

Meanwhile, Richardson intensified his marketing efforts by providing free goods to druggists who placed large orders and publishing coupons for free samples in newspapers. He also advertised on billboards and sent promotional mailings to post office boxes, addressed to Boxholder rather than the individual’s name, thus earning him the distinction of being the father of junk mail.

In 1925, Vicks even published a children’s book to help promote the product. The book told the story of two elves, Blix and Blee, who rescued a frazzled mother whose sick child refused to take nasty-tasting medicines. Their solution, of course, was the salve known as Vicks VapoRub.

Expanding and experimenting

As successful as the marketing campaign was, nothing sold Vicks VapoRub like the deadly Spanish flu outbreak that ravaged the nation in 1918 and 1919, killing hundreds of thousands of Americans. Loyal Vicks customers and new customers stocked up on the medicine to stave off or fight the disease.

According to the company’s history timeline, VapoRub sales skyrocketed from $900,000 to $2.9 million in a single year because of the pandemic. The Vicks plant in Greensboro operated around the clock, and salesmen were pulled off the road to help at the manufacturing facility in an effort to keep up with demand.

As the flu spread across the nation, Richardson grew ill with pneumonia in 1919 and died. Smith took over the company. Vicks continued to grow, buying other companies until Procter & Gamble bought it in the 1980s. Through the years, Vicks continued adding new products to its arsenal of cold remedies: cough drops, nose drops, inhalers, cough syrup, nasal spray, Formula 44, NyQuil. And whatever success those products attained, they got there standing on the broad shoulders of Richardson.

Richardson will never be a household name, but his salve has held that status for more than a century — and may do so for the next hundred years. And for Richardson, were he still around, that ought to be enough to clear his head.

A cure-all salve

Vicks users have claimed the salve can cure and heal many maladies. Even though Vicks doesn’t say the salve works for these problems, people still believe.

Toenail fungus: Rub the salve on your toenails, cover with socks, and sleep your fungus problems away. Cough: For a similar fix to a nagging cough, some believe rubbing Vicks on the soles of your feet can fix the problem. Dandruff: Rub Vicks directly on the scalp, and your flakes may just disappear. Chapped lips: Petroleum jelly is one of the ingredients in Vicks, and some say the ointment can help heal cracked lips. Mosquito bites: If you smooth Vicks on the red bumps on your legs and arms, it can supposedly take the itch right out. Warts: Dab Vicks on the wart, cover with duct tape, and it may fall off in a few days.

Greensboro Historical Museum 130 Summit Avenue Greensboro, N.C. 27401 (336) 373-2043 greensborohistory.org

See historical Vicks VapoRub bottles and learn about Lunsford Richardson.

[chosos-mascara]

girl

𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙞 𝙯𝙚𝙣'𝙞𝙣 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - after maki arrives in your home riddled in self-doubt, she learns your true feelings toward her.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - aged up!maki (25), making out, thigh riding, fem bodied reader.

1.8k words

"I hate her." 

When rage seized Maki, it had done so vigorously. She hadn't learned to handle the burning anger within her, though mostly due to upbringing. Although she'd found the strength to leave her family home while only 15, her twin had not forgiven her deep down. Another failed attempt at making amends with Mai, while Mai had only wished for retribution. Maki had tried her best at reconciling ten years on, but each attempt at forgiveness had been futile. 

The fact Maki had hidden a wavering voice yet could not mask the defeated expression and glassy eyes had meant that she had not been angry. Even if she'd attempted to come off with a strict hate and displeasure, you'd been able to see through the facade. Deep down, Maki was heartbroken. 

Rambling about the events just passed, she kicked her shoes at the door and made herself home. A small detail that made your heart melt; knowing Maki saw your house as a safe-haven. A place of comfort for her wounded heart. 

The truth had been, your love for Maki had been far beyond platonic. Although you hadn't been able to pinpoint a where and how, you'd been left to live through an infatuation with your best friend. Your caring nature had been reciprocated by her protective one, a dynamic in which you'd wished would stem into romanticism, yet wouldn't push the boundary of friendship. Time spent alongside her had your skin prickling and heart racing, nights alone picturing a future in which you'd find the confidence to confess the sin of love. 

When she'd paused in speaking, you'd realised you'd become lost in thought. Maki had awaited your response to her venting. Green eyes stared at you through desperation.  "I'm sorry, I know you wanted to make it work." 

Only a feeble attempt at reassurance had left your lips as the kettle came to boil, the click of the switch and bubble of water filling a heavy atmosphere. When pouring the liquid over tea, steam danced within the porcelain mugs. A temporary reprieve. 

You brought the mugs to the table, seating yourself beside her defeated form. She rested on a knee, foot placed on seat, the other leg in a natural dangling position. Once settled into the worn out wooden chair, a cup before both of you, she continued. 

"I just thought this time would be different." Her gaze dropped, fingers wrapping around the handle. "My own sister hates me." 

"You don't need her." Spoken with brisk pace, you made sure to snub the flames of self-doubt from her mind. Of course, her pain had been valid - a deep cut loathing bestowed so clearly from the Zen'in's had to harbor negativity within her core, but you wouldn't allow the seeds to grow into anything more. If Maki needed to be reassured of her worth, you would provide. Even if that had meant daily, or hourly, you'd be willing to support the girl you'd loved.

"Hm." Her hum of uncertainty had bene voiced into the mug of tea, a sip of warmth and exhale of relief, appraising the beverage's comforting tone. "How are you, anyway?" Her question had ended in reluctant eye contact, a flutter of heart beneath rib as you'd stare back into her soul.  "I'm fine, you know me." A nonchalant response, shrug of shoulders.

"That's it? Fine?" Maki sighed, a shake of her head. "I haven't seen you for weeks, and you have nothing to say?" She scoffed, a smirk of annoyance curving lips. "Don't act so humble. There has to be something you want to vent about." The sudden annoyance spurred on panic within you, mouth opening as your brain had attempted to throw together a response. "There's..." You trailed of in thought, grasping at straws. "A company party next week?" The raise of your voice had made the unsure statement more of a question, though Maki latched onto the topic, relieving you of stress. 

"That's it?" Her exhale had mimicked a laugh, shake of her head. "Why are you being so timid?" Uttered under her breath, she ignored the confusion and instead pushed you further. "At least tell me something more, what about that hot manager - Nanami? Did he make any more moves?" 

You giggled, tilting your head. "I'm not really interested."  "So, what? You're gonna be single forever?" Her pressure had been unwanted, an awkward position she'd twisted you into without comprehending the complicated emotions plaguing you. Opening up about a love life would result in honesty - that being the only person you'd liked in over a year had been her. Though, even before now, past relationships wouldn't work out, lovers seeing through doe eyes and softened expressions directed not to them, but instead your best friend. There was no way you'd find value in someone that hadn't been her.

"I don't mind so much." Brushing off her accusitory tone, you glanced to the mug cupped between palms, debating on whether to take a sip.  "What about Kugisaki?" She questioned you, eyes fixed on your defeated expression.  "No, I like someone else." 

Shit. 

"Really? You like someone? Are they a real person?" Maki smiled teasingly, brow arched in both disbelief and excitement. "Well, who is it?" 

You sat in silence, staring into the drink below you. Dying sunlight no longer reflected within the liquid, an orange glow cast over skin. You felt guilt toward Maki's enthusiasm, because you couldn't give her the answer she'd desperately wanted. Even if glancing to her expression had you considering telling the truth. She looked so pretty, after all. 

"It's no one, really." 

"I see." Maki's words were spoken quietly, a somber tone of defeat woven throughout her submission. She slumped back, finishing her tea while you'd been left to stare at your reflection within your untouched mug.  "I want to tell you, I just-" Closing you eyes, you curse your own childish behaviour. "I can't." 

Maki let out an exasperated laugh. "You're making it sound like it's me." 

For a second, you'd doubted that her words had been the ones you'd heard so clearly. The desperation of wanting to tell her, mixed with the beaten-down expression and your need to comfort her had seemingly created confidence. From your perspective, her crossed arms holding her own body so tightly had made it look as if she'd been hugging herself. Perhaps, she had been. 

Instead of sinking down further, denying the feelings you'd had and the ones she'd seemingly displayed if not a part of your own madness, you leaned toward her. Where words wouldn't suffice, you would still speak, fingers ghosting her cheek, face inching closer. There was some form of restraint as you'd grown only a centimeter away, a chance to allow her to voice disdain and push you away. Though, she'd only closed the gap. 

Your lips had locked with hers, a gentle kiss and quiet smack of lips echoing through the kitchen. You'd supported the questionable position you'd contorted yourself into in order to lean over and kiss her - an arm on the table and the other the back of her chair while squatting to hover over your own seat. You'd pulled yourself from her in order to apologize, however two burning palms cupping each cheek had brought you back to her. 

You'd been somewhat startled by the surge of courage she'd displayed, yet as you'd allowed the passion between you with lips molding against one another, movements became a frenzied show of affection. The controlling grasp she'd had set over your features had been brought rather aggressively downward, a tug over your sides to pull you atop her lap as lips parted further. Maki's tongue glided across your own shyly at first, a few flicks as if to test the waters between sloppy pecks. Though, spurred on by a limited taste of you, she'd been greedy to take more. Deeper, haphazard and messy kisses with an exchange of drool between both you and her had Maki's thighs clenching under yours, hands groping over your body as a desperate attempt for more contact. 

She'd rested her grasp over your hips to guide you into a rocking motion, a hum lost in her moth when you'd felt friction in the place aching for it the most. Somewhere between smooth skin gliding over hers, the phrase bedroom had been uttered, lips parting and reconnecting before parting once more to allow movement. With fingers laced, you rushed toward plush sheets, though once through the door, hunger met with you first. 

Her hands roamed you when kissing you again, slipping beneath the hem to clutch at clothes that needed to be discarded. T-shirt first, then the slip of waistbands, before the mattress sank with nude bodies intertwined. Maki straddled over one thigh while keeping on of her own pushed to your core. When leaning forward to place a kiss over your neck, her slick had rubbed over your leg, stifled moan lost against the curve of your shoulder. You'd felt every detail of her bare folds, wetness coating the fat of thigh as she ground her clit over you once more. 

A buck of desperation on your own part had suddenly relieved the ache within your abdomen, a throbbing need of friction. As Maki moved against you, back arching, her chest pushed against yours. With each movement, her nipples grazed yours, a lewd action of intimacy that had both you and her clenching over the other. You'd let a louder moan at the sensation, and she'd smiled into the kiss. A breathy laugh fanned over your cheeks as if to call you needy - something she'd done many times before, less so in this context. 

You'd whined over one another, drool coating glossy lips and pouring to surrounding skin. Kisses had become more an action of sucking over tongues, increasingly languid when focused on the rest of your body. Your hips juttered with less rhythm as you'd found yourself closer to release over her thigh, encouraged by the feeling of her cunt over your skin. 

"Maki..." Against her lips, a warning spoken. As your stomach sucked inward, you'd tried to hold out a little longer.  "Come with me." The whispered instruction had wavered on the last word as her mouth had widened, allowing tensed muscles to spasm when feeling your slick roll hurriedly against her, strangled moan echoing from your mouth. 

Maki allowed her release alongside yours, hums of appraisal shared with each roll and buck, a squeeze over the sheets with each wave of pleasure.

Only when she'd left the warmth beneath her to instead lay beside you, blanket pulled over each body and chests finally rising and falling at a normal pace had words been spoken. The weight of actions setting in, a small laugh as you'd commented. 

"I guess this means you like me too?" 

not proof read,sorry!!

[goddessofwisdom-7]

Sacrifice [part 2]

Pairing: Luke castellan x female!reader

Description: a prequel to Sacrifice pt. 1, you held up the sky for long and Luke could see the toll it was taking so he goes ahead luring Annabeth to take your place, after all he's just trying to take care of you.

A/N: when I wrote Sacrifice, I did it in fifteen minutes nto thinking much of it. But I like the concept of it ngl. In all fairness, angst is like my thing and writing angsty toxic Luke is my fav rn.

Sacrifice pt 1:

Luke's shoulders ached, his back felt almost crooked from the weight of the sky. He felt a twinge of sympathy for Annabeth but right now she was the lesser of his concerns.

The woman at the forefront of his mind being you.

You who swung from consciousness to unconsciousness for the last three days; the strength from your body sapped out and a constant pain ripping through you. Your wrists were wrapped up in bandages to support them and the large expanse of bruises on your shoulders were being iced.

The nectar and ambrosia he was taking to you felt like a meagre offering, a minimal solution.

This whole ploy was a sheer debacle. He could've lost you.

Everything was taking too much time. Anyway, it didn't matter now.

You were out of immediate danger, he could take care of you. Just like he always swore to. He'd show you how much he cared, that you still mattered and ha had it all under control and all the doubts he knew you were beginning to have weren't necessary.

Your hair had greyed significantly, more than his had; though that was to be expected with how much more time you had spent in Atlas' position.

He sidled up to your sleeping figure, sheltered away from the eyes of titans and soldiers– protected; and reached out to caress your face, over the course of these days, he had developed a small routine now.

First, he picked up the washcloth and basin that a son of Asclepius who was in charge of handling injuries had dutifully kept. He could tend to your wounds and the other demigods, but you were still under Luke's care. Always.

Cleaning up your face first, before gently wiping down your arms, mindful of the supporting bandages and then wiping your knees, down your shins and the arch of your feet.

It felt good, being able to do something for you. After which he'd try to rouse you in a partial wakefulness as he helped you sip the divine nectar, watching the magic liquid give you some strength.

For a little while, Luke had been worried. For all your amazing traits, he believed you to be more simple-minded; in your mind, you were the first that should be sacrificed because of your dedication and devotion towards your loved ones. Now, he never thought of your loyalty to be mindless like a dog's but he always believed that it would be his.

But then after the whole Golden Fleece interaction with Percy and company, you had gotten quiet, secretive almost. Like you were deliberating helping the son of Poseidon. And he had had a sinking feeling that Kronos might order him to get rid of you, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to do that.

"Are you hiding something from me?" He'd asked one evening, quiet and sudden.

Your gaze remained unwavered as you stepped closer to him.

"No."

"You having doubts?"

"About survival?" You laughed, "I've known about the extreme likelihood of dying for a very long time." A thrilling shiver ran down his spine as you grabbed his chin.

"And still Luke, I'm here, by your side. I'm not having any doubts."

And a few days later you went and held up the sky and now he wondered if it was some unrequired act of fielty.

He brushed your grey hair back, untangling a few knots and wished your face didn't look so disturbed and in agony in sleep as it did while you were awake.

"Luke?" You mumbled.

"Yes love."

"What– how am I here?" A sudden fit of discomfort and confusion setting upon you as you forced your eyes open and tried to sit up, still half asleep but nevertheless trying to stay alert– a default demigod setting, "who's– Atlas–"

"Shh," He whispered, attempting to be soothing. Take care of you. His job. "Annabeth's got it in control."

"Anna– no!" You shoot up, weak and disoriented, "not– Luke, Luke you promised– No!"

"Shh, calm down, please," He catches your shoulder and nudges you to lie back but you remain restless and oh gods he loves you and can't lie to you but you need to remain still or you'll get hurt more.

"You promised–"

Their medic is swift in appearing with an anaesthetic type medication and they put you out succinctly, without the chance of waking for a long while.

"I know you didn't want it to go like this, my love. But I will sacrifice hundreds to keep you safe."

His heart feels heavy and he kisses your brow and cheek.

If Annabeth, Thalia or Percy or anyone is the option opposite you, he'll kill them all. You, his devoted darling, his own nectar. The repercussions always seem so inconsequential when up against you, taking care of you.

His beloved.

************

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ MASQUERADE PT. 2 ]

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx

A/N: I physically can not refrain from writing smut with angst or implied angst… please forgive me.. ❤️

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SMUT ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ MALE READER ] + [ SLIGHT ANGST ]

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxx

“Would you mind if I came to see you again? I'll be in town by the weekend.” You tried not to smile too hard as the question left your lips, carrying through the telephone’s gentle crackling to resonate to the receiving end clearly, and the man you'd grown to cherish after a few short months of quiet correspondence gave a low response.

“I'll have you all to myself?” Alastor tugged your inquiry along with his own, smirking as you huffed dramatically and no doubt rolled your eyes at his words.

“As always, Al. You know I'm not one for having many friends,” you admit, slumping further into your living room sofa as if to sink through cushions and disappear from the blooming embarrassment you felt hearing him laugh again.

It was your second favorite thing about him. His honest charm was the first, and that had yet to change since the last time you'd enjoyed his company. Exactly six months ago, during your second visit to the City of Jazz, it was fun!

Alastor had essentially filled the void you'd been unable to conceal, keeping you on your toes at every turn and stringing you along in affectionate mind games you knew better than to entertain.

It was difficult not to, though; he knew what to say, what to do with you, and how to handle you. At times, you considered the idea of him being no ordinary man.

Devilish.

That's how you'd describe him to anyone who asked. Alastor was a striking character, able to overshadow your persona with a gentle smile, making you feel very accessible.

You weren't allowed freedom from judgment, public image, and parasocial expectations like every silver screen star was subjected to. Fortunately, you had no obligations with Alastor, no point to prove, and you amounted such casualness to the building of mutual bonding.

He understood fame and its demands.

He understood you…more than most.

Alastor interrupted your wandering thoughts with a witty comment, “Hm, touche, but I suppose I'm the exception.” You scoffed, grinning at the ceiling before making an equally snarky retort.

“Don't sound so full of yourself..” you heard him click his tongue, a sharp sound you wished to hear in person again sooner rather than later.

“But it's the truth, mon cher. Plain and simple.” he concurs, and you shift to sit up straight, reaching for the glass on the coffee table before you, studying the few ounces of liquor before downing the bitter liquid. “Am I welcome or not, Mr. Hartifelt?” You suck your teeth, nose scrunching as the alcohol flushes your veins, promoting your nerves to settle and easing your heart rate as you wait for his answer.

You felt a thrill from just speaking to him. It was beautiful, really, and scandalous to some degree.

Falling for a man you’d met only a handful of times shouldn’t be possible, but here you were, waiting with bated breath to hear his decision to see you again.

Please say yes…just one last time.

Alastor smiled, taking his time to contemplate your offer while leaning back in his desk chair, eyes trained on the intricate soundboard he sat at. He'd grown attached to you in one way or another, unsure if it was pure curiosity or pity on his part. Both reasons hadn't plagued him before your first encounter, and Alastor refused to acknowledge such impractical emotions, reminding himself that you were nothing more than a tag-along for him.

A lonely soul he could very quickly leave behind.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

That's what he forced his conscience to believe, willing itself to envision his compliance to your request as intrigue rather than genuine affection.

“I wouldn't dream of you refusing you, my friend. I look forward to spending time with you soon,” his answer was concise, a brief hint of satisfaction in his tone, and you immediately blurted out a joyous remark of relief.

“Then it’s settled! I’ll see you in two days,” a bright smile stretched across your face as he laughed softly on the other end, “You make it sound as if I’m your only reason for living, my dear.” Alastor shakes his head at his statement, knowing it held truth and proud to know he had such an effect on you.

Am I really that obvious to him?…

A stab of embarrassment hit you square in the heart, a subtle frown replacing your grin as you reflected on the time you’d spent with the radio host. He’d taken you anywhere and everywhere in New Orleans, insisted you join him for dinner on nights he wasn’t broadcasting, and even made an effort to view your recent film. However, he avidly proclaimed his hate for lackluster visual media.

However, he never criticized your films, choosing to compliment your scenes, or congratulating your recent success on his broadcast, as any good friend should do.

You couldn’t recall when Alastor had ever let on he knew of your attraction to him. Yes, he pried at your emotions for the hell of it a few times, but he’d never explicitly acknowledged it.

This was the first time he’d even alluded to such feelings, and your nerves were alert instantly, mind going blank as you navigated your flustered state before murmuring into the phone with a sheepish smile.

“You think very highly of yourself, Alastor..”

“Apologies, my dear. I’m partial to being honest with you. Take it as a form of flattery, if you will.”

His attempt at a modest apology failed, but you had no intention of stamping out his smug nature. Alastor’s blatant confidence was refreshing, and though you wished to keep speaking with him, your evening wasn’t absent of essential events to attend to.

You bid him goodbye with a heavy heart, wishing him a good evening despite knowing he’d put off sleep until the early morning to keep broadcasting as long as possible, and he returned the subtle sentiment before ending the call.

Hours passed, pictures were taken, interviews were conducted, and fans were screaming your name, but the only person on your mind was Alastor.

The following two days felt tortious, a strained waiting game you couldn’t wait to finish, and the second you arrived back in New Orleans and found the time to slip away from your manager, you headed straight for your usual rendezvous spot with the acclaimed radio host.

Club Intime

—- ——- ——- ——- ———

There he was, relaxed in the seclusion of a velvet lounge booth, merely hidden away from the rest of the dimly lit speakeasy. Alastor wasn’t one to socialize unnecessarily. He was content with observing others through the lenses of his round glasses that were beginning to fog up from the fumes of his cigarette, a cold glass half full of whiskey set before him to aid his solitary sedation.

From afar, he looked out of place, cordial, and put together, unlike the rest of the patrons waltzing around. The only unkempt detail about him was the state of his bow tie and collar. He’d undone it the second he sat down, nimble fingers unlacing the stiff ribbon before trying to unbutton his dress shirt's first two clasps. It was a habit he’d yet to avoid after a long evening of work and one you thoroughly enjoyed.

The insignificant results hit just the right nerves, drawing your eyes to his clean-cut features, caramel skin, and hidden scars that he’d once called “unavoidable trophies.” From what or who you weren't sure.

You’d thought to ask him why he felt so highly of his wounds, concerned they’d hit deeper than he let on, but Alastor reassured you through a tight smile your sympathy for him wasn’t needed.

He was a proud man, very sure of himself, and it showed even in a room full of illicit drinkers and rowdy partygoers. Intimidating was the easiest way to describe him, and you felt exactly that way as his hazel eyes settled on you from across the room: intimidated.

You stood at the club's entrance, letting one of the hosts take your coat, but as he asked which table you preferred, you politely declined his offer before looking back at Alastor.

He hadn’t moved, still staring you down with a gentle smile, glasses pushed to the top of his head, and drink in one hand while the cigarette dangled above its rim nestled between two of his fingers.

God, he was beautiful, like a demon straight out of hell.

Alastor tipped his head, signaling you to come his way, and you did with a certain excitement in your eyes. He studied you just the same as you’d done to him, watching your form intently as you snaked through the bustling crowd toward your regular table with him, and by the time you were close enough to call his name, a shameless grin was on your face.

“Al!” You shouted above the drumming music, slipping to sit beside him in the blink of an eye, and he didn’t hesitate to make room for you. “I see you made it to town safely, my dear!” He placed his drink down, taking one last drag from his cigarette before putting it in the liquor. You blushed at the sight of him exhaling the smoke, brown eyes trained on you and an expectant glint in them as he shifted to face you.

“Y-Yes, well, you’ve been an excellent guide the first few times I’ve come here, so I suppose I’m used to the city now.” You smiled at him softly, hoping he’d disregard the stutter in your voice, but knowing him, you were sure he’d caught it very clearly.

Nothing ever got past Alastor.

He hummed, flattered by your praise but more interested in your apparent nervousness. You had yet to act unbothered by him, which amused the radio host.

“Glad to know my assistance was helpful. Do you plan to stay longer this time round?” Alastor rested an arm on the table, chin finding his open palm, and his head now level with yours.

Fuck, I forget how tall he is sometimes…Jesus Christ…

You gulp, blood running hot as his gaze bores into yours, searching for an answer you had yet to give him. It felt hard to breathe for a moment; all you could hear was your heartbeat and the muffled noise of the club.

Why’d he always have to be so close?

Didn’t he know who you were, who he was, what this looked like to other people?

Granted, the onlookers were drunk or too dizzy from dancing to focus on you both.

But the risk of it all, that unmistakable boldness Alastor embodied, had you nervous in all the right ways.

After a beat of silence and staring, you mustered up the courage to give him a response. “Seeing as I have time off from filming, I’ll spend it here. A change of scenery is an actor's best challenge.” You broke eye contact with him, staring into the crowd to keep from fidgeting as he nodded with a low hum, “So, in other words, I won’t be rid of you anytime soon?” Alastor chuckled as you feigned offense at his question, head snapping towards him and a discreet frown on your lips.

“That was quite rude of you to say, Mr. Hartifelt. Especially since I came all the way here to see you…”

A mischievous spark lit up his eyes, smile growing devilish as you glared at him, “Ah, so I am the apple of your eye, mon cher…”

It wasn’t a question.

He didn’t pose the observation as anything else, wanting to bait you into a confession, and he succeeded quicker than you realized.

“No, I did come to experience the city,” you retort flatly, tempted to order a drink and down it to freeze the nerves burning your skin.

Alastor glanced around, assuring no one was invested in your exchange, before dipping his head to whisper in your ear. “Don’t lie to me, cher. I can see it written all over your face, and I must admit it’s a delight to see.” You could practically hear the wicked grin on his lips, sweet and sinister all at once.

Damn. It.

You paled as he pulled back, smirk ever present as he waved a waiter down to order another drink as if he hadn’t reduced you to a fluttery mess beside him.

You sat pin straight, willing to breathe, and on the verge of zoning out completely.

“And what would you like to order, monsieur?” The waiter addressed you, brow raised as you flinched from the sudden question, “I…uh…I-I’ll have the…” you inwardly panicked from the lack of coherent speech left on your tongue, but the building embarrassment dulled as Alastor spoke up for you.

“He’ll have the same as me. Double it and bring the tab as well. Merci.”

“Je vais le faire sortir tout de suite, monsieur. “ The waiter nodded, taking down Alastor’s request quickly before throwing you a strange look and strutting away.

You had to pull it together, or the image you worked so hard for Katina would crumple at one man’s behest, and deep down, you didn’t mind.

It was tiring being perfect, faking your entire personality for the masses's support, and the longer you lingered in Alastor’s company, the more enticing it was just to let it all go.

To drop the mask you wore like an overbearing shroud.

Just once, you’d like to be another person, someone less empty and carnally fulfilled.

One night wouldn’t hurt, right?

You glanced at Alastor, entranced by his lax manner, foot tapping to the swinging melodies and his eyes scanning the room as if searching for prey.

One night with him…wouldn’t be your end, right?

He didn't pretend with you, nor sugar coat his thoughts and actions in hopes of impressing you, and on more than one occasion you both sought some form of imtalcay from the other.

This man had seen what others couldn’t, so why deny yourself a chance at fleeting freedom?

He could pick you apart and put you back together again, and you wouldn’t mind.

So long as Alastor remained the only man to see through you.

One night.

That’s all you asked him for when your drinks arrived, and you were prepared for him to reject your offer, but the sting of refusal never came.

He accepted the arrangement, smile wide, and his eyes hazing over with lust the moment your question reached his ears.

“I thought you’d never ask, cher….”

The night was a whirlwind after that; the tab left on the table tallied to a large sum from the amount of alcohol ordered, and by the end of two hours, you were utterly inebriated.

You met the comfort of your hotel room not long after your time at the hidden bar, stumbling through the door by Alastors lead, laughing softly as his grip on your wrist tightened when you reached behind to close and lock the door.

If you'd seen the malicious edge to his smile as your lips met, you could've sensed danger before it arrived. Maybe if you'd stopped to think properly as clothes were tossed to the floor and his hands met your bare skin, you would've been weary of how cold they felt. Maybe if you'd perceived the rapid pace of your heart as fear for your life and not a side effect of mind-boggling pleasure while he fucked you to the point of tears, you could've vied for safety.

If only you'd seen through his mask, through his glamorous praises, and listless stares…

Maybe you could've survived and tried to fight him, but the rewards of cracking under his pressure rendered such critical thinking useless.

Once. Twice. A third.

Alastor took you from one height of pleasure to the next, forcing whatever bit of raw honesty he could out of you with a series of unforgiving thrusts, swallowing your breathless moans with shallow kisses. He'd never let you utter a word of refusal, using your body to the fullest without a second thought and scarcely sympathetic of how much you could take from him.

At the mercy of your fourth high, you clung to him, nails digging into his scarred back, head tucked into the crook of his neck, and your chest heaving with quiet groans of his name. Alastor could feel the stray tears on your cheeks, melting on his skin, exciting him to no end. “Oh, you poor thing..” he teased you through gritted teeth, biting back a smile as your walls tightened around his cock, another whine rippling your throat at the condensing remark.

“To think so many adore you, and yet here you are…” Alastor pressed his weight down onto you entirely, hands tight on your hips as he deepened his strokes, reaching places inside you that felt almost foreign. You gave up trying to speak, scratching down his back instead as a wordless warning for release, but he didn't let up.

“…showing your true colors to me. I could almost feel sport for you, Cher.” his tone dripped with vague pity, full of satisfaction as he buried himself in you, earning a soft gasp on your part and a fulfilled grown from him.

A warmth enveloped your core as he spilled his cum into you, adding to the amount he'd already so graciously given and triggering your release in seconds.

“Don't want you to feel bad for me..” you huff tiredly, eyes rolling as your cock twitched and leaked between you. Alastor hummed, eyes lowering the sight of skin glossing over with the sticky white fluid, “I pity any soul as desperate as yours, darling…”

“Desperate?” you question him with a lazy smile, ready to correct his comment but failing to as he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and restless.

“Desperate to be loved by any and everyone…” Alastor clarifies, staring at you with a soft smile on his lips as he leans down to graze them over your parted ones.

“Even by a killer like me…”

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx

I finally completed this!!!! I'm seriously considering getting an Alastor blanket to curl up in because the stress I've been feeling this week is wild…❤️

Quick side note: do you all realize Alastor would be the most toxic partner in history? Yes, he's sweet, respectful, dashing, and everything else needed to be a surface-level perfect companion. But once you get past all of that, there's not a single aspect of your life Alastor wouldn't control, stalking you, weaving webs of lies to isolate you, using minor signs of affection as a way to keep you close, and buying you gifts to mask all his deep seeded antagonism. He would be your dream man but a total nightmare in one way or another.

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Pilot Alsstor was something else I love him so muchhhh ❤️ credit to creator

[martybaker]

Whiskey for the good times

It’s a warm June evening and Dream is sitting at the end of the bar at The New Inn, watching Hob at work.

Priya the bartender called in sick and so Hob is manning the bar himself tonight. The inn is full of patrons and Hob is kept busy, clever fingers handling various bottles of liquor. He chats amicably with regulars and newcomers alike, ever with a kind smile on his face, even though there is a sheen of sweat at his temples, testament to his hard work.

And despite the crowd, whenever there’s a lull in the influx of warm bodies demanding his attention, he finds a moment to wind back to Dream, to give him a refill, a new anecdote, an observation about a patron, or just a smile before he’s called back to duty.

Dream enjoys their conversations, but he enjoys simply watching Hob at work as well, and he has had plenty of opportunities to do so over the last year. Since his escape from Fawney Rig and the subsequent demands of his office, his visits to the Waking world had became much more frequent. But not only because of his duties, but also thanks to the newly rediscovered pleasure of Hob’s company.

They agreed to meet once a month, so Hob could more thoroughly catch Dream up on all the things he has missed during the years of his…detainment, and slowly conversations over a drink turned into invites to, quote, “hang out” with Hob outside of the New Inn as well. Some things are better shown than told, he said, and Dream smiled and complied rather too easily. Their monthly meetings became weekly, and though Dream was notoriously prone to getting lost in his work, he suddenly found himself in the habit of time keeping and counting down days until their next meeting.

Today, however, is special. The calendar on the wall reads June 7th in bold black letters. A day as any other, but also their day.

Dream watches Hob, circling the rim of his glass with his finger.

Currently Hob is held at the other end of the bar by a pair of young giggling women he seems to be familiar with, presumably his students. They keep glancing in Dream’s direction, and Hob’s face is growing redder by the minute. He keeps shaking his head, disputing whatever notion they’re pushing, but the girls seem relentless.

Eventually, when he makes his way back to Dream, Dream cannot help letting his curiosity take over.

“Your students?”

Hob nods, a faint flush still visible on his cheeks.

“What were they inquiring about?”

Hob huffs, shaking his head. “They were making fun of their old history professor, s’wat they been doing.”

Dream rises his eyebrows at him.

Hob sighs, fidgeting under the gaze, but eventually breaks.

“They were asking if you were a good kisser,” he admits, darting away with his gaze as soon as he says it, tugging nervously at his ear.

Dream’s eyebrows shoot up even higher. “Were they? What did you tell them?”

Hob blinks at him. “The truth? That I wouldn’t know?”

“Hmm,” Dream hums, twirling the amber liquid in his glass. He slowly puts it down, then reaches over the bartop and pulls Hob towards him, leaning in to join their lips. Hob makes a noise of surpise against him but then falls into the kiss, tasting the whiskey from Dream’s lips.

When Dream pulls back, Hob sways on his feet, looking lost with his mouth hanging open and pupils dilated. His hands clench, frozen in midair as if he wanted to hold onto Dream but wasn’t sure he was allowed to.

There’s a whistle and laughter from the other side of the bar.

Dream picks up his glass again and smiles at Hob beatifically. “There. So you could give them an honest review.”

Hob blinks at him and makes a noise like a squeezed rubber duck.

Dream cannot help the grin tugging on his lips as he nods in the direction of the women, encouraging Hob to return back to them to relay his impressions.

Hob unfreezes slowly, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair and muttering “bloody hell” under his breath before he hesitently makes his way back to the other side of the bar. The students immediately latch onto him, rejuvinated by the display as well as the liquir running through their veins.

When Hob comes back to uncork new bottles for the customers he is unusually quiet and the red on his cheeks seems to have made a permanent residence there.

As he grabs for a bottle of tequilla it slips from his fingers and shatters on the floor, minutely interrupting the rumor of conversations before they’re picked up again.

“Bollocks!” He curses.

Dream hears himself laugh. Not a full on raucous laugh, just a chuckle, but Hob looks at him with wide eyes, as if he was seeing the eight wonder of the world.

Hob laughs too, breaking the moment, and returns his attention to the shattered bottle.

“Look what you’ve done to me!” he says, grabbing for a broom and glancing at Dream with mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Menace.”

Dream hides his smile in his glass. He feels a sparkling feeling in his chest, which doesn’t seem right because alcohol shoud have no effect on him unless he lets it. Perhaps his control is slipping, or perhaps it’s just the pleasent buzz of the evening and good company.

Perhaps he doesn’t mind all that much, letting his control slip tonight.

Having cleaned the mess, Hob comes back to him, as he always does, and gives him a crooked smile. “You’ve just about made their day tonight. I won’t hear the end of it at the uni, thanks a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” Dream drawls, leaning his head on his hand. He gives Hob a once-over, gesturing at his shirt that’s been soaked by the alcohol. “You might want to take that off.”

Hob looks at his shirt, then back at Dream, huffing in disbelief. “Was that the plan all along??”

“An unforseen benefit.”

“Uhuh,” Hob says, giving Dream a dubious look. “Heavens, you are in a mood tonight. Should have given me a warning beforehand, I don’t know if I can survive a whole evening of this,” he says, gesturing at the whole of Dream.

“You can survive anything,” Dream reminds him.

“Physically, maybe, but my composure? My dignity? My sanity? I am really not all that sure, love.”

Dream smiles, keeps smiling, really, as he doesn’t seem to be able to do otherwise tonight. He downs the last sip of whiskey along with the sweet tingle of Hob’s endearment.

“Want a refill?” Hob nods at his empty glass. “Or would you like to try something new? Something more daring?” he says, rising his eyebrows in a challenge. “Since that seems to be the vibe tonight.”

Dream hums. “Perhaps i would like to try something old.”

If Dream knew Hob’s reactions to a little bit of flirting would be so entertaining, he would have endeavoured to do so sooner. Hob grows even redder in the face if that’s even possible, huffing and blinking rapidly, seemingly unable to decide what to do with his hands which he twists together, then crosses across his chest, then lets fall against his sides again, smoothing down the seams of his trousers.

He shakes his head and rubs his forehead.

“You’re something else, Dream,” he says with a deep sigh.

“Yes, that is a correct assesment.”

Hob rolls his eyes.

“Hey, Mickey!” He yells at a regular at a nearby table, “would you like to make a quick buck? Can you come over to man the bar for a minute? I need to change.”

“Sure thing, mate!”

Hob takes of his apron, muscles flexing underneath the shirt made half translucent, and Dream wants.

“Do you need assistance,” he asks nonsensically, but Hob understands it for the proposal that it is.

Hob’s eyes grow wide. He laughs, shaking his head. “Christ, if I were really working here I would get fired for this,” he says, but he beckons at Dream who slips from his chair and joins Hob at the other side of the bar. Hob puts his hand on his back and nudges him towards the backroom.

“Lucky you are the owner, then,” Dream points out.

“Yeah, lucky,” Hob says, hand slipping around Dream’s waist from behind, and kisses Dream’s neck as he closes the door behind them.

——————

Happy 7th of June dreamling nation!

Here’s something for ‘Ep6 continuation’ prompt of Dreamling Week :)

[tekmaticinc]

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