#part of me is very tempted to do several of these

[horror-aesthete]

People who follow my main blog might remember that I did a Universal Horror Dorian Gray fancast a while back, but since Ive covered so many Hammer Horrors here I decided to make a follow up

Let me know what you think!

[simptasia]

LOST: Season One

[woolydemon]

finished one animatic and being like "oh yeah that was fun but glad to be able to move onto different non animatic stuff" but then immediately smacked in the face with mental animatic of Hold It In klapolly

[genderqueerdykes]

as someone who has been scarred for life by experiences at gay bars, i need people to understand it's beyond tacky to mock people who want queer spaces beyond queer bars- it's dangerous.

let me explain. i went to 2 of my local queer bars a lot last year, as much as i was able to despite being poor. i witnessed a fist fight that was so bloody that ended up with a transmisogynistic drag queen getting hit in the head with a metal baton. the sight caused me to uncontrollably throw up in the bathroom of the club because of how gruesome it was. they had to close down the club and forard people out the back door because of how out of hand this person got- he was screaming transmisogynstic slurs and phrases at the bouncers were were transfem.

i was also sexually assaulted at these places, i was repeatedly groped by several people who i was not interacting with in the first place who found me attractive and decided physically grabbing me on numerous occasions was the way to get my attention. being femme in a queer bar is dangerous even if the people groping you are gay men.

i am also a recovering addict who dealt with alcohol issues in the past and could be considered a recovering alcoholic. i don't want to be around alcohol. i don't want to smell it. it triggers awful memories and also sometimes makes me consider getting a drink, but i can't have one, because the medications i take will cause a fatal reaction- i don't want to be tempted to drink, because it will kill me.

it's not right to mock someone or call them childish or whatever for not wanting to go to a club. whenever alcohol is involved, people's inhibitions are gone and they will do whatever. this includes fighting. i witnessed several other fights. just because it's a queer bar doesn't mean there won't be fights. and it especialyl doesn't m ean that you won't get groped or assaulted because, like i said, since alcohol is involved and it's a bar, there's a high chance this can and will happen.

queer people are not inherently safe angels to be around by virtue of being queer. there are still transphobes in queer bars. tranny chasers come to these bars. homophobic lesbians show up and lesbophobic gay men show up. drag queens and performers bring their cishet friends and family to support their shows. these are not perfect havens. they are not safe. we should not force other queers to interact with inherently dangerous spaces if these are supposed to be our safe spaces.

also these spaces are not friendly to people with disabilities; wheelchair users have nowhere to go especially when it's very crowded. other mobility aids get kicked and knocked over. neurodivergent people can get overstimulated by the deafening music very quickly. photosensitive people can have seizures due to the strobing lights. people with emetophobia like me run the risk of running into those types of triggers. people who are overstimulated by intoxicated people have no choice but to deal with it. dancing is one of the only activities to do other than drink and not many disabled (or even abled) people can dance for extended periods of time comfortably.

not to mention these spaces are not geared toward aromantic or asexual people at all, either. there is a long list of reasons why bars should not be our primary venues of interaction with one another. they serve a specific purpose- for people who want to cruise- but for the rest of us, it's really crucial that we have spaces that provide meaningful interactions with other queers on other levels of our identities.

some people just want to hang out with other queers in a quiet environment and craft, or shop, or drink coffee, or read books together, or just about any other activity on planet earth, and that's not "lame" or "cringy" or bad in any way- these are extremely normal and necessary parts of human interaction that we all require and crave and it's normal to want to do healthy, domestic things with other queers. we need this in our lives.

please take it seriously when people attempt to create queer spaces that don't involve alcohol and bars. it's necessary for our survival and well being as a community.

[satorusugurugurl]

can we please get something about satoru x reader x suguru 🤲🏻💖

i would absolutely love a third part

and fourth

and fifth 👀

Reversal!

Characters: Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru, FAB!Reader

Warning: Language, smut, Reader is fuckin pissed, sitting on face, body worship

Word Count: 1,597

A/N: I received this request and a suggestion for the reader being mad. I merged the two! As for other parts, I’m so down. Send me suggestions! 😈💚

Part One Part Two

It wasn’t very often that you were sent off on a mission alone. Usually, you were stuck in Tokyo handling curses here while your partners were sent off overseas. So imagine your surprise when Yaga and the higher-ups sent you overseas to London.

You had been ecstatic!

You were looking forward to seeing sights you’d never seen before. The wonder and woe wore off the second you stepped off the plane. You were ushered off to a tiny rural village, where not one, not two, but seven curses had been spotted. It took you a damn week to exorcize all of them. You could have finished it sooner if the stupid locals stopped getting in your way.

When you finally made it home, you were irritated, exhausted, and needed stress relief. Stress relief that involved your two boyfriends and their skillful tongues and appendages. They had no idea what was in store for them as you unlocked the door.

Satoru was happily eating a cookie when the front door nearly came off its hinges just as he passed it. He choked, raising his hand to defend himself with Hollow Purple, only to see you throwing your shoes off with a dark expression washed over your pretty face.

“Oh, my fuck!” He gasped out, coughing as cookie crumbs choked him. “You scared the ever-loving shit out of my sweetheart!” When you said nothing, Satoru tilted his head, taking note of the dark circles under your eyes, the ashy tone of Your skin, and how you gritted your teeth as you threw your suitcase to the side. “Rough week?”

No words were said as you grabbed him by the front of the shirt. “Shut the fuck up.” You snarked like a lioness on the prowl.

Satoru gulped as he was yanked down the hall towards Suguru’s room. When you reached The slightly cracked door, you kicked it in, causing the raven-haired man to jump. His eyes darted from his book to the doorway, where he found your exhausted, angry features and Satoru’s terrified face.

What had they forgotten to do when you were gone? Laundry? No, that was done. Messy house? No, the duo was always neat. Dinner wasn't made? That couldn't be it; you had told them you wanted takeout before boarding the plane home. Not knowing what was going through your beautiful mind made you ten times scarier.

Several seconds passed as scenarios crossed his mind before Suguru cleared his throat. He placed his book down on the nightstand, striding towards you with a cocked eyebrow. His movements were slow and full of caution as he approached you like you were a wild beast.

“Princess? You okay?”

You moved at lightning speed, releasing Satoru before you shoved Suguru back onto the bed. He didn’t say a word as he watched you take off your panties before bunching your skirt up to your hips. Before he knew it, you were yanking down his sweats as you onto the bed. Satoru watched in horny shock as you straddled Suguru’s face and bent down over him to stroke his best friend's cock.

“Toru, get the fuck behind me, and fuck me.” You barked out as if he was supposed to know what to do.

“R-Right!” He stripped out of his clothes as Suguru groaned underneath you. His tongue wasted no time, darting out and licking at your damp folds as you took his cock into your mouth, sucking it gently. “I guess it was a rough week.”

You wanted to snap back at Satoru, but how could you when Suguru was licking your clit like it was candy. You gasped, leaning forward, taking his cock into your mouth with a hungry groan. Satoru was half tempted to sit back and watch his two sexy partners sixty-nine, but the image of your furious face had him moving despite his desires.

The feeling of Suguru’s hot wet tongue flattening and lapping over your clit, to feeling Satoru’s cock stretch you open had you gasping around Suguru’s cock, your eyes fluttering as they rolled back at the sensation. It was so good, your clit being stimulated while your pussy was being stuffed. It was like worlds were colliding; a cosmic event was taking place between your legs, and your pussy was crying happy tears.

The warmth of your mouth and hearing the grunts from Satoru had Suguru’s cock throbbing in your mouth. The stimulation was great, but having you take control, making them do what you wanted, it was just as good as them taking out their frustrations on you. Maybe he needed to talk to Yaga about sending you out more often. Oh god, what if they sent you and Satoru out together, or you and him? The possibilities were endless.

Possibilities that had Suguru furrowing his brows as he hungrily licked and sucked at your clit. If you needed them this bad, by god, he’d give you everything you fucking wanted. You wanted to cum on his face. He’d make that happen! Once you finished, if you wanted more, he’d give you more. Suguru grabbed the top of your thighs, slamming you down directly on his tongue, devouring you.

Suguru’s sudden action had Satoru wincing, his faltering as you tightened around his cock. Your walls pulsated and clenched around him. Fuck, how the fuck were you so wet but still so goddamn tight?! He felt like you were going to squeeze his cock off of the three of you and kept going at this pace. Suguru was eating you out while you gagged around his cock. The sight was better than any porn he’d ever seen. And he was fucking loving in it!

“Fuuuck~!!” Satoru threw his head back, hips jerking forward faster. “Oooh god fuck me, t-this is so hot.”

“Mmmph~ mmhm!” Suguru moaned in agreement from underneath you, sending vibrations dancing through your clit.

You gagged on Suguru’s cock pulling back enough to breathe. “If it feels that fucking good, shut up and keep going!” You shouted, sending a glare with no heat in Satoru’s direction. He didn’t freeze up under your harsh words; no, instead, he groaned as his cock twitched inside of you, his hips moving as you instructed him to do so.

His pace picked up as you went back to sucking on Suguru’s fat cock, deep-throating him with a moan as he flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit. Already, you were feeling your orgasm tightening in your belly. Satoru could feel it, too, from the way you clenched down on his cock, your gummy walls pulsating.

Satoru wasn’t the only one to notice. Your dark-haired boyfriend picked up on the telltale signs of you being close as well. Your clit twitched, and your moans grew louder, buzzing around his cock as you gagged on him. Knowing precisely what you needed, Suguru sealed his lips around your sensitive bud, sending your eyes shooting wide. Satoru picked up the pace of his thrusts.

The buzzing hum in your head wasn’t from being buzzed off alcohol. No, it was from being buzzed off of your partners. They worked in tandem with each other between Satoru’s thrust and Suguru’s insatiable skills with his tongue. You cried out, toes churching back, arching as they worked you to the brink of your orgasm.

“That’s right, sweetheart~ we got you~ cum~” Satoru growled against your shoulder as he kissed your skin. His words drew you closer, but Suguru sent you over the edge. He was moaning, growling around your clit as his balls clenched, his cum sliding down your throat. All the while, he moved his head back and forth as fast as he could, pulling you over the edge with him.

The orgasm that ripped through you had you rock back against Satoru and over Suguru’s still-working mouth. Satoru’s dick repetitively hits your g-spot over and over, making you squirt around him and all over Suguru’s face. While Suguru hummed in approval lapping up all of the juices he could, Satoru fucks you deeper and harder as his orgasm hits him. He fucked his load deep inside of your tight cunt, making you cry out as you pulled off of Suguru.

“O-Oooh~ oh fuck yes~!” You palm your breasts as your boyfriends gasp and pant, the three of you slowly coming down from your highs.

Once Satoru is positive he’s milked himself completely inside of you, he pulls his sensitive cock out of you, allowing you to get off Suguru, collapsing in the bed next to him. Satoru smirks, chuckling roughly as he stares down at Suguru’s fucked out expression, his perfectly beautiful face shimmering with your cum. Blue eyes dart towards you, panting just as heavily, looking a million times happier than when you first came home.

“N-Now I—“ you gasped, “I get it.”

Suguru turned his head towards your voice, “Get what, Princess?” He groaned. He was rolling into his stomach to watch you.

“Why your guys fuck the life out of me after a long mission.” Their smiles are palpable as you hum happily, pulling them both to either side of you. They oblige, Satoru resting his head over your breasts while Suguru buries his face into the crook of your neck. “That was fucking great, let go again.”

Suddenly, Satoru and Suguru were beginning to wonder if you going out on missions like them would be for the best. You were fucking unfathomable hot when you took control, but they also know how passionate you were. They could only pray their cocks would survive the night to come.

[daisynik7]

Cure for a Hangover

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.9k

cw: next-door neighbor Kishibe, age gap (I’m thinking at least fifteen years, Kishibe pushing mid-forties, reader is in her late 20s/early 30s), alcohol consumption, p*rn no plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), blowjob, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, pet names (sweetheart, angel, kiddo)

Summary: Kishibe is your mysterious, brooding, and significantly older next-door neighbor. You’ve lived beside him for a while now, only exchanging basic pleasantries out of politeness, never anything more. One night, he comes home drunk, or so he thinks. It’s not his door he’s slumped again; it’s yours.

Author’s Notes: It’s been a minute since I wrote for Kishibe and I really do miss it. This old man continues to do wonders to me, so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Taglist: @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @man-knees @demonwoman (bc Kishibe using kiddo as a pet name is living in my head rent free thanks to you)

part 3 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

It’s not often that you’re met with a man slumped against your door, but here you are, staring down at your next-door neighbor, Kishibe, doing just that. 

It’s past two in the morning now, and you’ve just come back from your own night out with your friends. You’re not nearly as drunk as you were three hours ago, after pounding glasses of Chardonnay while watching cheesy romance movies at your best friend’s apartment. And you’re certainly not as inebriated as the man before you, who absolutely reeks of liquor, even from a small distance away. 

You inspect the scene thoroughly, unsure what to do in this scenario. Kishibe is basically a stranger to you. Sure, you’ve exchanged basic pleasantries here and there over that past year since you moved in. That’s as far as it goes. You have no idea what his profession is, though you have a solid guess as to what it could be, given his work attire and overall physique. While you’ve never run into one yourself, devils run rampart in Tokyo, hell-bent on causing chaos wherever they spawn. Kishibe looks like a Devil Hunter, whose job is to eliminate these monsters. It’s intriguing, that’s for sure, but you’ve never mustered the courage to ask him about it, leaving him to maintain his mysterious demeanor. 

However, right now, you don’t see a Devil Hunter in front of you. Instead, it’s a simple man who is very drunk and very much in your way.

Deciding to help him, because that’s the only choice you have if you want to get into your apartment, you kneel down to search his overcoat, patting the breast pocket for keys. When you find nothing, you move to his pants, retrieving only his phone. His eyes are closed and he’s snoring, blissfully unaware of your predicament in his drunken stupor. You take this time to study his face. He’s looks much older up close; not only that, he’s even more handsome than you originally thought. There’s a prominent scar running from his mouth to his jaw, surely an interesting story behind it. You’re tempted to trace it delicately with your finger, but you ultimately resist the urge, snapping out of it to investigate his phone for any clues. 

There are several missed calls and texts from a person named Kenji. You use the Face ID feature to unlock his phone, thanking the universe that even with his eyes shuts, it works. Not wanting to pry more than necessary, you check the most recent texts for the answer to your question: Where the hell are his keys?

Kenji: you left your keys at the bar, come back now. I’m closing up soon

Kenji: I’m not waiting for your ass

Kenji: I’m leaving, get them tomorrow

You read over the messages once more, groaning quietly to yourself at your dumb luck. Desperate now, you resort to the next logical step.

“Hey,” you say, tapping him lightly on the cheek, rousing him awake. “Kishibe.”

Slowly, but surely, he opens his eyes, half-lidded, struggling to focus on you. “Huh?” His breath is heavy with liquor, most likely whiskey. His voice is deep and gravelly, and you hate admitting that’s it’s almost sexy. Well, not almost. It is sexy. 

Letting the inappropriate thought fade, you say, “You’re at the wrong apartment. This is mine.”

He blinks three times, opening his eyes properly to stare at you, expression confused. “Am I dead?”

You bite your lip, holding back laughter. “No, you’re not.”

“Am I in heaven?”

You shake your head, repeating, “No, you’re not.”

“Then why is there any angel here with me?” He sounds sincere, and you can’t help but break out into a genuine smile. 

“I’m not an angel,” you reply, giggling. 

His lips curve into a cocky grin. “You sure? You look like one to me.” Cheeky bastard, hitting on you while he’s plastered. And look at you, finding it endearing when he does. 

Slightly more relaxed, you slide the phone into his breast pocket, standing up to unlock your door. You can’t just leave him out here all night, so you decide to let him stay with you until he’s sober enough to call a locksmith. You jiggle the keys, turning the knob to open the door, and suddenly, there’s a loud thud, and then a delayed, “Ow.” He’s laid flat in the middle of your doorway, hitting his head on the hardwood. You feel guilty, not having the foresight to see this coming. His body is much sturdier than you anticipated. 

You kneel down, apologizing. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

He winces, rubbing the back of his skull, then gives you a goofy smile. “I’ll be fine. Think I can get a kiss to make it feel better?”

You roll your eyes at him, once again unable to contain your laughter. “I’ll get you some ice. Let’s get you to the couch first, okay?”

Somehow, some way, whether it’s spurred by adrenaline or desperation to finally get some sleep in your own bed, you manage to haul him up by the armpits and drag him the short distance to your couch. You fluff a pillow and place it under his head, making it as comfortable as possible for him. “I’ll get the ice now.”

Before you can stand up, he grabs your wrist, gripping you tightly. “What about my kiss?”

“Nope. Not happening. I bet you don’t even know my name,” you challenge him.

He doesn’t respond, loosening his hold so you can get up. You fill a plastic bag with ice, returning to surround the back of his head with it. Eventually, he utters your name, eyes closed while he relaxes to your touch. He peeks at you with one eye open, waiting for you to confirm. 

You nod, grinning. “So, you do know my name.”

“Can I get my kiss now?” he teases, gazing at you.

You shake your head. “Definitely not. I will not take advantage of a drunk person, that’s fucked up.”

He sighs, exhaling deeply, broad chest rising and falling. “Yeah, you’re right. I knew you were a good girl.”

You try not to hang on to those words, especially the last two, already fluttering below your belly over it. Grabbing his hand to replace yours, you instruct him to keep it there while you return to the kitchen to pour him a large glass of water. Within the short amount of time you’re gone, he falls asleep, his hand barely holding onto to the ice pack. 

You smile to yourself, setting the glass of water down on the coffee table to continue attending to his minor injury. After a while, when you notice that there isn’t any bump or swelling developing, you stop icing him. He snores peacefully in a deep sleep, no sign of waking up anytime soon. As gingerly as you can, you remove his overcoat, draping it over the back of the couch. You set his phone next to the glass of water, for easy access. His tie looks tight around his collar, so you loosen it. Finally, you remove his shoes from his feet, laying them by the front door near your own pair. You’re certain he’ll wake up in the morning, feeling like shit, so you place a bottle of painkillers by his phone in case he needs them. 

It's past three now by the time you’re dressed down in your pajamas and snuggled in bed. You keep the door ajar, listening to Kishibe’s steady breathing in the living room, treating it like white noise to help you fall fast asleep. 

~~~

Kishibe wakes up with his head throbbing. He stares up at the ceiling, not recognizing it as his own. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that this isn’t his apartment. 

He turns, seeing his phone, a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers on the coffee table arm’s reach of him. Slowly, he sits up, grimacing from the pain, downing all the water in three large gulps. He checks his phone, thankfully still on its last leg of battery. It’s almost eleven on a Saturday morning and he’s sure Kenji, his bartender friend, is already awake, preparing for the day. 

“Kenji,” he mutters, throat hoarse from last night’s festivities. 

His friend first berates him for forgetting his keys, then laughs when Kishibe explains that somehow, some way, he managed to fall asleep on someone else’s couch. He could have woken up in worst conditions, that’s for sure. 

Kenji agrees to stop by after running his errands, in about two hours or so. Beggars can’t be choosers, so Kishibe has no choice but to wait. When they’re phone conversation is over, he sinks back into the cushions, trying to piece everything together from just a few hours ago. He recalls snippets of it, and he grows increasingly embarrassed as the memories play vividly in his brain. He’s certain he called his neighbor an angel, and even more sure that he was begging her for a kiss. How shit-faced was he to compel him to do that? Obviously, very. How could he let his intrusive thoughts blurt out of his mouth like that?

Call it cliché or whatever, but yes, Kishibe is attracted his young, pretty neighbor next door. However, he’s held off on making a move because he doesn’t want to make things between them awkward. Once he crosses that line, their relationship gets more complicated. And the devil knows that Kishibe doesn’t do complicated. So, he’s content with gazing from afar, exchanging basic small talk with one another whenever they pass each other in the hallway. That’s as far as it’s gone with her, and that’s as far as it will go. 

Of course, that’s all fucked up now thanks to his drunken antics from last night. 

Before he can make his move, he hears a bedroom door creak open from behind him. She comes out, looking fresh out of the shower, dressed in skimpy pajama bottoms that are short enough to expose that tantalizing curve right below her ass. Surely, she’s doing this on purpose, right? She has to know how fucking sexy she looks right now, there’s no way she doesn’t. 

He clears his throat, preparing to explain himself right off the bat to avoid an awkward confrontation. But he’s rendered momentarily speechless when she flashes a bright smile at him. “Morning, Kishibe.”

He huffs out a short laugh. “Morning.”

She steps towards him, sitting at the opposite end of the couch by his feet. Her shorts ride up and he’s sure he can see the lacey outline of her panties. Or maybe it’s just his perverse imagination, who knows at this point. “How are you feeling?” she asks, genuinely concerned.

He grunts. “Like shit,” he answers. “But it could be worse.”

“That’s the spirit,” she teases, patting his knee. 

His head pounds from his hangover, though it’s his heartbeat that thumps loudly against his eardrums, aroused by her touch. He has got to control himself. Doing his best to distract her from the raging boner growing beneath his slacks, he asks, “What happened last night?”

She explains her account of the evening in detail, her voice soft and soothing, cautious of his current headache. She leaves out the parts where he embarrasses himself, which he’s grateful for, not wanting to relive the humiliation. When she’s done, she offers, “If you want, you can take a shower while you wait for your friend to arrive. I can get you some towels. I even have a toothbrush you can use.”

He raises a brow at her. “Are you trying to tell me I stink?”

“Do you need someone to tell you that you stink? I thought it was pretty obvious given the state you’re in,” she quips, matching his expression.

He laughs, genuinely amused by her response. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.”

She leads him into her bathroom, showing him how to work the knob for hot water, pointing out the shampoo, conditioner, and soap kept neatly on a corner shelf of her bathtub. She lingers for a bit while he starts the shower, then hands him a clean towel and new toothbrush. “Let me know if you need anything.” 

Surprisingly, he makes it through his shower without succumbing to the temptation to touch himself. As degenerate as he can be, he still has some sense of respect and pride in him, enough to resist masturbating in his neighbor’s shower. He does, however, give her shampoo and conditioner bottles an extra-long sniff.

He dries off, scrubbing his hair with the towel, cleaning behind his ears with cotton swabs, checking his piercings. Towel wrapped around his waist, he brushes his teeth, making sure to go the full two minutes, scrubbing his tongue after. He hasn’t made the best impression so far, so he figures he should try to change that now, if there’s still a chance. Feeling fresh and clean, he stares down at his clothes in a pile on the floor. Even from where he stands, he can smell them, almost like they’ve been diluted in liquor and musk. Without thinking, he steps out of the bathroom, calling out her name. “Got any clothes I could borrow?”

She’s in the kitchen when he comes out, leaning over the stove as she cooks something that smells wonderful. She turns to face him, staring wide-eyed as he stands almost naked in the middle of her living room. Her gaze drifts down his bare body, lingering on his sculpted abs, then at the towel wrapped precariously around his waist. She snaps out of it in time, saying, “I don’t. Sorry.”

“My clothes fucking stink and I don’t want to wear them right now. Mind if I just walk around like this?” 

“Sure. I mean, I don’t mind.” She focuses her attention back to the pan, continuing to cook what looks like scrambled eggs. 

He knows this is a bizarre request, though this day couldn’t get any more bizarre than it already is, can it?

~~~

You’re not exactly sure how to refuse Kishibe’s request to walk around half naked in your apartment, so instead, you agree to it, claiming that you don’t mind. In actuality, you mind very much, simply because you can’t help but fantasize about the delicious sight beneath the towel. One wrong move like a bump to the hip is all it takes to see that pesky cover fall down. Geez, when did you become such a pervert? And for an old man?!

Desperate for a distraction, you maintain focus on the eggs in front of you. While he was in the shower, you decided to start breakfast, something hearty to combat that hangover of his. Scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage, comforting foods to soak up the remaining alcohol left in his body. He makes his way towards you, scooting a chair out from the table to take a seat. He strategically maneuvers himself to not accidentally expose you, though you really don’t mind if he does. Again, perverted thoughts, shame on you!

Finished cooking, you scoop the eggs out onto his plate and the other meant for you. He thanks you, taking a whiff of his breakfast, a small smile on his face. “Smells good.”

You pass him another glass of liquid, this one filled with an electrolyte drink meant for hydration after a night of drinking. “Drink this. It’ll help with your hangover.”

He eyes it suspiciously, then takes a gulp without questioning it further. 

The two of you eat in a comfortable silence, ignoring the obvious tension hanging in the air. From your peripheral, you notice the glint of steel hooked to his ear lobe. Piercings, which you never noticed before. Sexy.

He ends up finishing his entire meal, popping a few painkillers to chase it all down. He even chugs the electrolyte drink, claiming it isn’t so bad. While you take the last few bites of your toast, he excuses himself to brush his teeth again. You’re surprised at how hygienic he is, considering how he appeared before you just mere hours ago, hunched against your front door covered in his own liquor-soaked sweat. You take the plates, stacking them in the sink to wash for later. How much longer is his friend going to take to arrive here? You’re getting nervous, thinking of other ways to fill this gap of time without making your attraction to him so obvious. 

You sit on the couch, turning the TV on to a random sitcom with the volume low, listening to the rush of water from the faucet inside the bathroom. When it stops, you try to find a comfortable position to sit in. It’s only now that you realize how short your pajama bottoms are; they ride all the way up your thighs and you can practically see your underwear through them. It’s too late to change when Kishibe returns, still clad in just a towel, taking a seat on the other side of the couch a safe distance beside you. It’s silent for a brief moment, neither of you knowing what to say in this odd situation. You shift nervously, tugging at the hem of your shorts. 

“Thank you,” he starts, avoiding your gaze, staring ahead at the television. “For taking care of me. Must have been annoying to deal with a drunken old man.”

You smile, relaxing. “It wasn’t so bad. Besides, I couldn’t just leave you out there like that. Someone could have taken advantage of you.”

“Like you almost did?” he smirks, facing you now.

Laughing, you meet his gaze. “You remember that?”

“I do.” He spreads his legs apart just barely, towel draped dangerously over his knee, almost ready to slip.

You swallow hard, avoiding a glance in that direction, heat surrounding your cheeks. “Well, I was a good girl, remember? I didn’t do anything.”

He hums, nodding slowly, eyes drilling into yours. “You were a very good girl.”

Your breath hitches and you find yourself gravitating towards him, scooting closer. He grins, the scar on his cheek curving with it, voice low and seductive. “You gonna be bad for me now?”

“Only if you want me to,” you purr, sliding your hand beneath the towel, up his thigh, arousal pooling between your legs. Fuck it. He wants it, you want it. There’s no denying it anymore. 

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, pulling you in for a kiss. His mouth is cool and minty against yours, the remnants of toothpaste lingering in his spit. You slurp it up, hungry for any taste of him. He removes the towel from his waist, shrugging it to the floor, leaving him completely naked. You glance at his lap and bite back a moan, amazed at how fucking big he is, way too eager to have him inside you, desperate to be filled to the brim.

“Not bad for an old man, huh?” he chuckles, wrapping his fist around the shaft, stroking it.

“Not bad at all,” you smile, stripping out of your clothes hastily, kneeling between his legs with your mouth open.

He feeds you his cock, humming when you surround him in your wet heat, swallowing him to the hilt. One hand grips the back of your head, guiding you gently up and down his shaft. “You’re filthy, taking your neighbor’s cock like this. Who knew you’d be such a slut?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with his other hand. “Touch yourself while I fuck this filthy mouth. Get that pretty pussy wet for me.”

You obey, spurred on by his vulgarity, reaching for your arousal, rubbing your throbbing clit with fast fingers. His cock hits the back of your throat and you guzzle him down to resist gagging, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. He moans, bucking his hips slightly, enraptured by you. With his thumb, he brushes away a tear welling at the corner of your eye, pulling out halfway. “Don’t hurt yourself, kiddo. It’s okay if I’m too much for you.”

You release him completely, moving down to his balls, nuzzling your nose to them. “I can take it, don’t worry.”

He clicks his teeth, beckoning you on the couch, almost like you’re being scolded for something you weren’t supposed to do. You roll your eyes, sitting beside him begrudgingly. He leans close to you, hot on your ear, one hand sliding between your legs while the other continues to stroke his dick. “I want to touch you too. That okay?”

You whine in response, tugging him in for a passionate kiss. He massages deep circles around your clit, fingers squelching from your slick gathering along your entrance. “I want a taste,” he growls, splitting apart your thighs, staring at your glistening cunt. 

You nod, sinking into the couch, relinquishing all control to him. You let your pleasured moans speak for you as he dives into your pussy, eating you out sloppily. His facial hair grazes against you with each careful stroke of his tongue and you ache to see his chin shiny with your cum. Eventually, he slips inside you, pumping two digits in and out, mouth still working your bud. Soon, it becomes too much and you’re gushing for him, whimpering his name with ragged breaths, soaking his face in your essence. 

He chuckles, the vibrations resonating to your clit, causing you to twitch with overstimulation. “That’s my girl, making such a mess for me.”

“Fuck me, Kishibe,” you breathe out, craving to be stuffed full of him. You’re reeling from your high, and if he’s not inside you soon, you’re sure you’ll go insane.

He hoists you up onto his lap, precum oozing from the tip of his dick. “How about you fuck me? Show me how much of a slut you are.”

Too fucked out to argue, you lift up on your knees, position him to your wet hole, sinking down slowly. He slides in easily, pussy sleek from your previous orgasm. It’s better than you imagined, every inch of him stimulating every inch of you. You savor it, rocking against him slowly. He kisses along on your neck, trailing to your nipples to suckle on them. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans, thrusting up into you to match your rhythm. “Take this cock however you like. It’s all yours.”

You bounce on him faster, whimpering into his mouth as you kiss him. He palms your ass cheeks, squeezing them in his firm grip, delivering a few loud smacks that echo off the walls of your living room, stinging your skin. “Fuck, I knew you were a good girl. Knew it the moment I met you,” he growls, pressing his thumb to your swollen clit. “Always wanted you like this.”

You kiss him harder at his confession, your chest swelling, pussy fluttering. You’re approaching another climax, teetering on the edge. As if he senses it, he tightens his hold on you, fucking into you faster, deeper. “Come for me, angel. Come on this cock.”

And you do, clenching him with your orgasm, making him mutter, “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming with you.” He shoots his load inside you, filling you up, just like you wanted. 

It takes a moment for the two of you to catch your breaths, relaxing into each other’s arms, exchanging soft kisses without speaking. You study his face again, similar to how you did just several hours before, when he was slumped against your door, drunk. You thought he was handsome then, even more so now. “How’s your hangover?” you ask, breaking the silence. 

He smiles, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Much better.”

[kaleldobrev]

In the Cover of the Night

Pairing: Felix Catton x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader & Felix Catton

Summary: Felix fingering you on the steps in the middle of the night

Word Count: 939

Warnings: Cursing (5x), Smoking (Brief), Smut (Fingering - Semi-Public) & Praise Kink (Implied)

Authors Note: Semi-public sex tag as this is taking place outside | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

There was a slight summer breeze as you sat out on the steps with a lit cigarette between your fingers, looking up at the almost full moon in the starry night sky. You were severely under dressed to be outside this time of night; only wearing one of Felix's light dress shirts with absolutely nothing else underneath, as it was the first piece of clothing you had managed to find from the scattering of clothes on yours and his floor from the needy and desperate sex the two of you engaged in after yet another Catton dinner party.

As you placed the cigarette into your mouth, you turned your attention to yours and Felix's bedroom; the darkness completely consuming the space — the moonlight trying it's best to make it's way into the room but ultimately failing because of the curtains completing covering the windows.

You heard footsteps coming from behind you, and you turned to see who it could be. Your first thought was Venetia as she would usually be the one to come and spend time with you this time of night; the two of you often enjoying staring up at the moon together. But it was Felix who was making his way toward you with an already lit cigarette in hand wearing just his robe and nothing else. "Were you peeping at me before you decided to come and join me?" You asked, as your boyfriend took a seat on the same steps your feet were placed on.

“For a bit. You look very tempting like this; couldn’t help myself,” he smiled, popping the cigarette between his lips.

"I was just having a little smoke and looking up at the moon. What's so tempting about me this way?" You asked as innocently as you possibly could while nonchalantly starting to part your legs, and putting out your cigarette on the steps.

You noticed his eyes starting to move from your own to your legs as he placed a single hand on your thigh, smirking as he did so. “You’re wearing one of my shirts with no panties on, love,” he stated. As he spoke, his hand moved up your thigh slowly, stopping at the hem of the dress shirt. “And you know how much I love fucking you in my clothes,” he added, keeping that signature smirk of his on his lips.

He removed the cigarette from between his lips, and put it out in a spot next to yours before his fingertips started to inch their way higher so they were completely underneath the shirt. He brushed them ever so slightly against your clit, and you were starting to get wet from the insanely brief contact that he was giving you. You used to be embarrassed by this, embarrassed by how turned on he had made you by barely doing anything; how instantly there would be such a pool between your legs the second he even remotely looked in your direction. But as time went on, you didn’t care, didn’t care because you knew how much he loved having this kind of effect on you, because you had the exact same effect on him.

“Always so ready for me,” he whispered; two fingers running up and down your clit. “Want to fuck you just like this,” he whispered again, his fingertips still teasing the outside.

“Then do it,” you stated; and his smirk grew even wider — you didn’t think it could get any wider. He didn’t say anything in response; he simply just started dipping his two fingers inside of you, starting to fill you with the sensation you always seemed to crave. Despite having sex with him only a few hours prior, you would never get tired of the feeling of him filling you up.

Your head automatically went back and you shut your eyes; but it was so brief as his other hand went to your jaw, making you focus on his face. His fingers went in deeper, slightly curling. “Lift up the shirt a little so you can look,” he said, an octave above a whisper. “Want you to see how beautiful you look like this.”

Without hesitation, you did as you were told, and lifted the hem of the shirt more, your pussy completely exposed out in the open as you watched his fingers disappearing and reappearing inside of you — the moonlight providing the most erotic looking type of light. "You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, and he finally leaned in to capture your lips; which caused his fingers to go even deeper inside of you. You moaned into his mouth as you kissed; his fingers starting to pick up the pace just only slightly. Your moans were so muffled, and that's one of the things he had loved when it came to fucking you like this out in the open. He loved how you tried so hard to remain quiet, but always failed.

You started to clench around him, and he smirked into the kiss. "Does my girl need to come?" He whispered in your ear; slightly nipping at your earlobe before starting to kiss your neck.

"Yes," you moaned out, as he continued to suck and kiss your neck — ultimately wanting to leave hickies on your skin.

"Then come," he said softly, his lips attaching themselves to your chest; almost peppering kisses just below your collarbone.

With a few more pumps, your whole body started to shudder as you came; but his movements didn't let up as he helped you ride out your orgasm. "You're so fucking beautiful when you come," he praised against your skin. He always praised you.

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[zizzy-rie]

Another AU I've been thinking about for the past several days now

Here are some close ups of the second pic

More info under the cut

Lucifer Morningstar

His main job is creating toy designs and inventing them. Despite what people might think, he actually comes from a very wealthy and famous family, having owned several companies and lands in different parts of the country. Even though he has his wealth, Lucifer chose to live far from his family and start a life on his own, much to the disappointment of a lot of his relatives. From time to time, he does contact his father and siblings to catch up and know that they're okay.

Lilith Magne

She is a famous fashion model. Not much is known about where she came from as she rarely speaks about her past. Some say that she's bossy and unapproachable (men) but others see her as soft spoken and understanding (women and children). No one in society knows what she does behind her fame, except those powerful syndicates from the underworld. Lilith is a seductress killer who targets men as her victims. She lures them during huge gatherings and parties, wearing a purple gown paired with a black mask over her eyes. She leaves nothing but a black rose on the scene of the crime.

Alastor (??)

He is a radio host from an obscure radio show. Not many know who he is, much to his delight, as he prefers not being traced back to the monthly deaths happening in the city, most of which was his own doing. Alastor is quite organized with the way he chooses his prey, to the way they should be killed. In the underworld, he is well known, both by amateurs and by powerful and huge syndicates, yet no one dared to touch him or report him to authorities (they know what happens if they do, or even try to).

Relationships

Radioapple

No one knows how Lucifer and Alastor met, not even their close friends and family. One day, Lucifer was just suddenly seen arguing with Alastor on the street while holding some plastic bags filled with different things. Complicated is what can be described about their relationship. One minute, they're arguing and trying to hit each other with anything they can hold on to, then the next, you'll hear them cackling at each other's corny jokes. Their relationship got more complicated when the two got drunk off their asses and swore off and made a bet to make the other get laid.

**It would probably go something like this: Alastor and Lucifer, both very drunk and incomprehensible to anyone eavesdropping on them, somehow talking about relationships and partners (how their topic of conversation led to that is up to everyone's own interpretation).

Lucifer: Pppfft- I'm definitely a whole package! I mean just look at me! Charming, rich, handsome, great with the ladies~ Who wouldn't want that? Ehh? Eh?~

Alastor: Well, I don't see anyone hovering around you like an annoying pest now, do I? I guess you're not as charming or great as you think you are, sire.

Lucifer: You're one to talk! You've never even been on a date once!

Alastor: That's because I chose not to, Lucifer. Relationships are messy, and only complicate things. I have no time dealing with such feeble emotions such as love everyone oh so desperately craves. That is clearly not my cup of tea.

Lucifer: Pft, bet I could find you a partner that matches you.

Alastor: oh? Is that a challenge I hear, sire?

Lucifer: oh! How about this? you find me a partner to date, and I find you one as well. If one of us gets to find a match for the other in a matter of 6 months, then the winner gets to receive a reward. Sounds good?

Alastor: hhmmm, tempting, but what would be the reward, sire? If I may ask.

Lucifer: the winner gets to choose his reward, how about that? Doesn't that sound nice? Hhmm?

Alastor: Alright then, challenge accepted Lucifer. Although you're only making this easier for me, as I have never ever fallen for someone and I can assure you that it will never happen. Good luck with finding me a partner.

Lucifer: oh I definitely can, just you wait.

The current situation on their challenge so far: difficult is one word to describe it. No one has found a suitable date or partner for the other yet. [Until Lilith comes into the picture]

Radioqueen

Lilith is a witness to one of Alastor's murders. While disposing of the body, she had accidentally walked into the scene, much to Alastor's disappointment. This is their first meeting with each other, although they have heard rumors about the other from amateur criminals and rookies. Alastor, not wanting to kill Lilith because of his moral code of not killing women and children, bribed her into getting a date with one of the rich and chivalrous men in their city, Lucifer Morningstar, in exchange for her silence. Pleased with the idea (and perhaps another prey to feast on), Lilith agreed. The two exchanged contacts and have been in touch ever since. They are acquainted easily as the two share sentiments on not harming women and children in their murder spree. One detail Alastor forgot to take notice though is, Lilith's victims are men who she had a date with before their deaths.

Lucilith

The two bumped into each other in a cafe. Lucifer was getting a latte for himself, stressed out on the list he is making (names of random people he has heard of who he thinks are the type of people Alastor would go out with). Lilith was getting coffee, just finished from her modeling job in a nearby building. Their meet up was merely a coincidence, which was a delight for Lilith. This way, she could gain more information about who the person Alastor is setting her up with. Lucifer, mesmerized by her voice and stunned by her brilliance, tried to ask for her name. Unfortunately, he blurted out a different question as he was mulling over other problems in his head, such as the list for Alastor's possible dates. Asking someone to date their friend is not the kind of question anyone should be asking to a stranger, and yet it still happened to Lucifer, no less. Being possibly one of the most socially awkward people to exist, he could only sit on the ground and hide his face in shame and horror. Lilith, not expecting this kind of behavior from a rich and supposedly charming man, had found him quite cute and endearing. This is when she decided to leave her original plan of killing him, and instead vowed to marry him someday in the future.

[wifetomegatron]

Imagine a liaison aboard the lost light who calls people 'love' and 'dear' in a very soft, delicate tone.

based on this post because this is just too tempting to not write about, we must sound like debutants making their first appearance in fashionable society speaking in skittish whispers and sighs all the time when in reality organics speak in different octaves and wavelengths. definitely self indulgent cause me and my friends do this.

Imagine a liaison aboard the lost light who calls people 'love' and 'dear' in a very soft, delicate tone. In a ship full of battle-weary, pessimistic, cybertronians desensitized to almost everything, that single drop of warmth coming from a human whose touches feel like silk — feather light and alien, would be enough to make them putty in your presence.

The last time Brainstorm received a — " How clever, Brainstorm, thank you for your help." He had nearly popped a circuit trying to come up with a reply, stunned silent for what Perceptor claimed was the first time he was without one of his usual snarky remarks. Then it was Swerve, who wouldn't shut up about how you had called him 'darling' — Skids was adamant to prove to him that it was just how you spoke to people, even if the theoretician himself had his chest puffed out from being called 'dear'.

Then there was the time that you had scolded Whirl for nearly stepping on you, voice still painfully tender in comparison to the mechanical lilt of metal vocalizers —" Ooop! Careful there, handsome!" You had jumped, swerving just in time before his pedes crushed you. And the watchmaker froze, with a single optic pinning you in place. Then Drift had to chase him down several hallways, yelling that he wasn't allowed to just pick you up and run off.

An intervention was needed when a group of mechs were sent down a Decepticon outpost and returned with injuries. Apparently, everyone wanted to be pat on the arm and have you crooned — " Oh, you poor, brave thing" to them. With your brows knitted in worry, lips pout and slightly parted as they tell you all the heroic things they did. ( Ultra Magnus wasn't too impressed when said intervention from Rodimus was just a plot for him to cut the line and show you his battle scars. Someone in the back of the line had yelled that he wasn't even scratched. Judging from the infighting brewing, it was most likely Whirl.)

[queen-of-the-avengers]

After So Long

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: angst

Summary: You're forced to go back to the one place you tried to hard to get away from. You're forced to contront the memories you left behind.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: protection (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

It seemed like wherever Bucky went, Steve and Sam followed. You thought it’d be nice to go shopping at your local mall with Bucky since he’d been so busy with work. You put on something cute to wear and did your hair only to feel like you’re being followed the whole time. You tried to ignore them but it was hard when you saw their black clothes in every corner.

“Does this look cute?” you asked and held up a shirt.

“On me or you?” Bucky joked.

“Ha-ha, very funny. Wait, it might look good on you.”

Bucky smiled and took the shirt while you moved to a different section of the store, the dresses. He didn’t mind holding the things you wanted to get. He’d do it forever if he knew this made you happy. It does. You liked shopping. Just not with grown men following you.

“Do they have to be here?” you sighed as you looked at the dresses.

“It’s a precaution, pisică.”

You liked the little nicknames he gave you, especially in his native tongue, Romanian.

“Because of your job?” Bucky nodded. “When are you gonna tell me what you do?”

“I’d rather stay in our little bubble a little while longer, if possible.”

“Fine, but you will have to tell me eventually.” Bucky didn’t respond to that. Once you were done with the dresses, you moved to the jewelry section. The prices in this store were outrageous and you turned to Bucky with a frown. “Are you sure we should keep shopping here? I’ve already spent enough of your money.”

“Pisică, I make more money in an hour than the one hundred grand you’re going to spend.”

“You’re spoiling me,” you grinned.

Bucky pulled you into him and placed his hands on your ass, not caring if anyone saw.

“You’re my girl. Of course, I will.”

He leaned down and kissed you and your heart swelled in happiness.

Now

You always knew Bucky would find you but you didn’t know when or where it’d happen. He truly didn’t know where you were for the first six months you were gone. After you enrolled in college, he found you. In order to apply for it, you had to use your real name which Sam caught when he was looking for you online.

Despite what you may think of him, he really does love you. He just has a weird way of showing it.

Bucky has left his men behind where you crashed your car at while his driver takes you to one of his mansions. You’ve been to almost all of them because he used to take you all around the country for the hell of it. You have a room in every single one of them.

“Pisică--”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap and look at him.

“It took a long time to find you. I thought you had dropped off the face of the Earth.”

“Bite me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he smirks. He loses it when he thinks about what to ask next. “Why did you run?”

You look at him with wide eyes and a parted mouth. “Did you really just ask me that? You’re a murderer.”

“Well, that depends on how to look at it.”

“There’s no looking at it differently. You kill people. That’s murder.”

Bucky decides to change the topic because he’s not gonna get far with you accusing him of things he’s done.

“Remember how we met?” It’s incredible how this man can jump from one topic to the next. “I do. I even remember the kiss we shared. Care to hear it from my perspective?”

“Not really?”

He tells you the story anyway as if you weren't there to begin with.

Bucky met up with several potential business partners that he thought would benefit him and his company. He’s one of the biggest mafia bosses this country has ever seen and having allies is much better than having enemies. He controls the weapons market, the communication sector, and most of the casinos across the country. These men would give him access to most of the drug trading posts if they’d only get their heads out of their asses and agree to his terms.

He doesn’t let the storm outside prevent him from doing business which is why he took this little meeting to one of the most expensive and high-end restaurants in town. The owner knows him and always gives him a good deal.

“Ma’am! You can’t just run in here!”

Bucky looks up and locks eyes with the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen before. Granted, she’s soaking wet from the rain outside. She looks fearful as if she’s running from someone. For some reason, Bucky would kill anyone who ever made her feel unsafe, and he doesn’t even know her.

She looks back outside and runs further into the restaurant, ignoring the calls from the hostess. She runs right over to him and interrupts the meeting he carefully set up without a care in the world. There’s panic in her eyes. She’s afraid. If only she knew who he was.

“I’m so sorry. Please play along.”

A man comes into the restaurant just as soaked as she is but Bucky doesn’t have time to react. She sits on his lap and kisses him desperately. He wraps an arm around her waist to keep her from falling off his lap and kisses her back. She is getting his nice suit wet but he doesn’t care. This kiss not only screams ‘I’m desperate’ but it screams ‘I need help’. The men Bucky is with chuckle but he tunes them out.

“Sir!”

Bucky can only assume the man had left the restaurant. His mysterious lover tries to pull away from him but he pulls her in closer and continues to kiss her. Only when he is satisfied does he finally let her go. She turns to check that the man isn’t there anymore and visually relaxes.

“I am so sorry.”

“Ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah. He wouldn’t let me leave and I only managed to get away from him.” something comes over her face and she backs away in embarrassment. “God, that was so rude of me. I don’t know you. Thank you for that. Again, I’m really sorry I interrupted your dinner.”

She leaves the table and checks to make sure her ex isn’t outside looking for her. Once she feels she’s safe, she runs back outside into the pouring rain. Bucky clears his throat and takes out his phone so he can call one of his trusted men. He has Sam working on something in another state so Steve is who he calls.

“Boss?”

“Did you see her run out?”

“Yes.”

“Follow her. Find out about the boyfriend.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bucky gets off the phone and returns to his meeting like nothing happened.

“You came in there dripping wet. You came over to me and kissed me. Do you remember that kiss? How desperate you were for it?” During his storytelling, Bucky pulled you closer to him and slid his hand in your hair. His hand is so big that he can cup the side of your head and still run his thumb over your bottom lip. “Do you remember the taste of my lips on yours?”

“I will never kiss you again much less do anything more than that.”

You push him away and he smirks in amusement. He keeps his hands to himself for the rest of the ride. His mansion is like the one in New York just with more acres. He has the ultimate dream house fit with anything you can think of. Pools, spas, theaters, sports courts, and a ton more.

You dread coming back here not because it reminds you of Bucky but because it reminds you of the good times you had with him. The times from before you knew what he did for work.

You’re escorted inside his mansion and taken to a room with Steve. It’s like you’re being placed on time out because Steve stands by the door as if he isn’t allowed to let you leave.

“Ai grijă la ea, e foarte drăguță, dar e o fire plină de luptă. Ea nu iese din casă.”

Watch out for her, she’s real pretty but she’s a feisty one. She doesn’t leave the house.

Bucky keeps eye contact with you the whole time before leaving the room. Your blood boils.

“Ești un laș care se ascunde în spatele unei armate de oameni!”

You’re a coward who hides behind an army of men!

Bucky doesn’t bat an eye at your words. He’s the one who taught you Romanian, now you’re using it against him.

“I’m leaving,” you say to Steve and storm to the door.

Steve lets you out of the room knowing there are guards posted at every door to prevent you from leaving the mansion. Sam stands at the front door so he must be done cleaning the crash of your car. 

“Sorry, you can’t leave. Bosses’ order,” Sam says and stops you from leaving.

Instead of standing here arguing with him, you figured you get this over with. Your room hasn’t been touched since you left, and you can only assume your other rooms in the other mansions haven’t been touched either. This room is filled with so many good memories of you and Bucky. You hate that you’re looking at them now with such disdain.

Bucky was never one for pictures so the ones he did take were inappropriate to post anywhere. He thought it was funny to print them out and frame them for your room to always remind you who you belong to. Maybe you still do. Maybe you don’t. You’re not sure of how you feel anymore.

It hurts to look at them because you still love him. You’re so damn in love with him and it hurts because you thought you’d never love a murderer.

Bucky returns to the house hours later, well into the night. He finds you asleep in your own bed with dried tears on your cheeks. He looks at the pictures on the dresser and yanks his tie off angrily. He makes sure to be quiet as he walks over to you.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

He kisses your forehead before leaving your room. God, he wishes things were different. He hates seeing you in pain.

x

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[another-lost-mc]

You don't realize what you have until it's gone.

Too Late Now | Lucifer x gn!Reader

Content Warnings: Major character death (Reader), Angst with No Happy Ending. Unrequited love, memory flashbacks and a dream sequence, brief mentions of blood/fatal injuries (cause unspecified).

Word Count: 2.7k words

Lucifer will never forget your last night in the Devildom. He knew long before that moment that you wanted a pact with him. You reminded him often with your not-so-subtle comments about how it felt like something was missing, that you wished the two of you could be even closer.

Unlike Solomon, Lucifer considered your request seriously, debating giving part of himself to you the way his brothers had. But he was proud, and he wanted to make absolutely sure you were worthy of having a pact with him. He resisted you to the very end, even though your persistence was charming, at times.

Lucifer was sitting at the dining room table reading the morning’s paper when you shuffled in, still wearing your sleep clothes like you just crawled out of bed.

When you realized he was there, you yawned and stretched your arms up high above your head. The cropped shirt you wore rode up your belly and he could see some of his brothers’ pact marks etched into your skin. He averted his gaze before he was tempted to stare.

“Good morning, Lucifer!” you said cheerfully, trailing off into another quiet yawn.

You pat your stomach and rested your hand over Beel’s pact mark. “I was just thinking that I have room for another pact mark somewhere, maaaaybe right-” you paused, patting the space above your heart, “here. What do you think? Know any demons interested in making a pact with a ‘lil human like me?”

He scoffed and flicked his wrist, turning the page and barely sparing you another glance. “I’m sure you can find several willing demons if you parade yourself down the street like that,” he suggested dryly.

“Aww, Luci, you’re no fun.” You pouted your lips and he refused to smile, no matter how cute you looked.

Realizing your attempt to seduce him - badly - into a pact had failed, you gave up the ruse and headed towards the kitchen. “I’ll make us some coffee!”

You faced each other that last night in his private study, the cursed TSL album played softly in the background while the fireplace crackled next to you. Both of you were bathed in shadow and flame. He finally gave into temptation to bind you to him and he made you his, his mark etched into your skin forever, but you still looked dissatisfied. 

Lucifer realized there were emotions swirling in your gaze that you always tried to hide from him - hope, longing, desire. He knew what else you wanted from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to close the rift between you. It was his last line of defense, the only thing keeping him from becoming yours completely. You were going home, and whatever relationship you wanted with him was about to come to an end. He thought it would be easier this way.

“Lucifer, I–” you started to say, but he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you to him. Whatever you tried to say next was muffled against his chest. He looked down at you and pretended the tears pooling in your eyes didn’t hurt him.

“Don’t,” he warned you quietly. “You have your own life to live, and I promise you that your friendship is more than enough.” He held you like that while you cried quietly against his chest. When he finally convinced you to go to your room to sleep, he stayed up drinking in front of the fireplace and wondered if he made the right choice.

The next morning, it was like nothing happened. You still greeted him in that sickeningly sweet and cheerful voice of yours, and his brothers hovered around you for your attention while they said their goodbyes.

When you promised Lucifer you’d see him again soon, eyes fiery with determination, he believed you would find a way to make it happen. He wondered if things might turn out differently the next time you meet; he wasn’t sure he had the power to resist you a second time.

During the first two weeks after your return to the human world, Lucifer tells himself it’s not bitter regret that swirls uncomfortably at the pit of his stomach and makes his heart ache. His brothers aren’t handling your departure very well, and he refuses to let himself be made a fool by his emotions. He has to be strong and set an example for the rest of them. He can’t let one mere human ruin him. He’s determined to carry on as normal, as though you were never there to begin with.

He will not visit your old room until your scent fades away.

He will not trace the outline of his pact mark with you and wonder if you can feel his fingertips on your skin when he does it.

He will not miss you.

Lucifer doesn’t dream often. Sometimes he does, and he dreams of white feathers burning around him while he falls into a dark abyss. Other times, he dreams of random memories of his brothers, or his long lost sister. In the three months since he last saw you, he’s dreamt of you, too.

But the dream he has tonight is different from the others. You’re both trapped in a grey void. He wants to go to you, but Lucifer can’t move no matter how hard he tries. You’re so close, just out of his reach. There’s something unsettling about your expression - your small, bittersweet smile lacks the mischievous humor he’s so fond of. Your eyes are serious and sad; he thinks you look defeated. 

“I’m sorry,” you say weakly, like you’re talking to him from the opposite end of a tunnel even though he’s only a few feet away from you. The words echo in the empty space around him even though you’ve grown silent.

He doesn’t understand what’s going on, and he wants to ask you what you mean, but he’s unable to speak. You flicker before his eyes, fading in and out of focus like a projection. It’s eerie at first, and he realizes he’s looking at different versions of you because you keep changing.

In one moment, you look like you did the last time he saw you. Then suddenly, your image becomes distorted. All he sees is that one of your eyes is swollen shut and blood drips down the side of your face, a gnarly gash split across your temple. Your teeth are bloody when you open your mouth to speak again, but there’s a roar building in his ears, and suddenly you’re gone and he can’t see you anymore–

Lucifer wakes up with a gasp. There’s searing pain behind his eyes and he groans while he holds his face in his hands. He’s trembling, and he feels cold and empty, and he wants to forget the haunting image of your broken face. Eventually the sleepy fog lifts from his mind, and he realizes someone is pounding on his bedroom door. His brothers shout his name outside his room, and he thinks he can hear someone crying.

It’s only then that he glances down at his bare chest and realizes that his pact mark with you is gone.

Lucifer was working on his third stack of documents to review and sign when there’s a quiet knock on his door. He glanced at the clock - 9:48pm. He thought he told his brothers he was busy this evening and he didn’t want to be disturbed.

He was prepared to string up whoever had the nerve to interrupt him, but he froze when he pulled the door open and found you instead. Your hand was raised like you were just about to knock again, and you dropped it hastily and grinned at him.

“Hi Luci,” you said in that cutesy sing-song voice of yours, “I brought you something.”

He realized that you were holding a large bowl out to him. He sniffed the air and couldn’t contain his surprise. “Shadow hog stew?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Beel said it was your favourite. I made it earlier, but you never showed up for dinner. Your phone must be broken, by the way. I only tried calling and texting you like, a million times to tell you to come eat with us.”

Lucifer put his phone on do-not-disturb for a reason: you and your incessant nagging.

“I’m busy,” he said irritably, and he glared when you just smiled and shoved the bowl at him anyway.

“Well, you’re pretty clever. I’m sure you can figure out a way to eat a bit of food while you finish your work.” You headed back towards the stairs leading to the main floor. “There’s more in the kitchen if you want some!” You called to him over your shoulder, waving him goodnight before you disappeared from view.

Lucifer sat at his desk and stared at the bowl before he picked up the spoon. He decided that wasting something as decadent as shadow hog stew might not be proper form, and he tried a hesitant mouthful. And then another. And another after that.

He waited until he was sure you were in your room and fast asleep before taking the empty bowl to the kitchen for seconds.

The familiar scent of shadow hog stew catches Lucifer’s attention and he leaves his office to visit the kitchen. It’s a rich, hearty dish that was normally reserved for special occasions. He is very picky with how it’s prepared, and most of his brother’s don’t have the patience to make it properly. He hasn’t had it since you–well, he hasn’t had it in a long time.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he asks Satan, who is stirring the large pot of stew on the stove.

“I - I mean, we - thought you might like to try having something different tonight,” Satan says carefully, glancing at his older brother from the corner of his eye. “There’s some concern that you’re not eating enough.”

Lucifer opens his mouth to argue, because he is not some child that needs to be coddled, but he looks closer at the open recipe book on the counter. There are notes scribbled in the page margins where ingredients and measurements are crossed out and re-written. There’s also a pink sticky note on the side of the page, and he can still make out the familiar writing:

☆ one of Luci’s favs! ☆

It feels like there’s a heavy stone in his stomach, and Lucifer turns around and storms away from the kitchen before the feeling makes him nauseous.

“Where are you going? This is almost ready!” Satan calls to him.

“I’m not hungry,” Lucifer snarls, heading to his study and slamming the door behind him.

Lucifer startled when you dangled a paper bag in front of his face. “Can’t you see that I’m working?”

You sat in the chair across from him at his desk. “Yes, yes. All that important paperwork, I know. But I think it’s time to take a break, don’t you?”

He took the bag you offered him and pulled out the black…whatever the item is supposed to be. He held it up with his fingers. “Am I supposed to know what this is?”

You clapped your hands excitedly. “It’s a bath bomb!”

Lucifer gave you a deadpan stare. “It’s a what?”

“A baaaath boooomb,” you exaggerated the pronunciation slowly for his benefit. “It’s like fancy bubbles. You drop it into the water and it makes baths 500% more fun. You should try it.”

Lucifer sniffed at the black, strangely shaped item in his hand. “It smells like roses.”

You nodded. “Yep, and citrus, too. You’ll smell amazing afterwards, don’t you think?”

He glanced at it warily. “It has glitter in it. And this dark colour can’t be good for the porcelain tub. Don’t you think this will stain it? Who do you expect to clean up after this?”

You waved away his concerns with a grin. “Okay, so maybe glitter’s not your jam, and the cleanup might be a pain, but I promise it’s worth trying. I’ll even help you scrub the mess after.”

He put the bath product back into its paper bag and tossed it to you. You weren’t expecting it, and you just managed to catch it before it fell to the ground and shattered into a thousand pieces. “I’m not interested in childish nonsense. Give it to Asmo instead.”

You stood up from your chair with a resigned sigh. “Fine, you win this round. But for what it’s worth, I do think you’re working too much these days. You should take a break. A bit of relaxation won’t kill you.”

Lucifer knocks on Asmo’s door. When his brother answers, Lucifer pushes a basket into his hands. “These were in the bathroom. I assume you can find some use for them, since no one else will.”

Asmo opens the basket and smiles at the small collection of colourful bath bombs you purchased during your stay in the Devildom. “I forgot they bought these. Did you know that they gave Solomon money to buy them in the human world? You can’t even buy these on Akuzon.”

Lucifer can’t imagine why you’d go to that much trouble for something so trivial. “I didn’t know they liked baths enough to spend their hard-earned money on such ridiculous frivolities.”

Asmo glanced at his brother and hesitated before speaking. “Well, they didn’t like baths. They bought these for…someone else to use.” Asmo reached into the basket and picked up a black rose-shaped bath bomb and held it out to his brother. “I think you should keep this one.”

There was something knowing in Asmo’s gaze, and something inside him cracked. He shook his head and walked away before he said - or did - something stupid.

Lucifer’s still not sure how he ended up outside your old bedroom door. He felt numb and he wasn’t paying attention to where his feet were taking him. When you left the Devildom, he resisted the temptation to visit your old room. Since your death, he pretended the room didn’t exist.

The door hinges are creaky from lack of use, and he opens the door just enough so he can slip inside before closing it behind him. Judging by the dust in the air, he doesn’t think his brothers have visited your room since your passing either. The room has grown cold and desolate in your absence. He has the urge to board it up and lock it away so that no one else can ever use it.

Lucifer’s not sure what he expects to find when he examines your empty shelves and starts opening random drawers in your vanity. Maybe you left something behind, something he can keep to remember you by; it’ll remind him years from now that you’re the reason why the hole in his heart exists.

There’s a blue sticky note inside one of the drawers. He nearly glances over it, except he notices that the writing is still legible, not yet faded by time. He assumes it’s an old reminder to yourself about homework you had to do, or maybe a shopping list on a night when it was your turn to cook.

He wonders what kind of note you would write today if you could see him now. You were always leaving notes all over the house for him and his brothers to find. He used to hate the ones you left in his office that reminded him to take breaks and to drink something other than coffee. 

He misses those notes now. He misses you.

He swallows around the lump in his throat, and the note shakes in his hands when he summons the courage to read it:

Are you rummaging through my old room because you miss me? I’ll be thinking about you from the human world. Love you! ♡

Something inside him finally breaks. He can’t stop himself when he finally confesses his feelings for you in a hushed whisper, heard by no one else except the memory of you that haunts him.

Read more: Lucifer Masterlist | Obey Me Masterlist

[clairdelunelove]

hahahah definitely not biting my fist from the thought of boyfriend!ghost taking you to a scare park for the night

doesn’t grasp why people would wish to be scared by a bunch of underpaid workers in costumes and dramatic makeup. hell, people even pay for this. actual money dropped on a couple minutes of entertainment. he’d rather spend his money on gifting you something pretty like a dainty necklace that’d look stunning adorning your neck. maybe fit his initials on there as well. I digress. sure, visiting the scare park was just for the occasion but hell, he’d gladly give people a run for their money- free of charge. a massive man clad in a skeletal mask was bound to gain such a startling reaction. and honestly, ghost’s assumption is true as he fits right in with the spooky decor. flocks of people parted a way for him to pass through when the two of you ambled into the scare park. not to mention the obvious stares that were directed to you two when ghost pulled up into the parking lot on a sleek motorcycle. dark fumes and a resounding engine. the epitome of bad news but tempting promises that normal men wouldn’t dream of competing with. 

boyfriend!ghost who doesn’t care for the attention or scrutiny. no, he’s much more focused on the pretty little thing that dangles by his side. ghost isn’t sure how but you manage to appear even more radiant in the cheap fluorescent lights that litter the entryway of the scare park. you’re excited, he notes, as your fingers eagerly thrum against his forearm where he has your hand tucked in the crook of his arm. attempting to keep you warm in the breezy autumn evening. it’s dusk; when the sky morphs into a splattering of crimson and orange. the corners of your lips lift before exclaiming, “this way!” he allows you to tug him around, an absurd sight to witness such a menacing man being heaved away, and the two of you end up in line. it’s the fast lane, of course. ghost couldn’t help but spend a little more to lessen the wait-time so you wouldn’t stand for so long. can’t have his sweetheart doing that on such a chilly night. 

boyfriend!ghost who lets you ramble on and on while the two of you are standing in line. appreciates how you can both share silence but also revels in your ability to prattle about whatever’s on your mind. could be anything, honestly. pointing out which decorations you found the most sinister, how you had to change your outfit several times beforehand (he worshiped you in everything you put on and took off), or how the night grew colder with each passing moment. thinks highly of your voice and enthusiasm since they’re such particular traits that belong to you. adds in the occasional quip to demonstrate that he’s listening. but he always is. very cognizant of how your voice lifts at the end of your sentences, the stutter in some words, or the pace of your breathing. but goodness forbid if anyone else in line was talking. leans real close to you and murmurs, “bloke’s as loud as a fuckin’ fire alarm. whole city can hear ‘em.” he’s enamored by the giggle that leaves your mouth and ghost is no stranger to being pompous, especially if someone else interrupts you. raises his brash voice and snarls, “bloody loud so do me a favor and shut up, yeah?” 

boyfriend!ghost who gives you his jacket. shrugs it off and drapes it over your shoulders. forever the gentleman. the bulk of his physique is fully on display and it’s taking you all of your willpower to not ogle at him. all breadth and muscle. the jacket smells distinctly of him too. gunpowder, cigarette smoke, and musk– your favorite. you pull the leather jacket closer to your face to discreetly take a whiff of the intoxicating scent and ghost knowingly shakes his head while ruffling your hair. lightly chastises by mentioning, “don’t needa do all that, pup.” when he pulls his hand away he intertwines yours with his. the small intimacy was significant to him. you can feel his cold rings against your fingers and it has you inwardly swooning. absentmindedly twirling the pieces of jewelry on his fingers until the two of you are finally ushered into the building. 

boyfriend!ghost who wouldn’t necessarily claim that he’s protective of you but he does have a firm hand on the small of your back while traversing in the dark space. he’s so good at moving and tracking in the dark that it’s impressive. figuratively has night vision. he prefers the two of you to be side by side rather than letting you lead in front. wants to be the first one to encounter the scare actors/animatronics so he’s aware of what to expect. he's your own personal guard in the scary place. huffs in amusement whenever you’re spooked by the jumpscares but always checks up on you. mutters, “let me know if it’s too much, pretty thing. can always exit out the back,” and his voice is considerably softer to show that he’s serious. your comfort is his comfort. 

boyfriend!ghost who’s the type to lock eyes with the scare actors and will keep staring at them until they’re the one to avert their gaze. uses his big, sharp eyes to intimidate. it’s a sign of dominance and he wins every time. to be honest, the scare actors recognize that he’s just here for you because no matter what– he doesn’t get scared. not even startled. doesn’t even pretend to be ‘macho’ because that’s just how he is. he literally slow blinks at them when they shriek in his face. mans has been on the battlefield for a majority of his life, a little fake blood and screaming isn’t alarming to him. the only reaction they receive is if they accidentally get too close in your personal space. he’ll place a heavy hand on their chest to smoothly ease them away as he remarks, “gettin’ too cheeky there, mate.” 

boyfriend!ghost who supposes that scare parks weren’t entirely a waste of time. not if it’s a function where he can flaunt you off. a big, gruff man like him granted the pleasure of spending time with you. you’re in high spirits once the two of you leave the building. all smiles while swinging your intertwined hands around and expressing, “it wasn’t as bad as I thought.” loves you like this; basically a melted puddle of bliss and he’s debating on spending more money on additional tickets just to see you so satisfied. “what did you think about it, si?” you ask him with a cute tilt of your head, “did you like it too?” he steers you clear of a crowd of people before answering, “‘ts was alright. thought you’d piss your pants from how much screamin’ you did.” a chuckle escapes his lips when you lightly jab at him for the comment. although he’s attuned with your conversation, his hooded eyes drift entirely somewhere else. specifically to a couple of people that sleazily drag their eyes to you and his blood boils at the audacity. 

boyfriend!ghost who tenderly grabs your neck while leaning into a kiss. he’s not one for outward public affection so it catches you by surprise yet you part your glossy lips with such ease that he groans in delight. you look up at him through your lashes as the feeling of his calloused fingers encircling your neck do little to quell the swirling desire within you. “si,” you gingerly whine and attempt to press yourself closer to him, “everyone’s looking.” you peek at the throes of people that are steadily lined up to go into the building. and in ghost’s case, that’s exactly what he wants. doesn’t bother throwing a glance over his shoulder. just gazes at you with that dark, hungry glint in his eyes before murmuring, “let ‘em,” and pulls you in for another slow kiss. his voice is wrecked. the kiss is messy– greedy in the way he knows how to be with you only. a soft mewl passes from your lips and he’s gone. you devastate him. needs to usher you home and sink his teeth into your soft, pretty skin. litter you with love that others can immediately comprehend that yes, you’re well taken care of by him. the ruthless man that does everything (and anything) to plead for your adoration. he drinks up your heady noises and pulls away with a hot huff near the shell of your ear. his praise is like music to your ears, “did so good for me, y’know that sweetheart?”

[save-the-villainous-cat]

stoic and calm hero x teasing villain??????

“Oh, grumpy…” The villain touched the hero’s neck first and then leaned over, close enough to whisper into their ear. “So tense.”

The villain almost sat down on the hero’s lap but the hero’s hands were on their hips immediately and pushed them back up.

“You shouldn’t do that in a restaurant,” they said. Admittedly, the villain looked perfect tonight. The hero had always considered them to be some sort of devil sent to torture them specifically.

Conflicting feelings weren’t really something the hero understood. Hell, feelings in general were hard to put into words.

They were used to hiding in their offices and lairs, behind a mask or a fake identity. Anonymity was a privilege.

But it was also incredibly lonely.

“Gosh, I am so sorry, my love.” The villain sat down at the other end of the table, smiling softly. “Can’t help myself when I’m around you.”

“Clearly.”

The hero stared at the bottle of wine they had ordered. Did the villain like wine? They didn’t know.

“Don’t tell me you’re on a date,” the villain said cheerily. They reached out and took the hero’s hand, making the hero’s stomach toss and turn.

“It’s a business meeting,” the hero said, keeping their voice low. Although they doubted anyone could hear them, they liked to be more careful when the villain was around. Maybe someone was listening, maybe someone was recording…

The villain’s fingers were soft when they traced the hero’s knuckles.

The hero couldn’t take that kind of heartbreak again. Being betrayed by the villain was the most painful thing in the world.

“Thank god you’re not cheating on me.” The villain winked and the hero’s mouth dried out.

“What are you doing here?” They didn’t know how much longer they could take this. The villain was haunting them, tempting them to let go of all these terrible responsibilities.

They were so soft with the hero, yet mercilessly violent with their rivals. The hero felt a yearning towards them. Their own body betrayed them and wanted the touch, needed it, just as much as the kind words and the soft lips. And yet, they feared the villain didn’t like them in that way.

“…which I told him is not acceptable. So, I came here to say hello!” The villain smiled. “You’re just so irresistible…hey, is everything alright?”

Now, the villain tilted their head, looking curiously at them. Were they…worried? The hero couldn’t afford conversations like these.

“…yes, I’m sorry.”

“You seem upset.”

“I’m…I’m going to get promoted,” they admitted suddenly.

The villain’s hands were still on the hero’s. The villain turned it around, focusing their attention on the hero’s palm. They traced the lines. They traced the scars.

“Isn’t that something we should celebrate? You’ve been doing so well at work, haven’t you?” Under the table, the hero felt the villain’s foot teasing. Rubbing their shin. They didn’t want this moment to end.

A part of them — a very weak part of them — wanted this to be an evening with the villain as their spouse. They wanted that kind of reassurance and they wanted that kind of comfort. They wanted the villain to touch them and take care of them.

They wanted the intimacy but that was ridiculous. They were too different. It wouldn’t work.

“It means I’ll be basically chained to my desk. I won’t fight you anymore,” the hero said.

The villain’s face fell. They were clearly disheartened.

“Oh…”

“I tried to turn it down but they insisted. It feels more like a punishment if I’m being honest,” they said. “I’m really sorry.”

And then, the villain’s face softened.

“Don’t worry about it, you won’t get rid of me that easily.” They squeezed the hero’s hand with a warm smile. “You’re my favourite nut to crack. And I’ve made such progress already. I won’t let a messy work schedule ruin that.”

They stood up and the hero’s heart skipped several beats.

Was this another plan? Another scheme? Was the hero being seduced? Their doubts made it difficult to enjoy the situation, to enjoy the proximity.

The villain hadn’t betrayed them in months. The last betrayal had been of professional nature and they had apologised for it.

The hero knew they couldn’t allow themselves to fall for their enemy, it just wasn’t…

“You look incredible tonight, by the way. Whomever you’re meeting is going to have a great view.” The villain leaned down and pressed a kiss to their lips. Sweet. Short. Kind. The hero’s heartbeat skyrocketed. “Good luck with this business meeting, darling.”

Their fingers went over the hero’s shoulders to their neck. And with that, they walked out of the restaurant, leaving the hero even more doomed.

[misc-obeyme]

(inspired by the barbatos makeup asks) imagine barbatos choosing which lipstick he should wear for the day, his choice being which lipstick he think would look best covered all over your face from his kisses

alsdfklsdfj anon how can you do this to me???

I'm so sorry. I had to write a drabble about this.

So here it is, Barbatos choosing his lipstick based on what would look best all over your face. There is making out and more is implied, but that's all. It's just a drabble but wow am I tempted to write full on smut about it lol.

GN!MC x Barbatos

Warnings: Uh... making out, implied further activity, lipstick? Does that last one need to be listed? I dunno.

Barbatos looks at the array of lipstick colors neatly lined up on his bathroom counter. Most of them are neutral colors, just enough to add a little something to his lips on regular days. He has a small group of other bolder colors that he keeps for special occasions.

There is no such occasion today. Not unless he counts the fact that you'll be coming over to the castle later. Something that he would not normally take into consideration. But he knows how things are likely to go and his mind won't stop flashing images of his lipstick against your skin.

Unable to stop himself, Barbatos reaches for one of his bolder colors. He applies it meticulously, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand rather than daydreaming about smearing it all over your face.

Barbatos goes through his day as he always does. He takes care of Diavolo, who mercifully doesn't comment on his butler's unusual choice of lipstick color. In fact, the only one who says anything about it at all is Asmodeus, which isn't surprising. He unleashes a little squeal before complimenting Barbatos on his choice and listing several recommendations he has for Barbatos to add to his collection.

For the most part, Barbatos is free to go about his day in peace, only allowing his mind to wander if he happens to catch his own reflection.

Before you arrive, he takes the time to touch up his face and hair, deliberately adding just a little more lipstick.

If you notice, you don't say anything. Barbatos makes you tea, but doesn't drink any himself. He doesn't want to mess up his carefully done lips by leaving marks across a teacup.

You say something about that, though. "You're not drinking any tea. Are you okay?"

Barbatos feels himself blush. "Forgive me, MC," he says. "You needn't be concerned. I simply-"

"You don't want to mess up your lipstick, huh?"

Barbatos's blush deepens. He stares at you in surprise, unable to respond at all. Was he really so obvious?

You put down your teacup and smile. "Waiting for me to mess up it for you, right?"

Barbatos is a very patient demon. He is able to remain calm and collected at all times. It seems the only thing that can cause him to act unexpectedly is this human. After spending the entire day attempting to suppress his thoughts of you, the remarks you make being so spot on breaks through the dam.

In moments, Barbatos has you pressed up against the castle wall. He presses his lips to your neck and pulls away to see the mark of his lips there against your skin. The sight of it causes heat to pool inside his gut, but he continues. He leaves a trail of lipstick along your neck and jaw until you finally catch his lips with yours.

Things get messy fast and he can taste the tang of his own lipstick when your tongue collides with his. You're gripping the back of his shirt with surprising strength and his hands on your hips squeeze hard in response.

With a gasp, Barbatos pulls away to breathe. He looks at you, slumped against the wall, mouth open, face and neck covered in that special shade he chose that morning.

Barbatos smiles fondly. "Just as I thought, this particular color compliments your complexion quite well."

Now you're the one blushing, but Barbatos isn't finished.

He tightens his hold on you even more and says quietly, "I would like to see how it looks decorating the rest of your body as well."

The next morning, Barbatos contemplates the line of lipstick colors once again. He was quite satisfied with the outcome of the previous day's choice. Your slumbering form still in his bed was a testament to that. And though he would choose one of his usual neutral colors for today, he knew that if he ever wanted to communicate to you his desires without speaking, he need only choose that same shade again.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[amarynthian-chronicles]

Do you remember the stars?

Sebastian Solace x Reader

"You have been making questionable choices regarding your inventory lately. What is this nonsense? It only takes up precious space."

Sebastian had stolen the little bundle of photographs from your person, visibly upset with your unforgivable crime of permitting yourself the mistake of carrying such sentimental things.

You pouted at him.

"Practical value is not the only thing that matters to me, Seb. Give those back."

"These are a distraction that will get you killed. I am not allowing this. You will focus on your missions and the preservation of your life. I do not want to find your corpse for the umpteenth time because of this tomfoolery."

"Somebody is very worried about me, I see. Have I found a home in your heart, Seb? Or did I create a new heart in the place of the old one that had disappeared ages ago?"

"Such an abysmal tragedy that you cannot conjure a new brain for yourself, while you are at it, my beloved light."

You giggled, amused with his silly insults.

He didn't stop you when you approached him, gently caressing along his tail, admiring his scales. You felt him shudder under your touch, your tenderness. He would never admit how sensitive his tail was, despite you proving it time and time again with your caresses and kisses.

"Will you return my photographs?"

"No."

You slowly climbed into his lap, squeezing his sides, reaching for one of his hands, kissing it once, twice, an infinite amount of kisses.

"Pretty please?"

"Never."

You leaned your head onto his chest, waiting to hear the cadence of his heart, knowing well that it was only beating for you.

"Silly man. I would love to have a photograph of you, though."

"You know how I feel about flashing lights, dollface. No cameras near me."

You tried to sneakily take the photographs away, but he held them out of reach.

"Naughty, naughty. Do not play tricks with me. It may cost you dearly."

"You are impossible. Let's make a deal. We look at them together, I explain the meaning of each of them, and if you deem it fit, you will return them to me. If not, I will not ask for them again."

He pondered your offer for a few minutes, before grinning.

"Add a little kiss to seal the deal and we have an arrangement."

You made a sweet little moan as his lips claimed yours, savouring you, worshipping you. His sharp teeth grazed the tender flesh, tempted to draw blood, but he commanded his instincts to remain under control. He did not wish to lose himself. Not yet.

You had to gather your thoughts, submerged in the ocean of his desire. He was a dangerous being, and his love was a force to be reckoned with. Never forget that.

Clearing your throat, you began with your little presentation, showing him each photograph and what it represented from your former life. Your favourite town squares, flowers in bloom, silly pictures of kittens playing with toys, wondrous landscapes, beautiful and little things that made life worth living.

Sebastian observed you with a dull sorrow nesting in his chest. Such a darling you were, speaking of earthly things with a joy unlike no other. Your inner light had to be otherwordly, Fae magic, sorcery. It had the power to dissipate darkness and despair as if it were a mere nothing. A force of Life melting the clutches of Death.

A part of him feared that your faerie self would one day never return, leaving him in the shadows, rotting for all eternity. He deserved nothing less, he was well aware.

He felt you poke him several times, bringing him back from his dark thoughts.

"Seb! Hello? Look at this one. Dusk, the early appearance of the magnificent moon and the royal court of stars. Do you see how beautifully the light reflects off the clouds?"

Sebastian narrowed his glowing blue eyes at the small picture, admiring it from both a technical and aesthetic angle. Impressive night vision features of the camera that had taken such a picture. Marvellous angle.

It had been an eternity since he had enjoyed the scent of night air and the beauty of the stars. Constellations twinkling in the midnight sky. A promise of freedom.

They say that stars could fall and grant wishes. Were you his fallen star? His true fate?

You whispered gently, cupping his cheeks:

"Do you remember the stars, Sebastian? I promise you, we will see them once more. Together."

[froggibus]

The Death of Peace of Mind - Stu Macher! Ghostface

Pairing: Stu Macher! Ghostface x f! reader (reader uses female/she/her pronouns + has a pussy), Billy Loomis! Ghostface x f! reader (at the end), Billy Loomis x Stu Macher

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2k

Summary: after finding out your boyfriend is the masked killer who’s been plaguing Woodsboro, you only have one request—you want him to take out his darkest urges on you

CW: Dark content ahead!!! dubcon, knife play, blood play, bondage (use of handcuffs and blindfolds), Stu cuts reader, bloodloss, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex (yk what im gonna say), creampie, Stu chases you with a knife, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mentions of a threesome, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

incredibly self indulgent fic of my favorite Ghostface & the idea of being railed by him <3 this is a bit darker than what I normally write lol, also very tempted to write about getting railed by both Billy & Stu now

update ish? self indulgent part 2 w both Stu and Billy here

————

The minute the phone rings, the blood rushes to your ears. The entire town of Woodsboro had been warned against answering calls from unknown numbers after what happened to Casey and Steve. You weren’t worried, though. 

Why fear the boogeyman when the boogeyman is the only person who makes you feel safe?

Stu always insisted on never letting you see the darker parts of him, on never sharing the weirder things he was interested in. He wanted to protect you from himself and the fucked up things he wanted to do to you. That all changed this morning when you stopped by his house to make sure he was awake in time for school, and saw the Ghostface mask in his closet. 

You had grabbed it and tossed it at him, forcing him to explain himself. 

The boy had stuttered over his words before he finally confessed: he was the one who had been killing people all around Woodsboro. Even more surprising than that was that he had a partner. Everyone, even the police, had only suspected one person was doing it. 

He mumbled countless apologies, begging you not to leave him and begging you not to tell anybody or else ‘he’ would be mad. In all of his grovelling, though, he never mentioned who his partner was. 

You cut him off. “Is this the dark stuff you didn’t want me to know about?”

He nodded slowly, tips of his ears burning red. 

“Stu, I’m not going to tell anyone,” his head snaps up at your words, eyes lighting up. “But I have one condition.”

“Anything.”

You take a deep breath, biting your lip. “I want you to lose control. Do whatever you want to me, just let go. Don’t worry about whether I like it or not…just, show me those parts of you.”

“Y/n…”

“I mean it, Stu. Please?”

He’s reluctant to give in. He knows he would never hurt you, at least not severely, but the thought of showing you who he really is and what he wants to do makes him shiver. He doesn’t want you to stop looking at him like you do now. 

Still, he gives in. He tells you to go home and relax, and maybe stock up on first aid supplies.

The thought of what he’s going to do to you fills you with excitement. 

And now you’re sitting next to the ringing phone, knowing when you answer it that things will never be the same. 

You press the phone to the side of your face, the cold buttons raising goosebumps on your skin. “Hello?”

“Hello, y/n.” The voice on the other end is deep and raspy, so masculine it has you clenching your thighs together. 

“Who is this?”

Stu can’t help but smirk on the other end of the line. You’re playing the part of the innocent, dumb victim perfectly, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on. God, the things he wants to do to you. 

“You tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine,” he responds. 

“I don’t think so.”

You lay down on your back on the couch, playing with your hair, with the collar of your shirt, anything to keep you focused on the man talking in your ear. 

“Come on,” he almost growls, “why don’t you tell me your name?”

You can’t help but giggle at the frustration in his voice. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I want to know who I’m looking at.”

You suck in a breath. Smooth, you think. If you were anyone else, if you actually thought there was a chance he would kill you, his words would make you freeze. But tonight, all they did was make you shiver in anticipation. 

You can feel your underwear soaking through with your arousal, your whole body warming. “L-looking at?”

Stu almost laughs at the way you nervously stutter. You sound so cute, so innocent…he really can’t wait to ruin you. He stifles his laughter from inside the closet. 

“You heard me,” he says. “Don’t you want to know where I’m hiding?”

“You’re…you’re inside?” 

A wave of fear washes over you. How had he gotten inside without you noticing? Is this how he had gotten to Casey, too? You hate how much it turns you on to think that he’s been here the whole time. 

“Take a guess, come find me.”

Stu watches through the crack in the door as you stand from the couch with that puzzled look on your face. You spin around, the phone still pressed to your ear. 

“What happens if I find you?”

Stu stays silent for a minute, watching you look around the living room to find him. Just as you get to the closet, your palm resting on the handle, he responds. 

“I get to see what your insides look like.”

He pushes the closet door open and shoves you against the wall. You squeak, letting the phone clatter to the ground. Stu grabs your wrists in one of his hands and pins them above your head. 

His other hand reaches for the knife in his waistband, holding up at eye level so you can see it. Your heart speeds up, your arms shake, your knees threaten to buckle. 

He presses the knife at the centre of your collarbone, just above where your t-shirt begins. You can feel the sharp tip press into your skin, just enough to cause a bead of blood to roll down your chest. 

“The things I’m going to do to you,” he breathes. 

You almost call his name, but you know he’s not your boyfriend right now. You know he needs to let go, and part of that is to let go of himself, too. 

He drags the knife down, cutting into the fabric of your t-shirt. He applies just enough pressure to easily slide the fabric, but not enough to actually hurt you. Still, you can feel the cool metal on your bare skin and it causes you to whimper. 

Stu groans. You’re being so good for him, standing so still and just letting him do what he needs to do. He digs the knife into the soft fabric of your shorts, taking his time in slicing them down the middle. 

Both pieces of fabric fall to the floor, leaving you in just your underwear in front of him. “I-I—” you’re not sure what you’re trying to say, but the words won’t come out regardless. 

“I-I-I,” he mocks, holding the blade against your throat. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

You whimper and kick against him, your knee grinding against the bulge in his robe. He drags the knife just above your collarbone. He presses in hard, hard enough to draw blood. 

The warm blood leaks down your chest, dripping down your stomach and your underwear. The slight sting makes you whine even more and rub your thighs together. 

He releases your hands. “Run,” he whispers. 

You don’t waste a second in obeying him. As soon as your feet are on the ground, you’re tearing away from him. You can hear him walking at a leisurely pace behind you, laughing mockingly. Something about him chasing you, cutting you…it’s overwhelming, it makes your head fuzzy with pleasure. 

You run up the stairs, turning away as soon as your feet meet the plush carpet of the landing. You turn around, only to see that he’s gone. You suck in a breath. Where could he have gone?

Arms wrap around your waist, a knife pressed into your side. “Got you.”

You squeal, kicking against him. He’s much stronger than you, though. He pushes you against the wall, using it as leverage to lift you up. 

You wrap your legs around his waist and let him carry you to your bedroom. He tosses you onto the bed, slamming the door behind him. You squirm, your sheets staining with the blood that dripped down your body while you ran. 

You look up at him with those damned eyes, blinking slowly. His robe is stained with your blood, the knife in his hand slick with the red. 

He crawls on top of you, yanking your underwear off and tossing them into the corner of the room. Your pussy is soaked as it is, but your blood has started to run into the juices, and the smell is fucking intoxicating. 

He moves his face between your legs, the white mask looking up at you. You whimper and roll your hips against his face, staining the white with your red. 

He tears off a strip of fabric from his robe and ties it around your eyes. “No looking,” he orders. 

He tilts the mask up just enough so that his mouth and nose are out before licking up the blood from your thighs. You taste just as good as you smell, and it only makes him want more. He flicks his tongue across your opening and you whine, bucking your hips against his face. 

He goes to work licking and sucking at your clit. He’s drunk from the taste of you, and all he wants is more. He presses the knife against your thigh, digging it in hard enough to draw blood. The pain in your thigh mixed with the pleasure in your core has you crying out, forcing you over the edge. 

You finish hard, your slick coating his mouth and nose. He doesn’t stop, though. He keeps eating you out like you’re his last meal. 

“P-please,” you whine. 

“Please what?”

“Stretch me out, ruin me, just…please?”

Your breathless begging is so fucking cute that he can’t hold back anymore. He pulls the mask over his face again, laying on top of you. He pulls out a pair of plain metal handcuffs, and gets to work securing them around your wrists. He does it tightly enough that it digs into the skin and makes it impossible to escape, but not tight enough to be painful. 

You struggle against the restraints, unable to see or feel him now. He shuffles against you awkwardly, pulling his cock out of his pants. He’s already rock hard, the tip coated in precum. 

He lines up the head at your entrance and shoves his way inside. He’s so perfectly sized, always stretching you out perfectly. You whine, instinctively going to reach out for him before remembering the restraints on your wrists. 

His thrusts are desperate and needy. All he wants, all he needs, is to bury himself inside of you. To fuck you like he needs to and absolutely ruin you. 

“F-fuck,” you stutter out, forcing your hips against his to meet his thrusts. 

His hands grip your waist tightly, his mouth hovering over your pulse point. He licks up the remaining blood from the cut on your collarbone, and the copper taste on his tongue only drives him to fuck you harder. 

The way you're so wet for him, just from him cutting and fucking you. Hovering above you, fucking you like it's the last time, he's never felt more content. It's like the darkest parts in you pacify the darkest parts in him, and that's all he's ever needed.

You can feel yourself getting close, your muscles contracting with every deep thrust. You feel slightly lightheaded, but you’re not sure if it’s from your last orgasm or the blood loss. 

Stu holds you closer, his body collapsing onto yours as his thrusts get sloppier. You know he won’t last much longer, either. 

You squirm, bucking your hips to try and get him as deep as possible. He hits that sweet spot one more time and you come undone, your muscles spasming around him. Your pussy clenches around his cock and that’s all he needs to spill hot cum deep inside of you. 

Your head rolls back, your body going limp. Stu pulls out, kneeling on top of you. “Think you can go another round?”

“C-can you?” You breathe heavily. 

He reaches his hands around the back of your head to remove the blindfold. It takes a minute for your eyes to focus, fixating on the masked man above you. 

“Not me,” he grabs your jaw in his hand and turns your head to the corner, where a man in an identical costume stands. “Him.”

“Him?”

The masked man steps forwards, slowly pulling the mask from his face. Billy Loomis is smiling at you like the devil, “hello, y/n.”

He pulls the mask back on, coming to rest on the bed next to Stu. Both of the Ghostface killers have their eyes fixated on your bound, writhing form on the bed. 

“I think she can do one more,” Stu says. 

“I think so too. I think she could take both of us.”

“B-both of you?” 

Neither boy acknowledges you, too busy talking as if you’re not laying right in front of them. God, they’re going to be the death of you.