#the urge to sh is so fucking strong right now

[tears-exe]

Triggering vent in tags lol

[murdrdocs]

dark content; ghostface!luke; explicit sexual content; MDNI

you have your suspicions that luke castellan isn't the man he portrays himself to be.

beneath his mournful gaze, woven between his sorrowful words, you're so sure that luke is insincere. his words of condolences to other campers lack a certain depth. his motivational speeches, always on the topic of remaining brave in the face of fear that these tragic incidents are creating, are disingenuous.

it's only natural that you have to investigate.

sneaking out past curfew on nights you weren't patrolling, offering to take up someone else's shift or just being there to provide a second set of eyes. but not on the scenery. on him.

because you're fairly certain that the monster isn't coming from outside of camp.

eventually you catch him standing in the center of the strawberry field facing away from you, swinging his sword as if the weapon is simply attached to his arm, the infamous mask described by others sticking out of his back pocket for you to notice.

you've seen luke fight. he's trained you in combat. you know that if he wanted to kill you, he would barely have any trouble doing so.

you would put up a good fight, but you would end up on your knees, waiting for the fatal blow.

is that why you don't bother fighting in the first place? or is it for some sicker, more sinister reason?

you like to think that your lack of resistance derives from knowing deep down that it would have failed. but it's hard not to consider the other implications whenever luke is smirking down at you, holding the weapon he affectionately introduced as backbiter to your neck, and your blood is rushing to places it shouldn't be.

your limbs should be taking most of the blood flood, creating a vibration in your legs and arms that would get you out of this situation quickly if need be. instead, your blood has rushed to your center, creating a thump! thump! that luke's hand—cupping your mound under your bottoms and above your panties—definitely can feel.

confirming your suspicions, luke's eyebrows furrows as he speaks. "is that?..."

your throat dries out. your nostrils flare as you take a sharp inhale designed to disguise the way you urge to roll your eyes back when luke starts to rub his hand along your center.

"are you turned on right now?"

the way he says it is so fucking cruel, but you honestly can't blame him.

it's deplorable, your behavior. your head tipped back not only to attempt to avoid the sharp tip of luke's blade against your jugular, but also because luke's fingers pumping in and out of you is so sinfully delicious.

here, in the middle of the field, surrounded by strawberries with the scent wafting to your nose with every gust of wind, you hope that the wind doesn't carry your noises.

the two of you are only lit by the torches off in the distance and the moonlight up above, providing a shameful spotlight onto your bodies. one standing strong and tall, shoulders pushed back with assurance and horrifying confidence making his gaze hard as he stares at you over the slope of his nose. and the other, slumped over with your head resting on luke's shoulder as an orgasm forces itself through your body.

it's wrong to curl up in the arms of a killer. it's idiotic to feel safe there.

backbiter has been stabbed into the dirt, sticking up straight, and with his freed hand luke cups the back of your head, stroking the area while his fingers replicate a similar motion in your panties.

"sh, it's okay, just let it happen, angel," he tells you, voice a rough whisper.

(does his voice sound deeper, or is that your subconscious acknowledging his sins?)

"i know you're feeling guilty, being with someone like me." he chuckles dryly as your orgasm fades out. "but it's okay. i promise you. i won't hurt you."

you know you shouldn't believe his words. but this is luke, the guy you at least thought you could trust with your life.

you do know you can trust him to give you a good orgasm, as his fingers refuse to stop within you, the digits picking up speed despite your feeble protests in the form of wobbly words.

[sashiavi]

Shane is on my mind right now ♡

Warnings: 18+ Smut | sleepy sex | maybe somno? | soft sex | cockwarming | Shane is late night horny for you ♡

word count : 1k

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

Just imagining...

Being all warm and snuggly in bed, late, late in the evening, maybe even early morning - Wrapped up in billowing duvets, resting on one too many pillows, sinking into the comfy mattress. The only light in the room is the moon, bleeding past the sheer curtains, washing over with a cool light, making the blankets feel all the more warm.

There's a soft sigh on your neck, warm hairy chest carefully rising and falling against your back, thick, strong arms wrapped around your form. Shane presses a moist kiss to your skin, nose whistling subtly with each of his breaths, he nuzzles, his broad arch bumping into you. So tired, so sleepy, your own breathing slowing down, down, down..

There's a soft scratch of his stubble, scruffy chin dragging over your shoulder, following the chapped kisses he leaves in his wake. Hmm, there's an energy, something warmer than warm, gooey and hot, sweet and syrupy..

You feel Shane's hips crane, rolling with a soft hump, his swelling cock poking into the curve of your ass, thin fabric of your underwear slipping past eachother with a soft shift. Shane's lips part with a sticky soft noise, spit pooling under his tongue, those wet lips brushing at the soft spot under your ear.

His large, warm palm caresses over your tummy, flattening out, fingers splaying wide, dipping downwards, carefully edging against your little clit, wordlessly asking for permission. In your sleepy haze you grind back, humming soft in your throat, almost breathing on a whine. Shane audibly swallows, wandering hand dragging over your warm inner thigh, nearly hot from the sweet stick of your thighs smushed together in the comfy fetal position you had nestled yourself into.

He hooks his hand under your knee, lifting your leg to hook comfortably over his outer thigh, spreading your legs just enough.

There's a sweet whine from your throat, disturbed by your comfy spot, and Shane is quick to comfort.

"Shhh.. shh sh... s'okay, Doll.." His soft voice drawls, hand now petting up and down your sensitive inner thigh. You don't say a word, again opting for a humming sound, this time something born out of agreeance and affection.

Shane shifts a little, revealing the soft, velvet pudge of his tip, sticky and wet against the silky-soft fabric of your panties, already leaving a mess. His soft humps continue, little cranes of his hips, length now grinding up on the front of your pretty clothed cunt, leaving a milky sticky mess that could rival your own.

His thumb helps the fat of his tip bump into your throbby clit, bumping impressively considering the position, leaving you feeling like sweet jelly, melting out in the sun, body nice and lax right into his chest. He tuts affectionately, movements gentle, not too jostling, nose poking at the tender spot of your jaw, right below your ear as he leaves another kiss.

You breathe your own sigh, hand coming down to affectionately pet against his, finger running down the thick vein on his length, finally hooking into your panties. You give your own sleepy nuzzle, lovingly parting your panties to the side, stretching the fabric. You roll your hips, urging the throbby tip of his cock to catch onto your hole, feeling it pop in and slide out with a wet shluck, having you flinch softly in his arms with a gasp, before you melt back down.

A deep breath comes from Shane's parted lips, a soft profanity following, a wordless "Fuck.." carefully drawled out of his throat.

When he finally, finally slips past the sweet, snuggly ring of your cunt- Two fingers carefully circle and rub into your clit. Slowww- gentle and slow, finger pads against your mushy wet bud, kissing the thin silk of your panties on it, such a lovely added texture..

"Good girl.. S'good f'me... that's it.." He carefully coddles, his other arm wrapped snug on your torso, forearm resting between your tits, palm of his hand threatening to lovingly wrap around your throat. His thick girth humps in and out of your sweet cunt, snuggled by the soft of your panties, stretched and pulled aside.

"Shh.. shhhh s'okay, sleepy Girl... I gotcha.." He reassures, squeezing you into his thick, hairy chest, feeling your lower back rest on the soft of his belly. His fingers continue their lovely caress, circling 'round and 'round, consistent with every hot press of his tip, every stretching thrust of his cock in your cunt.

"Shane.." Your voice is feather soft, barely pitching above a whisper, cracked with a slightly tinge of your voice. Your head tilts back sweetly, your own hips wriggling back into his humps.

"I know.. I gotcha- s'okay Darlin'.." His fingers press a little firmer, a thick swallow in his throat, his own breath picking up to be heavier with each heave. Your breath hitches, sleepy eyes fluttering closed, thighs tensing sweet against his own-

Ohh, you feel wonderful on his length, milking at his cock with those sweet throbby pulses, creaming yourself in his lap, snuggling back into him. He praises you through it, fingers turning to caress you softly, stroking down on your sensitive clit affectionately, urging those sweet jolts and clenches out of you for his own selfish want.

Yoba- he spills, hips craning up with each spurting pulse, a breathless groan in his throat with every twinge of his tip, mashing his hips into your own as he releases.

"Hmng.. ughh.. love ya- lovin' you sweet Girl- Fuhck... take it-" His voice drops, arm tensing on your chest, lips kissing, teeth threatening to bite softly into your shoulder. His scratchy stubble feels extra gruff on your sensitive skin, spiking like pins and needles, all soft from your sweet orgasm.

It's easy to calm down; Yoba- you were more than calm and sleepy before and during - sinking back into the soft of your mattress, Shane's thick half hard cock still plugging up your lovely, sweet cunt. Shane knows you'll have to get up, clean up the mess he'd made, soothe you back into the soft whisper of sleep.

All in due time. Maybe he'll even run a nice, warm bath for you to relax, snuggle up sweet under the bubbles and suds, lulling you into sleep for him to tuck you back in. In the meantime, he'll just hold you like this for a while.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

HEYY BABES SO CAN U DO A JJ x sister!reader (few years younger, she’s a teen.)

TW: depression, talks of SH, ED, etc…

Basically,

She comes home and seems off and all the pogues know she suffers from depression, and so JJ is like hey bbg (NICKNAMES PLS) and lightly tries to understand what’s going on, and she just kinda pretends nothing is going on. She goes to the bathroom to take anti-depressants and then all of a sudden she just desperately tries to look for something sharp to SH. She can’t find anything in the bathroom, so she slowly falls to the ground, has a breakdown, JJ comes and is all comforting and understanding and then after she explains to him how she almost relapsed, and then she well yeah u can makeup the rest

ℛℯ𝓁𝒶𝓅𝓈ℯ

warnings: depression, mentions of blades, attempted self harm. I am not responsible for what u read.

Masterlist

You raced home to the chateau, your hands shoved into your pockets. You held back your tears, taking a deep breath when you stood in front of the door, hand on the doorknob. You twisted it, immediately being met with the faces of your brother and his friends, all lounging on the couch or the floor, nursing beers and joints.

"Yo, what's up, idiot?" JJ asked you, turning to look. You stared back at him and his friends, before wordlessly making a beeline to the bathroom.

JJ turned around, creasing his eyebrows and shrugging at the odd interaction, chugging a beer. Everyone else seemed just as confused.

Worry began to bubble in his chest, and he tried desperately to push it down. The worry only grew when he heard the noises coming from the bathroom.

You locked the bathroom door, letting the tears silently fall finally, and looking at the medicine cabinet. You were throwing and shoving things around, trying desperately to find it, or anything at this point.

"No, no, no." you murmured under your breath, you couldnt find anything, not a blade or even scissors. Your skin was itching, the urge growing strong. You pulled at your scalp, finally falling against the door, your sobbing becoming louder. You held your hand over your mouth, trying to conceal them, but it was no use.

The urge to do it came suddenly, as soon as you left work actually.

"What the fuck...?" JJ muttered under his breath, all of them turning their heads, the room falling into silence now.

"Go check on her, dude!" Kiara told him, shoving his shoulder and motioning to the door.

JJ walked over to the door, messing with the doorknob. He furrowed his eyebrows, panicked, he rapidly moved the doorknob back and fourth.

"Y/n? Y/n, unlock the fucking door, dude. I'm not messing with you right now." He told you, still messing with the doorknob, then banging on the door.

He thought of the time this happened last time at home, his dad shouting and yelling in the background while Jj worriedly knocked on the door of your bedroom, your dad busting the door open and both of them catching on when they saw the sharp object thrown on the ground.

The banging caused to cover your ears, sobbing louder now.

"Y/n... Please don't tell me you did anything stupid." JJ sighed, you taking your hands away from your ears and wiping your tears. “Unlock the door, kid. Please.”

You slowly stood up, unlocking the door with shaky hands. His eyes went to your wrists, making sure nothing new was there. He sighed in relief, wrapping his arms around you, you continuing to cry into his chest with your arms at your side.

His hands cradled the back of your head, he slowly and quietly closed the bathroom door, giving you both some privacy. He waited until he heard nothing but your sniffles to let go. He grabbed your shoulders, staring at you.

"What happened, kid?"

"I... was working, and..." you paused, sniffling and wiping your nose. "I saw dad come up. He- he fucking came up to me, shouting and cussing at me. He almost got me fired!" You told him, anger lacing your voice. "Then he told me that-that I was the reason mom ran away, and I was the reason his life was so shitty, and tried to guilt trip me into coming back." your face creased up as you began to cry again, hiding your face in JJ's shoulder and grabbing onto his shirt.

“He told me that- that I was a terrible daughter, and he grabbed my wrist and-“

“Alright. Alright. You’re okay. Shh.” He swallowed, hand wrapping around you again. Unsure of what to do, he waited until you stopped crying to talk again.

He motioned for you to sit down on the closed toilet seat, and he sat down on the counter, swinging his feet.

“Dad’s- dad’s an asshole, okay? You know not a word of what he said was true, right? He just wants you to come back so that he can fuckin’ steal your money and have someone to be angry at. Fuckin’ prick.” He scoffed, shaking his head.

You looked unconvinced. He stared at you.

“Nothing he said was true, y/n.” He assured you. “He used to say some of the same things to me. You think I let it get to me? Nah. You wanna know why? Because he is a selfish, druggie, loser addict who no one loves. You’re not gonna be him, because you’re fuckin’ awesome, dude!”

You smiled and let out a nasally laugh, making him smile.

“You’re a wayyyyy better surfer and fisher than he is. And he’s a fuckin’ fisherman! How do you let a teenager beat you at your own job, man?” Your giggle widened his smile, you covering your mouth.

“I mean, shit, I would rather be stuck with you for 100 hours than him for a minute. And you ask anyone out there, they’ll say the same.”

You laughed with JJ, and the bathroom was silent until he spoke up again.

“Don’t do that shit again, okay? Especially not because of a nobody like Luke. Next time he comes to your job or even around you, call me and I’ll come beat his ass.” JJ put up fists, punching the air with grunts.

You laughed at his antics and nodded. “I’m sorry, Jj.”

“Don’t be.”

[slyblonder]

Sweet Treat

Friends w/ benefits!Mark x GN!Reader

(reader has afab anatomy)

word count : 0.7k

“Wheres my treat?” “Your what?”

You and Mark have been friends for a little over two years, but only friends with benefits for about 6 months. This all came into agreement after a very wine drunk, slightly stoned,bored mentality. You were attractive. Mark was attractive(and big). What’s the worst that could happen you thought and agreed.

You hate to ring your own bell but the dick is AMAZING. Going into this you would’ve never guessed Mark would have the stamina he did. Especially with being on the bigger side than most, he’d manhandle you with ease. Yeah you were gonna keep this going for as long as you possibly could. “If you keep doing that I’ll cum again… I-I can’t anymore.” You were practically shaking,overstimulated,and a sobbing mess as mark ate you out. He was too pussy drunk to care about your pleads to stop, taking in your sweet taste as if it was his last. His fingers quickly replaced his tongue as he looked up at you, smiling as how broken you looked. “Then cum baby, let loose for me.” Thats all you needed to hear for that band to snap, letting out the most erotic moan either of you have ever heard.

You both lied there holding one another as you tried to recover, shaking a little every now and then which definitely earned a small chuckle from Mark. “Dude I’ve never heard you moan like that before, it was pretty hot honestly.” You looked up at him with a joking blank stare not wanting to give him any satisfaction. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Plus I literally just stopped shaking, please give me like an hour before you get horny again.” You let out a small laugh and pat his chest before sitting up a bit and stretching. “I need to start getting ready for this event though. If I’m late there’s no doubt Chenle will kill me.” Standing up and tossing on whoever’s hoodie was at the edge of the bed, you noticed Mark staring at you blankly but not how you did earlier. This boy was truly perplexed.

“Where’s my treat?” “What treat?” Upon first glance you would’ve thought Mark just got told Justin Bieber quit music. He looked down heartbroken and couldn’t believe what he just heard. You like sweet treats and sharing them with people so you keep small bowls of different candies,chocolates, and other similar things in several areas of your home. Since Mark has been over so often, the bowl in your room had ran out and you never refilled it. After you both were done exploring each other you gave him one. Everytime. You basically trained and conditioned him. By accident at that. “Oh sweetie…thats-“ You couldn’t help but laugh and leave the room and come back with a melon candy. “Here you go baby.” Watching his face soften to a small pout was too cute for you to bear. “I thought I didn’t do a good job so you weren’t giving me a treat. Wait do you give other guys one too when they’re done if they do a good job? Did I do a good job? Wait are there othe-.”Before he could finish his list of questions you laughed and shook your head as you moved to sit across from him.

“You just fucked me, came in me, the ate me out until I came 3 times. I think you did more than a good job baby. And no there is no other guys, You have more than enough for me.” You watched as he listened and began to unwrap the candy. “Isn’t this like positive reinforcement like they use on dogs? oh my god you're treating me like a dog.””You know I do question what goes on in your head sometimes. No I’m not treating you like a dog, I just like sharing sweet treats with you.” You looked over at the bowl on your dresser and nodded towards it. “You finished that in a month. You’re here very often.” Mark looked over at the bowl and grew shy, he really was over often but he truly loves being in your presence. He does like you after all but you don’t need to know that right now. His eyes flickered down to your lips, suddenly growing a strong urge to kiss you.

“Let me share my sweet treat then.”

©️slyblonder

(Helloo thank you so much for reading please feel free to like a reblog pleasee I hope you enjoyed it🤍😞 im currently writing this at 1:27am(i wish i was joking) also feel free to request or ask questions in the ask box🤍🤍)

[kalembappe]

Focus | k.m. 7 (req'd) a/n: someone send jude request idc how filthy wordcount: 1855 nsfw warning! 18+...pwp, choking, dirty talk, you r switchy

“I have to-” “Shush, shh, sh.” Your voice is quiet, normally soothing, but the way your breath fans his ear makes everything feel worse. “It’s almost done, ‘kay? Just a little bit more.” You sigh, resting on the warmth under you. 

You’ve been watching this documentary, something about…sports? He can’t do this right now. His whole body was tense in the couch, legs an open space for you to rest between but the curve of your ass is digging into his crotch. It’s been a week since he’s last seen you, touched you even with how he’s been swamped with work and you were both stuck between places. All he did was think of you–crave you, and now that you’re here, he can’t satiate himself since you thought it’d be a good idea to watch–His eyes open back up to meet the flat screen and see what he blanked on.

Shit, he doesn’t know if he’s cursing you or  himself; the documentary is about football and he didn’t even notice. You’re 41 minutes into the film but the only thing he grasped is the title. He’s not even mad that the name of the film is; How to win the world cup, he could laugh about it maybe but you’re making it hard. For him. It’s so hard for him.

 To focus, is what he means. Your hips adjust, shifting in your seat. His hands tense on your thigh, there’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. At this point, that’s him  just trying to cope; he knows the likeliness of you not knowing is high since you’re so focused, it annoys him a bit how you’re so distracted by someone who wasn’t… “Look, it’s you.” You point out with a proud smile. Maybe it’s the lighting but there’s a glint in your eyes as soon as he appears on the screen.  Sometimes, you can’t make it to his games so you watch him through the TV, he knows you do since you text him before every match. And when you do watch him live, he can’t see you while he’s playing. Only now had he noticed the excitement on your fingertips when he feels your nails graze his thigh, or just how big your smile does get when someone praises him. It’s like seeing you for the first time again, maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen you in this light, or maybe it’s because he just misses you so, so , so much, but the urge to not fuck you into the couch right now is getting intolerable.

Your head leans back to rest on his shoulder, full weight on him, hands gripping his thigh to help you lift yourself on him. Unknowingly, your hands move closer to his crotch as they move up–a groan slips from his throat.

He doesn’t miss the small pause your body makes. He’s even worse now, cheeks heated, lips swollen from the bite of his teeth; Kylian looks up at the ceiling with silent prayers in his head while you’re sinking into him like a cushion. Surprisingly, you continue on without a care, watching as the movie unfolds before you. It’s only with the wiggle of your hips that he grabs your waist to halt your movements. He could almost feel the smirk you’re making. “I missed you.” He tries bringing your attention elsewhere. “I can tell.” There’s a smile in your tone. He stutters, “You’re- you’re horrible.” There’s a rude giggle you let out, it’s normally cute, but he’s already thinking of different ways he can get you to shut up. You chide, “How much…”  His brain feels muddled when you roll your hips, unable to fully catch on the words you say. “How much do you miss me Kyky…” You repeat, voice sticky and tantalizing. His hands control the move of your hips, strong and desperate. The tingle in your stomach reverberates to your core, excitement drips on the cotton of your underwear, the nightie you're wearing hiked up to your hips, allowing you to leave a wet patch on Kylian’s sweats. He whimpers almost, “I wanna fuck you into the couch, fuck you till you can’t talk anymore.” “You can’t- You’re the one who can barely talk.” Your words nearly betray you, Kylian’s rocking into your underwear causing it to ride between the mounds of your ass, the hands that were last on your waist now groping your tits. “I’m gonna fuck you till you lose the attitude.” There’s a pause in the air where all movement had stopped.  You break, turning into a mess of whines. It’s like a switch flipped when he straightens his back on the couch, sitting you both up effortlessly. 

His fingers draw a line between the apex of your thighs as he tangles his legs with yours, spreading you open. You’re getting impatient as he trails closer and closer, lips leaving open mouth kisses on your neck to your shoulders.

He pulls your panties to the side, flicking your clit to tease, you’re about to curse him out when you cut yourself off with a pant. His fingers are circling on your clit till it turns hard. It's too much, too quick, but he’s tenacious in his movements–consistent. If he’s like this now, you can barely imagine what he’d be like later. Your hips grind into his lap to retort, but you stop moving when your orgasm suddenly rips through you. You try closing your legs, squirming in his grip but he’s unmoving, you’re open and held to him. Exposed. He doesn’t stop rubbing, your pants turn into mewls, your body wants to grind back but also stay away. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry…” He pauses, a smirk gracing his lips. “I didn’t even fuck you yet.” He almost laughs at your dispair. Slowly he untangles your legs, putting you aside on the couch. There’s an ache between your legs that doesn’t seem to go away. He positions your ass up, you let him, he’s behind you now. You can move your legs yourself, maybe you can even hold yourself up on your elbows, but you don’t find it in you to try. It’s a lewd sight, your wet puffy cunt, aching and clenching at nothing. You’re a puddle when you feel the thick head of his cock prod your entrance, it’s relief and too much at the same time. Kylian groans, his palm bending your spine to arch so he can enter you at an angle, deeper. It’s messy, and rough but it’s also slow. You’re drooling on the couch, your nightie was on the floor with his discarded pants, your underwear–you didn’t even notice he’d taken your underwear off. He’s bottoming out into you and it feels like you’re struggling to breathe.

it’s as if he reads your mind when you feel his fingers grab you by the neck, halting your breath when he pulls you up. His heartbeat is on your back but you’re sure yours is rippling louder than his. You wanna say something, cough, or breathe but you can’t. The lack of air turns you into liquid threatening to slide off flat onto the surface– you can feel pressure but you don’t know if it’s in your head. Whimper stuck in your throat, your fingers tremble, tapping at Kylian’s to tell him you’re on the verge of blacking out.

“Want me to let go?”  His fingers tighten on the sides of your throat, gasps replacing your futile attempts at talking. He leaves a small peck on the side of your forehead, Fine, he says dismissively.

You nearly cum when you breathe out, air filling your lungs and your rotting brain but there's a feeling in your stomach that pauses you in your tracks. The sight underneath you leaves a breathless sob to escape your lips. “Kyky, what did you–” “I let go. Didn’t you want that?” His tone is mocking the same way his hands knead the flesh of your thighs, boasting his ability to breathe with the air fanning your ear, contrast to your stuttered breathing. Kylian groans, he isn’t sure if it’s because your nails are digging into his forearm or from how tight your pussy’s clenching him. You couldn’t believe it. He choked you till he’s completely bottomed out in your stomach. He wipes the tear running down your cheek, “What? Baby thinks it’s too much?” “Mmngh-” His hand is back on your throat, pulling back till he’s completely out of you. He could feel the whine in your throat that escapes with the sudden buck of his hips. The sound of his hips meeting your bounce off the walls of the room. It’s slow and rough and nothing short of dirty. 

Kylian dips his head to meet yours in a kiss. It’s sweet for the most part. His lips are soft and warm against yours, attentive and pliant. But it turns rough when he remembers where he is, he rolls his cock into you again, head brushing the spongy part deep inside you. Kylian swallows your moans with each stutter of his hips.

The only time you part is when you need to take a breather but that seems to be a struggle from the start. “I missed you. Was thinking of you in the plane. Did you, fuck, miss me?” You nod, unable to form any words. He’s laughing in your ear, watching as you grind back to meet his movements. You give no response, just thin gasps, it annoys Kylian–he lets you get off for two seconds and you forget he’s there. He tsks, pinching your clit out of spite, a high whine escapes you, your legs tremble. 

He repeats his question, voice deeper now, treading between incoherent words and grunts. You moan at his roughness, “I waited, all week for you. I– I missed you so much.” You looked completely gone, babbling with spit and tears coating your flushed face, hair sticking to your forehead, skin salty with sweat. Completely ruined. Yeah? He whispers without the intention of waiting for an answer. Your moans stutter as he pumps faster onto you, your throat turning hoarse. “‘M cumming, ‘M gonna cum-” He doesn’t care, it isn’t new that you get off so fast, he just keeps at it, fucking you to your orgasm. Kylian already let go of your neck by this time, hands using your arms as handles and pumping into you to chase his own high. Sweat trickles down his forehead as deep groans erupt from his throat. The buck of his hips are rougher now, faster. You know he’s near. Your legs shake, his groans turn close to whimpers blending with your own. Your pussy flutters, his cock twitching in you, enough to snap the coil in both of you. He breathes hard, wetness dribbles down your thighs. His hips roll, fucking his seed back into you. “Kylian.” You whine, everything was sensitive. Your boyfriend apologizes, leaving a peck on the back of your neck. There’s a small chuckle he leaves out, you don’t know why he’s laughing. “What is it?” “You left the TV on.”

[johnwickb1tsch]

THE DEVILS' TRIANGLE

A Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick (& now John Constantine) Imagine Part 8 by:

@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch and @tammykelly (with honorary dream weavers / shit stirrers @lilspookymeh & @kurai-hono-blog 😘)

Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘

ALL CHAPTERS

PART 8

Johnwickb1tsch:

"Come on, we've got to get you somewhere safe," says John Wick, trying to hustle you down the street.

"No," you protest, resisting. "We have to find John and Tex. They might need us."

You were skeptical about demons and the occult, God and the Devil and everything in between, at first. But after hanging out with Constantine, you'd seen a few things. Just enough that you had sense enough to be scared. You clutch the protection amulet around your neck that John had given you. You'd laughed at him at the time, but now you were glad to have it.

"They're both grown men, honey. I told Tex to leave you alone. This is what he gets."

Suddenly you're angry all over again. "Oh, you told him, huh?" You push John's chest--its like having a disagreement with a brick wall. "Do you have any fucking idea how much I've missed you? How it destroyed me to be thrown away like an old shirt you had no more use for?"

He is still as a mountain as he holds your wrists, preventing you from striking him, but not hurting you. Those dark eyes bore into you, through you. How does he not see you? "Y/n...I did what I thought was best for you."

"But you didn't fucking ask me! Or at least, you didn't listen! But you know what, it doesn't matter right now. John had to put some kind of a curse on Tex in self defense, because Tex is such an asshole, and now they're both in danger!"

"A what?"

You pause to think, and you're pretty sure you know where Constantine would go. There's an old church a few blocks over. Consecrated ground. It's where he's always told you to go if something came after you. It would be a good place to regroup.

"Come on," you say, pulling John in the opposite direction down the street.

For once, he actually listens, a shadow at your back ready to protect you, but he lets you lead the way.

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

The old building looks like it should probably be condemned. It's definitely seen better days, and hasn't seen a congregation in at least a decade. However, the ground is still holy, untouchable for the Unclean, and when you burst through the doors after John has already shot down three demons, you are so relieved to see Constantine and Tex sitting in some of the old pews. They definitely look like they've been through a battle, disheveled and beat up. You wonder how much was demons, and how much they did to each other.

"Thank God!" You run to them, and Tex's expression rises and falls as you go to Constantine, pressing your mouth to his in what you know is a needy kiss, assuring yourself as much as him.

He smirks down at you, well aware of the death- stares he's receiving from both sides. It's possible he makes a show of grabbing your ass, just to rub it in to your two Ghosts.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah. You?"

You nod. Then Constantine rolls his eyes upward, over your head to John Wick. He is quietly forbidding in his black suit, standing watch by the door. "That your other Ghost?"

With a tired sigh you nod.

"Ghosts? The fuck is Harry Potter here talkin' about?"

The urge to punch Tex or kiss him is strong as ever.

"The two of you ghosted me, didn't you?"

"Baby girl, I missed you. That's why I came to get you." He shoots a telling glare over at John Wick, who only returns a disinterested look. Maybe the master assassin had been keeping tabs on you, but he hadn't shared everything with Tex, it seems.

Constantine looks between the two assassins, then you, with an infuriating smirk.

"What?" you demand, more than a little exasperated with everthing.

"Nothing. Just seems like you have a type, angel."

You can't even argue.

"Angel?" Tex snorts at your pet name. "Does he even know you?"

"Does he ever shut up?" asks Constantine, raising one dark eyebrow.

"No, never," you sigh.

There is a howl outside that lifts every hair on your body, an unearthly sound that makes your fingers grip in Constantine's suit jacket.

"What are we going to do?"

"Good question." Constantine tugs you over to a different pew, sitting down with his arm draped around your shoulders. His message is obvious, and it's new to you. Constantine rocks your world on the nightly, but he's never been possessive before. It really shouldn't, but it ignites a warmth in your chest that makes you feel ridiculously, stupidly, giddy inside.

"Seems like we're at an impasse, gentlemen."

Tex frowns. John seems less than impressed.

"Sorry, what's stopping us from killing you and taking her?"

You tense, watching the gun John holds loosely at his side. You know Wick can move like lightning, and your heart leaps into your throat. You are ready to fling yourself between them if you have to.

"John..."

"It's ok, sweetheart. He's not going to kill me."

"No offense, but I've heard that before from lots of people who are dead now."

Constantine snorts. "You can't kill me, because I've put a curse on your friend here, and you need me to lift it."

"So lift it."

"Can't. Got a friend who can though. You'll never see him without me."

You know Constantine must be talking about the famed and powerful bokor, Papa Midnite. A chill runs down your spine. You've met him precisely once. He was polite--and hot as fuck, if you're being honest--but you knew he was not to be trifled with.

"So let's go, then," says Tex, his patience lost about three dead demons ago.

"Hold up, Howdy Doody. We got to talk first."

"Bout?"

Constantine nods down at you. "Maybe I don't know all the details, but I've heard enough. And as much as I've enjoyed filling the hole you assholes left--I can't let you hurt her again. I'll let the demons feast on your souls first."

Almost on cue, that demonic howling sounds again outside, and a chorus of hellish hissing rises. It sounds like you are surrounded.

Tex leaps to his feet. "You smug little fucker--"

"Shut up, Tex." It's Wick who shushes his friend. "What do you propose?"

Finally, Constantine looks down at you. "It depends on what she wants."

Your mouth drops open at that. You have to decide that, now? As though he can read your thoughts, and sometimes you're convinced he can, Constantine pays you an infuriating smirk.

"I...don't want them dead. Or...devoured."

"That's a start, I guess. Do you ever want to be with them again?"

Your eyes go wide as saucers. The simple answer, of course, is yes. You love them. You miss them.

However, answers are never so simple, with your Boys involved. Like an idiot, you dare to look at them, taking in Tex's hang-dog puppy-eyed look, and John's quiet but intense yearning. Then, of course, there is the man beside you, who despite his aloofness and his prickly manner, has been nothing but good to you.

You've never said it out loud, but the truth is, you love him too.

"I don't know."

"Yeah. I figured." He smirks at you, inexplicably smug, and you kind of want to smack him too.

Which always leads to interesting things, with John Constantine, your stupid lady parts sing out. Jesus Christ on a cracker, what a fucking mess.

"You got a point, Gandalf?" demands Tex, paying a nervous look to one of the cracked stained glass windows. Ominous dark shapes are flying past outside. This is not good.

"I want you assholes to accept a Spell of Submission to her."

"The fuck does that mean?" demands Tex with a thunderous frown. John remains neutral as he listens.

"It means, if you ever try to make her do something she really doesn't want to do, again, she can say the magic words to fuck up your world. Pardner."

"No fuckin' way," Tex scoffs.

At the same time, John answers, "I'll do it."

Your eyes meet across the aisle of the church. That he would take such a leap of faith-- for you-- drops the floor out from under you.

Tex, of course, interrupts your moment of soul- searching eye contact with John.

"Wait, so we could be havin' an argument and she can drop me dead with the evil eye or somethin'?"

Constantine snorts. "It would probably serve you right, Hee Haw, but no. Cause you extreme pain? Yes. But it comes at a price. All magic does. I know she wouldn't use it lightly."

It would potentially even the playing field quite a bit between you three. The balance of power amongst you had never been fair.

"What's a matter, Tex? You don't trust me?"

"Only as far a I could throw you, darlin'." But his hawk-like look softens for you after a moment, and then surprisingly he grins. "Got me over a barrel now, don't you?"

You shift a little in your seat, so that you're flush against Constantine. The solid line of his lithe warmth beside you is anchoring. You glance up at him, finding he looks arrogantly amused-- and surprisingly, a little sad. If you didn't know him so well you would have missed it, like ripples in a pool.

You turn back to Tex, an uneasy excitement thrumming in your chest.

"If the curse fits?"

The cowboy sighs, frowning at the hellspawn waiting to rend his flesh and eat his soul outside. "Alright, fine. Guess you might as well take it all." He can't look at you while he says it, but you sense his surrender-- or at least, his resignation. It's not exactly a victory, but it's something, and it pulls at your heartstrings.

"Alright, wizard boy. Hoodoo me up."

Constantine snorts, leaping up from the bench. "First we've got to get out of here. You're going to want to cover your eyes." He starts muttering an encantation and walking in a circle, sprinkling a powder on the ground from his pocket. "When this goes off we'll have ten minutes. Either of you assholes have a car nearby?"

"Yeah."

"Great. Hope you like to drive fast."

His chanting gets louder, and you see he's produced a lighter. He never uses it for cigarettes anymore, but portable fire to a magician has its uses. You can tell he's reaching the crescendo of his spell, and you scrunch your eyes closed. Even through your eyelids you see the flash, and the boom of a magical fireball that should have burned you all to dust.

However, only the things outside incinerate, their agonized cries echoing through the cavernous stone building.

"Let's move."

****

As it turns out, John Wick can drive very fast.

You already knew this, of course. Constantine, however, seems to be regretting his life choices as Wick weaves in and out of traffic, trying to find a hand hold as you are whipped around in the cramped back seat of the vintage Chevelle. He clenches his square jaw and glares daggers as Wick makes a quick left juke, the force of it pushing Constantine into the side of the car furthest from you.

You think it's a coincidence, until you meet John Wick's eyes in the rear-view mirror, and you see a glimmer of amusement. On anyone else, it would be all-out gut-busting laughter. You open your mouth to tell him to play nice, but Tex interrupts you—just like old times.

"3 o'clock," barks the cowboy assassin from the shotgun seat. It's fitting, because he quite literally has a sawed-off shotgun in his lap, something from Constantine's cabinet of goodies with arcane symbols scratched into the barrel. Tex and Constantine fought over this seat like it was worth a million dollars, and only the interruption of the literal Hell’s Angels roaring up on you on motorcycles re-focused their attention.

They’ve been trying to run you down for blocks like wolves on a caribou, and with a whip of Wick's wrist on the steering wheel, now you’re being pursued by one less. It over-corrects and crashes into a concrete barrier. Constantine laughs under his breath at the thing’s demise.

However, there are still three more to contend with.

“The club is just ahead,” directs Constantine. “Good luck finding parking.” 

“Hold on.” 

There's nothing to fucking hold on to in the bare bones back seat—except for Constantine, so that's what you do. He holds your hand with a white knuckled grip that betrays his nerves far more than his expression does

John tricks the motorcycle-riding demons by suddenly slowing down, then gunning the engine, running one over with a sudden burst of speed, then smacking the other two like a pinball flipper with a sudden shift and drift turn.

The car is totally fucked, but so are the hellspawn, so it feels like a win. 

When one of them tries to stagger from the wreckage towards you Tex shoots it from out the window. The sound is deafening—and the ball of fire from the barrel of the gun makes you all jump. 

“What the fuck is that, John?” you demand. 

“Dragon's breath,” he answers you with a little smirk. “Nice work, Hee Haw. You should hunt demons instead of people.”

“What's the pay?”

“Absolute shit with possible stock options in Heaven.”

“No thank you then.”

The four of you pile out of the car and hustle towards the doors of Midnite's. 

“This place is supposed to be neutral ground,” says Constantine, “but it's going to be full of demonic half-breeds, so walk fast and stick close.”

Tex turns to you with an incredulous frown. “Baby, I seriously gotta question your taste. Where did you find this wizard boy?”

Constantine looks at you with a smirk, no doubt thinking about your first animalistic tryst in that alleyway by the bar, and how he’d made you cum on his dick with your back chaffed by the hard bricks behind you, your legs wrapped desperately around his slender waist while he pounded inside your needy little cunt.

It had been glorious.

Just the memory of it floods you with a searing heat from your loins to regrettably, your cheeks.

Constantine loves it when he manages to make you blush, and a wicked gleam sparkles in his jetty dark irises.   

“Shall I tell him, dear?”

You can tell that Tex’s head is about to explode.

“Not while he’s holding a fire-breathing shotgun, honey.”

Constantine has never really used lovey pet names with you before. It’s almost the weirdest thing that’s happened today.

As you push through the doors of the club it’s almost like entering another dimension, the red lights and bass thump of hedonistic music beyond, the steps down down down like a descent into a nether realm. The bouncer holds up his tarot card, the entrance exam, that Constantine passes like a breeze. “Rat in a dress.”

Bouncer turns to Wick and Tex with a new card, who look at Constantine with almost comical consternation. “They’re with me.”

“Still gotta pass.”

A beat later Constantine punches the burly bouncer out, shaking the sting off his hand. “Sorry,” he says to the unconscious man on the ground. To the rest of you, “Shit. Move fast.”

He bursts through the doors to the main club, striding with purpose on those beautiful long legs. You always feel too cool for school, when you’re on a magical side-quest with John. His broad shoulders part the crowd around you all, and when you’re with Constantine, everyone is looking at you. Half-breed angels, demons, and who knows what in between. Their eyes glow eerily in the low crimson light of the club.

Neither Wick nor Tex betray any fear or surprise at descending into this eldritch side of the City of Angels, intimidating towers at your back, glowering at anyone who looks your way.

Maybe it’s stupid, but in this moment you feel pretty fucking invincible.  

It’s definitely stupid, because the creatures on Team Lucifer start to take an acute interest in Tex, their eyes glowing. Even you can feel them pressing closer around you. Constantine is standing at the tufted leather wall, what you know is an illusion hiding a door.

A tall, unfairly hot half-breed saunters into Tex’s personal space, reaching up to touch his cheek with a sultry come-hither smile. Succubus, is your guess, though the possibilities are literally endless. For a moment Tex seems utterly entranced, and it’s all you can do not to roll your eyes. “Sorry, he’s taken,” you say, pulling Tex back with your fingers in his tooled belt to sandwich him between you and Constantine.

Are they going to open the door for you or what? Any time now would be excellent…

Suddenly the half-breed seems a foot taller, looming over you with glowing red eyes. With your heart in your throat you hold up your amulet between you, and though she doesn’t exactly flinch and hiss like you’d hoped, you can tell she doesn’t care for it, her fine features twisting in a sneer like she tasted something nasty.

“Fine,” pouts the demoness. “Change your mind, handsome, you know where to find me.” She punctuates the offer with a flash of razor-sharp teeth before she saunters off with extra swing in her hips.

Tex makes a small sound of pain behind you as he watches her go, and you know he can’t help it. Desire is the Succubus’s power, and she was clearly hunting tonight. It doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes though, turning to catch John Wick’s gaze. You can tell he’s keeping watch on the room, but he’s also got his eyes on you; that weighty, yearning look that never fails to tie your heart—and your lady parts—up in knots. A wholly inconvenient throb of lust between your legs makes you shift where you stand; suddenly you are soaked, so aware of the solid warmth of Tex at your back, and John towering before you.

Just like old times.

A part of you wants to reach for him, location be damned, an ingrained urge that would be a terrible idea at this time in this place, because if you touch him you’ll have to kiss him and who knows where that will end.

Jesus, was the succubus’s energy affecting you too? Or is it just…them?

There is a heady weight in the air, like something malevolent is about to descend upon you all. With your heart in your throat you clutch at the talisman around your neck, and though you’re not really sure which deity you’re entreating for salvation, you pray.

At last the door swings open, and Constantine finds your elbow, tugging you none too gently with him inside Papa Midnite’s inner sanctum. Naturally, where you go, the boys follow close behind.

“John Constantine,” says Papa Midnite in his melodic baritone. “Been some time. I see you’ve brought friends.”

  “Wouldn’t go that far,” snarks Constantine with a baleful look at the two assassins at your back. “But I need your help.”

“The Great John Constantine needs my help?” mocks Papa. “Must be sometin’ bad.”

You’re not proud of the panic that rises in your throat at the sound of Midnite’s reluctance to help you. You know that pretty much everyone in the supernatural world has been pissed off at Constantine for some reason or another, but you pray this man can rise above his grudge. If not…Tex is fucked, and maybe it’s stupid after everything he did to you, but just the thought leaves a hollow ringing inside your heart.

You dare to peek around from Constantine’s imposing form. “Please, Papa?” you entreat, your eyes wide. You have met once before, and on that occasion the powerful witch doctor seemed to like you, though he didn’t cease to deride what a girl like you could possibly be doing with the likes of John Constantine. “We really need your help.”

Papa Midnite tilts his fedora-topped head to regard you with curiosity. He is wearing one of his delightfully loud shirts with a fur collared jacket. A gold necklace gleams against the dark skin of his throat. “Who needs my help, little girl? You, or him?” He points at Constantine with the jut of his chin.

“I do,” you both answer at the same time. You realize Constantine doesn’t want you to owe the powerful Bokor a favor—but you’re reading the room, and you’re pretty sure if the magic is for Constantine, Midnite is going to tell you all to pound rocks.

Midnite, understanding all of this, sits back in his throne of a chair with a little chuckle, drumming gold-bedecked fingers on the carved wooden arm.

“What is it you need?”

“A curse lifted,” answers Constantine. “And a spell cast.”

Midnite whistles at hearing that, and only then does his attention turn to the assassin at your back. “I can sense the dark mark from here,” says the witch doctor. “Let me see.”

With a grumble Tex pulls at his collar, pearl snap buttons popping to reveal the blackened circular pentacle, its 8 radii tipped with symbols, embedded beneath his skin. At the sight of it Midnite smirks, his eyebrows lifting high.  

“Set thou a wicked one to be ruler over him, and let Satan stand at his right hand,” cites Midnite. “That a powerful curse t’set on someone, Constantine.”

“It was a heat of the moment thing,” grumbles the demon hunter.

“I can tell. Takes some big feeling, to conjure a curse like dis from thin air.”

That’s when Midnite looks at you, and that stupid blush of heat ambushes you again.

Feelings were not something you and John Constantine talked about. Sure, they were there, but you never really gave voice to them. You demonstrated them, physically, and often. Midnite seems bent on embarrassing both of you.

“Yeah, yeah,” grouses Constantine, only daring to glance in your direction. But in that single moment, the raw look on his face makes you feel like you need to sit down. “So can you lift it or not?”

“Course I can,” says Midnite dismissively. “What you bring me in return?”

“’Fraid I’ll have to owe you.”

“Hmm. I’ve heard that one too many times from the likes of you, Constantine. I’ll need somethin’ up front.”

“Do you like gold?” asks John Wick blandly, producing five glittering yellow coins from his pocket, setting them on the table in front of Papa Midnite in a neat stack one by one. The pretty tink tink tink of metal fills the air, and Midnite nods with his lips pursed, paying Wick an approving look. However, as he examines the death’s head emblazoned token, it is you he speaks to.

“How did a nice girl like you get tangled up wit Underworld boys like dis?”

A shuddering sigh escapes you, as a montage of the absolute fire you walked through to get to this moment flashes in your mind. The murder, the kidnapping, the chaos and corruption. The passion, the pleasure, and the quieter moments that made you think you might be content to stay with your Boys forever—until they forced you to go.

“It’s a long story, Papa,” you answer, barely able to raise your voice over a whisper.

“Some other time, you’ll tell me, then. Step into my office.”     

Midnite leads you to his back room, a cavernous space built in the breathtakingly ornate style of the Moorish palaces of Andalusia. At first you don’t know where to look. The arabesque carved walls, the scalloped arches, the honeycomb vaulted ceilings, or the cacophony of antique relics stacked high on all sides. There are statues and busts and boxes and dolls, this and that and bric-a-brac and every category of precious old junk you can imagine, is here. Your eye is drawn to an old wooden chair against the far wall with leather straps that for some reason gives you chills.

The center of the room is empty, the demarked circle where Midnite performs his workings outlined with bones, half-burnt candles, and rusty lines on the tiles that look like blood.  

“Now then,” says Midnite, taking a sip from a bottle of dark rum before offering it to Tex. “Drink up, man. Dis not gonna feel good.”

***

When all is said and done, the four of you all feel like pieces of chewed up gum. You are utterly wiped, and it’s all you can do not to fall asleep in the back of the car with your head on Constantine’s shoulder. Fingering your new tattoo, a mystical symbol that binds Tex Johnson and John Wick to your will, you think on what Papa Midnite said to you before your departure.

“Hard to live with a heart divided in three pieces, girl. You playin’ a dangerous game.”

“It’s not a game to me, Midnite. It’s just…my life, somehow.”

“Dat fair. So you know, I told that silly boy of yours to put a ring on your finger ‘fore he lost the chance. Never seen him like dis, wit any other.”

You’d paid him a grim smile, amused at the thought of Constantine asking you to be his wife. What a laughable prospect. Sweet, but there was no way he felt that about you. “Are you telling me not to break your friend’s heart, Midnite?”

He’d snorted and taken a drink of rum. “I know better than that. But you might tink about what he’ll turn into, if tings go badly.”

Truth be told, you didn’t want to think on that, because it terrified you. All you wanted right now, was to curl up in the bed you shared with John Constantine, and sleep for about seven years.

Midnight had given you a herbal potion that had to be administered to Tex every six hours for a week, and a magical salve to apply to the burn upon his chest where the symbol had, at one point, burst into white-hot flame. You’d feared he’d been at death’s door, until he took your hand with a smirk and mumbled half to you, half to himself, “The things I do for my little rattlesnake.” It had squeezed your heart with a fist, utterly wrecked you, and you knew you couldn’t kick him to the curb just yet.

You were headed back to Constantine’s house, (which you had helped him get together the down payment for, with no strings attached, so…) and the four of you would have to figure out how to co-exist, at least until Tex was back on his feet.

Then…who the fuck knew what was going to happen.

You’d think about that, tomorrow.

Tammykelly:

- a flashback -

Sleep long forfeited to yet another night full of vigorous dance that is the celebration of passion and ever growing connection and affection between two souls who’d found one another amidst chaos that unfailingly enters one’s life book when it flips through the pages onto the next chapter. Gradually, chaos learns the code of order, tamed by the new rules and beginnings, sought after by you and Constantine in an unhasty pace.

You feel the blossom of his soft lips on yours for a while, before you pull away to take a long look at him, running your fingers along his sweaty forehead and through his slightly damp hair. He feels his chest tighten at the way your gaze moves across his tilted up face and lingers on his eyes, entering beyond the physical and reaching for subliminal.

“Hi”, - Constantine croaks, his arms draped around your waist, steadying you, as your heated bodies stay impossibly close.

“Hey, baby”, - you breathe out, your touch leaves traces on his skin in feather-like movements, making his heart flutter.

“You call me that like it means something”, - he wonders out loud.

It must be true, that the eyes are the windows to the soul, for when he says that, you feel the heat of your body grow stronger when his irises light up with an inexplicably warm spark that transforms into the taste of him on your ever waiting lips, while your hips drag out the sensually slow pace. You try to find the perfect rhythm again, having felt yourself folding under the intensity with which your heart blooms and expands every time his dark eyes capture yours.

“I…uh…I’m….”, - you blurt out, the right words stuck at the edge of the said sacred dilation.

Maybe it is love. Love that sprouts across the silver lining that is the tenuous punchline between sanity and deliberate madness of passion. Constantine’s body reacts to yours before his mind has to think about it, as he gently tugs you closer. He doesn’t let you finish, his lips connecting to yours, catching your love on his tongue in a long deliciously flavorful kiss.

He touches your bullet scar, his jawline playing, his eyes darkening.

“They’re gonna pay for what they did to you”, - he quietly tells you again, voice filled with determination that invites more ephemeral warmth into your chest.

“They already did”, - you reply, reminiscence of their absence dissipating into the background of your subconscious when your tongue slides along Constantine’s jaw, tasting tiny droplets of sweat.

“They gotta pick someone their size, yeah?”

His reply makes you smile: “Please, we’ve talked about this, baby”, you feel goosebumps arise at the back of his neck at the nickname, no matter how nonchalant he wants to appear each time you call him a random pet name.

“You care about them? Even after everything they’ve done to you?” - his raspy voice is low but the tone sets a prelude to a gradually boiling point.

“They’re the best I’ve ever had”, he leans back and quirks his eyebrow at your tease, “after you, of course”, you add, smirking.

He lets out a sigh of frustration: “Jesus, it’s like talking to a fucking brick wall”, you feel his fingers dig deeper into your soft skin. You lean closer, your breath over his mouth.

“Calling God’s name when you’re balls deep in me?” your voice akin to a purr, “what a profanity”, a smirk curls up.

“Mhhmm, funny thing is He made this happen”, Constantine’s tone matches your game.

“And is Jesus present in the room with us?” your head tilts.

“Oh, you think it’s funny?” he bucks his hips up.

“You literally just said it is”, an involuntary moan escapes your mouth, lost in the grunt of the man underneath you, when you match his cheat code with a harsh movement of your own.

“It’s an expression”.

“Okay and?”

“Watch your mouth”, - Constantine’s eyes transform into a pair of two burning coals, sending shivers across your whole body, accompanied by the way his fingertips trace down your spine.

You can barely make a sound due to his manipulations: “Can’t read minds, baby”, making it his turn to shudder.

“What, don’t have any better ideas?” he recuperates, the warmth of his arms leave you, as he places his hands behind him on the bed to support his weight. You don’t wait to connect your mouth to his, your teeth sinking into his lower lip before you lightly tug at it and let go. A cocky grin instantaneously leaves his handsome face when he feels your tongue crash into his mouth, which he reciprocates with twice as much force and eagerness, his arms lock back around your waist, and he notices a triumphant smile display itself on your features.

“An angel risen from ashes picked up by the devil reborn”, you answer his question, teasing the idea of which one’s which when you first met. Him - a cancer free phoenix-like angel of death, or you - a devilishly sweet temptress, who, unbeknownst to herself, exchanged two deadly ghosts for the black cat of a man, stuck in between both realms.

You continue: “He always had a rotten sense of humour. And His punch lines are killers”, Constantine’s gaze darkens at the mention of your ghosts.

“Ha-ha, very funny”, his tone less than amused.

“Oh, you find this funny now?” you bite his neck, which makes a deep husky groan erupt from his throat.

“Don’t tell me you believe this fate bullshit”, you say, as you fight the urge to speed up your pace to chase the way his sultry sounds bounce around your insides.

His low growl nearly shatters your self control when he tells you: “Fate or not, you’re mine now. Mine”, you feel his teeth sink into your skin, “you hear me?”, his gaze when he looks up akin to the explosion of a sleeping volcano underneath an already blazing ocean, edging you onto the border of a slippery slope that is the point of no return once you process the 3 magic words that are glued to your tongue.

Instead two short words roll off, as a soft moan:“Yes, baby”.

“Gonna give you everything you want”, you feel his hands roam all over your body, “all of me”.

You lean back.

“All of you?”- your expression flickers with darkness, showing him your devilish desire, as his silent gaze shaves off the outer layers down to your core.

“You son of a bitch”, you breathe out, smiling, after a brief pause, for your racing heartbeat shifts to a contracting and pulsating firework, overtaking all of your senses. You study his handsome face, drinking in all the details you’ve grown so attached to, florescence of affection tugging your lips upwards in a gentle smile.

Constantine’s eyes set the fire in the pit of your belly ablaze on the scale that you’re sure will be the death of you some day, for being with him is like Heaven on Earth and being apart now seems like a cruel tool of a ghostly destruction.

His playful grin pulls you back in: “Calling me a son of a bitch when I got you on my dick? You’re brave, kitten”.

“That’s exactly why I can call you that. You’re my son of a bitch”, you grab his hair and give it a nice pull before you lean down to lick up his neck, placing a gentle kiss right under his ear, feeling him twitch inside you, “and Devil’s right hand, yeah?”

“More like his puppet”, Constantine grunts, as you look down at him, sensing him barely able to maintain the slow[ish] pace you’ve set, holding onto the last threads of self-restraint.

“So, no rewards for that, I suppose?”, you tease further, testing the limits of the mind games he’s been playing with you all day long.

“Afraid not, angel”.

“Let me be the one to send you to Heaven then”, you whisper right against his ear and kiss his temple.

All the blurry lines of will power come tumbling down, when the sound of him sucking air through his teeth enters your inner space, as Constantine’s hand finds its place between your jawline and neck.

Gradually, you encourage his index and middle fingers between your lips, his irises unable to focus anywhere else but the way you take them in, his whole body akin to a molten liquid metal, his fingers melting on your tongue. You giddily lick them, your tongue swirling around them, playing with his digits like lollipop toys, until you let go and take care of the saliva under Constantine’s furnace of a carnally hungry gaze.

You feel your hips stuttering against the increasing pace, when you hear his raspy voice: “Fuck, kitten, you feel like Heaven”, the energy between your bodies and feverish kisses multiplying in increasingly all consuming vehement abundance that can crack the earth open.

“Touché”.

A half smile coats his lips at your cute quip.

“Watch”, you tell him, his eyes shifting to the mirror somewhere behind you.

The heat of his hips rolling against yours at the speed that finds you both panting and sweaty messes is more than enough for him to tip over the edge but as his eyes take in the scene of your power over him, his body proceeds to come apart under you when your fingers wrap around his throat and apply pressure, slightly tipping his face up.

“Open”, you say, your thumb glazing over his soft lips, and he raises an eyebrow, “don’t you wanna cum, baby?”, you sweetly inquire.

“Fuck”, his voice is barely audible, Constantine’s eyes glimmer under your watchful lust, the darkness in the depth of the bottomless abyss that is him transcending what has become of his power over you. His eyelids flutter slightly, as your spit falls on his tongue.

“Swallow”, you reward him with a particularly harsh snap of your hips, seeing his Adam’s apple bobble.

“You’re gonna pay for that”, he growls.

“You’re a drama queen, you know that?”, you point out, leaving a love-bite mark on his collarbone, knowing damn well at the way he’s twitching inside you, he won’t be lasting long. You smirk, as you slow down the pace to a damn near full stop, eliciting a low and deep whine from him.

What the fuck, his eyes show you, roaming over your face hungrily.

“Tell me how much you want me”, you purr, feeling his fingers next to your scalp, tugging you closer.

“Fuck, angel, wanna feel you so bad”, an angelically evil smile plays on your face at his response, “need you on biblical level”, he finishes, the butterflies inside you catching aflame, their fiery wings spreading across every fibre of your being.

Constantine feels like he might go insane without you, your whole existence being the lone salvation he’s been seeking his entire life. He twitches again.

“Say that again”, your sultry tone pervades his mind, the pace picking up just a tiny bit.

“Need you to move, right now”, he begs.

You look at him expectantly.

“I can’t control myself any longer. Please, fuck me”, he looks up into your eyes that have turned into blazingly bright gates to the oblivion that is his path to purgatory. His gaze diverts back to the mirror and your goddess-like form against his.

“God, you’re sexy when you beg”, you whisper, Constantine can practically hear the cocky smirk in your voice, as a loud moan erupts from his throat, while he watches himself get ruined by everything that is you.

“I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel”, you exhale, listening to the way your name exits his lips akin to a gust of wind, blowing across an infinite ocean.

“Cheeky little girl”, he barely replies between the chain-smoke of moans.

“Fuck you”, you breathe out.

“Say no more”, he chuckles, his lips and teeth leaving bruises all over your sensitive chest, his hips meeting yours at an increasingly high speed.

“Fuck me harder”, he growls, his lips soliciting moans from yours.

“What a good girl”, he purrs and smiles against your neck, feeling your speed folding, as you attempt to gain the upper hand.

“My beautiful angel”, Constantine praises, kissing down the valley of your breasts, enjoying every single breathless moan that you leave for him to treasure, “you’re doing so well”, he continues, “I love it when you fuck me like this”, his lips graze yours before another storm of a kiss unfolds itself.

“Oh, yeah?”

“So good, I need you to fuck me like this every day”, his teeth tug your lower lip and let go, his open-mouth kiss then imprinting a picture of his love for you on your tongue.

“Need this pussy for breakfast, lunch and fucking dinner”, - a husky growl of his makes your insides deliciously twist.

“Say less”, you giggle after the kiss breaks apart, only for a yet another wave of kissing, biting, hair pulling and power play, resembling a balanced match, surpass the two of you.

You feel as if the sun that is the man, obeying your all desires, is scorching you with a strong nurturing vitality, meeting you halfway anytime you slip.

The sun, sometimes deadly, shining its light on you and sharing the experience of birth of the stars with you, until all you and Constantine know is that you can’t tell where one begins and the other ends.

“Cum for me, baby”, you whisper, your eyes hazily gazing into his.

“Fuck”, he moans into your mouth, as you and him become one in an endless explosion of lustful starlight.

You both take a moment to steady your breathing, the pulses of your bodies streaming along the lines of your silhouettes akin to the red string of fate. Suddenly, you feel yourself getting lifted and plopped on the bed, the heavy weight hovers above you.

“My turn”, Constantine growls, worshipping you and your body in a form of myriad of kisses, adoring your skin.

“I’m not finished with you”, you chuckle, pulling his face to yours.

“Wanna ride your pretty face so badly”, you breathe out shakily, watching his pupils dilate, turning his dark chocolate eyes into jet-black colour of the night outside your windows.

He kisses you deeply before teasing: “Should’ve said sooner, princess”, and flips you.

Before you know it, his lips are connected to your nether ones, placing sweet kisses on God’s bewitching and intricate creation.

“Oh, fuck!”, a scream leaves your mouth, as you lose control over your limbs when Constantine demonstrates his vicious payback for all of your previous manipulations, the delirious temptation to play him exiting your body like it was never there.

The way his tongue devours you till the last drop like a man starved, you assume you’re not the only one losing yourself to this trick of devilish pleasure, pulling you deeper into the whirlpool that keeps expanding wave by wave until it comes thundering through your body like a tsunami, then crashing onto a shore over and over, the sound of your screams mixing with the magnitude of Constantine’s sonic savouring of your most precious parts till his immeasurable hunger for all divinity that is you is satiated beyond your limits.

Songs for the delulu meal:

The best I ever had by Limi

Obsessed by Zandros ft. Limi

Dangerous woman Call out my name mix

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

You don’t know if it’s some kind of magic, or if you’re just this petty. But, damn, that succubus did piss you off. Even worse than her, with her silky black hair and sweet milk skin and inviting, rosy eyes and cheeks.. You catch yourself mid thought, determined to pluck her from your brain. 

Yes, even worse than that half breed bitch - Jesus, who are you? - was watching Tex suffer and bleed. Blue lips forming around a silent scream; a beg for the ritual to stop. Tan, supple skin turned ashen gray and tented. Dark eyes blown milky and wild with terror.

There’s another memory you have to get rid of somehow: Tex dying a slow, grueling death in some hellish, accelerated time loop. In front of you. Powerless you. 

You have his take home medications clutched tightly to your torso as the Johns lug him inside, one under each arm, his feet stumbling and dragging so much that Wick decides to just pick him up. 

Why in the world did that make you so delighted? To see John Wick carrying Tex Johnson bridal style across Constantine’s threshold?

Your smile wipes clean, though, when you realize that Tex has not made a witty quip or even grinned at this show of brotherhood. John deposits him on the couch, and you sit on the floor beside, holding his hand. Your stomach lodges into your chest when you feel how cold he is. Your human heater turned ice box. 

“Tex,” you say softly, brushing the untamed thicket of hair from his eyes. 

He keeps his eyes closed, but that fond little tick of his mouth lets you know he hears you loud and clear. 

You swallow your pride. “I missed you, too.” 

You hope to God he’ll harass you for saying that, later. 

For now, a grunt will suffice. 

This man has put you through hell, but fuck, if he hasn’t been heaven all the way through it. You had really thought he was dying back there, and it…. put things into perspective.

Wick is in the kitchen dwarfing the tiny dining table with Constantine. Not talking, not even looking at one another. Some kind of tension exists between them, but at least it’s not the awkward or homicidal kind… well, at least as far as you can tell. 

You grab some cold bourbon from the fridge, pour 3 glasses, and dish them out. Then, you hop up on the counter and join this sinewy silence game. 

Wick breaks the skin, twin eyes meeting Constantine’s. “Thank you,” he says.

Constantine grins tightly. “Consider it repayment.”

“For?” 

Oh, here we fucking go.

Constantine, the bastard prodigy of Lucifer himself - or, he might as well be - doesn’t answer, instead nudging his chin and shoulder toward you, as if you’re some prize Wick handed to him on a silver platter. 

Now, you don’t really know what to expect from John. Fiercely protective, aloof John. But it’s definitely not a grin. A fucking grin. Yeah, he really has gone totally batshit. Terrifying.

Constantine looks stumped, and so do you. 

“I’m gonna get going,” Wick says, standing and draping his jacket around his arms. You get a strong wiff of delicious leather and diesel and gunpowder.

“You’re leaving?” This comes out of your mouth before you can stop it.

“Yeah.”

“What about Tex?” 

“I’ll be near.”

No use fronting now.

“What if something happens? What if we need you -“

Constantine cuts off your increasingly frantic voice. “I think you should stay.”

It’s Wick’s turn to look stumped. He raises a dark eyebrow. Constantine rewords.

“Please. Stay. We may need you.” Constantine looks over at you, giving that you owe me leer. 

Your nerves settle when Wick puts his jacket back on the rack and slips his shoes off, looking at you all the while. 

John Wick sleeps in the little broom closet turned guest room, and you and Constantine retire to your bedroom. This place is purely a you sanctuary, with incense burners and tapestries and little trinkets you’ve collected from your travels. It’s a souvenir from your limited therapy sessions, and a much needed safe space. 

Before you can shut the bedroom door, you hear John’s monotone voice turn doting. It reminds you of being soothed through an orgasm, him cradling you when you cried - the hum that disarms and breaks you. 

You go to him, peaking inside the narrow door that he had to duck to get through. Killy is rubbing against Wick’s torso, purring, headbutting, her tiny fluffy body practically vibrating from the attention of his big hand. 

He smiles at you. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, meet Baby Killy. She’s so shy usually.”

“Pretty kitty,” John coos, scratching behind her ears as she chirps for him.

Great, you’re jealous of a cat. Which is stupid because you have a whole other man in the next room that can’t keep his hands off you. You’re selfish, you realize. 

“Sorry it’s not comfortable,” you tell Wick, looking at his calves hanging off the tiny mattress. “I can buy an air mattress.” 

He twirls Killy’s tail softly around his finger. “It’s fine, y/n. Get some rest.”

“Yeah. Night John.” You leave him, pretending it’s not reluctantly. 

Constantine is already in his boxers, cigarette nipped between his teeth. You pluck it from him and take a long drag. “Thought we were supposed to be quitting?” Blowing smoke over his lips. 

He tugs you down into the bed with him. “I’ve had a long day.”

“Aw, poor thing.” You kiss his jaw, shimmying the white stick back into his mouth. 

Your lips trail feather light down his quivering throat, nose pausing, nuzzling against his quickening pulse. A shy, involuntary smile slides into his collarbone divot. Your magic man shivers under you, makes you feel like you can kick God’s ass if it really comes down to it. 

He gently fists your hair in his fingers while you suck the hard day off his skin, hand trailing south on his tight twitching tummy, lazily perusing in search of a swelling, sensitive, beautiful cock trapped in cloth.

He smushes the half cigarette out in your little pearlescent ashtray, tips your face up, kisses you soft. Kisses you like you like you’re some being of fleeting, fragile light and hope. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You grin against his mouth, using that familiar formal, ironic greeting that he favors when you’re both wading knee deep into eachother’s personal space already.

You pull away to look down at his tenting boxers, but your eyes snag something on the way. A big, fresh bruise to his opposite collar - wide and diffuse as if from a large hand. It’s normal for Constantine to have bruises, and he did fight demons today. But this mark? Fresh. Just blooming. Plus, the only one on his long, expansive body. 

Your mind thinks back to the kitchen, how they were both so quiet. Looking far too innocent. You feel stupid for not expecting this. 

“Did John hit you?” You’ve gotten really good at talking before thinking. Just one of many Constantine mannerisms you’ve picked up along the journey of knowing him. 

“We talked.” 

You go to get up. No plan in mind except hurting Wick. Really hurting him. Either with words or a quicker fist than he can catch. Probably the latter,  since John excels at catching fists, but you still think you can slice him just as much with a few well placed sentences. Of course, you could also try out this nifty new spell of submission..

Constantine holds you in place. “I started it.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” You see him wince at the sinister growl in your voice, and your spiked fur smooths a little bit if only for his benefit. “He’s a fucking asshole. He thinks he can just bully people into submission. Let���s see how he likes it.” You’re talking loud enough that you hope Wick can hear it. You know he’s not scared… because it’s John Wick, but, you at least hope he knows you’re coming for his throat. 

“Angel.” Constantine’s long, careful fingers cup your face. “It’s alright. Not tonight. Let you kick his ass tomorrow, okay? Right now, I need you with me. Hey, look at me…. There you are. You hearing me?” 

You lean into his touch and kiss his wrist. “Yeah, okay.” 

“C’mon.” He pats his chest and you lay your head on it. “Now, where were we..” 

You give a little chuckle. “In the pit of despair?” 

He gathers your hair and pulls it off your shoulder, tickles his fingers over your neck. “I think…” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” It thrills and scares you a little bit that this man can make such a breathy, desperate mess of you from just a tiny touch. 

“Think you should put on some pajamas and let me read to you.” 

Suddenly, your anger runs dry, replaced by excitement. He laughs at your hopeful, mystified expression. 

“You’re gonna read to me?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Better hurry before I change my mind.” 

You love it when Constantine reads to you, always mesmerized by that smooth, baritone voice, and it’s not often that he’s up for it. 

You don’t bother going into the bathroom to get dressed, which you can tell he appreciates. You can also tell that he loves the fact that you bypass your own clothes entirely and instead throw on one of his big flannels. 

You cuddle beside him, wrap your arms around his waist and tuck in for your after dark entertainment. 

“Hey, hey, Angel.” It takes you a minute to open your eyes. Constantine assists this process with a pleasant rub between your shoulder blades and a hushed voice. 

“Huh?” Your voice is groggy, far away, brain still swimming in twilight. 

Constantine gives you a patient stretch of time to wake and groan and wipe the spare drool from your chin. The blue dawn outside tells you that it’s early - way too early. You don’t remember falling asleep, and it must have been a glorious one judging by your wicked bed head and sore voice. 

“What? What’s going on?” 

“Clint Eastwood won’t let James Bond give him his medicine. He says he wants you to do it.” 

“Are you serious?” You ask. 

Constantine opens his mouth, then shuts it again. He sighs. “Yeah.” 

“What the fuck,” you mumble. 

Tex, eyes open, sitting up, cat on his lap, looks at you like you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread. Big, appreciative grin. You can’t be annoyed for too long when you see that he has color back in his face.

“Hello, nurse.”

Damn his infectious grin. “What? John’s not a good enough nurse for you?” 

“He’s alright. Not very cute, though.” He sizes you up as you roll your eyes and snort. 

He gives you a little wink. “See you still hate wearin your own clothes.” 

You look down at yourself - at the big cozy button flannel that falls mid thigh with nothing else on under or over it. You really didn’t even think about how exposed you were when you got up and came out here. But, now, you’re flushing and shifting on your feet.

“Oh, don’t get shy on me now, rattlesnake. I’ve had all of it in my mouth anyway, yeah?” 

Sinful reels flit through your memories. And, fuck you, but even that makes you so wet you can feel it in the crease of your thighs already. 

The reality hits you that this could be a thing, somehow: Johnson and the Johns with you pressed between. You short circuit thinking about it for a solid twenty seconds.

Tex chuckles, pets Killy. “Your momma’s too easy,” he tells her, and the traitor purrs and merrs and pushes into his doting palm as if in agreement. 

Great, two treasonous pussy’s in this house. 

Plus, you’re about ninety nine percent sure Constantine will do more than curse them if he sees their hands on you in any carnal way. Even though this thing between the two of you is unestablished and unlabeled, your magic man is more than a little possessive. 

You remember, fondly, the time he pissed you off, so you went on a date with a nice young gentleman who also happened to be a cop - Johnny, you think his name was. Jesus fuck, you really do have issues - and Constantine blew every fuse in that restaurant with a spell. In the pitch black, no one saw him come pick you right up and carry you out. That night started with “fuck you, Constantine” and ended with “no no agh fuck please m’ sorryjohnsosorry.” 

Wick’s nowhere to be found, which you don’t really mind. If you see him again, you might just try kicking him in the dick. You mix Tex’s medicines in the kitchen, heating up the thick herbal soup in a little pot. It smells bad, kinda like fish, draws Killy’s attention really quick.

She brushes against your legs and reminds you that she’s hungry and that oh, that smells good, mom. 

You scoop her out a cup of kitty kibble while the stove simmers, then give her a few pets. It’s not often that she’s so doting on you - she prefers Constantine and solidarity over your company. But, she must know something’s up - either that or it’s the fishy concoction steaming up your little kitchen. 

Tex winces when you rub the salve into his burn. It looks awful - dry and necrotic, little charred skin flakes sticking to your fingertips. 

You scrub them off on a towel, grimacing. “Does this hurt?” 

“Numb,” he shrugs. Reaches out to tuck hair behind your ear. Your body reacts violently and insistently. Constantine’s touch, pleasant and warm and diffuse; that’s what you’re used to. You forgot about Tex’s sharp edges, the scary thrill of him. Like the first drop of the roller coaster. 

“Tex,” you warn.

“Sorry, darlin. Just so fuckin pretty. Forgot how beautiful you are, is all. How good ya smell. Christ, even with Houdini’s scent all over you.” He pinches your chin in his fingers and makes you look at him, at the sincerity in his blown black pupils and hooded, lustful gaze. “He eatin your pussy right, huh? Need me to show him how to do it?” 

“You know,” you say, hating yourself for the thick in your voice, “I have this nifty new spell I can use…” 

He chuckles. “Settle down, honeypie, I’m just trying to be nice, is all.” 

“Nice.” You glare at him and he lets you go. 

The fishy stuff in the mug wipes the grin right off Tex’s face. He chokes and sputters. “Good God, what in hell’s name is this Guacala shit.” 

You smile at him and take the empty cup. “Every six hours, cowboy.” 

On your way back into the bedroom, he watches you unabashedly. Killy is back on his lap. “You got a shower here, rattlesnake?” 

“Bathroom’s down the hall,” you tell him. 

“Think I need some help.”

“Uh huh. You can manage.” 

“Alright, you got me. I don’t really need help I just wanna fuck the shit outta ya.” 

“Sorry, Tex, but that’s-“ you look pointedly at the purring feline in his lap -“the only pussy you’ll be getting in this house.”

You shut your door before you can catch his mumble: “we’ll just see about that.” 

Constantine is in his study. You debate going and fucking him on the desk chair, working off this sticky arousal coating your cunt and inner thighs. But, also, you’re still sleepy, and laying down in the bed already has your eyelids fluttering closed and brain going mushy. You struggle between options until your body eventually decides for you. 

You wake up to the delicious evocation of salt and fat and heat. John Wick is back. He’s in the kitchen cooking one of those five star breakfasts that are worth letting him live. For now. 

Bread pops up from the toaster, startling you. “Hey, that’s been broken.” 

“Fixed it,” he says, dexterously flipping his pan. “Got the faucet to work in the bathroom sink. Your drain’s here are built wrong. I’m gonna take a look after I finish breakfast. There’s fresh orange juice and chocolate milk in the fridge. Coffee on the warmer.” 

“That’s not my coffee pot.” You eye the expensive looking, silver, sleek appliance with steaming black, delicious smelling brew under.

“I got a new one.”

Are you really surprised at this point? You grab some orange juice from the fridge, and find the once bare shelves stocked and organized with fresh fruits and veggies, eggs and jams, healthy pre-made snack boxes. 

The cupboards have also magically filled themselves with canned fruits and veggies, organic breads, high end trail mixes, protein bars. 

The place is spotlessly clean. New microwave, an ice maker beside the stove. Real glasses and plates stacked in the cupboards.

Wick has been busy, it seems. 

Constantine walks into the kitchen, paying attention to the newspaper in his hand instead of his surroundings until he sees you. “Hey, Angel-“ looks up, takes in the practically brand new kitchen. “What in the fuck.” 

[w4nn4-be-skinnie]

I'm currently 47 days clean of sh. The urge to do it again is so strong right now. Except I actually have a boyfriend now and he would notice and get upset with me. God, fuck my life.

[neetily]

─── PERVERT ALEX (SDV)

— ✧ warnings: pervert alex, Size Difference, anal (implied), Somnophilia, dubcon, thigh fucking, Exhibitionism — ✧ word count: 1,498

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

pervert Alex who swears he isn't attracted to you, lying to himself and his hard cock every time you stop him to say hello on his morning jogs, putting his tight shorts down to the adrenaline from working out instead of the actual reason which is quite clearly your sleepy stretches showing some skin and adorable bed head hair that he can almost convince himself is similar enough to post sex mess. you don't turn him on beyond belief upon every chance meeting and he certainly doesn't want to take you right where you stand. finding great difficulty in accepting his disgusting behaviours when he has to rush back home to jerk off after seeing you tend to your farm, bent over and basically asking for his cock. you're doing this to him on purpose, aren't you? it's your fault that he has to take regular breaks during work out sessions just to palm himself to the thought of you. it's your fault that he finds himself unable to focus on anything other than bulking up to show off to you. it's your fault that his running route now includes your farm just on the off chance he gets to see his pretty little farmer in the morning. anything and anyone but himself. because to blame himself and his teenage like tendency to pop a boner just from your pretty face means he's not in control. and more than anything he wants to have control over you <3 running twice as fast home not only so he can fuck his fist faster, but to train extra so he can show off his big muscles to you later on <3

pervert Alex who takes to lightly bullying you in an attempt to deal with his very obvious crush. poking and prodding at your squishy areas in a teasing manner, playing it off as banter but really it's just so he has any excuse to be touching you. and you're so soft compared to him that it drives him insane, wanting nothing more than to have his hands over every part of your body, squeezing and tugging you into position. swallowing harshly when you giggle up at him in response, cowering in fear of his tickling. and what a mistake that is, because now all he does is pester you when he sees you. lifting you and twirling you with ease as a greeting, making sure to press your tiny body against his toned chest to show off how strong he is, unable to hide his growing erection when you wrap your arms around his neck in return. you're so tiny. so small compared to him. and he wonders how much of him you'd be able to take before breaking. cupping his large hands under your ass to keep you held up, fighting the urge to pull your cheeks apart and feel your hole twitch around his finger. god all he can think about is how tight your cunt must be and how badly he needs to make sure, encouraging you to wiggle around and jump up to his height just so he can feel you rub against him. jokingly calling you names like babe, baby and princess just so he can watch your cheeks heat up in response. you're so cute he simply has to have you all for himself <3

pervert Alex who starts dreaming only of you. well, maybe fantasising would be a better word, but every morning he wakes up either with a hard on or messy sheets. sometimes both. and he needs to take care of himself before he can start his day. how annoying. dreams that involve you on your knees for him, in the same position he's seen you in when weeding your farm. knees caked in dirt, sucking him off and swallowing his cum before getting back to work. a little treat for his favourite girl <3 dreaming about watching your ass bounce back against his cock, spreading your cheeks just so he can watch your cunt swallow him whole again and again, his hand automatically fisting his cock lazily when he remembers he'll be seeing you this morning again. he wants to — no, needs to — show you who you belong to even if only to make you stop prancing around like you don't know. you're his. have been since the day he saw you, he just has to remind you of that. preferably by fucking it into your pretty little head <3 determined to make his dreams a reality with how persistent they've become, bleeding into his every day thoughts too. could spend hours just daydreaming about you in every position under the sun, imagining what you'd sound like with a mouth full of cock.

pervert Alex who gets a little bolder in showing his want for you, replacing the friendly bullying with something a little more serious. a little more intimate. growing more confident by the day when you don't decline his advances, his lingering touches and "accidental" brushes of his hand against your tits. and he's so greedy with it too, pulling you into his lap whenever he's at the saloon, prompting you to work his cock in front of everyone just so they know who you belong to as well. and if you don't move on his request then he'll just do it for you, manhandling you so that your ass circles his tip and leaves him gasping appreciation against your neck, both hands desperately gripping to your hips when you pretend to not know what it is he's doing. pretty dumb baby- he'd whisper into your ear, high off the power trip that you give him by allowing him to do whatever he wants to you whenever he wants. confirms to him that you're his girl. you want everyone else to know that just as much as he does, right? you must do with the way you innocently bounce on his cock every now and then in then in time with the music in the saloon, simulating riding him and forcing alex sit back to watch. he has to excuse himself for a few minutes to calm down else he's liable to undress you where you sit and force you down on his precum coated cock. he wants you and he's unashamed to show it. drags you to the side when others aren't looking, around the corner, the alleyway, hell — even sometimes in public — to hump away at any part of you he can reach. attempting to satiate the growing need he has for you.

pervert Alex who invites you to the beach with the sole purpose of seeing you half naked. can't afford to feel bad about his reasoning when you look so excited to join him, having him hard the moment you accept his invitation, peeking in from outside your bedroom window as you hurry to change into your bikini. almost cums on the spot when you take your clothes off, feeling yourself up as if you knew he was watching. and it's hard to hide his hard on the whole way down, though thankfully you agree to walk in front of him. your ass shaking against his cock with every step that riles him up even further but at least he's hidden. and when you finally settle on your towel at the beach he has the privilege of lathering sun block all over your body, taking his time and telling you that he's jus' tryna get ya all covered up. when really he's just selfishly rubbing circles on your tits and ass. you nod along with him, even thanking him for his hard work and his heart hurts with wanting. fully enjoys taking advantage of your innocence, or kindness. whatever it is he wants more. happy to see the beach is empty at the time of morning he asks you to accompany him, expertly planned in advance to seclude you all for himself. and he's so thankful this his planning has paid off, staring at you as you nod off to sleep, slowly teasing his cock in secret, palm stroking lightly at his leaky tip. perfect time for him to jack off as you nap in the sun, he thinks. too impatient to check if you're actually asleep or not before climbing up and hovering over you to masturbate. hastily dragging his wet shorts down to fist his cock a little and leak all over your thighs, brushing his tip against the growing wet spot before shoving himself between your soft thighs. can't help himself now, your legs wrapping his cock so well that he almost falls on top of you in surprise. moaning right next to your ear, too fucked to care. he knows there's no way you wont wake up as he's fucking your thighs, huffing against your face and neck when he's unable to keep himself steady enough. just hopes he's been reading your signals right as your lashes flutter open.

[lestappenforever]

Me as the devil on your shoulder: ~give in to the lestappen drabble urges. You know you want toooo~ 😈

- zoomimal

The power of the shoulder devil anon is strong.

A Lestappen drabble inspired by this picture coming right up!

---

Max sits on the couch on the terrace of the Red Bull motorhome, a santa hat on his head instead of the Red Bull cap he usually wears. The Abu Dhabi heat is as stifling as always, and trying to force the hat on top of his cap had proven to be out of the question the second Max had tried it. But, the producer had looked at him with puppy eyes, and his press officer had given him a sharp nod that had only meant one thing:

That he was to replace his beloved Red Bull cap with the warm, fuzzy, itchy santa hat, or there would be hell to pay.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

And Max Verstappen had faced the wrath of Vicky one too many times already. He didn't particularly feel like pushing his luck again.

So, he did as he was asked (read: told), and took the cap off, placing the santa hat in its place atop his head. And he did so with a smile on his face.

"Now, Max, I've just been told that your Secret Santa will be delivering your gift in person," the producer tells him, and there are cute little frown lines on her forehead as she speaks.

Max gives her a surprised look. "Oh? Doesn't that defeat the purpose of the Secret Santa thing?" he asks.

The woman gives him a sharp nod, brushing one perfectly curled strand of dark hair behind her ear.

"It does, but your Secret Santa was adamant on delivering the gift in person, and trying to talk him out of it has been impossible," she admits.

Now that grabs Max's attention, and he sits forward slightly in his seat, sharing a quick look with Vicky, who merely shrugs in response to his silent question.

"Well, now I'm really excited to see what it is."

The producer huffs a laugh. "So I take you're ready?"

"Definitely," Max says without missing a beat.

The producer looks at her cameraman, who nods in what appears to be confirmation that he's ready, too.

"Alright, bring him in!" she calls to someone over her shoulder, and Max looks at the open balcony doors expectantly.

From inside the motorhome, Max hears a door open followed by a muttered, slightly heated conversation and footsteps rapidly approaching the balcony. As whoever it is gets closer to the balcony, Max is pretty sure it sounds like somebody is being dragged through the room, which has the Dutchman inclining his head quizically. Then, moments later, Carlos pops through the balcony doors.

"Carlos, what the hell are you —," a distinctively familiar voice sounds from behind Carlos.

"Cállate," Carlos mutters, and Max's heart barely has time to pick up speed before the Spaniard physically drags a very confused, very disguntled Charles Leclerc out onto the balcony.

Charles Leclerc, who is wearing a massive, bright red bow on his head.

Max stares at the two of them in shock. And so does the producer. Somewhere to Max's right, out of the frame, Vicky is covering her mouth with a hand to suppress a giggle.

"Oh, my," the producer breathes, looking as confused as Max feels as they watch Carlos shove Charles towards Max.

"Carlos, I swear to God I am going to kill you," Charles says through gritted teeth.

Carlos, pretending like his teammate didn't just threaten his very existence, grins at Max as he forcibly pushes Charles to sit on the couch next to the Dutchman.

"Here you go. Feliz Navidad."

Max blinks at Charles, then at Carlos, who is already in the process of turning around to leave.

"Mate, what the fuck am I supposed to do with this?!" Max calls after him, gesturing in Charles' general direction, which makes Carlos pause by the balcony doors, looking at Max.

"You'll figure it out," he says unhelpfully. And as quickly as he had appeared, Carlos turns on his heels and strides back into the Red Bull motorhome, disappearing out of sight.

For a long moment, Max just stares after him, but his attention quickly shifts to Charles when the other man shifts on the couch next to him, letting out a displeased huff. His face looks like it's in the process of turning the same color as the bow on his head, and the Ferrari polo he's wearing.

"Uh —," Max starts intelligently, feeling his own cheeks burn. "Hi?"

"Hello," Charles greets far more nonchalantly than Max would have expected given the circumstances, and when the Monégasque turns his body slightly so he can face Max properly, some of the anger seems to fade from his green eyes. His expression looks almost — soft?

"Well, I suppose you now know who your Secret Santa is?" the producer picks that exact moment to ask Max a question, and the Dutchman's head snaps around to look at her. His heart is beating so hard in his chest that he can practically hear it.

"Yes, that was quite clear," Max admits, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

The producer looks between them, seemingly torn between confusion and amusement.

"I must admit that we've never seen this type of Secret Santa gift before," she goes on, glancing at the cameraman who nods his agreement. When she looks back at Max and Charles, she looks slightly unsure of how to proceed. She clears her throat three times before regaining her composure. "Charles, welcome."

"Thank you," Charles says immediately, polite as ever. "I apologize for my teammate. This is very embarrassing."

Next to Charles, Max is just staring at the other man, at a complete loss of words.

The producer chuckles. "Well, I must say the bow suits you, Charles. I take it you weren't exactly prepared for this?"

"Is it that obvious?" the Monégasque asks, tugging at the bow on his head to adjust its position.

"Do you reckon Carlos is right, that you'll 'figure out' what to do with —," she trails off, pausing briefly. "— this?" she goes on, gesturing between them.

Max barks a surprised laugh, pretending he doesn't notice the way his face feels like it's on fire. Probably looks like it, too. Instead, he looks at Charles, who's looking back at him expectantly, one eyebrow — the one that's not visible to the camera — raised. It sparks something warm and primal from deep within Max — something he hasn't allowed himself to properly feel before, despite the embarrassing amount of time he has wanted to.

"I'm sure we'll figure something out," Max eventually says, not missing the way Charles' tongue comes out to wet his lips at his words. And he doesn't miss the slight nod of approval from the Monégasque, either.

---

It turns out, figuring out what to do when he's suddenly "gifted" the driver who has been the object of Max's deepest desires for as long as he can remember is easy. Especially given how eager Charles turns out to be about the whole arrangement.

It's figuring out how to stop that's the problem.

Luckily, though, Charles isn't even a little eager for them to stop, at all. And Max is going to fucking take that and run with it.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

[ceruleanskiesss]

Fuck it, I’m rewriting this to be more canon complainant. I like it though, so I’ll just rewrite the scenes to fit the new storyline. Yall can have this unfinished bit cause I really don’t have the heart to finish it knowing imma rewrite it rn, so be left in suspense.

CW/TW: Copious angst, Bhaalspawn typical violence, hurt with a little bit of comfort but mostly hurt, slight sh ig but it’s not like, a thing, feel like I should still warn yall tho. Fic ends REALLY ABRUPTLY, IM SORRY.😭😭😭

Enjoy lmfao

Today was not a good day. Rhyse had been lightly ignoring Gortash for weeks; it wasn’t his fault, this time. You see, the two had been allied for somewhere around 3 years, quite a significant amount of time for Rhyse. Gortash was the first person that his father, the god Bhaal, had allowed him to be this close too…. well.. allowed was a strong word. Bhaal tolerated the two, or, at least, he did.

Rhyse first noticed it weeks ago, his Urges getting stronger around the tyrant, even after he’s more than satisfied his kill quota, and his nightmares were worse, more… real, almost threatening for Gortash to end up like his long gone adopted family. He suspected his father was punishing him for getting nowhere with the heist, to steal the Crown of Karsus, in weeks. (A plan the two were not so subtly elongating. The truth was, the two quite enjoyed the comfort the added time together had brought them, though, neither would openly admit it.)

He got his confirmation around a week ago, plain as day, from Bhaal himself. ‘Gortash was no longer beneficial to the cult, kill him’. Rhyse, of course, tried to refute, pleaded, their plan for ‘The Absolute’ had only just begun. He spoke of the souls it would bring his father, he hadn’t forgotten about their grand plan, he promised. It would still be him alone in the end, and then none, but until then let him live.

Bhaal would hear none of it, and frankly, Rhyse was terrified. He knew his father would have to see reason eventually, he wanted Orin, his sister, gone too, before Rhyse found a use for her. No, Rhyse was afraid that by the time his father would even hear him out, his tyrant would be long gone.

It was killing Rhyse to ignore Gortash’s letters, delivered to his windowsill by his Crow, Carrion, or even into Rhyse’s head through the sending spell, and Gortash hated using sending spells, he was clearly growing more desperate, the letter’s contents were getting more sporadic.

Rhyse knew he needed to confront the man head on, he wasn’t sure how bad his urges would be affecting him, but from previous experience… well, Rhyse didn’t like dwelling on the past. No, best to meet with Gortash now, while he is still, mostly, in his right mind.

Rhyse takes no weapons with him, but he doubted it would matter, his bare claws would be more than enough to take care of Gortash, he just hoped the tyrant had enough sense to properly defend himself. Rhyse scratches his Direwolf, Marrow, as he leaves, but he would not dare bring the beast with him. A ranger’s companion has a unique bond with the ranger's soul, it can fein death as long as the ranger is alive, but in exchange, it also gets some of the bhaalspawn’s… quirks. He knows from experience the urges affect his precious companion too, and he wasn’t willing to risk Gortash’s life over it.

Rhyse arrived at Gortash’s estate not long before noon, as he misty stepped into Gortash’s office with no sound more than a click. It took the man a moment to even notice Rhyse was there, his deeply sleep deprived eyes scanning some legal scroll, it’s only until Rhyse flicks his tail against a metal candelabra that Gortash’s eyes shoot up.

“Rhyse!” the man's voice fills with equal amounts of relief and anger, and worry. Rhyse waited to get chewed out by the man, already knowing he definitely deserved most of it. “Where in the Hells have you been!? You haven’t given me so much as a note, a ‘hey by the way I’m not fucking dead’ In weeks! The only thing I had to go off of that you were even receiving anything I was sending was your damned pigeon!” He pauses finally to take a sharp inhale, clearly running out of energy to stay upset, “And- And now you just ‘appear in my office’? Like nothing happened? I expect a damn good explanation from you.” He sighs, and laces his fingers through his obsidian black disaster of a haircut.

“Good to see you too” Rhyse basically collapses in a chair, he sees Gortash’s eyes dart across Rhyse’s body, searching for any insight on the situation.

“Where. Were. You.” Gortash snarls, his eyes narrow on the tiefling.

Rhyse pauses, he can’t exactly tell Gortash ‘Oh hey, funny story, dear old dad wants you dead’ but he can’t bring himself to lie to him, not with the two so ragged, emotions raw and strained, even though lying would be so easy, so simple. They could pretend to be normal, if only for a moment. “I- It’s… It’s complicated, okay?” Rhyse pauses, unsure of what to say. “My urges have been… inconvenient as of late. It was easier this way.”

“Easier!? Rhyse I-” Gortash sighed, and forced himself to relax in his chair, “Gods you are a nightmare sometimes. Just… Just tell me all you can, it’s not good for either of us if you’re ignoring me, so just spit it out.”

Rhyse chuckles slightly, it would be better for both of them, actually. At the very least for the tyrant, and as long as he’s safe, well, Rhyse can deal. He thinks about how to broach the subject with the man, the fragile, horrible truth, that could mean losing him forever. “I- You know how my Father is. He’s… not seeing the bigger picture, currently. But I have a- GH!” Rhyse’s blood goes hot, mind clouded with the overwhelming urge to wrap his claws around Gortash’s throat. He forces his talons to meet his forearms instead, in a futile attempt to subside the rush, to drown it out with pain of his own. “Oh hells” he muttered through gritted teeth, and bowed his head down, squeezed his eyes closed. He could wait it out, he wasn’t going to let his urges get the better of him.

He felt Gortash’s hand lightly trace his bloodstained fingertips, felt some part of himself that wasn’t quite his own growl at the touch, he fought every urge to rip his calloused fingers from his hands. “You weren’t exaggerating.” He said, tone laced with concern, and placed his hand firmly on the Bhaalspawn’s, forcing it to loosen slightly. “Who does your father want dead? It’s not- Hells is it me?”

Rhyse shrinks into himself. “Look I- nothing’s going to happen to you. I can control myself.” He bit back through the bloodlust, the worst of it fading from his mind. Rhyse eased slightly, and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “I don’t know what I’m going to do” he chuckled grimly. Rhyse met Gortash’s eyes, far too calm for their current situation. It would be so much easier if Gortash hated him, feared him. Gortash was the first person he’d allowed himself to get close to since coming to the Bhaal temple, first person that was his, not his fathers. Part of himself agreed with his father, he had gotten soft, but maybe- maybe that wasn’t the worst thing.

“We.” Gortash reminded, “What are we going to do, because you are not going to ignore me like that again.” the man commanded, Rhyse wished he had that kind of confidence.

“Right, We.” He looked away, he wished so desperately the two could be we, be each other’s, but Rhyse belonged to Bhaal, and Gortash to Bane, they weren’t allowed to be any more. “We should work on that heist. It will be easier to convince him once I have concrete proof it’s possible.”

Gortash nodded. “Of course,” he got up from his chair to bring a stack of books and maps to his desk, Gortash grabbing a hefty tome detailing Mephistopilese’s layer, and Rhyse finished a chart of the journey. Neither could find a map of the archive’s insides, but they did find descriptions of hidden passageways, and traps.

Rhyse paused, and moved the map closer to Gortash “You think we could use a spell to get in through this window? Using an Interdimensional Gateway spell possibly?” He examined the map further, it should be old enough to have limited security, but from there they could find a passageway into the inner archives.

“Hm…” Gortash thought for a moment, “Maybe, but what if there’s spell detection? He is a wizard, it would be protected… wouldn’t it?”

“Hah! But that’s the thing!” Rhyse grinned, and he pulled out a tattered journal from the stack, and flipped to a sequence of stitched in notes detailing security protocols. “See here, there’s only portal detection to get into the archives, because over here-” he grabbed the man’s hand and traced it to a small clearing, nearby, separated physically, yes, but near enough that anti magic systems would be counterproductive. “Is where the Archivists mages train. Which means the radius can’t extend farther than about… here.” He uses Gortash’s finger to draw an arc, and points his free hand to a spot just outside of it, “This is where we get inside. I know, don’t thank me.” Rhyse chuckles, proud of his work.

Gortash stared at him, eyes wide “That’s- That’s what we’re missing. You’re Brilliant!”

“We’re brilliant.” He says, quoting the tyrant’s previous words. Neither could’ve gotten anywhere near this close without the other, but together, together they were unstoppable. The two continued like this, bouncing ideas back and forth, enjoying the others' company until nightfall.

“-Anyways, if we use this hidden passageway, this tome says there may be an exit leading right to- Is your tail wagging?” Gortash’s ramble stopped abruptly at the realization. Wait was it?- Gods it was, Rhyse willed his tail to stop.

“I- What are you talking about?” He lied, Gortash was never going to let him live this down, Rhyse knew it.

The man burst into cackling laughter, “Gods, it was! Are you embarrassed?” Gortash sneered.

“Shut the fuck up, not a word.” Rhyse huffed, feigning being upset, holding back his own laughter. For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them in the world, no priorities, no responsibilities, no Orin, or Severok, or Bhaal-

A treacherous thought, immediately punished by a surge of bloodlust. He tried everything in his power to keep it down, keep it under control. “Dammitdammitdammitdammit Fuck!” He fell back from his chair to the cold hard stone, and pushed his back with force into the nearest wall. His vision went blurry and red, his hearing clouded by the rush of his own blood. Claws raked through his raven hair, his breathing grew unsteady, his muscles urged to gut the man open, to hold the heart in his hands and crush it, watch the blood and gore drip down. Stopitstopitstopitstopit, keep it under control, he had too.

“-yse, Rhyse! Rhyse gods damn it!” he heard the tyrant rush over to his side, wasn’t in control of himself when he felt his claws sink into the man's shoulder. “Hey, you’re alright, breathe.” But the Bhaalspawn wasn’t in control of himself. He ripped the coat from the tyrant, and immediately Rhyse saw Gortash’s eyes flash genuine fear. The Urge relished in the man's fright, but it only made Rhyse fight back harder. Rhyse heard the man’s voice waiver as he attempted to comment wittily, but couldn’t even manage that. “I-” The Urge growled and sunk Rhyse’s claws into Gortash’s neck.

Right as he was about to finish the man off, he regained control and stumbled back. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck oh Hells.” He tried to calm his own breathing, but all his immediate attention was on Gortash. Rhyse rushed forward slightly, preparing a cure wounds spell for Gortash, but stopped immediately when he saw the man flinch.

After a second, Gortash sat up and chuckled grimly, unable to meet the Bhaalspawn’s eyes. “Gods, for a moment, I thought I was really going to die.” Gortash allowed himself to be healed. Even without his coat, he was an expert at hiding his emotions, but Rhyse heard his voice elevate, the waver in his words.

“I shouldn’t have come.” Rhyse growled, mostly to himself, how could he have been so stupid, thinking he could fight his own father, his very blood. Once Gortash was healed Rhyse immediately got up to leave, but he felt a hand grab his wrist. “Gortash, let go.”

“You don’t plan on returning, do you? Is this really it? Our plan, everything we’ve built towards, is this really where you want it to end” The tyrant nearly pleaded, it’s unbecoming of a Chosen of Bane. His hidden words, his broken eyes, ask a different question, Is this where we end? Like they ever ‘began’ in the first place, but it nearly made Rhyse break. How could he still care about him? Rhyse nearly killed him.

“Let. Go.” Rhyse snarled. Let go of him, his memory, move on, it will hurt less. Rather cut their losses now, than watch the dagger twist through his ribcage, tears pouring down as the tyrant’s heart stops.

“When do you plan on returning? Because you will return.” He grips the Tieflings wrist tighter, Rhyse could rip that pretty hand off his wrist with no more than a well placed yank.

“Let go. I will not warn you again.” He tugs his arm, but makes no real effort to break free.

Oops, there’s the end :/ I have beef with tumblr for fucking up all my formatting but I’m on mobile so I can’t do anything about it.

[matenrou-fan]

I'm so glad your doing Obey me! now too! Do you think I could get a NSFW threesome with dice, fem!reader and Mammon please?

Dice x fem!reader x Mammon threesome

hiii star!! of course you can get it, here!! <3 btw this is my first time writing something like this so it's probably a little bit messy (ノ_<。) please contact me if something wrong!! xx

You always scold Mammon, your boyfriend, that there's consequences of his actions. But who will scold you after you decide to spoil him a little bit and show him the human-world's casino where you meet your old friend, Dice? Because now these two greedy men have become besties and actually have some plans for you…

Femreader, mention of sex and sex activity, teasing, begging (a little), oral (male receiving), fingering (reader receiving), breast play, crempie;; 1678 words;;

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

You let out a long trembling moan, tingle sensation tickle your chest, running down to your already heated core. Your skin was so hot, and it feels like every touch just warms you up even more. And there were plenty of touches, as two pairs of hands at once caressing your body now.

You were sitting on Mammon's laps, Dice right in front of you as his hands cupped your chest.. It all started so lightly and playfully, you can't even say at what moment it turned out like this. You know that these two can be a little naughty and bratty, due to pretty similar behavior but who would know they can be such teases if they cooperate? Even Mammon, who always seems to be pretty shy around you, now was stroking your thighs so hungrily…And it was so hard to sit still when Dice was playing with your boobs like that, squeezing sensitive nipples with his fingers through the thin fabric of your shirt, sucking your collarbone as his kisses got moved more down and down to a gap between your breasts.

"Someone already so impatient, huh?" - Mammon chuckled right into your ear, grabbing your hips tightly as you continued to squirm around under their touches. He can be surprisingly strong and now his hand holds you so firmly, pressing your butt to his crotch. You whimper, feeling his half hard dick pushing you through his tight pants.

"Sh, s/o.. be a good girl.. Let us play with you a little bit more.." - Dice giggles, looking at you with a smirk. - "After all, the jackpot feels better when you take your time with it, spreading the fun.."

"And we win a big one today, don't we?" - Mammon murmurs in such a soft and playful tone with a slight drop of tease, kissing the back of your neck, making shivers run down your spine.

His arms start playing with the hem of your skirt, fingers tickling sensitive skin under fabric but don't move more forward, to your pulsing core. You whine, spreading your legs more, carving for more friction but Mammon just keeps playing with you, drawing small circles and shapes on your inner thighs with his fingertips.

"Please.." - you whimper really quite, almost whispering. The way Dice keeps teasing your chest but only through your t-shirt, his lips so hot on your skin, the way Mammon keeps playing with your thighs and hips but doesn't even bother to finally take off your panties and touch you here.. it was too much to handle.

"Please.. you two.. two morons, just fuck me already..!" - voice so high pitched as you whine. It was a little embarrassing to ask like that, to almost beg, but you can't resist this urge inside your body, to be finally touched in the proper way..

"Ooh? So needy for us, huh?" - they chuckled, almost synchronously, and Dice finally took off your shirt, revealing your chest with hard nipples. Cold air makes you whimper for a moment, as the gambler was too stunned, admiring your naked top but then his warm hand almost immediately grasps your boobs again, even more greedy than before.

Mammon also gets more serious, lifting your skirt, his fingers touching your already destroyed panties.

"You're so wet.. Have you been dreaming about something like that before?" - he smirks, taking them off.

Slowly, but now more in a gentle and caring way than in teasing one, he starts caressing your wet folds. Little gasps and moans of yours lead him to the right way of pleasuring you as he quickly finds all your sensitive spots. His pace sped up, the other hand reached to your one and squeezed it a little.

Mammon leaning closer, buried his face in the hollow of your shoulder, while Dice was kissing your areolas, hot tongue licking sensitive nipples. He looks up at your bright red face and suddenly squeezes one nipple between his teeth, not that hard but enough for making you gasp a little.

"Hehe.. Your reaction is so cute.." - he whispers and gets closer to your face, his lips covering yours in such a passionate and loving kiss. You groan right in his mouth, feeling that you are almost on edge now, as Mammon's hand keeps playing with your pussy. He touched your clit, gently massaging you with a tip of his nail, and you couldn't hold back anymore. Tight knots in your abdomen suddenly pop up and you moan loudly, grasping sheets of bed, overflowing waves of pleasure washed through your whole body.

Both men keep stroking your body, helping riding your orgasm to the end. Mammon kisses your sweating temple, whispering you right in the ear:

"Hehe.. What do you think, s/o? Maybe you should pay me with the same service now?~"

"W.. what..?" - your head was still dizzy after your orgasm, that you didn't even understand him at first.

But when Dice took you carefully in his arms, turning you around so now you were on all four between them, your face so close to Mammon's crotch, you understood.

You unzip his pants, revealing a long cock in front of you, the tip of his head already trembling in pre-cum. Licking your lips, you first touch him with your trembling arms, finally have the opportunity to pay back for all his teases. Your smile a little as your fingertips slowly tickle his length, small gasps and whimpers above your head telling you how much demon like it. While Dice's hands greedily wrapped around your hips, and his erect cock pushed against you through the fabric of his pants. You and him groan breathless at the same time and you hear as another pair of pants unzips, your heart beating faster and faster as you lift your hips in anticipation. He was no less horny than Mammon, sloppy stroking your juicy folds with his head before finally pushing into your walls with a long moan. For a moment you froze, all your sensation concentrated in your pussy as you tried to relax and get used to his pulsing dick, arms grasping Mammon's thighs. Your trembling breath was tickling demon's sensitive skin and he groaned, getting impatient.

"H-ha, s/o.. You are so tight.. Just how much do you enjoy it?" - Dice whimper and look up at you, waiting for your command. Despite his whole body shaken at the urge to take you as fast as he can, he still wanted to make you feel good too.

So only after you nod him that you're ready, he starts, long and slow thrust sends shivers from your spine to your head, his low groans make you feel butterflies.. When Mammon's voice was more tense and high, as your trembling hands were so sloppy, stroking him decidedly slowly. It was a little bit hard to concentrate as waves of pleasure keep rushing down your body but you still wanted to tease him. You lick tip of his cock with your hot tongue, looking him right in the eyes.

"What's wrong, Mammon? Don't you agree that we should take things slow?" - you giggle between your moans, enjoying your boyfriend's amusing reaction. Here he is, teasing you not that long ago but now blushing heavily himself, his dick tremble every time your wet lips kisses hot skin. He bite his tongue, trying to control his tearful whines, but his needy eyes tells you everything better than any words can.

With a little smirk, you lick all his length and finally take him in your mouth, almost immediately moaning as in the same time Dice hit your g-spot so good, your whole body shivered and walls tightened more.. Mammon moan too as vibration of your voice tickle his dick, making him grasp sheets. He reached out and pulled your hair with a weak arm, pushing your head down.

But you moved away for a second, giving yourself a little break, and only then looked him right in the eyes and took him whole. He whimpers, biting his lip, hips lifted by itself closer to your face, as Mammon can't control his body anymore, your hot mouth always makes him go crazy. As his girlfriend, you already know all his soft spots and you continue to moan, watching how the vibration gives Mammon unreal pleasure. He leaned back against the pillows, his breathing began to falter, and his fingers tightened on the back of your head. Dice also grabbed you harder, squeezing your thighs with sweaty shaky palms. You feel his cock begin to swell and twitch inside you, his movements become more ragged as he roughly pumps you, stretching your clenching walls with force. It looks like you three were almost on edge, the room was filled with moans and wet sounds of body slapping to each other.

"S/o.. I.. I'm gonna cum.."

"Damn.. s/o, it's too good.. Ha.."

They both whimpered at the same time, holding you tightly, as your bodies reached the climax, sending you all to heaven of pleasure. You felt as thick cum filled your hot walls, your pussy clenched around Dice so hard, almost squeezed out sperm from him. He starts to slow down, sloppy thrusting in you, his hands almost leaving bruises on your skin as he keeps whimpering how good you make him feel. At the same time Mammon grabs your hand, his whole body trembling, deep but dim gaze fixated on your beautiful face. He murmurs a small apology as his trembling cock pushes your throat and he comes too, right inside your mouth, hot cum mixing with your saliva.

You all fall to a bed, still trying to catch your breath after that. You swipe sticky drool from your chin as you look up at two men, who's still gasping a little. But then they exchanged glances and looked at you back, due to sinful sparkles in their eyes you can say that this is not the end. And not even a middle, but only the start of a long night of exotic pleasure.

[yuu-tsuki]

This will be Part 2 for my fanfic “A real,final goodbye” that I had done last year.

PART 1: https://www.tumblr.com/yuu-tsuki/697147900686467072/a-real-final-goodbye-author-notes-alright-so

It took me a very long time to post this and I apologise for those who had requested and patiently waited for it.

Hopefully it made sense and apologies if it doesn’t 😭. There may be a part 3 😆.

Here’s a very late Part 2 😭 @dreaming-soundly

Thank you all for the support in advance!!!

————————————————————————

The Avatar of Charity and Greed

He never asked for much.

He also never expects much.

 

He loves giving.

Be it love.

Be it gifts.

Be it comfort.

He gives it all to those he deeply cares about.

After all, it comes as no surprise that he was once the avatar of charity back when he was an angel and had resided in the celestial realm.

In return, he wanted love, care, and attention.

He doesn’t want gifts, grimms, or even the vast amount of treasure residing within Diavolo’s castle.

The only reason he wants those things is due to his status as the avatar of greed.

A status he never wished for.

A status he deemed a curse.

 

He couldn’t help himself from being so strongly attracted to anything that held high monetary value or even those that shone brightly and exquisitely under the bright shining lights.

 But he makes a lot of effort to stop Holding his strong urges back with all his might distracting himself with his modeling work, student council work, and even secret charity work.

 But at least, his deeds and efforts were not recognized.

Still being wrongfully accused of stealing things that he had never come across before.

Accused of being lazy and good for nothing despite pouring all his sweat, tears and the little energy he had left for work to pay back his debts.

He felt wronged.

It was unfair.

It made him sad and depressed.

He dared not talk back or speak up.

He accepts and repays.

He does so for thousands of years... until one day he can no longer.

 

He went missing.

One week passed. Nobody noticed.

Two weeks passed. Nobody noticed.

Three weeks passed. Nobody noticed his absence or even batted an eye on it.

4 weeks became 5.

 

On the sixth week, somebody notices. But it was only because a few irresponsible demons had misplaced their own items and decided to put the blame on him.

 

They barged into his room only to find it empty. The room’s tenant was nowhere to be found.

Everything was neatly arranged and considered very clean, if not for the layers of dust covering the surfaces of the furnitures.

 

"That’s odd… The scum is not in. What’s with the dust."

"I bet he’s fucking around somewhere."

"Let’s report to Lucifer."

"Lucifer’s going to drag and hang his ass up."

"He deserves it."

"What a scum."

"He’s probably living in a casino somewhere for this much dust to settle."

"Maybe he got caught stealing and is sitting in prison right now."

"That sounds very likely knowing that piece of sh*t."

"Better yet, maybe the witches caught him and kept him locked up to use for their experiments."

 

 

The brothers had thrown insults and accusations one after another. All accept one.

"….."

He was silent—and worried.

Something didn’t sit right with him.

He looked around the room and saw that the secondborn’s phone and wallet were neatly placed on the table, along with six varying stacks of money placed side by side.

His brows furrowed as he tried to think back. back to when his brother was not missing. Was there anything odd about him?

 

Even if there was, it was evident that he was skilled in hiding and covering things up.

Especially things that relate to him.

when he was sad. Nobody could tell.

when he was depressed. No one noticed.

When he fell sick. Nobody knew.

All because of the happy-go-lucky front that he puts up. the bright smile and funny retorts that he throws around

After all, he was the most difficult to read among the brothers.

But this was not that big of an issue for the sixth-born, as he was considered one of the most emotionally competent brothers.

 

The sixth-born thought back and remembered his brother acting as jolly and happy as ever, but he noticed he had barely eaten for the past few months. When he was not humoring those around him, he would sit there and stare into space with a dazed, faraway look on his face. His skin was paler. He had even started having coughing fits very often. His lips and skin were dry and chapped. He would decline invitations to party with their other brothers. Instead, he opted to sit at a nearby sofa and observe the rest having fun with the signature smile that he always puts up. But... his eyes were dull and tired. The bags under his eyes were noticeable. Yet no one had pointed them out or even bothered checking up on him. Not even Beel himself, which made him feel more guilt and remorse.

When he confronted the second born, he was met again with the over the top happy expression and a train of "I’m fine"s or "I’m feeling as great as as ever"s. That wasn’t what Beel saw or felt. What he saw was an overly optimistic shell of the former. The shell had started to crack as weeks led up to his "newly discovered" absence. He was frail and tired but still refused to give up his façade. 

[yjano]

Who I am now?

Part 3.

Pairing: Jake x Mc.

Genre: Angst, comedy, dark romance.

Warnings: Strong language, angst scenes. 18+ content can be found

Words: 4.9k

Author's note: This story contains mature topics and is not fully related to the duskwood game. A different parallel with different personalities. Thank you everyone for following and liking this! lly.♡ ps: I haven't edited it yet so pardon if you'll find any mistake.♡

•

.

Mc focus.

.

My captor marched me out of the petrol station, calmly walking to the car before pushing me into the back seat and walking around to the allocated driver's seat. I watched him with careful eyes, following his every movement.

Where is he going to take me now? Biting my lower lip with pained curiosity I decided to risk it all and ask.

"Where are we goi-"

But I got cut off by the sudden ringing sound of what seemed to be several police cars, dissonant sirens cutting into the quiet of the night. I turned around swiftly to look out of the back seat window, my breath hitched in my throat.

Relief filled me at the sight of many blue and red flashes in the distance, the lights speedily approaching my captor's car.

"Yes! yes, oh my god!" I sighed relieved. Shifting in my seat and reaching over for the car door. About to pull the handle and exit the car but the vehicle suddenly lurches forward, throwing me against the front leather seats.

"Ouch-" I groaned, bracing myself by digging my fingernails into the black leather to stop from slipping and sliding everywhere as my captor stepped on the gas. The yet-to-be-named switches gears with haste, rapidly increasing the speed whilst I tumble and fly around in the backseat.

My eyes dart up from the leather seat I was currently pressed against, at the sound of a lorry abruptly blaring its horn. My eyes widen when I spotted how dangerously close the car was to the multiple lorries on the motorway, the side of the car just about brushing against the lorry wheels.

"Slow down you freak!" I yell, sharply looking at my expressionless captor.

The man doesn't reply instead, he turns the steering wheel to steer in and out of vehicles, narrowly dodging them as he continues driving fast. Going well over the speed limit.

I gasped when my right cheekbone hit the metal of the seat.

"Fuck...Slow down you piece of sh..." I trailed off when I realized something.

The police sirens have stopped.

I looked over my shoulder and out of the back seat.

No way.

My relieved expression fell when I saw the flashes of blue and red stopping at the petrol station, the petrol station now a small box in the distance as the car pulls further and further away.

No. No. You're meant to follow me...

My lower lip trembled at the sight, hopping the police cars to follow after me after my captor's car.

"Lost them pretty quickly, that's a new record." The man muses to himself, changing gears and driving at a less speedy pace but still overtaking cars and vans.

I turned around to face him, swallowing hard to rid the heavy emotions building up inside my throat.

"Please go back." My voice went out weakly, mentally urging the man to have pity on me and take me back to my friends. But deep down inside, I knew that it isn't possible.

.

Mysterious man focus.

.

I flickered my gaze to the rearview mirror, studying Mc leaning her forehead against the car window with an empty look on her face, her eyes dully reflecting light each time we passed by a car's headlight.

Trying to stay unbothered by her sudden quietness, I drifted my eyes to the clock installed in the car's control center.

4:12 am, my eyes fall back onto the motorway stretching out in front, with a stifling yawn, I decided we might as well stop at a motel for a few hours to sleep.

"Where are we going?" Mc asked softly when I indicated to turn right with the headlight, the slow ticking of the indicator filling up the silence in the car.

I didn't reply.

Mc sighed and turned her gaze out of the window with her cheek balanced in the flat of her tiny palm, shuddering slightly.

"Cold?"

She looks up to see me watching her in the rearview mirror. Without replying, she turned to look away with unintentionally puffed cheeks and furrowed eyebrows.

"Well, I never knew you were that stubborn." I scoffed under my breath at her behavior and shifted my gaze away, continuing to drive and ignore her little glare now boring holes into the back of my head.

"I'm not stubborn. I'm just being logical to you." She finally snapped. I could feel her emotions flying all over the place.

"I'm simply distressed over the fact that I am kidnapped."

She added a few more murmurs which made me smile a little. "Yeah, don't reply, you can't get it."

"I'm not replying because I'm trying to drive and not get us hit by a fucking lorry," I replied evenly, throwing a look in her direction.

.

MC focus.

.

"You didn't have a problem talking to me earlier," I grumbled once again without thinking.

I should just simply shut up before he decided to kill me.

"Traffic was low then."

"There's no traffic on the motorway. It's just lanes going in different directions."

"I-, shut up already."

Feeling annoyed I resumed looking out of the window, rubbing my hands up and down my upper arms to give myself only a little warmth.

In the corner of my eyes, I caught the guy looking at me briefly before reaching out to turn the heaters on by twisting the dials.

"Why are you turning the heaters on?"

"You're cold."

"But you can't do that."

"What?" He frowned at me as if whatever I said was weird to him.

"Why can't I? You're cold."

"Exactly kidnappers like you aren't meant to ask if their victims are cold and then turn on heaters for them."

Why the hell I am complaining??? Shut up Mc before you piss him off and get him to bring out his fucking gun.

"Wh-"

"That just defies the code of kidnappers. It means you're no threat to me."

For fucks sake, shut up Mc.

"So I am the kidnapper with a kidnapper code now?"

"Yes you are, but you don't act like one. Because they most certainly do not provide heaters for their freezing victims."

Honestly, I dont know why I am telling all of this to him, but his eyes remind me of something and although I know he might kill me anytime, I don't feel like he will do it.

"If you want me to carry on being nice then shut up." The man growled, getting irritated. I could see him clenching his jaw tightly.

His tone of voice made me realize that if I want to live then I have to stay quiet for real this time.

The two of us were sitting silently. I stared out of the window with my face resting on my palm and the man drove wordlessly. Only the low hum of the car was filling our ears.

The silence disrupts however when the yet-to-be-named guy pulled out and fiddled with a cigarette packet with one hand noisily, steering the car with the other.

My upper lip curled in distaste at the sight of the box of cigarettes. I couldn't help but mumble out a quiet.

"You know five million people die each year due to a cigarette-evoked disease."

"And what do you want me to do?" The man rolls his eyes, letting go of the steering wheel for a second to light the cigarette with a blue translucent lighter.

"Stop smoking."

"Isn't that breaking the victim's code?"

"Huh?"

"You're caring about my well-being, aren't you meant to be crying and begging for me to spare your life? Instead of telling me off for smoking?" The man mumbled, quirking an amused eyebrow at me through the rearview mirror.

For some reason he reminded me of Jake, I know for a fact that's not him because this asshole is driving me crazy but his comebacks will always hint me to Jake, probably because I miss him so much.

"No, I'm caring about my well-being." I rolled my eyes, glaring at him. "But touché." I sink back into my seat, the cold seat caused goosebumps to form on the back of my neck but I simply ignored it.

After what seems like forever, the man exits the motorway and enters a steep town that I immediately recognize.

The motel. The one Phill told me about, is the stoners who smoke outside freely, not caring about others. The drunk girls standing around and offering their bodies for some cigarettes pack. Neon lights advertising nights of fun sex. I bit my lip as the realization hit me just how far away I am from my friends and my family.

"Why are we here exactly for?" I asked out slowly. Feeling an uneasy feeling forming inside my chest.

"We're stopping for the night at a motel." The man mumbled ignoring me further and taking a right, driving into a small parking lot.

Red neon lights captured my attention. The words written on the side of a little crappy building made me open my mouth.

'Love nest'

The man distracted my eyes and made me watch him unbuckle his seat belt, rummaging around the underside of the passenger seat to grab a black backpack.

Of all the motels, he chose the one named 'love nest'. Not that he's a freak but a perverted fucker too.

I cleared my throat loudly, giving him a look.

"The love nest? Seriously? You freak."

The man unzipped his backpack and pulled a black cap out. Placing the accessory over his dark hair and shielded half of his face.

"What? Oh relax, I don't intend to 'make love' Not n- I mean just shut up." The man rolled his eyes to back, silently cursing under his breath and unzipping his backpack back up, he turns his eyes to me with a more relaxed expression.

"I just want sleep."

Still concerned, I twiddled my thumbs impatiently, playing with the silver rings on my fingers as he got out of the car with his backpack and walked over to my side door.

He yanked the door open, giving me a look.

"Come on."

"No."

"Hurry up and get out."

I shuffled further away from the door, shaking my head adamantly at him.

He just rolled his eyes, sighing.

"Please, you're not my type. Just get out."

I tried to shoot an attempted glare at him before slowly shuffling over to the door. I knew I had no one here. He was the only person I knew. So I had to stick by his rules.

"Now." He held my wrist and pulled me outside the car carefully. I sniffled feeling cold.

"We're gonna go in and I'm gonna register us a room and once we have a room, we'll go to sleep. You can scream, cry for help, or whatever but no one will give a shit since people are fucking high on pot or are too busy fucking each other." The yet-to-be-named guy explained casually, tugging me to move.

I bit my lip hard, just an hour ago I was busy chatting with him, not realizing the severity of the situation. And now, the fact that I was kidnapped and away from home hits me right in the face, making me realize just how alone I was.

"Hey, are you listening?"

"Fuck off."

"You are different from what I-" He muttered quietly, holding my wrist again and dragging me inside the motel.

Getting dragged into the love nest and across the dimly red-lighted room, the red lighting was supposed to give off a 'sexy' vibe. But to me, it didn't. It only grossed the hell out of me.

"We need a room." I heard the man say, still holding my wrist in an iron grip.

I fist my hands, if I want to escape fighting won't help. I have to think carefully about my actions. My eyes automatically turned to look at my captor's back

"Yeah, one room's fine." The yet-to-be-named guy nodded to the receptionist, the receptionist was completely unaware of the fact that she was currently talking to a kidnapper.

My eyes drifted from his back to the brightly dressed receptionist who converses about room types and bed sizes whilst chewing gum loudly, pink-painted lips smacking furiously.

"Okay, one single room for one night. yes, that's possible-"

I spotted a telephone sitting on the desk. Calling Alan would be the best thing to do, I'd get help in no time, and I'd be saved in just a few seconds. This guy would go to jail and I'd be back home. safe. I swallowed the sudden constricting lump settling in my throat.

"Are you done with your little fit?" The guy asked, turning around with a brass key in his hand, raising an eyebrow at me. I didn't say anything, just glared at him which he took as a sign to go.

"Let's go then." the man said and took my wrist, hurrying me up a set of winding stairs embedded into the wall.

The smell of heady perfume, bitter cigarettes, and alcohol filled my senses, and the intensity of the smell almost choked me as we walked up the staircase and down a corridor, passing several doors on the way.

Room 16.

I and the man stopped at room sixteen, a tall brown door standing in front of us. The man produced and stick a key in the lock, twisting the object.

"Hey, cutie! Ditch that man and come with us! Hang out with us instead!"

I look up at the sound of a couple of people talking loudly, noticing two men cooing at me from across the corridor. They wore black and blue clothes with lipsticks smeared over their faces, and brown alcohol bottles in their hands hinted that they were pretty much intoxicated with alcohol.

I was about to ignore the duo but an idea struck me.

"Hi! Could you help me?" I asked, a little too brightly perhaps, making my captor glare at me.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" The yet-to-be-named guy asked quietly as he pushed open the now unlocked door. I noticed his tightly clenched jaw as if he was mad about those guys.

"Asking for help?" I rolled my eyes at him and turn to face the men.

"I'm being sexually harassed by this guy! Please help me!" I squealed, feeling the regret filling me. I tried to get off my wrist from his grip but he held it even tighter than before.

"What the hell? Shut up Mc." The man muttered under his breath, attempting to pull me into the room but the older guy stood on his ground, firmly planting his feet into the browning carpet.

"Hey, you! Let go of the girl!" One slur, waving their bottle wildly. A relieved grin breaks out on my face when the two of the men tipsily bound down the corridor towards us. Swinging their bottles of alcohol crazily. Finally, I'll get free- But unluckily one of the men tripped over his own feet, landing flat-faced on the stained carpet with his bottle breaking into pieces. The other man stopped too and kneeled beside the man, giggling drunkenly as he patted the man's head softly.

"Hey! Please help me, get up!" I started to say, urgency dripping from my voice but then my captor pushed me inside the room, slamming the door shut behind me.

"I'll be back soon." The man called out from behind the shut door, and with a twist of the key, the man's footsteps disappeared.

Immediately I went to the door, trying to unlock the door desperately and banging my fists against the thin door whilst yelling for help.

When I realized that no one was coming to help me. I moved away from the door and angrily fisted my hands into balls. Think smartly and professionally Mc.

In the darkness of the room, I managed to make out the outline of a bed and a few other things but nothing else was decipherable in the dim lighting cast by a streetlamp from outside the window.

I stumbled to the door again and using my hands to feel around the wall, I came across a square-shaped switch. I pressed it quickly and at once red dimmed light filled the room, casting stretched shadows across the king-sized bed, the wardrobe, and the tiny tv atop a coffee table.

No telephone, no key, no- Suddenly my eyes landed on the window situated on the wall directly opposite me.

Quickly walking over, I grabbed ahold of the window and tried to work the rusty window to open.

"Fuck." I hissed under my breath when I finally managed to push the window open, a gust of chilly air hitting me straight in the face, made me sigh with relief rushing inside my body. Time to finally escape. I looked out of the window and my smile faded away.

A building sits exactly behind the love nest but the convenient matter was that the building was smaller than the love nest so the roof of the building only came up to the first floor of the motel where I currently was.

I could easily climb out of the window and just step onto the brown-tiled roof of the building. Chewing on my lip, I hoisted myself up on the window, struggling to swing a leg out of the window without ripping my dress. I cursed under my breath multiple times as waves of cold air repeatedly hit me.

"Fuck, fuck." I muttered as I swing my other leg out, now just halfway out of the window. "I should've just thrown the damn coffee table at the fucker." I scoffed, wriggling out of the window. carefully to not hit my chin on the ledge.

"Oh, man." I stood up on the tiled roof with wobbly legs.

"Holy shit." I gasped, crouching on the roof. My hands and knees scraped against the freezing tiles. With a shaky breath, I crawled forward, grunting when the hip of my dress caught on a tile. A loud tearing sound met my ears afterward.

"No fucking way!" I yelled over the loud wind, unknowingly placing a hand over a patch of damp moss, mud, and green staining his palm.

Growing more and more frustrated at the situation I am in. My professional and smart thinking disappears and so does my hope to escape.

"Can I ask what you are doing?" I lifted my head and looked over my shoulder at the not-too-far window, where my captor leans out with his arms crossed with an amused smile playing on his lips.

Irritated by the sight I furrowed my eyebrows and stick up a middle finger at him before turning away.

"Are you just gonna sit out there?"

I carefully maneuvered myself to sit cross-legged on the middle of the roof, the icy wind slapping both my cheeks and nose with a rosy red color.

"Do I need to come over there and drag you here?"

My back tensed up slightly at the man's words but I still didn't move. I am not scared of him.

"Mc."

"Fuck off."

"I have food, you must be hungry." As if planned, my stomach rumbled slightly. I  was indeed starving. I decided to head back in for the food and maybe also because my lips were turning pale blue from sitting out there in the cold.

.

The Mysterious Man focus.

.

I moved away from the window to let her ease back into the room via the window.

I walked over to the bed where a couple of Chinese food boxes sit accompanied by a few bottles of water. My body's too weary from the six hours of driving and dealing with a complaining Mc.

"Fuck." I looked over my shoulder to see Mc land on the carpet with a small thud, face wincing at the landing.

I noticed the dirt smeared on her clothes and the tear in her dress. I as well noticed the brown mud smudged slightly on her cheekbone and in different directions her hair sticks up. She needs new clothes and a good shower I thought to myself before shutting my thoughts off and looking at her again.

She wiped her hand on her thighs and walked over to the bed, eyeing the Chinese food hungrily. I could see a glimpse of confusion in her eyes but she shook her head and stopped just a meter away from me. Watching me with narrowed suspecting eyes.

"Go ahead and eat." I simply shrugged, taking a sip of the water. I watched her in the corner of my eye, move to sit on the edge of the bed and reach for the box.

Trying to ignore her I walked over to the chair and sat down. God, this chair is hideous, I mentally commented sitting further back in my seat.

I turned my head at her, noticing her eating carefully as if the food was poised.

"If I wanted you dead I would've killed you already just eat."

She didn't say anything and started to eat Chinese food quietly making me mildly surprised. I watched her as I was drinking water trying not to let sleep take over me and she was the best distraction at the moment.

"Stop watching me eat. it's creepy."

I cleared my throat at her words turning my gaze away.

"I'm not watching you eat."

"Yes." She mumbled, swallowing her food. "You are."

I didn't respond to her anymore and started chewing my food, ignoring her further accusations.

The room was filled with soft rustles of packaging paper and quiet chewing until she decided to open her mouth again.

"What's your name?"

"You know my name so, don't you think I should know your surname at least?"

I looked at her for a short second. I knew if I will tell her my name, I'll get in big trouble. But anyways there's no harm in telling her my nickname

"JD."

She just nodded as if processing the information or if she can figure out who I could be.

"And don't you think I should know why I'm kidnapped and held captive?" I raised my eyebrows at her, wondering where these courageous negotiations were coming from.

"I've told you I had a deal- just shut up and eat." I lied ever again, walking over to her and grabbing the water bottle set on the bed beside her.

"Are you going to kill me?" She asked softly, turning her gaze down to the floor.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"What about torture? am I gonna be tortured?"

"No."

"And where are we going?" She hummed wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. I knew what she was doing. She's trying to get any possible information so she could use it later. That's good.

"Some place."

"Could I-"

"No."

"Okay, then."

She was playing with her fingers but then she raised her big eyes to look at me.

"So JD..."

"Finish up already and go to bed," I mumbled walking to the bed and throwing the covers to one side of the bed.

"What about brushing our teeth?" She asked, taking another sip of water. I ignored her question lifting my shirt over my head, with my muscled torso and biceps on display. I heard her almost choking on the water which made me almost burst out a laugh but I regained my position.

"No point brushing our teeth right now, we're gonna wake up in an hour or two and by then it's gonna be morning. It's 4 am. Look at the window."

"Oh wow." She muttered under her breath as she stood up from the edge of the bed and walked over to the window, mesmerized at the sight.

Meanwhile, I slide under the bed covers, reveling in the way the worn material feels against my skin as I press my head against the slightly musty pillow. I can't wait for sleep to overcome me.

My eyes flicker up to the window where Mc stands, animatedly watching the sunrise with a smile on her face. I watched her, yawning. Feeling tiredness taking over me. And the last words I heard before I blackout were.

"I've never seen a sunrise before. It's beautiful."

.

Mc focus.

.

Three hours later I woke up with a crick in my neck. I lift my head to look at the window. I was still sleepy so the sun shining directly through the window hurt my eyes. Whilst I still smiled despite the crick in my neck and stood up woozily, my mind was still clouded with sleep.

I looked around the room through bleary eyes and spotted 'JD' sleeping soundly in bed, the covers drawn up to his chin.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to wipe the sleep out of the corners whilst thinking, what an idiot. Who leaves their captive unattended and not tied up? I let my eyes roam over the room, searching for anything to help me. I wasn't ready to give up yet.

Immediately I spotted the bag sitting in the corner of the room with a jacket dropped not so discreetly over it. Tiptoeing over to the room as quietly as I could, holding my breath as I passed by sleeping JD and keeping my movements steady. I crouched by the backpack and slowly unzipped the backpack. Zipping sound breaks through the silence of the room making me quietly curse.

"Shit." I closed my mouth as soon as I saw JD move onto his back, still thankfully asleep.

I looked back at the half-open backpack and rifled through the contents with one hand, finding nothing but a few pieces of clothes and snack bars. My hand came across a device, and without waiting anymore I hastily pulled the phone out, pressing the home screen with excitement. Unfortunately, I got excited too early. His phone is completely dead.

Muttering curses quietly I placed his phone half-heartedly back in the backpack. I stopped my movements when my knuckles brushed over something cold. Pulling it out I realized it was a gun and nearly squealed at the sight of the black object in my hands. I look back up at the still-sleeping JD. An idea popped into my head. It cannot the best idea, but drastic situations like that call for drastic resolutions.

I stood up and walked over to him with the gun in my hand, my thumb running over the black metal, making me shiver at the coldness.

"Come on Mc," I mumbled to myself, lifting the gun once I was near JD. Slowly holding the gun with both hands. I aimed at JD.

"No, that's not a good position," I muttered quietly, shuffling further to his side.

I slowly hovered the gun above JD'S chest.

Yey still unsatisfied with the position, I lifted myself onto his bed with one hand but instead of standing upright like I wanted to. I slipped on the thin bed covers and topples backward, falling right on top of JD's stomach.

"Fuck-" He cursed, his voice rough and deep with sleep. My eyes widened and I tried to fix my state, scrambling into a random position.

A random position where I had to straddle JD's stomach, my ass pressed against his lower half and part of his stomach.

In the heat of the moment, I lifted the gun, waveringly to his face. Biting my lower lip nervously I noticed that JD watched me with half-lidded eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. His dark hair fanned out on the thin pillow and his eyes are alight with amusement as he stared up at me.

"What a lovely start to the morning." He mused before starting again.

"But as much as I like this view, you're sitting on my stomach and it's very uncomfortable. So please get off-"

I opened my mouth at his words remembering why I'm there for.

"Hands up!" I lifted the gun at him, seeing his slightly tilting his eyebrows.

"What're you doing with my gun? Do you even know how to fire it?" He asked, lifting his head and sliding a casual arm behind his head to elevate him.

"I do! And I will use it on you!"

"Look, how 'bout you get off me-"

He ignored my words and just watched me with an amused smirk. He knows how to get under my skin and trigger the hell out of me.

"Tell me where the room key is."

"Mc." He tried.

"JD," I replied evenly.

"What are you gonna do if I don't give you the key? Shoot me? You don't even know how to trigger a gun."

"I do!"

"Oh yeah?" He asked, sounding almost bored.

"Yeah!"

"Do it then."

"Well, you see-"

"I'll show you." He smirked and in a flash, I was thrown against the bed harshly with JD hovering above me on all fours, face undeniably close to my already reddened face. I widened my eyes, staring at intense icy blue eyes.

I will die. I will die. I will fucking die now.

I heard the sound of something snapping, I sharply looked away from his eyes to see the gun now in JD's hands, now triggered and ready to fire.

No. No. No.

"Chill, just wanted to show how it's done," JD said, smiling as he pulled away from me, ruffling his dark hair.

"Don't try that again Mc." He looked at me, his smile slid right off his face and his tone turned stern as he climbed off the bed and walked over to the bathroom, hand loosely holding the revolver.

I was laying on the bed, speechless and unable to move after what just happened.

[lifewithalittlechaos]

July 30, 2024 (this is a bit of a long one; TW: SH mention, mentions of drinking)

Today was going ok until tonight. For the past few days, the Gravity Falls website/puzzle has been consuming my mind and I've dedicated a lot of my energy trying to figure out what the website could possibly mean.

After I picked my dad up from work everything was chill until the very end of the day. I was in the living room playing Call of Duty when I heard my parents start to argue. From what I heard, they were arguing over what to get for my sister's birthday that is in less than two weeks. Being me, I muted the TV to eavesdrop on what they were arguing about, and then it escalated and my mom got really angry at my dad and started cursing. After that, the house went silent, but it was uncomfortable, not peaceful. My parents have been fighting for a while and they started to go to counseling, but I've convinced myself that it isn't going to work and that they're going to get a divorce and everytime they fight I get terrible anxiety over it and my body just doesn't feel good :(

I want to cry so bad and express my sadness, but my anti-anxiety meds kind of prevent me from doing that, so I just lay in my bed feeling numb.

I have a little bit more than three weeks until I move back into school and once I get there I just wanna drink and party and bury my sadness deep inside because I don't like how I feel right now in this environment. I feel like my life is just crumbling around me piece by piece and I'm watching it, yet I can't do anything to stop or control it which makes me feel helpless.

I want to be distracted with school and I have this strong urge to drink, but I don't think it's an alcoholic urge. I know the urge isn't healthy, but I don't feel like I need alcohol to survive, just a few sips to help with my anxiety and stress. Hopefully, this urge doesn't turn into anything stronger because I'm genuinely scared to become addicted to anything. I used to SH and I don't really get THOSE urges anymore, but also I feel like because I'm not really capable of expressing my sadness, I can't physically get them anymore.

P.S. I really fucked up my knee earlier and it hurts so fucking bad omg.

[rival-the-rose]

I've been doing so well but this weekend we don't have plans bc we're on call and we're kinda broke so there's not a ton we can do anyway and turns out I was pretty dependent on staying busy and now my mental health is kinda tanking.

I've been clean of self harm since I got Laika in 2015 but I've been missing her so bad, she really got me thru the winters and right now the sh urges are really really bad and I don't want to do it bc I don't want to disrespect her memory but the urge is so strong. And it's something I could get away with at least once unlike relapsing in food restriction. And I know that any time I can't skip meals the sh urges get stronger like a fucked up teeter totter.

I've ordered more vitamin d bc I've been out and noticed that my mood was deteriorating without it. And I've been doing lots of cool fiber arts things (that I do want to share but posting things like that feels impossible? I take pictures and everything and write the posts in my head and then I just can't post em). And I'm writing all this to stay busy until my partner wakes up bc that's the window I would have to harm. I know that I can be very very happy and that this is temporary and even necessary as part of recovery and grief. But I miss my fuckin dog and it's not fair.