#angel hosts a sleepover!

[love-toxin]

bonus night - mike schmidt

plot: jk it's just por-//SHOT

(cws: fem!reader, FNAF movie spoilers!!!, rough sex, riding, begging, a teeny tiny taste of dom mike, tit sucking, bruising, protected sex w/ a twist, post-fnaf canon, established relationship)

wc: 2k

There's absolutely no question that it's been a long fucking day. One of many, in fact, both behind him and yet to come.

Aside from his sleep schedule still being tremendously fucked from that five night ordeal, Mike's also had the stress of landing a new job and keeping it this time. He's lucky–god, he's lucky that an old friend of his just happened to have a connection–but that just puts more pressure on his ability to keep a level head and not lose this one. Plus, with his meds cut out as well as a whole host of new traumas to keep him up at night it's almost more stressful than fighting for his own life. With today being the end of orientation and the first real shift on the job, it's finally sinking in that a new chapter of life has started but his problems are still an uphill battle.

Bills, backpay, rent, Abby's therapy, pacifying their aunt who was quite aghast at waking up disheveled on their living room floor…it's been a process to say the least. His one saving grace has been you. You. His beautiful, gentle angel, with a voice like sugar and honey and skin as soft as velvet, warm like a shallow pool on a summer's day that he'd want to float in for hours. You're so precious he can't think of a single thing he's done in life that tops being your lover, or even comes close.

Well…maybe there's one thing.

“Mike,” The squeaking of the bed beneath you just barely drowns out the high, sweet whimper that your voice has melted into. “Please baby, slow down-”

A squeaky “ah!” flies from your mouth regardless of that insistent plea, your lover's hips like stone pistons as he bucks up and topples you over to land back against his chest. He loves you there; the feeling of your tits squished against his chest as he holds your ass in an iron grip. Thumbs dig into each cheek, palms splayed out to keep you spread but still in your place–stretched enough to take him but tight enough not to let him slip out. Not even now, an hour after he carried you through the door over his shoulder, when his spit and cum and sweat have coalesced into a damp sheen spilling over his lap. Fuck the mess. He'll clean it up later, if he doesn't just throw his whole bundle of sheets into the wash to scrub away the evidence.

Each thump, thump, thump of your body thrown down rings more in your ears than his, but both of you feel it equally. Your womb kissed with hard, stinging passion on every thrust, and Mike's stomach twisting and flexing as his cockhead beats that spot raw, instincts begging him to drain all he has left inside. He's got lots of pent-up energy to spare, and on the one night that his sister's gone to a sleepover you can bet he took the chance to let some of it out. He'd barely had time to grab a condom–as eager as he was, it pales in comparison to the heat between your thighs when you see him get all riled up. If he'd let you put it on for him, you'd probably have it off in a second. Now he's just at the mercy of your needy and downright addictive pussy.

“Fuck!” Your mewls shift into a spitting, hissing curse when he bites down on one of those beautiful breasts of yours. Unlike what a weaker man would do, Mike isn't averse to leaving bruises–what else could be expected? He tries to be a gentleman in public and you always tell him he is, but the desire to put hands all over those pretty tits and mark his claim on them is second nature now. And no matter how much you'll complain about them being sore afterwards, you'll still push them in his face with that devilish look that's daring him to do it all over again.

Besides, he can't resist those things swinging right in front of him. And you'll forget the sting so quickly, his tongue will make short work of those shallow wounds you feel as he latches his lips and starts to suck. Greedily.

“Mike!”

Your hands in his hair won't stop him. But they don't really want to–as always you love to tug but you never push him back, you don't try to get any more space between you because what's already there is still not close enough.

God your whiny voice is so cute. He couldn't feel more lucky to have picked you up when he did. How would he know that the girl he helped out once for an ice cream would end up being his girlfriend? He just thought you were cute, and he felt bad seeing your face fall as you counted out your change in line, so he hadn't thought twice about the dollar he put down on the counter in your stead. Such an adorable little ditz, and now he's got you riding his lap and kissing him awake nearly every morning. If he wanted to catch a break, this is it.

“M-Mike, m'gonna cum,” Your whimpers dig into his ear and tug at the strings of his heart, his head already turned to soothe you with a low, soft shush brushed by your cheek. There there. With a stroke of your hair, you're melting again.

“Mhm,” He hums again, his warmth a lull following the furious heat that's been sparked by the friction of his hips pumping at a violent pace. “Shh, sh sh. We’ll go slow, I promise.” His murmuring muddies your head, his fingers descending quickly towards their destination. Once they reach it at the crest of your soft, pudgy mound that's been brutalized by his cock, he's glad to see you finally let that tension go as you slump forward into his chest. You just need to cling to him for awhile, and he certainly won't be complaining.

The smell of your sweat, your heat, your sleek, soft tongue wetting the bruises your teeth leave in his throat, all that whining and groaning and high, girlish squealing as your hips hump his lap–these and more are all reasons he has to absolutely worship you. Your starry-eyed gaze as you look upon him in ecstasy etches itself into his very soul. He won't ever forget this…he won't ever forget you. Not the warmth of you both being cheek-to-cheek, your hand coaxing out his end as it trails reverently from his jaw down his heaving chest.

“Pleeeeease,” You whisper, so achingly sweet he could cry as easily as cum. “Please, baby?”

Please. Such a pretty word. Prettier from your mouth most of all, so pretty it hurts–nearly stings as he digs his nails in and leaves marks on each cheek, though it will moreso for you when you wince at sitting down at your desk tomorrow morning. You're shaking, trembling more like, and even if he made you wait for it you wouldn't be able to obey. The spasms wracking through you can't be controlled, nor can the grind of your hips down as you let those strong hands drag you all the way to the base. So far that it causes a twinge in your expression as the orgasm passes, your ecstasy blotting out the stretch that you're gonna feel all the way up to your hips in the morning.

But he's got to get in deep, has to make it ache, so he's got a grip so firm it's trembling up his arms and you're shaking even harder on top of him as he digs in and lets loose. There's no question he's hit your womb, it's more curious to whether he's broken through it or not…by the way you bite down on his shoulder and bear the pressure, though, he must be nearly there. Nearly squeezing through that tight, tight wall so he's draining his seed right where it's meant to be. And you paw at him all the while, lower lip quivering, tears threatening to spill, yet you won't let up on rubbing yourself back on his thighs–it just isn't enough until you've taken all he has to give, and even then he can spot that gleam in your eyes that begs for even more. The fact that the condom's split isn't even in his mind, it's floated so far away he won't think of it until it's too late to stop.

Yet all that heat hits the same end after the climax. The friction subsides, the breathing slows, and the two of you are left in content silence as you quietly come back to your senses. There's something even more intimate about losing oneself as a collective; being so hedonistic in pursuing an indulgence, yet facing the fear of baring your own heart to one you love in the process, and reaching an even more satisfying end as it all comes to a close. It's glorious. He wouldn't trade it for anything. He wouldn't trade sex for his own life now that he's had it with you. But, again, he's still coming down from the high–he’ll most certainly feel the embarrassment of losing himself so indulgently as the cool air from the AC starts setting in.

“Was that good, baby?” Your tone just drips with deliciously sinful innocence, god. You've got such a proud expression on your face as he finds the words through his post-coital haze, hands inching back down your ass to grab handfuls of it yet again. Once he's got a grip he tugs, and draws you closer to meet you in a kiss–and as wet as it still is from the exercise, the way you lean into it and giggle is just enough to send his heart burning into passionate flames yet again.

“Very. Always is.” Panting, sweaty, he'd have no trouble convincing the neighbors he was just having it out on a treadmill for the last hour. If he could afford one.

“The best you've ever had?”

“Best. Best and only. Can I get up now?”

“Mmm…” You make a show of thinking up your answer only to tap him on the nose as you lean forward over him. “...No. I like this.”

Mike claps you on the ass suddenly, the smack echoing loudly in his modest little bedroom and eliciting a squeal from you that's just as punctual. Your squirming only draws a heat up inside him again though, and he knows better than anyone that that's exactly what you want. You'd be happy if he never got out of bed again, and if he spent all day with his cock nestled nice and warm inside you.

“Up. I gotta piss. Don't make me count.”

“Fiiiiiiine.” Huffy and puffy as always, you soon relent and slip off with a bit of manoeuvring to flop into bed beside him. “Can I at least hold it?” Rather than say something equally as shameful, he just pushes his pillow over your face with reddened cheeks and ducks with laughter as you launch it back at him, already up and on his way to the bathroom to wash off–and to soon find the evidence of that broken contraception that's definitely gonna plant a seed of worry in him when he realizes. Or…maybe not. God knows how many jokes you've made about wasting his cumshots in your mouth, and how often you've jumped him with no inkling of whether he's got a rubber in reach or not.

Maybe this is just another chapter of life, one more stage he's been readying himself for unconsciously. Whatever it comes with, he's gonna be beside you either way–so in a sense, he's more prepared than he's ever been to face what lies ahead.

#mutuals if u look at me im legally required to gag u #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #spicy writing #fnaf movie #fnaf mike #ellie writes #2k

[queenariesofnarnia]

sleepover secrets

gif not mine!

wc: 654

alastor x f!reader

🦌❤️

“You’re crazy as hell toots” Angel howls with laughter before tossing popcorn in his mouth. 

“Shut up! I can’t be the only person who finds the full on demon form totally fuckable” you try and defend yourself. 

“The only one who would say it out loud for sure” he informs you leaning against you as Fat Nuggets settles between you both. 

“I would never have the guts to tell him. I may be crazy but I enjoy not being double dead Ang.” giving Fat Nuggets  attention as you turn back your the movie he chose. A few moments of silence pass before Angel speaks again,

“Definitely a size kink thing right?” you couldn’t help but snort. 

“Definitely” you agree, unbeknownst to you a little eavesdropping shadow heard your spilled secrets. Going back to tell his master the news. The radio demon’s grin growing in curiosity. As the night grew on and more secrets were spilled the little shadow remained unseen gathering more to share with his master until you and Angel turned in for the night. The bottle you’ve been sharing forgotten on the nightstand. 

✨the next day✨

As morning hit Angel and you roll out of bed in pajamas trudging down stairs for breakfast. Greeting everyone, you sit next to Alastor who has your morning coffee in his hand. You thank him loud enough for him to hear before settling into your seat enjoying your coffee. Charlie suggested a group bonding activity, even pleading with Alastor to join. Everyone paired off into twos and just your luck of course you have him as your partner. 

“Okay everyone, ask your partner a question that you think would help to get to know them deeper!” Charlie optimistically instructed. 

“Ladies first dear” his always present grin seemed to sparkle with mischief today. 

“What drew you to radio hosting?” your question seemed to surprise him. 

“Well my dear, I believe this voice deserves to be broadcasted everywhere.” he answers, before pretending to think about what to ask you. “What do you think about my full form dear?” you shift in your seat at the question. There’s no way he could’ve heard you. Thinking of how to avoid the question. 

“I think it suits you. It definitely shows you’re not one to be fucked with” you answer looking away from him. His clawed fingers grab your face making you face him. You see Angel behind him with a shit eating grin looking at you. 

“It is quite rude not to look at someone while speaking to them my dear” his tone left you too stunned to speak. Dropping his hand from your face, you shoot up from your seat dismissing yourself from the group apologizing. Making it to your room in record time lying face down on your bed. 

“I’m never showing my face again” you mumble into your pillow.  

“Now that would be unfortunate dear” Alastor’s voice startled you as me appears in your bed. 

Startling you, before you could fall to the floor his shadow pushed you back up. 

“If I could have a heart attack still, I’d be dead” you huffed holding your chest. 

“You didn’t answer my question honestly dear” he said repeating his previous actions to get you to look at him. 

“You know the answer don’t you?” you ask doing your best to keep eye contact. “You do know it’s not right to eavesdrop on secrets shared at sleepovers Al” you give him the best serious look you can muster. 

“Whenever you want to see my full form again just ask cher” he said releasing your face before disappearing back into his shadow. Leaving you flustered. His laugh echos from the radio in your room, shaking your head with a small smile on your face. 

“You’re too much Al” you said softly but loud enough for him to pick up. 

“Don’t speak too soon dear” he replied before your radio turned off. 

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #the radio demon #hazbin hotel

[pray4byron]

hiiii!! i was wondering if perchance i could request head canons or a one shot (whichever you see more fit) of how [character] is on their first date with [reader]

the characters im rlly invested in are alastor, vox, velvette, angel & husk 💗

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐯𝐨𝐱, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭, 𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

a/n: i’m so sorry requests have been so slow, my show is almost done (closing night is today) so i’ll be able to get to requests after that!! and i tried to make this a bit longer than my normal pieces so i hope i did okay? we’re almost at 700 btw so tysm for that <3

warnings: profanity, mentions of sex in vox’s part (no smut), mentions of valentino, implied!masc reader in angel’s section — the rest are gn

proofread: no 😔

tags: x reader, alastor, husk hazbin hotel, angel dust, headcanons, the vees

𝐯𝐨𝐱

vox would probably enjoy a night in the most, honestly, fans can irk him a fair bit, and he wants tonight to be about you and him alone

he’d probably get some of his more decent employees to be like waiters, and let’s be real, even if you were only in vox’s quarters, you both would still be dolled up

seeing as this is only the first date, vox’s “show host” persona is still very present, he’s not ready to let his walls down quite yet, he’ll sit there and boast about how fucking amazing he is for most of the date

but you’d be surprised, when you speak, vox won’t shut down anything you’d say, he’s an extremely good listener — it mainly comes from how he has to listen to boring meetings, even when he doesn’t want to, but as much as he won’t admit it, he could listen to you talk anyday

when the end of the date comes, you’re either gonna end up spending the night at his, whether it ends in sex with him or falling asleep on the couch together in the middle of a movie is a bit of a 50/50

OR he’s gonna end up driving you home, mainly because he doesn’t enjoy just walking about the streets of hell, because so many people come up to him, and also cause he doesn’t want to risk putting you in harms way, but also because he wants to flex his fancy ass car…

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭

like vox, he’d also probably enjoy a date in a more private settings — due to the type of fans he has, the contract he’s under, along with many other things

but angel has a preference for more relaxed dates, he’d bring you into his room the hotel and end up having a massive sleepover — movies, skincare, gossip seshs, etc. whatever you ask for, he’ll give ya!!

after valentino, i can see angel only really taking interest in people who he’s known for a long time/has a strong bond with — so considering the fact that he’s most likely known you for a long time, this is probably when he’s gonna be more affectionate — possible cuddles, kisses, etc

but even with that, angel really considers first dates as a ‘get to know you’ sorta thing, so he wants to hear all about you, and share stories with you about him as well! you two will probably play games like 21 questions or truth or dare but with mostly truths 😭🙏

honestly, angel will probably spend more time telling you about molly (his sister) then himself, he misses her a lot, and she was one of the biggest parts of him and he loves telling you stories about them together in their lifetime

𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞

in contrast to vox, she would love to go out somewhere for a first date, more specifically, the mall! she may end up treating the first date as more a girls trip, but trust me, it isn’t her way of friend zoning you in the slightest!!

the stores in the mall that she’d most likely wanna hit up are the clothing stores and makeup stores (duh)

she’d try on a bunch of fits for you in a ‘fashion run-way’ kind-of manner and force outfits into your arms and rush you to do the same

and in makeup stores, she’d grab a bunch of lip-oil testers and swatch them on your arm and see which ones she thinks look the best — and she’d also try to find your foundation shade match or something like that

then you goes would probably stop at a food court and she would sit there and just yap, i can see velvette as a big rambler, she can be very expressive with her words, especially when it comes to her passion topics, so she really grows to appreciate you if you decide to hear her out

and side note; if you guys run into one of her fans, she’ll make sure you see it, she needs you to know how fucking hot and famous she is

the both of you will probably stay until the mall is about to close, and then you’ll walk her home, but don’t worry, she’ll give you a small kiss for being so good ~

𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐤

honestly, husk would kinda be at loss a for what to do for a ‘date’ — it’s been a long damn time since he’s been romantically interested in someone, so he’s not too sure where to start

he’ll end up going to charlie for help, or angel, and he ends up deciding to take you out to a small diner that’s just a stroll away from the hotel

it’s not great there by any means, but it’s not bad, but more importantly, it’s safe, and that’s all he really wants for you

you two will spend most of the time conversing in conversation, nothing too crazy or life changing, but simple ice breakers here and there, husker is more awkward than you may think

despite the fact that he thinks it’s so fucking stupid, he takes charlie’s idea to share a smoothie with you, which ends up back-firing as he takes a sip and it goes through and up your straw and splatters onto your face

and you can’t help but blush as he gets a little too close to you as he wipes the smoothie off of your face with a few napkins…

𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫

alastor is a gentlemen, who aims to please, so he has a number of activities for you that are bound to blow you out of the water, even if the idea is simple on paper

first, he starts off by taking you out to dinner, the fanciest restaurant he could find, you both are dressed up to a tee

he makes sure to feed you every last bite of your food, treating you like a pet, its so sickeningly sweet you didn’t whether to be slightly offended or swoon right then and there

then he takes you out to a nice park, even if it’s already dark out, and he’ll have you on his arm and take a simple stroll with you, the attention is fully on you and he won’t shy away from giving you all the praise possible

shortly after, alastor will get his staff and play some gentle jazz music as you both sway under the hellish stars on what seems to be such a blissful night ~

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.

#mio’s writing ! ☆ #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #vox x y/n #vox x you #vox x reader #vox hazbin #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #velvette hazbin #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #velvette x reader #angel dust x y/n #angel dust x you #angel dust hazbin hotel #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #husk hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin x reader

[twisted-wonderland-memories]

Housewardens X (G/N)! Reader, but the reader loves to make fun of horror game weak jumpscares.

Summary: The Lion, the Witch, And the Audacity of you inviting the housewardens to have a sleepover with you on newely invented Ramshackle. As you expected it was chaotic and there are SOME that wants you to sleep early, but you insisted that since you are the host you let them do what they want aside from bossing you around…. However, thankfully there is no class tomorrow but….

You were playing a horror game on your giant tv that can act as a computer thanks to Idia’s big brain. Because of that you and Idia decided to stay up all night just to play a game that has a different genre, surprisingly Idia picked horror.

Little did he not realize that it was the WORSE mistake he could have ever done.

The moment you two booted up a horror game, the others soon finds themselves watching you play the horror.

Ones who ARE scared of horror is Azul, Kalim, and maybe Vil and Riddle?

Tho lets be real here.

Some are SCARED of horror, but you?

While you were playing a game, Idia was hugging your waist trying not to scream as the other housewardens are pissed at him for taking that hugging spot. Leona was casually lying on the floor but curious about the situation, Vil who was finished with his makeup has ligit time to watch everyone, Kalim was watching cheerfully while poor Azul was hugging his pillow, Malleus and Riddle are watching in anticipation tho one difference is that Riddle was secretly melting in fear at the sight of the creepy atmosphere.

They were all wondering why did you have the guts to go even further into horror, who raised you to have guts for this?

You who literally have grew up with playing or watching horror games and horror novels, you are no stranger to this.

Finally, a jumpscare happen and some of the housewardens had screamed a little.

You on the other hand…..just laughing at the weak scare.

“PERFECT WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING AT THAT JUMPSCARE?!”

“AHAHAHAHAHA!!!! IM SORRY ITS TOO FUNNY!!”

“Are you simply laughing at us for that?!”

“PPFFTT NOOO!!!”

You cant stop laughing that it was angelic even if its at…this situation…

“Games these days loves to make a jumpscare worse!!! Its too funny!! Hahahaha!!!”

They soo get that…..you laugh just of a simple jumpscare that is…. very weak…

They don’t know who is worse, you or the Leech Twins???

“Child of man, if that is funny…. Then why are we spooked over this?”

You then explained to them that you grew up watching or playing horror games, mentally questioning the characters weird decisions, slowly understanding their characters even if it was very bad. They soon understand it but you did told them that you were honest that you too also get spooked when you saw it for the first time, tho you decided NOT to tell them the WORSE part of horror just for you and for them.

They finally understand it, and you told them if they can’t sleep cause of this you offer to let them stay with you when they are sleeping. Kalim was happy about it and so was Malleus, Leona was willing to do that, while the others just blush but nods accepting that offer. Maybe a sleep over with you wasn’t so bad after all.

You told them various type of horror games but you wouldn’t dare to tell them the disturbing parts, sure there are some that are curious but you warned them that it would traumatize them even more if you DID told them the harsh truth of horror. Thankfully Idia barely knows much about horror but he does agree to not look further to the disturbing parts, a few are curious but they had to understand your warnings. As a result you continued to play the horror game with no fear, and soon Idia gets your point as to why you laugh at weak jumpscares since it DOES feel weak.

Sure jumpscares aren’t scary but its the atmosphere that DOES show the real horror, imagining the scenario would bring nightmares.

Once you finally finish a horror game….

They wanted to stay with you so they can sleep well.

Sure there is Malleus and Leona who isn’t shaken. Riddle who looks normally fine along with Vil and Kalim, Idia and Azul are scared shitless. But there is NO WAY IN HELL they can sleep alone cause of that.

You brought this up to yourself, but it was Idia that made things worse but that isn’t on him. That was on you who played a horror game from start to finish.

Soon enough you decided to make a large bed for everyone to sleep with you, plus you literally have to add some comforting music to make them feel better and yet. If you the reader is imagining that they are doing that on purpose to act scared I don’t even know what will.

In a platonic way they would try to sleep over the fear or simply just ignore the horror and just went straight to bed.

But if some had a crush on you they would stay behind and be with you even if it was fear.

But if ALL of them had a crush on you, yeap definitely need a huge bed just to pamper all of them.

Riddle - If its Riddle, he would be clingy if its in private. Tho he did try his best to keep an straight face, however, it makes him happy when you decided to keep him company before he had a peaceful sleep.

Leona - Ehhh, he kept a straight normal face like it’s nobody’s business. But he will cuddle you to sleep, after all he will be mean to you to not get up after that.

Azul - What have you done to this poor octo boi, cause of that Azul is EXTREMELY clingy to you and you literally have to pet him to make him sleep, but you are NOT allowed to tell this to the twins.

Kalim - Its hard to imagine being scared, but he does love to cuddle you to sleep. He would simply cuddle with you to sleep, after all he may not understand horror very well but he surely loves to cuddle you for one reason. And that is to protect you.

Vil - You had NO idea Vil had to keep up a straight face to hide his shaken fear, cause of that he has to cuddle you to sleep but EXPECT a scolding and a reminders from Vil NOT to do that again.

Idia - He had NO idea that you can handle that well, but he does appreciate cuddling with you. But at least he has someone like you to tell him which horror games that are worth it laugh at.

Malleus - Bro isnt scared? No idea, but one thing is for certain. Malleus would LOVE to cuddle with you when its time for sleep, it makes him feel very comfortable from what he had witnessed, tho he does love to rehear your laughter again.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #dormleader x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #riddle x reader #leona x reader #azul x reader #kalim x reader #vil x reader #idia x reader #malleus x reader

[rafeandonlyrafe]

nsfw masterlist two (18+ only!)

MASTERLIST PART ONE

unexpected consequences words: 700

bruised knees words: 2.1k

pink princess words: 2.4k

you made me this way words: 1.5k

clicker words: 600

good host words: 4.1k

pink roses words: 3.1k

fear not, bunny words: 600

when in rome words: 1.7k

dealer words: 2.5k

can i hold it? words: 2k

bésame words: 1.6k

pussy privileges words: 1.6k

under the covers words: 1.3k

punished words: 1k

mischief words: 1.3k

carnival words: 1.7k

three: barry words: 1.7k

mean daddy words: 600

new neighbor words: 1.4k

best friends dad words: 500 part two words: 500 part three words: 900

inspections words: 1k

full inspection words: 2.1k

cocaine in my lipgloss words: 2.1k

new follower words: 1.4k

crimson red words: 1.4k part two words: 1.3k part three words: 900

submissive side words: 900

baby shoes words: 2.3k

taken care of words: 2.2k

desperate measures words: 1.7k

lecture hall words: 400

glint of metal words: 800

deputy's daughter words: 1.6k

munch words: 300

general store words: 1.5k

twinkle twinkle little star words: 700

angel of a daughter words: 2.2k

easter day words: 1.3k

sleepover words: 700

proper thank you words: 600

those three words words: 1.2k

arsonist's lullaby words: 3.3k

feeling generous words: 1.3k

obsessive love words: 2.1k

purest honey words: 1.1k

distant calls words: 700

your duke words: 4.7k

moonlit beach words: 1.6k

in the middle words: 1.4k

traffic words: 700

chat words: 1.3k part two words: 700

the same tv words: 1.8k

almost sweet music words: 900

experimentation words: 6.9k

bound and bruised words: 1.5k

#had to make a second masterlist bc i cant put over 100 links. lol :) #masterlist

[angelicmunson]

sleepover // the boys

✩ pairing: eddie munson x reader, steve harrington x reader, billy hargrove x reader, jonathan byers x reader

✩ word count: 1k

✩ outline: pretty self explanatory, just soft sleepovers with your bf

✩ authors note: these got longer as they went on i’m so sorry!!!

eddie-

“m’tired, ed’s” you mumbled against his shoulder, the horror flick he picked was still playing even though both of you were half asleep. he hummed, the arm that was around you tightened as he spoke “spend the night baby, don’t want you driving right now” he said it so casually that you didn’t think twice about saying yes. eddie turned the tv off as you got up and stumbled to his bedroom, him following right after. you ungraciously flopped onto his bed which made him chuckle. “i don’t think your jeans will be comfortable to sleep in, here,” a tshirt was flung onto your stomach. you walked down the hall to change and by the time you got back, eddie was comfortably in his bed. he smiled softly as he admired you wearing something of his. you crawled in beside him, welcoming his arms as they wrapped around you. “goodnight hon” you whispered. his lips found your head after he mumbled his own goodnight.

steve -

you sighed as you threw the last beer can in the trash bin. how could five people drink so much, you thought. you could hear your boyfriend saying his goodbyes to your friends as he shooed them out the front door. “aaand they’re gone!” he announced with a grin before coming up to wrap his around you. “i think we hosted our first game night pretty well huh?” he asked, which made you nod. “i’d say so, no broken game pieces or spilled beers considering you and robin are so competitive.” steve rolled his eyes at your teasing. “i am exhausted though.” you couldn’t have agreed more. if it wasn’t monster hunting, it was school and work taking it’s toll on your friend group. “c’mon baby,” you started up the stairs, knowing he’d be right behind you. a perk of having absent parents was that they constantly left him home alone, giving you two free reign. you were the first in bed, steve simply needed to have his shower or his hair wouldn’t look right in the morning. you really tried to stay awake for him, but you just couldn’t. you felt the bed dip and him moving around for a bit before he finally settled. a quiet “love you, angel” was the last thing you heard.

billy -

worrying about billy was second nature at this point; especially when it came to him and his dad. the moment he crawled in through your window and you saw the purple bruise on his cheek, you knew it was a bad one. “what happened?” we’re the first words out of your mouth. “i don’t get a kiss or i missed you first?” his signature smirk covered his lips and you could just tell it hurt to move his face like that. you sighed as you reached up to graze the bruise, his hissing made you pull away with a frown. “it’s nothing out of the ordinary, sweetheart. he was getting in max’s face and i couldn’t take it anymore.” he pulled you into his chest when he noticed the tears in your eyes. “i’m alright, i’m here with you now aren’t i?” you managed to nod against him. “you’re spending the night tonight.” billy tensed up and you knew what he was going to say. “my parents are away for the weekend, lake house with my aunt and uncle.” you explained. he shrugged, “if you insist.” you were quick to make dinner for the two of you and after an episode of cringey late night tv, you were ready for bed. you don’t think you’d ever get used to seeing your boyfriend shirtless. you left to the restroom for two minutes to brush your teeth and in that time he managed to strip down to his underwear and position himself on your bed. “people usually sleep under the covers, baby.” you couldn’t help but giggle at him. “oh i know, just wanted to give you a nice view.” he winked before getting properly situated. you wasted no time in pulling him into you, his head on your chest. if there was one thing billy loved, it was you playing with his hair. he sighed in content and only held onto you tighter. “thank you.” it came out soft, but you heard it.

jonathan -

thunder storms were the bane of your meek existence. the forecast had been great all week; sunny skies and not a word of rain. so when you heard the unmistakable sound of rain on the byers’ roof, you wanted to cry. “jonathan,” you whined. his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he sighed, giving his mom a look of helplessness. he knew how anxious this weather made you. “you’re staying here tonight, honey.” joyce decided as she stood up from the couch to grab the telephone. “i’ll call your mom right now and tell her not to worry.” you were thankful for her, you did not want to risk driving in this. a loud crack of thunder made you jump, a cry coming from your lips. “it’s okay babe, i got you.” your boyfriend cooed. joyce came back into the living room, giving a thumbs up, “she said it’s okay and to be home by 9.” you opened your mouth to give thanks, but another crack of thunder sounded and this time shut the power off with it. “fuck,” jonathan cursed. “okay, okay, hold on,” joyce began fumbling through cupboards to find all the flashlights in the house. she yelled for will to get all the blankets he could find as she flicked them all on. “we’re gonna have a nice little sleepover!” soon enough, you and jonathan were on one couch wrapped in a blanket and in each other’s arms with joyce and will slept on the other couch. “are you feeling better?” your boyfriend asked. “somewhat,” you shrugged. “i really appreciate you and your mom for all this.” the rain still poured outside and the thunder came and went, but you knew you were safe. “just wanna take care of you.” he whispered.

#stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things preferences #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #billy hargrove x reader #jonathan byers x reader #eddie munson imagine #steve harrington imagine #billy hargove imagine #jonathan byers imagine #liz writes

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Haruhi and her frogin freind are out shopping together

How would three character of the host club be when they stalking them!

You and Haruhi have finally gotten together after so long. Traveling with your father’s business you’ve met quite a few people in your travels: karate masters, a flamboyant blonde, a really persuasive guy with glasses, and so many more. But nothing is like the market in your hometown or rather one of your hometowns. 

Unbeknownst to you and Haruhi, the Ouran Host Club can’t help but follow after the mysterious person they met just last Summer. 

Tamaki Suoh

“What a surprise the damsel we’ve been talking about happens to be here! Charge onward!” 

He’s too excited and far too loud about his ambitions to follow you

Their ‘king’ isn’t exactly the best at covert operations despite his inclination for them

And if you or Haruhi don’t already know he’s there one of you will find him out

If it's you, you’ll call him asking ‘what brings you here?’

And he happily will join you two 

Buying whatever he sees your eyes linger on 

even if it's only a moment

When the day finally ends and you wave goodbye to make sure Haruhi gets home he waits for you

Now Tamaki Suoh could very well stay away from you watching protectively as you get home

But he’s too much of a gentleman to let you go alone

Or that he absolutely feeds off of your attention

Even if you originally refuse he won’t let you he’ll still escort you

Even attempting to invite himself inside but when he notices your frantic breathing and darting eyes he excuses himself 

Making a show of driving away before instructing that they return in a couple hours

“My poor angel! All alone in such poverty! I just have to make sure they sleep well!”

Kyoya Ootori

“I’d also appreciate an in-depth look at their…personal life.” 

He has to control his excitement with a push of his glasses

Typically he’d leave such a job to his…hired help 

He gets plenty of updates from them but nothing beats getting the facts of his future spouse from ground zero

If he wasn’t so pretty and such a smooth talker it might have been easier not to be swarmed 

But eventually, he gets a disguise good enough that he can continue to silently follow after 

He’s sloppy because he hasn’t done this before or rather its been a while since he has

But he manages to maintain his cover

Making sure to make note of your conversation and preferences as you stop for food or buy different items 

When the day ends he tails you from a distance by driver as he notes the safety of your route and neighborhood 

Being sure to complain threaten the city council about the lack of lighting in specific alleyways

Of course, he will collect the Ootori photographers’ work for the day and decide which one he wants for his calendar, his wallet, his corkboard, his office wall, his bedside, his ceiling

“I’ve seen enough of their common lifestyle, it's time I elevated that. After all, we can’t have my love of all people being forced to live so below their means.”

Hikaru Hitachiin

“Well, aren’t you two cuties looking happy today!” 

He’s already an avid stalker of yours 

Now Haruhi is so used to this behavior she can wave it off calming any suspicions you have when you recall how this same situation occurred once before

Just like he planned

But now there's no shaking him off now 

He’s following the both of you all throughout the day

Being sure to pick off your food with the toothpick that you’d been sucking on

Or being sure to lick the strokes on your popsicle you bought just moments before

Taking every opportunity to pull at your fingers whenever he wants to look at a ‘commoner’s’ stall

He’s even walking you home 

Actually, he’s decided he wants a sleepover 

You can’t refuse him, can you?

Because he does have that photo of you

How’d he get it? He’ll never tell

But you best cook him some commoner alternative to Italian cuisine

Otherwise, you’ll just have to pack up and come to his house

“Don’t forget (Y/n)~ you owe me for destroying this picture~! So what’s it going to be?”

Kaoru Hitachiin

“Hey, I’m glad I ran into you here! Been trying to widen my horizons and decided to try the commoner’s market! Mind if I hang out with you guys?”

He’s a lot more casual 

Having a bonafide reason why he’s here 

You would have never guessed he had bugged your phone when you last met

He’s great at acting casual 

Oddly less mischievous without his brother 

It's easy to oblige when he asks you to pose a ring for him

‘Don’t worry about it! It's for a friend of his!’ is what he says

Or when he asks about what you like off-handedly returning with it in hand from a supposed bathroom break

He’ll walk you and Haruhi home 

So nice you only think it nice to offer your bathroom for the long drive he was in for on the way home

He couldn’t be happier to see the forgotten clothes strewn in your bathroom in person

Or letting the water run while he holds your toothbrush in his mouth then switch it with his decoy

“Thanks for spending your day with me! We’ve got to schedule one of around one of these days, preferably just the two of us!”

Mitsukuni “Honey” Haninozuka

“(Y/n)-channn!!! Come try this commoner food! It really is delicious!”

Honey has two stalking styles the silent type that makes use of his ninja prowess 

And the type that just abandons watching you from afar entirely

He typically resorts to the former when you're out with potential rivals 

Sabotaging every way he can before he results to pummeling the problem this person

But this time, it's personal

Haruhi is his friend but you are his future his sweetie cake just ripe for the taking

And while with most friends he doubts you’d be interested as he’s pretty confident they get the memo

But he knows Haruhi just draws people in that way 

And he will not let that happen

So every time you go to look into her eyes he’s shoving ice cream, cake, tarts, his face in between you two

It's so much like his normal personality so neither of you questions it

It's also nothing to question when he walks you home before letting himself inside to give you whatever sweet you like

If you don’t like sweets he’s just bringing cake that he can invite himself to eat it

You can’t really stop him when he insists on exploring your home as if he didn’t already memorize where everything is

Moving faster than you can grab a hold of him he might let you go if you hug him+

“Wowww (Y/n), your house is so small! Y’know you should come to my house, it's way bigger! You can even have your own room at my place!”

Takashi Morinozuka

“...I didn’t want to disturb you two.”

He’s really good at this 

Athleticism and stealth when he really tries give him the advantage

The only thing that can throw him off his game is you

He either gets lost as he watches you gush over a keychain or a stall you were particularly passionate about 

So busy swooning silently that he’ll hardly notice when Haruhi finally taps him awake 

With him, she’s the only one who can quite obviously tell 

And since Mori has hardly shown any worrisome behavior she invites him

He’s so excited to be noticed by you 

And will enthusiastically nod his head whenever you talk to me

Probably offered by Haruhi he’ll walk you home

Only now speaking more than he typically would

He can’t help but blush as he sees you continue to look at him only him

When he bids you goodnight he’ll stand in front of your home for awhile 

Intensely watching your silhouette pad around in the window as you start your nightly routine

Imagining himself alongside you after his timer goes off he leaves reluctantly

Switching out with his subordinates

“Goodnight, (Y/n).”

#yandere ouran highschool #yandere ouran host club x reader #yandere ohshc #yandere ohshc x reader #yandere tamaki x reader #yandere tamaki suoh #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere kyoya #yandere kyoya ootori #yandere mori x reader #yandere honey #yandere mitsukuni #yandere hikaru #yandere kaoru #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere harem #yandere ouran host club headcannons

[anti-science-cohost]

HEY GUYS ME AND ANGEL ARE HOSTING A SLEEPOVER IF ANYONE WANTS TO JOIN!!!

[love-fictional-ppl]

OH MY LORD PLEASE DO MORE ABOUT STONER BAKUSQUAD THAT WAS 'mwah' chefs kiss

xoxoxooxox thank you sm if you do xoxooxox

Omgg yesss I love stoner bakusquad. Tyy for the request loveeee

.·:*¨¨*:·. 𖣁 .·:*¨¨*:·.

Part 2 of this

༺♡︎༻

Summary: reader and quirkless au!Bakusquad are stoners

Pairings: platonic!katsuki bakugou x gn!bisexual!reader, platonic!Eijiro Kirishima x gn!bi!reader, platonic!pan!Denki Kaminari x gn!bi!reader, platonic!plug!hanta sero x gn!bi!reader, platonic!bi!mina ashido x gn!bi!reader, Eijiro Kirishima x bi!mina ashido, past!Hanta sero x bi!mina ashido, pan!Denki Kaminari x bi!plug!hitoshi Shinso

Warnings: language, Marijuana duh, vaping, alcohol, making out, shrooms, OF, masturbation, etc.

A/n: I was personally geeked writing part 1, so I forgot to actually include the vaping part lol. If you don’t know who Harold and kumar are, watch the movies.

༺♡︎༻

Ok so to start off, Sero’s day/night Job is deejaying. He’s actually really good at it. A lot of people would think this job would go to Denki but nope.

Speaking of Denki, he actually is a streamer. He reacts to people’s videos and plays horror games. He plays a lot of Roblox too.

Bakugou likes Sam & Colby. He’s liked them since trap boys. Honestly his favorite trap boy is Corey tho.

When Mina drinks she gets the spins really bad and throws up. Every single time. Without hesitation.

Denki cries sometimes when he’s drunk.

Kirishima greened out at the first smoke sesh.

Mina is seriously super horny when she messed up. She even convinced bakugou to make out with her while he was super stoned

Denki started vaping when you guys were in sophomore year, he eventually put u all on.

Bakugou had to bail Sero out of jail once, Sero was pulled over while he was making a delivery

Mina makes Kirishima take her to concerts, he trip sits her while she takes shrooms

Sero likes to watch cartoon network and adult swim when he’s stoned

Eventually, Shinso and Denki get together. You all excepted Shinso practically immediately, and invited him to the smoke seshs

Mina buys pink joint papers. The guys hate when she rolls up with them, except for Denki he loves them<3

Mina has an only fans. She isn’t embarrassed by it either. Denki has also watched her videos while jerking off

During smoke sesh’s you guys like to watch South Park. Sero likes to laugh and compare bakugou to cartman.

Sero has a unhealthy amount of bongs

Kirishima is the designated driver for after the hangouts. Whoever doesn’t just sleepover, he gives a ride.

Kirishima always makes a crap ton of snack when him and Mina host. Mina doesn’t like hosting tho.

Depending on how high bakugou is, he will let you play with his hair. It’s actually so soft.

Denki and Sero almost got kidnapped by Sero’s plug one time. It was Denki’s fault, he tried to still the guy’s knife.

Sero loves Shinso’s cat especially when he’s stoned he says he’s the group scooby doo. Shinso is forced to bring muffins(the cat) every time

Shinso also sells weed so Sero claims they’re competitors

Denki is so girly with his vapes it’s funny. Like this boy will kill for a minty Hyde. He also always has to tear apart his bed just to find the shit.

I think everybody agree and say bakugou and kirishima drink whiskey. Grown ahh ahh men💀

Bakugou literally will catnap when he is baked. He likes to sleep with his head on your thighs

Kirishima always brings blunt wraps since you and Denki always forgets to buy them. Baby boy kiri is a angel🥹😇

Reach in Sero’s couch cushions and you will find a kingdom of lighters

Denki says him and Sero are Harold And Kumar. Denki and you love those movies.

Sero’s kitchen is stocked on all your favorite foods and drinks.

༺♡︎༻

Not Proofread!

#my hero academia #katsuki bakugo mha #mha denki #mha x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bakusquad #stoner!bakusquad #mina ashido x reader #mina ashido #plug!hanta sero #sero hanta x reader #kirimina #shinkami #plug!hitoshi Shinso #denki kaminari #denki x reader #kirishima eijirou #sero hanta

[roosterbruiser]

I’d love a blurb about the moment one of the boys (your choice) realized he was in love with you

(Extra, extra bonus points if it’s during a normal domestic moment)

(Also!!! I love your bravery and honesty during these sleepovers)

this is so sweet!! dealers choice!! and you're the sweetest, honey! all the love to you!!

it happens when he least expects it.

you've been together for a few months now--a few sunny, open-mouth laughter, cherry wine, late night ice cream trip filled months. he knows--and has known--that you're special. you're different than the other people he's dated, but not in a big and scary way. it isn't even something he can really even pinpoint; it's just the way he feels about you. there's just a tug, an invisible one, that keeps your bodies close all the time.

when he realizes he loves you, you're sitting out on the back deck at your house. the sun is beginning to set and you're drenched in pink light, your hair falling very sweetly over your shoulders. you're sipping the rest of your rose as Bob sits beneath you, his lips resting on your bare shoulder.

"that was fun," you tell Bob contentedly, soothingly rubbing your fingers up and down his thigh. "they should come over more! wanna use my deck more often."

"you're the only person in the world who wants to host seven fighter pilots for a two-course meal," he says softly, smiling. "and also the only person in the world who tells them to not worry about cleaning."

at that, you glance at the table. soiled napkins, empty wine glasses, dirty plates, strewn cutlery decorate the places where the squadron had sat earlier.

you're flustered now, grinning at Bob.

finally, you turn on his lap and grin at him.

"just want your friends to like me," you admit to him.

"they do," he tells you, really meaning it. he thinks Bradley might like you a bit too much. "who wouldn't like you, sweetheart?"

before you can think of answering, you see it--there's a smudge on Bob's glasses. those sweet blue eyes are somehow blind to how dirty those glasses get, which is why you've taken it upon yourself to always carry around a lens wipe.

"honey," you say softly, smiling as you take his glasses off and sit up to reach into your jacket pocket. "you really are blind, huh, Floyd?"

and then you diligently begin to clean his glasses. solid, slow movements as you very carefully swipe the cloth across the lenses. Bob watches, his smile fading, as the sun hits you just right. the most beautiful girl he's ever seen in his life is cleaning the glasses he's relentlessly teased about by his squadron and the rest of the world. and he can tell, with everything in his being, that you want to do this. for him.

and even though he knows, he still asks, "you don't wear glasses, right?"

you shake your head, glancing at him.

"so, you just carry a lens cloth around for me, then?"

you're a bit flustered again, carefully putting his glasses back on his face before wringing your hands together and nodding. in the past, you've been accused of caring too much. you don't want Bob to think that you're pushing yourself into his life too deeply.

"yeah," you answer sheepishly.

you're going to explain, but then Bob is holding your cheeks between both hands, stroking your skin with his thumbs carefully.

he truly wasn't expecting for it to happen here and now. he wasn't expecting you to carefully clean his glasses for him after hosting all of his friends at your house, after you fed all of them, after you insisted that everyone go home after dessert without cleaning up. but here you are--his angel drenched in pink-light, flustered at her own sweetness.

"I'm so in love with you," Bob says simply. and he thinks it might be what he is most sure of in the world. "like, in a big way."

#m answers #charcuterie night #slumber party #bob floyd #it is bob #top gun bob #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd x you #bob floyd fic #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd x you #bob top gun

[zeke-in-devildom]

Dissonance - Chapter 20: That Time I Had a Sleepover Retreat at the Demon Lord's Castle and Gained the Pact of Envy!

Zeke felt like he was in a bit of a daze as he sat on a couch in a lavish sitting room at the Demon Lord’s castle. Simeon and Solomon were fussing over him, carefully bandaging a few small scrapes he’d earned over the past several hours. They didn’t want to use healing magic, citing how exhausted he already was, saying it would be better to let such minor injuries heal on their own. Given he was too tired to disagree he simply sat there and let them fuss.

The more pressing thing taking up his attention was the infernal magic still pulsing through his veins, the stinging mark on his left shoulder a reminder that he had just gained his fifth pact. Zeke still thought it all felt a bit surreal, but Levi was still hovering nearby, hands wringing as he watched the others tend to him. The events leading up to this were wild, to say the least.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This all started when Lucifer announced at breakfast Friday morning that Lord Diavolo had decided to host a sleepover retreat at the Demon Lord’s castle for all the exchange students and the student council - which was just the brothers, Diavolo, and Barbatos. Most of the brothers had groaned at the very idea. Beel seemed entirely indifferent, still scarfing down his breakfast as if nothing else mattered - which to the Avatar of Gluttony was probably pretty close to true. Asmo on the other end of the spectrum, seemed downright giddy at the idea of having a sleepover with Zeke.

That had all the brothers flipping their tunes about the retreat. A small argument broke out over who would get to room with Zeke, a privilege all the demons seemed to want, but Lucifer halted that argument with the proclamation that room assignments would be chosen at random when they arrived at the castle. That earned grumbles, but everyone agreed that was the most fair way to do it.

The itinerary for the retreat was gone over, and Zeke found himself a little daunted by what was revealed. The first night seemed perfectly normal. They would arrive after school to the castle, hand out room assignments, take a tour of the castle, and have dinner prepared by Barbatos. The next day was okay, he was looking forward to breakfast and lunch prepared by Luke, and a scavenger hunt could be fun. It was the formal dance that worried him. He had never been to such a thing. Well, Zeke had never been to a sleepover either, but that seemed easy. He didn’t want to look like a total fool in front of a bunch of Devildom elite that would be in attendance. Plus, he didn’t have anything to wear to that kind of event. There was hardly time to prepare for anything, as the retreat would begin that night.

Lucifer tried to reassure him that Barbatos had an outfit prepared for him. Zeke still didn’t know how to dance. All of them wanted to teach him, but in the end Mammon won out on giving him a crash course ballroom dancing lesson the next day in-between the activities planned. He was a little surprised that it would be Mammon, but everyone reluctantly agreed that Mammon was a good dancer. That was something he hadn’t known about the Avatar of Greed, and he was looking forward to the lesson. Even if he still thought dancing in front of a bunch of people would be very embarrassing.

As if the formal dance wasn’t enough pressure, the third day he was expected to cook human world food for everyone. Zeke was an average cook at best. Could he really make something good enough to be served to the literal prince of Hell? He was assured that anything would be fine. This was about cultural sharing. They were having cuisine from a different realm each day of the retreat.

Things had begun to go wrong almost from the moment they arrived. Zeke was mortified to learn that he would be sharing a room with Asmo and Simeon. He had gotten much better at interacting with the angel over the last few months, but sharing a class with him and sharing a room with him for three nights were entirely different beasts. At least there would be the tour to distract him for most of the evening. He could avoid sitting near him at dinner too. That would just have to do for now, because Lucifer was not accepting any complaints or requests to switch rooms. 

Everyone was shown to their rooms so that they could drop off their luggage and get settled in. At least he would have Asmo with him, although that might be a bad thing. The Avatar of Lust knew all about his silly little crush on Simeon, and he wasn’t exactly subtle or discrete. Honestly Zeke was amazed that it had been this long and his secret was still safe. The gossip started almost immediately, but thankfully Asmo only talked about how there could be no one that didn’t love him. Simeon questioned that, but Zeke could only agree with Asmo. The demon was insanely charming. Sure, he imagined some people wouldn’t like him, but that was bound to be far less people than that adored him. Asmo had shown him his Devilgram following. It was staggering.

Thankfully Satan came soon to gather them up for the castle tour. It started nice, they got to see a portrait of the current Demon King - Lord Diavolo’s father. There was a lot of really gorgeous artwork in the castle, both paintings and sculptures. Some of it was a bit grotesque and morbid, but still beautiful in its own right.

The real disaster started while they were following Little D No. 2 through a hall of paintings. Apparently one of Asmo’s exes, a witch named Helene, was trapped inside one of those portraits. There was a strong pull, and he blacked out momentarily. Solomon was calling to him when he woke up. They were alone, in the labyrinth beneath the Demon Lord’s castle, because apparently that was a thing.

Solomon summoned Asmo, while I summoned Beel. That just left us to find Mammon and Levi. When they did find the second and third born they were being chased by a giant snake. A snake that just happened to formally be Levi’s pet, a.k.a. Henry 1.0. Zeke couldn’t make this shit up, and he was a writer by trade! There was more than one moment that he truly thought perhaps they had somehow gotten themselves trapped in one of Levi’s ridiculous anime shows. That was the level of bullshit he felt they were putting up with.

Beel offered to eat the snake, but Levi begged for them to spare Henry 1.0, and as much as Zeke was over the situation, he couldn’t say no to the otaku when he was sobbing and begging like that. He used his pact to forbid Beel from eating Henry 1.0. Solomon was to the rescue with the brilliant plan to have Asmo charm the snake after using an incantation that was meant to amplify Asmo’s power. It worked and the snake even led them out of the labyrinth. Zeke filed that spell away in his memory for later, and thanked his past self for having the foresight to do so.

When he was able to retreat back to his assigned room he fell into bed immediately after showering and changing into his pajamas. He was too exhausted to be worried about sharing a room with Simeon. The angel made no comment when Asmo crawled into bed with Zeke to cuddle either. 

You would think that would be the end of it, right? Nothing more could possibly go wrong in this train wreck of a retreat weekend, right? That’s what you’d think. No, day two saw Asmo totally screwing up the scavenger hunt, which wasn’t a big deal in and of itself, some of the others complained, but Zeke was able to spend time with Luke and spent another chunk of the afternoon with Mammon learning a few traditional Devildom dance, including a waltz. Mammon made it feel easier than he had been worried about.

The formal dance had Zeke nervous as hell, dance lessons be damned. Barbatos really had ensured that he had something to wear for the event, though. The demon moth silk dress shirt matched his eyes impeccably, the waistcoat was black with silver stars, and the tie matched, black dress pants and very expensive black leather shoes rounded out the roster, forgoing a jacket. Glimmering diamond cuff links gifted to him by Lucifer completed the look. Asmo absolutely gushed over him. All of the brothers, Solomon, the angels, and even Lord Diavolo complimented him when he came out dressed for the dance. Barbatos simply had a pleased, secretive smile.

Lucifer swept him to the dance floor for the first dance, to the complaint of his brothers, but Zeke simply promised that they would all get a turn. The brothers passed him around the dance floor, dance after dance until his feet were getting tired, even in the surprisingly comfortable dress shoes.

Up to that point he had only danced with the brothers, Solomon, Simeon, and Luke. Most of the demonic auras in the ballroom were quite powerful, but none could compare to Lucifer. They had mostly ignored him, giving barely a polite acknowledgment when Lord Diavolo introduced him along with the other exchange students. That was why he was surprised when one of them actually asked him to dance. The demon’s aura wasn’t particularly malicious, and he thought it might be good for Lord Diavolo if he was seen mingling with more than just his caretakers. He accepted, but found at the end of the song that the demon refused to let him go.

Zeke ended up with a strained and bruised wrist, and that demon ended up being escorted from the dance by Barbatos. The aura coming off the butler was terrifying and that was even looking at the auras of the brothers! Surprisingly both Simeon and Solomon seemed quite furious at his minor injury as well. Luke was outraged, but worried and fussy as Simeon healed Zeke’s wrist for him with a kind smile that made his heart thump wildly.

He wanted to sleep, but Mammon, Levi, and Beel dragged him out of his room to go on a mission. Of course it was Mammon’s idea, although Zeke couldn’t for the life of himself understand what could have possessed any of them to think it was a good idea. For his part, he wanted no part of it, but was dragged along anyway. They were going to sneak into the room that Lord Diavolo and Lucifer were sharing for the retreat, to get a picture of a sleeping Lucifer, because Mammon thought the picture would sell for a lot. Again, Zeke was very against this, but forced along anyway.

Predictably things went awry almost immediately. Instead of stepping into the room they were expecting, they were met with a pitch black room. Oh, and it was occupied by a pissed off Cerberus. Thankfully before the hell hound could eat them, they were teleported back into the underground labyrinth. 

Zeke could have done without the reunion with Henry 1.0, especially since it involved them once again running for their lives. At some point he tripped, struggling to keep up with the demons. His ankle was twisted and he scraped his hands and knees. He was inclined to allow Beel to really eat the damn snake this time, but once again he was moved by Levi’s tears as the weeb clung to him and begged for him to do something. Asmo wasn’t with them this time, and neither was Solomon. However, Zeke knew what to do now. He summoned Asmo, and was shocked when the same incantation that Solomon had used on Asmo before actually forced the Avatar of Lust into his demon form as he channeled more power into the demon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was how he found out that his magic was special enough to be more potent than the most powerful human sorcerer in history. Also Levi had begged him to make a pact with him through pitiful sobs, citing how Zeke was his true Henry, being willing to do whatever it took to spare the murderous Henry 1.0 just because he didn’t want to make Levi sad. Well, he couldn’t deny the reason he had not gone for a violent ending to that little saga was the Avatar of Envy’s tears. Naturally he couldn’t turn Levi down when he was being that pathetic about it.

Zeke closed his eyes with a sigh. The rest of the brothers were in a quiet, but heated discussion in a far corner of the room, obviously trying not to disturb him. He startled slightly when he felt something being draped over him, but relaxed again when he realized it was Levi’s jacket, the otaku giving him a nervous smile. 

Maybe the retreat wasn’t a total waste after all.

#obey me #obey me oc #obey me mc #obey me zeke #obey me ezekiel jada pendergast #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me dissonance

[pennyserenade]

three's company

pairing: dieter bravo x ex-wife!reader x dustin mulray rating: e (explicit) tags/warnings: smut, pinv, protected sex, oral (female receiving) *inserts good for her meme*, oral (male receiving), dirty talk, light voyeurism, talk and use of drugs and alcohol (weed & wine), the weirdest situationship you ever did see, a bit of angst, jealousy, fingering, dubious consent (but like, only a tiny bit dubious. the tiniest bit) word count: 16.k+ (don't ask me what happened there) summary: The world is slowly descending into madness all around you, so you decide to give in and go with Dieter to his latest poor decision: a franchise movie filming in England. One night while there, you both sweep another into this odd half-hearted, life-long tryst you've got. a/n: i don't know how i got here but i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i could dedicate this to a lot of things but mostly i'm going to dedicate it the red shoe diaries. thanks to david and the horny '90s. also to maria (@sweetly-yours-and-mine) who has spent countless nights working through this with me. you are a gem

“I don’t like the idea of you being alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Facetime isn’t the same as real people.”

“Those are bad movies, Bravo. I’m not sure I want to be around those who make them for that long.”

“I know.”

“Actors have never been my favorite company.”

“I know.”

“And I just don’t want to go.”

“I know.”

“I’ll learn to stop answering your calls one day, you know? And then you’ll do everything alone, even a global disaster.”

“I knew you’d give in. That's my girl.”

——

The hotel is a converted English Manor - the very stuff of childhood fairytales and honeymoon daydreams with its Italianate architecture and technicolor green grass. It is warm, inviting, with high ceilings and the soft, consistent hum of human activity as workers scurry around to greet the incoming guests. They filter you in through white plastic tents and stick cotton swabs up your nose before giving you the WIFI password and a room with a stunning view of their expansive, manicured grounds. You don’t have any grounds to look in America, and your studio apartment has been eerily quiet as of late. The pulse of life has stopped in Los Angeles, but here it comes back with an unvarying rhythm.

You don’t like to admit it, but Dieter was right: you are not above loneliness.

The room they give you feels anachronistic, too modern and beige, but cozy in the way all four star hotels aim to be. You’ve got a television, a pristine bathroom that hosts a bathtub and a shower, and enough floor space to move around without stubbing any toes. There’s ample furniture too: a reading chair by the large window, the queen bed, and another chair by the door, which looks like it’s meant only for bags and the stray suit jacket. They’ve given you decorative pillows and instructions not to leave for two weeks - not for any reason.

You lay out on the queen bed and Facetime Dieter. The irony of the situation is too good not to tease him for.

“I know,” he gruffs, picking up your call immediately.

You can’t help but laugh at the misery that drips from his voice. “I’ve always been better at being alone. I think it was you who didn’t want to be alone.”

He runs a hand through his unruly hair and frowns. Even if you won’t take it, you like the idea that he’s only a long walk away now. You give in and shuck off your winner’s ego. “It’s only two weeks,” you assure kindly.

“If I’m good, do you think I can earn a sleepover?” There’s mischief in his eyes, flirtation thick on his tongue. You look askance at him and the dimple in his cheek deepens. “I’m only kidding of course.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan.

“It’ll be nice after two weeks,” he promises. You know that tone, far off and introspective. It’s not good.

“Just Facetime me when you’re losing your mind.”

“You don’t want that. I’ll be on the phone with you all the time.”

You stare down at the phone, frowning. He smiles, coming back to his body. “I’ll be alright, kid. I always am.”

“Two weeks is not so long.”

“No,” he agrees quietly.

——

Two weeks is a prison sentence.

The room they put you in, while spacious, is merely a cell block now, reduced down to its most basic elements: the bathroom with the shower and the tub, which you’ve used so much it's a miracle your skin hasn’t fallen right off; the bedroom area, with the reading chair by the window; the queen bed, which you stopped making after day four and try your damndest not to fall in before 3pm. You’ve paced the floor so many times, feeling the angry itch of loneliness coupled with a newfound, perpetually lurking anxiety.

“One more day,” he reminds you over the telephone, trying to allay your fears. You hear the sound of his tub running in the background, over the static of his voice, and you wonder what he looks like right now. You picture two week’s more worth of beard growth, the slouch of his back as he sits on the edge of the tub, the pudge of his stomach, and the inciting trail of hair below his belly button. And his naked self. At home he was perpetually nude, and you imagine it’s no different now.

You find your own reflection in the mirror over the sink: sunken eyes, with bags underneath and your flesh taking on a slightly gray cast, the color of isolation.The window sun doesn’t seem to be helping much. You frown self consciously, but try to remind yourself he must be in a state himself; he stopped Facetiming you a week ago, opting for the good ol’ telephone call at least once or twice a day since.

“I’m going out of my mind,” you say as you continue to look at yourself. You lower your voice, vulnerability shared in a hushed, confessional tone. You imagine Dieter again: with that soft concentrated look that pulls his eyebrows together, the one that enhances the lines between them. They called him a curious child and now he’s got the lines to show for it. He told you that. The thought makes you smile at yourself, but you still look so tired.

“Just one day,” he supplies again. He sounds vaguely apologetic.

“I know,” you tell him simply.

“What have you been up to today?” he asks. You hear water come to a stop and a gentle splash follows it. He’s gotten in. “Anything fun?”

“I read, watched a movie. You?”

“I got high and jerked off. So, you know, nothing different than the past thirteen days that you’ve called.”

You scan your reflection in the mirror, contemplating your next words. It isn’t a good idea, but nothing is. “What did you think about?” you ask.

“Lots of things.”

He tells you this as casually as if you’ve asked him his name. You are so achingly lonely and this is so embarrassing, but you can’t help it. You know he’ll let you. Hell, he’s probably been waiting weeks for this. Years.

“Do you ever think about me?”

There’s a short, considerate pause. “Do you want the truth or a lie?”

“A lie.” You worry your lip between your teeth.

“Oh, never.”

You laugh, relieved. “I thought you were going to say something different.”

“Hm,” he hums, “I don’t think that’s the truth. I think you worried about what the real truth would be. We’ve got something here and it’s worrisome.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“Mine too. She thinks inviting you was a terrible idea but she wants you to know she’s thinking of you.”

“Mine hates you.”

He grunts. “Suppose I deserve that, don't I?”

“I think this is the first time in history that you diverted phone sex with talk like that.”

“I’m getting older, wiser,” he jokes. Then, “Do you think of me?”

“Do you want a lie or the truth?”

He considers it for a moment. “The truth. Hit me with it hard, baby.”

“Oh, a lot more than I should.”

——

The rapt sound of knuckles against your door incites an excitement in you that you haven’t felt since childhood. You jump from the bed, uncaring of the state of yourself, hungry for the news that awaits on the other side.

A kindly British man tells you that the quarantine has been lifted and that there will be a party and dinner for the cast and crew in a couple of hours. Formal wear is encouraged but not required.mYou spend the next few hours undoing what’s been done by isolation: the bags under your eyes; the unkempt room, with the fetid smell of loneliness wafting over everything; the living out of your suitcase and the wrinkles on your best clothes. You find an iron in the closet and shave your entire body.

Dieter stops by your room while you’re in the middle of getting ready. He sits quietly at the edge of your bed, watching you in the mirror with that dazed look in his eyes. He wears the ugliest goddamn housecoat you’ve ever seen, but he’d smiled so wide at the door that you’ve forgiven him for it.

“You’re excited,” he observes. His fingers fiddle with the sunglasses in his hands. “I thought you hate actors.”

You try to steady your hand as you bring the eyeliner up to your eyelid. “I don’t care what they are, as long as they can hold a conversation,” you mumble.

“I can hold a conversation. Maybe we ought to stay here and celebrate with each other.”

You look at him in the mirror, trying to figure out if he’s serious or not. You can’t tell. “You’re kidding.”

He shrugs. There’s a distant look in his eyes, as if he’s thinking too hard about something.

“Are you high?” you ask him.

“No, but I’m thinking maybe I should be.”

“Cheer up, boy scout. You’re the one who wanted to do this goddamn movie.”

He lets out a defeated sigh and falls back into the mattress with a groan. “I’m going to kill myself.”

———

He doesn’t kill himself, but he looks like he’s still weighing the prospect of it as you take your drink from the bartender.

Dieter suffers no one lightly, and you have a feeling the personable strawberry blonde in front of him isn’t exactly his crowd. You smile over the rim of your drink, enjoying seeing him squirm for once. Everything seems to come easy to him–except this. He’s never been very good at socializing when he doesn’t want to.

“That your boyfriend?”

You turn your head and find Dustin Mulray. You feel a hint of your teenage self come back to you as you look at him, struck wordless. It’s nothing as strong as the love that had you tacking up posters with his face on it to bedroom walls, but something vaguely akin to it. You’re happy to find it manifests itself as a friendly smile instead of love confessions. Perhaps it’s helped by his appearance: In his infinity scarf and beige knitted sweater, he reminds you more of a homely professor than a Hollywood movie star. You think: Movie stars! They’re just like us! while shaking your head in answer.

“No,” you tell him, “He’s my ex-husband.”

“Ah. That’s my ex-wife with him. Marriage is tricky, isn’t it?”

He takes a seat next to you and orders a drink. The bartender sits it on a napkin for him and he turns to you, his blue-green eyes awaiting an answer. You hadn’t thought he would want to talk to you, not really. You’re used to being invisible at events.

“I guess you could say that,” you reply.

“Are you working on the movie?”

You remember what Dieter told you to say if anyone asked: “For legal purposes, yes. Art coordinator #3.”

This amuses him, drawing out a smile. “That title come with pay or would you say it's just an internship?”

“I guess you could call it an internship.” You smile back at him. “Why? You think you could pull some strings and get me a paycheck?”

“I think I’d do you one better and get you a better place of employment. Have you read the script?” This makes you let out a genuine laugh. He brightens, smiling a little wider. “What? It’s the truth! Everyone thinks us Hollywood actors just commit to this shit knowing it’s shit but we don’t! I mean—“ He looks over the crowd, lowering his head closer to yours conspiratorially. “—Not those of us who started at the beginning. We thought it’d be good. Like Jurassic Park, but yanno, we didn’t get Steven Spielberg. We keep getting arthouse fucks. And I like arthouse fucks–don’t get me wrong–but what’s a man with an IPhone know about blockbusters?”

“Ah, I feel you but I can’t quite reach you from here.”

“No, I bet not.”

There’s something simmering in that line. If you didn’t know better, you’d figure it was a light flirtation. Surely not.

“I liked your early stuff better,” you confess.

“Me too. But those were the glory days and now I have alimony and child support to pay. How about him?” he nods in the direction of Dieter. “You get half his ass in court?”

You shake your head. His candor, although surprising, is refreshing. “No, no big payout. We’re amicable.”

He clicks his tongue in awe. “I envy the bastard but I can’t say I didn’t deserve my lot.”

“You haven’t even finished your first drink and you’re already gonna confess your sins?” You raise a curious, teasing eyebrow. He hangs his head and laughs.

“You married an actor. Don’t we all wear our hearts on our sleeves?”

“Mm, not mine,” you shake your head. “It seems he saved his emotions for the silver screen.”

It’s Dustin’s turn to raise his own curious eyebrow.

“How cozy.” You look over your shoulder to see Dieter standing in front of your chair, his fingers reaching out to the back of your chair. He looks…jealous.

“Dustin, this is Dieter,” you introduce them. Dustin sticks his hand out and Dieter plays nice, shaking it with a passing grin.

“Nice to meet you,” Dustin mutters. Dieter nods his head. “Yeah, you too. I was actually coming over here to steal her away for a moment. If she doesn’t mind.” He looks over at you, expectant. There’s a bite to his words you don’t like at all. How fucking rich, you think bitterly, remembering all the times you had to sit by while he shamelessly flirted with half the fucking world.

“She does mind,” you respond. The sharp finality of it makes even Dustin cough awkwardly.

Dieter looks taken aback. “Okay,” he mutters, looking between the two of you. He nods again, as though he’s drawn some conclusion. “Alright.”

You watch as he walks away to the other side of the room. Looking back at Dustin, you give him a rueful grin. “Sorry. And here I was, talking about how amicable we are. Exes of the year.”

He raises his glass. “To us pitiful people and our pitiful crash and burn marriages.”

You clink your glass against his, fighting the urge to cry or kill Dieter. “To us.”

—

The dinner table arrangement is unforgiving for Dieter. He’s sat next to Dustin at the far end of the table, with yet another red headed actress to his left. Unlike the talkative one, this one is in a state of brooding and continually huffing at everything he says. You’re slightly more lucky, sat at the other end, sandwiched between Dustin's ex-wife and the director.

He watches woefully as you chat with the ex-wife, nodding your head along politely. You were always such a good listener, even with the worst people. He frowns. He had changed his outfit between the party and the dinner, opting for a classier open dress shirt. He had seen the look in your eye when you had opened the door for him earlier, and figured he could use all the help he could get now that he’s undoubtedly pissed you off. He had hoped that they would’ve sat him next to you so you could talk. He’s even wearing that cologne you like. Or used to like. He doesn’t know anymore.

“So, like what—you usually get along with her or…?” Dustin asks him, following his eyeline right to you. Dustin brings the cool champagne they’ve served to his lips, his eyes too burningly curious as he gazes at you.

Dieter tries not to be possessive. He saw it in your eyes, heard it in your tone: that sharp, angry disappointment that you’re so used to delivering him. You don’t like when he gets like that. Not that he has much. This is a relatively new side effect he’s required since the divorce. He shrugs lazily, pushing the sunglasses up his nose. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

This earns him an even laugh. He looks over at the older man, frowning. “What?”

“I see magazines with your face all over it, man. C’mon, we all kiss and tell, even if we don’t want to.”

Dieter bites at the side of his cheek and considers him for a moment. “Look you and your wife-“

“Ex-wife-“

Dieter nods, uncaring. “Sure, your ex wife — you both like to talk a lot.”

“I’m just trying to figure out if I can make a pass at her or not. Make it easy for me. I don’t want to have to suffer this entire shoot because you’ve got some weird shitty thing going on between you. I don’t step on kept grounds….Well, not anymore,” he adds.

“How noble,” Dieter says wryly, “She’s not mine to answer for. Besides, it seems like you were already doing a good job at making a pass earlier.”

He fights down the petulant child inside of him, biting at his lip instead of wearing an all out pout. Through the concealed tint of his sunglasses, his eyes soften at the sight of you across the room. He can almost feel the crack in his heart as he considers the fact that you might have actually liked talking to this man.

Dieter knows one day it’ll come, the moment when you find yourself in a serious relationship with someone else. Most of the time he thinks he’ll be okay — that it will affect him like it must but it won’t ruin him entirely — but sometimes, like right now, he worries he’ll get on his knees and beg you not to do it. You don’t deserve that. He hates himself for the greed he feels, how he can’t ever just let you be happy. He doesn’t want to be like this dick, taking and taking from his ex-wife, all while he noses around and wets his dick in anything that will let him. He never wants to embarrass you like that. Not again. Never again.

Chugging the last bits of his drink, Dieter looks over at the man. Dustin looks back at him, nonplussed. It takes herculean strength to say the next words.

“She doesn’t like men who are crude or too direct, but to be frank, I think you can’t really fuck up with her. She likes you and always has.” Dieter casts a glance in your direction again, feeling mischievous. He smirks, letting himself have this one. “Well, since you were last relevant, that is.”

Dustin laughs the burn off, shaking his head. He touches Dieter’s shoulder in a show of faux friendliness. “We’re in the same shitty franchise now, bud, so welcome to the club,” he whispers, just low enough for him to hear.

Dieter raises his empty glass to Dustin with a forced grin. Feeling defeated but comforted by the fact that he’s now got something to separate him from that asshole, he raises his hand to the pretty waitress for another drink. To celebrate.

But he truthfully doubts there will be much to celebrate.

He fucking hates Hollywood.

—-

Truth be told, Dieter didn’t plan on doing this tonight. Getting high. He planned, if he was being honest with himself - and he is trying, at his most introspective more now than ever - to be doing you. Had he invited you on the vacation just to fuck you? No, but ignobility inevitably follows in the tracks of his nobility. It was written between the lines, something you both had hinted at over the past two weeks. But now you’re somewhere else. There's a lot of rooms in this hotel. Maybe you’re in your own. Maybe not. Dustin had looked like he was going to devour you at the bar earlier tonight, so probably, you’re doing him in his room.

Or do you bring men back to your own place now? He doesn’t know.

Dieter would blanch if he wasn’t so high. He sits in the middle of the decorative couch, staring at the ceiling with glazed eyes, and he tries to imagine a different version of your last phone conversation.

When you asked if he ever thought of you when he touched himself, he’d tell you the truth. Because you like the truth. He’d say: all the time. More than he should. Really a sickening, depressing amount because he misses you, especially lately. New York is a terrible place to be these days; death permeates everything and nothing seems as right as it used to. Even loneliness feels worse, no longer poetic or artistic but just lonely. It's less like Al Pacino on the set of the Godfather and more like Michael Corleone, sitting alone at the empty dining room table. Days stretch on and on, and he’s hungry for life that has halted so he paints terribly, insecure of even hobbies. What else is he supposed to do but play with himself and remember poignantly that he had once been married to a lovely sort of woman who would’ve made it all better, if only he hadn’t fucked it up?

Well, he doesn’t think about that last part so much. It doesn’t really make for good masturbating material.

He wasn’t sure he was going to survive the pandemic before they asked him to do this movie. And of course he asked you along when they had. It’s the only way in the world he could ask for your help: through omission of truths and beating around the bush. He wonders if you might take pity on his soul again and let him crash with you for a while, just to wait the rest of this out together after the movie wraps. If you really are fucking Dustin, it might make things tense but not impossible. He’ll learn to live with it. He’ll have to. What else is he going to do? Go back to this moment in time and stop you?

Perversely he wonders if Dustin is not the first man you’ve fucked since the divorce. You’re not his last but he wishes you were a lot. It’s been nearly two years and he’s forgotten what you feel like, what you taste like. It’s miserable. When he touches himself and thinks of you, you’re like an apparition, some Franksteinian woman built of fragmented, hazy memories. All he remembers was that the last time wasn’t nice and that you didn’t cum. He couldn’t make you, something about you being too sad or too angry. It was a shame, because he’d always imagined the two of you would’ve gone out with a bang.

This thought makes him smile, but it doesn’t last for long. There's nothing funny about your divorce, not really. He broke your heart tediously, and now you’ve got to tell people that it wasn’t just one thing but many things. He knows that. An unanswered phone call. That waitress in Vegas who he flirted with so unabashedly your mother thought he was cheating on you - along with half the internet and for a brief moment, yourself too. The apartment in New York he bought and moved into without asking you. That art house opening he missed, the one you’d asked him continually throughout the week to set time aside for. So many things—the seven sins and just a few more to top it off.

He wasn’t really surprised when you had asked him for a divorce over lunch one day. You didn’t even live together at the time - the New York apartment became more permanent than he had originally planned for - and you looked so tired, like you were drained of life, overwrought and quiet. What surprised him was the fact that you hadn’t done it sooner. The knowing that you had tried against hope was not an easy one for him to reconcile with for a long time after that. Even in that moment you had developed a sort of halting lisp as you pushed the statement out, as though your own body protested it. He remembers that better than the sex.

You had waited for him to get better and he never did, so you both took your chicken salads with a side of failed marriage that day, and now here you are. Dieter sighs, feeling the familiar pangs of remorse.

“Whatever drugs you’re on must not be very good because you look miserable.”

Dieter lifts his head off the back of the loveseat, straining his eyes to make out the shape that’s hovering in his doorway. His brain catches up with him before his eyes do, and the distinct mumbling voice of the figure comes to him. Dustin.

Shaking his head, Dieter laughs, relieved. “I was thinking.”

Dustin takes this as an invitation to cross the corridor. As he comes closer, Dieter finds he’s in more casual clothes - perhaps even sleepwear - clutching a bottle of wine in his hand. If this is a peace offering, Dieter will take the olive branch. He’s so goddamn pleased you’re not fucking this guy, he might even kiss him.

“You want a joint?” he asks him, straightening on the couch. Suddenly it’s not so hard to be magnanimous, not with the sheer euphoria of you not having betrayed him (is he allowed to call it that? Probably not, but there’s no word quite so apt). He feels he might even be smiling, but he can’t be sure. He hopes so.

“God, please,” Dustin groans. He sits the bottle of wine on the table and rubs his hands together eagerly as Dieter lights the one he’s been puffing away at.

“I figured you were the one with the goods,” Dustin says around a cloud of smoke. He looks over at the open door, nodding at it. “We should close that, huh?”

Dieter shrugs. He thought he had closed the door, truthfully. “Probably should. I think I saw a kid here,” he says. Neither of them get up.

Dustin passes the joint to Dieter. He takes another hit when he gets it because fuck it, this is a celebration. “What, she didn’t want you?” he can’t help but ask.

Dustin laughs mutedly. “I don’t know. I figured by the way you reacted at dinner that I better not try. And there's that thing with my wife.” He shrugs. “I’m always fucking that one up. I thought I should just wander around and see where the night takes me.”

Dieter rests his head back against the couch again, nodding sympathetically. “Mm, I understand. Me too.”

“What’d you do?”

“The better question would be what didn’t I do.”

“Did you cheat?”

Dieter turns his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t fuck anyone else while we were together but she said I might as well as have. And I guess she’s whose opinion really matters, isn’t it?”

Dustin mumbles an agreement. “I fucked a lot of people,” he confesses. “Even the divorce lawyer.”

“And she still talks to you?” Dieter asks.

“We’ve got a kid.”

“That’s right. She told me that, because she likes to talk.”

“Hey don’t be a dick. Yours does too, you know? That’s what women like to do—talk. And they like to be listened to.”

Dieter narrows his eyes. “Is that what you were doing at the bar? Talking?”

Dustin nods. “Yeah. Listening, too.”

“I listened.”

“But you didn’t like what you heard.”

Dustin says this more as a statement than a question. Dieter looks back to the ceiling and pinches his eyes closed, too high. “Mm,” he mumbles. “I’m just so happy she isn’t fucking you right now. I really thought she would be there for a second and it was making me sick.”

Dustin huffs out a laugh. “I take it you never shared?”

“What do you mean ‘shared’?” Dieter asks. “Like wife swapping? No. We seemed to have left the practice in the sixties.”

“Not necessarily. Threesomes?”

“Have you done that?”

Dustin shrugs, smiling unashamedly. “Before we got married, of course,” he tells Dieter. Then, “And a little after too.”

Even with the high, Dieter can’t help but feel curious about the arrangement. “With men?”

“Sure. It wouldn’t have been fair with just women. That was the rules, anyway. Why? You’ve never been with a man?”

“A few. That’s not what strikes me as odd. You just didn’t strike me as the type.”

“I wouldn’t say I was, but fair is fair. And it can be nice. Interesting.”

Dieter rolls his eyes. “Gay sex is gay sex, no matter how you cut it. If you’re about to tell me it doesn’t count, I’m gonna laugh.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t. I just like there to be a girl there too.”

The information weighs heavily on Dieter’s drug induced state of mind. He finds himself beginning to laugh. “Wait a minute, are you trying to talk me into a threesome? Is that what this is? Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson? That’s what the wine is about, isn’t it?” He points to the bottle in question, and everything suddenly seems much too funny.

Dustin begins laughing too. “No! The wine was for something. I just couldn’t figure out what”

Dieter ignores him. “Your…your wife hates me,” he manages to hiccup out, “And mine? She—“ She hates me too. This thought makes the laughing come to a slow halt. That’s right. She hates him too.

“I bet she’d do it,” Dustin supplies, soft chuckles still emitting from him. “They can surprise you like that sometimes.”

Dieter shakes his head, his smile more soft, almost sad. “Not with me. I pissed her off. I was thinking I’d try with that waitress downstairs but she’s young and I’ll for sure hate myself for that later.”

“Don’t do that. Your wife really will hate you for that,” Dustin advises. “Take it from an expert. Just call her. Apologize.”

Dieter shakes his head. “That won’t work. It’ll just make her more mad when she realizes I’m high.”

Dustin considers this. “Maybe. I don’t know. Let’s go to her room. Do it in person.”

“You can’t go,” Dieter tells him evenly. It’s not often he’s the voice of reason — even less so when he’s high — and this dynamic is beginning to make him feel out of sorts. He wants to shut his eyes and sleep this off, but naturally — because he is who he is — he will follow this train of thought through with Dustin.

“Why not?” Dustin smiles widely, catching his stride in the conversation. He speaks more animatedly, bringing his hands into the mix for emphasis. “She doesn’t want to fight with you in front of me! And she can see we’ve made friends. That’s progress! She’ll like that.”

Dieter considers this. He does want to show you he’s sorry — really.

“You just want to fuck her,” he says to Dustin. He’s too high to be angry, even if he really wanted to be, but he is suspicious.

When Dustin doesn’t respond to that, Dieter narrows his eyes. “You do!” he accuses, acutely horrified by the idea.

Dustin looks at him, a smile playing across his lips. “C’mon, aren’t you a little curious to see what it’d be like?”

“No. And besides, even if I was, I don’t think she would. She’s not…I don’t know, I don't know how to explain it.” Dieter pinches up his face, stuck for the right words. “She’s not a prude by any means, but I don’t think she would.”

“Would you? If she did?”

Dieter doesn’t consider the question, only beats around it. “She wouldn’t. I know her.”

He watches as Dustin rises from the couch. “Let’s just go ask her.”

Dieter jumps up, feeling sobriety sneak up on him. “No!” he says, horrified.

But Dustin has snatched up his bottle of wine and began to make his way out into the corridor before Dieter can stop him.

So crumbles the olive branch.

—-

When you see Dustin standing at your door, holding up a bottle of wine with a goofy grin, you think it's a sign from the Heavens above. No more Dieter, that’s what it tells you. He’s ruined your life for a decade now and it’s a cause you’ve got to accept is a lost one. A new man is here and you’re lonely, and you didn’t even have to go search this one out. You smile, open the door a little wider.

But then you see Dieter shuffling down the corridor, brown eyes blown wide. Dustin looks over at him with a grin and you realize with a sinking feeling that this wasn’t what you imagined it was. You don’t know what it is, to be exact, but you’re sure it’s not right.

They look up to no good, with glazed eyes and Dustin’s too wide grin. You close your door just a smidge when Dieter shoulders to the front. He smiles apologetically, and you instinctively hold out a hand to keep him steady. But he’s steady, in no risk of tumbling forward. He puts his hands over yours before you quickly take it away. He looks stung but you don’t care.

“Hey kid,” he says sheepishly. His eyes seem to be asking you something - saying something - but you’ve long lost that way of communicating. You frown, slumping against the doorway.

“Make friends?” you ask, nodding back to Dustin.

Dustin nods his head, unaware or — more likely — too high to be aware. “He’s being a good boy,” he vouches.

“I’ve been good,” Dieter echoes. He tries another grin and that easy charm of his, but none of it works. You fold your arms over your chest.

“Listen, I’m a little tired and—“

“I’m sorry. I know what I did earlier was shitty. I don’t know why I do things like that. Don’t shut me out. Please.” Dieter pouts. The sincerity of his words punches you in the gut, and makes you angrier somehow. Like it’s mocking, even though you know it’s not. He seems to sense this and he continues talking. “I know I don’t own you like that. I had no right. None at all. And I’ve been meaning to say it to you all night. And I know you’re thinking ‘this prick is high.’ I am. I’m really high, and I can’t deny it, but I’m sorry too. I was sorry even before I got high. That’s why I got high.”

Dustin giggles behind Dieter. You look over, feeling pangs of annoyance for him too. Now that he’s not your knight in shining armor he’s just some asshole in kahoots with this asshole. “That’s terrible,” he huffs out. Dieter glares at him over his shoulder before you’ve got the chance.

“I’m sorry,” Dieter tells you again, pleadingly. You shake your head.

“You’re always sorry. That was always the problem.”

“I know! God, I know.”

“Ask her if she wants some weed,” Dustin whispers.

“And I suppose you smuggled that in?” you ask, straightening yourself up. You feel motherly, glowering at him like this. You want to wring his neck. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed fuck you, make you feel eternal and sexy. But no. Now you’re so matronly, standing there in your PJs, frowning so hard wrinkles are mapping their permanent home in the places your face creases.

He nods guiltily. “But you knew that! I’ve talked about it all week.”

“Yeah but—“ you wave your hands in the air. “It all adds up with you. It’s..”

“The little things,” he finishes sadly. “I know.”

“Why do you know so little if you know so much?”

Dustin coughs suggestively behind Dieter and Dieter turns around swiftly. “No,” he tells him sharply.

You furrow your eyebrows. “No, what?”

Dieter shakes his head dismissively and Dustin shrugs, looking around aimlessly. He’s trying hard to contain a laugh or a grin, you can tell. You hate that Dieter is making you a bitch in front of him. You could be fucking him for God’s sake, but you’re just annoyed.

“Go to bed,” you tell them.

“Well that’s the idea,” Dustin counters, his lips drawing upwards. Dieter looks pallid.

“It wasn’t,” he tells you. “I swear. I came here to stop him from asking!”

“Asking what?” you say, exasperated.

“For a threesome,” Dustin says simply, like it’s nothing at all. “Though I can see now that’s probably not in the cards. And it wasn’t really asking for one, just a hypothetical.”

You look over to Dieter. He looks down at the floor, like a kid in trouble. “Dieter,” you scold.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t want him to ask. I told him—I said you wouldn’t. I didn’t even want to suggest it,” he mumbles helplessly. “That’s not what this was supposed to be at all, kid. I swear. I just wanted to say sorry and…I don’t know.”

You don’t know whether to believe him or not. “But you talked about it?”

“Hm?” Dieter raises an eyebrow.

“The threesome? You were talking about having one?”

“Yeah, but not like—it wasn’t locker room talk. Not really. He just started talking about it and asked if you would and I said no—“

“How do you know I would say no?” you huff. “You don’t know. You don’t know me.”

Dieter frowns. “That’s not true.”

“Yeah it is,” you nod. “I’m different now. I’m not the woman you dragged around all those years.”

“I never thought of you like that.”

“Well, still, yes,” you say, feeling angry and stung and in a desperate need to prove him wrong and spite him all in one go. It’s such an ugly feeling and it’s not right, but you can tell the words take him by surprise.

“Yes?…” he asks. “Listen, I get that you’re angry, but you don’t have to do this.”

“No I want to,” you say. “If that’s what you want, what he wants, I want it too. If that’s what you’ve come for, then you’ll get it.”

He shakes his head. “You’re angry and you’re not thinking straight. You’re…being mean. And you’re only going to piss yourself off more, I think, and then you’re going to be mad at me because I drove you to it.”

You shake your head. “No. I think I’m being quite nice. I’m standing here telling you I want you to fuck me. I want him to watch. I want him to fuck me and you to watch. Whatever perverse things you cooked up together, let’s do them. If you’re going to make me mad, then I’m asking that you have the decency to fuck me too.”

Dieter struggles to compute the information. You do too. You hate him. You love him. You are so high strung and pissed and you’d do anything to be touched. Let him prove himself, goddamnit, or let him be damned jealous. Either way, you get fucked. Everyone's a winner or only you are. You don’t give a shit.

Dustin seems altogether pleased by this, clapping a hand onto Dieter’s shoulder. “I told him you might surprise him.”

“Mm hm,” you hum. You do not break eye contact with Dieter. He nods his head, resolving to trust you—or to go along with it. It doesn’t matter, just so long as he doesn’t question it.

When he steps forward, you put your hand up, blocking him. “First the weed.”

He lets out a soft sigh and stays put for a second, looking as though he wants to say something more. He’s wise enough not to in the end.

As he rounds the corner, heading back to his room, you finally glance back up at Dustin. He smiles softly. “You don’t have to do this,” he tells you. “I really was just to get some fire under his ass. I mean, I’m not against it, but if you’re just doing it because you’re pissed—“

You cut him off with a hard look. “I want to,” you say resolutely. “And I am pissed. So be it. Men start wars for less.” You shrug. He looks amused and you feel something arise in you, up alongside the anger — arousal. Desire. Something. He smiles handsomely. The grayish scruff on his cheeks bodes well with his aged features.

You do want to fuck him. That’s freeing information. Propping the door open wider with the kick of your foot, you nod him in. “C’mon. Get in here before I change my mind.”

The dichotomy between his laughter and the intensity of the fight you just had with Dieter makes you smile despite yourself.

“Wouldn’t want that,” he responds with a wink.

He brushes past you with his body and you fight the urge to suck in a shallow breath at the sudden casual contact. As he moves into the room, he pulls you away from the door with him, gripping at your shoulders. He doesn’t let you stay back and wait for Dieter like some lost puppy.

You look at him, eyes wide, and he hands you the wine in his hand. He is so unserious that it’d be plain endearing if it hadn’t been a source of annoyance a moment before. You watch as he wets his lips and looks down at yours. There seems to be a pregnant pause, eyes searching yours for an answer to an invisible question. You think of Dieter, of all the sex you’ve not had since the divorce, and how hurt he seemed when you pulled back from his touch. You love him so much. It isn’t fair. You will love him your whole life if you don’t stop this. You heed your mother’s warning too late and you kiss Dustin hard on the mouth. He takes some of your grief with a practiced tongue, kissing you deeply until you’re interrupted by a cough in the corner a few blurry moments later.

Dustin smiles, holding your face between his hands. “The weed,” he remarks. Dieter nods. He looks a little hurt, a little angry, a little betrayed—looks like he’s always made you feel, and you are not surprised it doesn’t make you feel any better.

You love him. You fool.

You shake Dustin off and Dieter hands you the joint with a forced grin. “It’s strong,” he warns softly as he lights the end. As you inhale, Dustin comes to stand behind you. Dieter’s eyes watch as his arms snake around you. He plants wet kisses alongside your neck and Dieter worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

Dieter reaches out to you, touches the wrist you’ve risen to put the joint in your mouth. His calloused fingers try to reach across burned bridges and you aid him, handing the joint back and reaching out to him too. His baggy sleep shirt is easy to take between your fingers. He takes a hit and then comes closer to you, pressing into you.

When he kisses you for the first time, you think of an ouroboros. Whole and eternal, destruction and rebirth. Your mother hates him when she once loved him. He knows your birthday and the way you like your coffee in the morning. You don’t know what he did yesterday. He doesn’t know your friend’s old cat died and that you’d been to two weddings before COVID hit. He tastes familiar and feels strange against you, unreal and vivid. You open your mouth and he slides in his tongue. The kiss isn’t like the one with Dustin; he does not explore you as much as he remembers you.

Dustin and Dieter pass the joint between them. When you feel the loss of warmth behind you, you turn curiously, detaching from Dieter’s lips. Dustin goes to abandon the joint on the table by the bed and Dieter’s hot mouth presses kisses alongside your neck. You wrap your fingers in his hair and you can't help but moan when he tongues alongside your jaw. Dustin’s eyes spark with delight at the sound.

You look down at the wine bottle still in your hand and hold it up. Dustin takes it from you, grinning. “I forgot to tell you it was my gift. I’ll open it. It’s good, aged to perfection,” he comments.

He searches your bedside for a glass and finds a crystal one beside the water vase that they gave you earlier that week. He looks down at the bottle in his hand and frowns. “Fuck, I forgot the wine opener.”

“Call the desk,” Dieter says against your skin.

You turn your head back and begin kissing him again, humming an agreement against his lips. Dustin shuffles behind you as you return completely to Dieter, your lips ghosting over his. He licks into your mouth and grasps at the back of your neck, keeping you attached to him as you begin the dance backwards to the bed.

The weed gives you a cloudy feeling, enhancing the warmth of his fingers and lips on your skin, but erasing any inhibition that would make you embarrassed to be doing it in front of another man. You like the idea of it, actually, that there’s some stranger - albeit a familiar one - standing somewhere in the room as Dieter’s fingers lift up your sleep shirt and dip beneath the hem of your underwear. Your ass presses against the edge of the bed and you feel his erection against your thigh. You moan carelessly, tugging at his hair, and he exhales into you, the line between pleasure and pain thin and delicate as he rushes to do what he’s afraid Dustin will get to first if he doesn’t.

Dustin hangs up the phone and looks at the two of you on the bed, a surge of desire filling him as he watches. You’ve got your legs open and Dieter’s got his hands down your underwear and he can see it all from this angle. You’re making delicious, breathy moans and Dieter’s arm muscles flex as he works them out of you. There’s a wet spot on your underwear and he wants nothing more than for Dieter to take them off so he can see more of you.

He watches a while longer, captivated by what makes you tick and what kind of a lover Dieter is. It's kinda like hotel porn that he’s had on repeat the past few days, but live. Before he can get out the request for Dieter to take your underwear off, or wait for the inevitability of it, there’s a knock on the door. He rushes to answer it, holding the door open only enough to take the glasses and the bottle opener. He mumbles a quick thanks before shutting the door on the confused worker.

Dieter enters you with a thick finger and you let out a loud uninhibited moan around his kiss. As Dustin attempts to open the wine he smiles, thinking of the young man who was just outside the door. He likes that you aren’t afraid; he’s always found that attractive in women.

“Here,” he says, pouring the pinkish liquid into three separate glasses. Neither of you look at him, so he repeats it again, this time with more command in his tone. You look so thoroughly kissed when you look up, red lipped and swollen, that it makes him ache, and Dieter’s wild haired annoyance is charming in its own way. He hands you both a glass and you take it with a shy smile. Dieter is less pleased, but takes it anyway with a soft ‘Thanks.’

Dustin watches as Dieter wipes your slick from his fingers with a pang of envy, swallowing down the wine. This isn’t something he’s made a habit of doing often— watching people fuck, threesomes — but he had felt that it wouldn’t have been right to do without Dieter. Truthfully, he had had every intention of going to your room by himself before he had peered into Dieter’s open door. The sight of him sitting there, staring up at the ceiling like he had been doing, inspired sympathy. He hadn’t been entirely truthful about that with Dieter, but what he’s learned over the years about sex is that some little white lies must be told sometimes.

A part of him feels guilty, knowing his own ex-wife lies somewhere in this hotel, probably brewing in her own anger. But he’s leaving her alone. That’s what she asked of him, isn’t it?

“So, any rules?” he asks, abandoning this train of thought before it crashes.

Dieter unwraps himself from you, sitting on the edge of the bed like you are, and shrugs his shoulders. You both look at each other. Dustin feels like an outsider, intruding on something too big and personal, but he doesn’t mind. A bit of self-flagellation mixed in with pleasure was always how he did his sex best, and there’s nothing quite like sleeping with two people very much in love during a pandemic.

“Dieter said you’ve never done this before,” he says, looking at you. “Is that true?”

You nod your head. “What do you mean by ‘rules?’”

“Well, I guess it’s a bit different because no one is with anyone here, but sometimes there will be requests people make to ensure no one gets their feelings hurt. For instance, you might not want me to cum inside of you or enter you at all. They’re for safety too—consent, boundaries.”

“I see.” You look down at your glass of wine, thinking. “I don’t really have any rules. Maybe just use condoms.”

“Are you sure?” Dieter whispers, tugging at your shirt sleeve. He leans in closer, says something Dustin can’t hear. You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t care if you do that,” you tell him. He seems surprised by your answer.

Dustin can’t help himself. “What’d you ask?”

Dieter shrugs his shoulders. “Just about how she feels about us.”

“Do you have any rules?” he asks.

“Don’t cum in her first.”

You look at Dieter quizzically and all he provides is a shrug that says nothing. Dustin nods his head. “That seems easy enough: condoms, don’t cum first.” He swallows down the rest of his wine and sets the glass aside.

You twirl the liquid around in your own glass, smiling faintly. “I can’t believe I’m gonna do this,” you say.

“Me either,” Dieter replies. He sits his glass, half finished, on the nightstand.

“I’m feeling high,” is your next sentence. Dieter seems to grimace.

“You’re in the wrong state of mind,” he tells you.

You shake your head. “No. I made up my mind before I got high. I want to be fucked,” you tell him, voice plain and even. “If you don’t want to fuck me, I’m sure I’ll be okay with just him.”

Dieter shakes his head adamantly, cheeks beginning to red. “I—I do want to. I always want to. I just want to make sure you’re not doing something you’re going to regret later.”

With a smile, you tell him teasingly, “I won’t regret it later. Not if you do it right.” You offer him a teasing wink that draws out his dimple. He leans forward and presses a chaste kiss on your lips, too romantic and sweet to be good for your soul.

You decide then that this will have to be less Dieter focused if you want to last. “Lay on the bed,” you say to him. He nods his head, prying off his house shoes. You look over to Dustin, who stands awkwardly at the head of the bed. He smiles again with that charming Hollywood grin that age hasn’t dimmed in the slightest, and you grin back. “I want to kiss you again,” you tell him directly.

“That can be arranged,” he says, dipping onto the bed.

Dieter lies back against the heap of pillows at the headboard, his knees spread apart to make a spot for you. Dustin guides you there slowly, his body pressing into yours until there’s nowhere left to go but into Dieter. He kisses you deeply, hands strong and warm and unfamiliar in an entirely exciting way as they bunch up the fabric of your sleep shirt and expand over your skin.

Dieter doesn’t touch you, even though he badly wants to. Part of it is heartbreak and disbelief, and the other part is erotic fascination—watching you come apart like this, at another angle, is undeniably doing something to him. You are so pliable under Dustin, so easy for him, like you’ve waited your entire life to be like this. Maybe you have. Maybe he never paid enough attention—maybe in all your thousand little, subtle ways you had once alluded that you’d like to be this way. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a prick, he could’ve made more rules, one like ‘Don’t enter her at all’ and ‘Don’t kiss him like that because I know once upon a time you kissed me like that and I screwed it up, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better husband. I’ll be a better friend, just don’t kiss him like that.’

But then again maybe not. That’s a mouthful and you’re high and he’s high. Maybe it would be just like this. It’s just that he loves you. It’s an odd kind of love, but it’s real. Dustin has his tongue down your throat, his exploratory fingers beneath the fabric of a sleep shirt, but Dieter loves you. The fool.

Blissfully you are unaware of the pity party Dieter throws for himself behind you. He is a body, a springboard for desire and heat, as you surrender yourself to lust the way you never really have before. You do draw up some comparisons, unable to help yourself.

Dustin is grittier, all command and surrender. He is an electric taste of the illicit, some faraway fantasy made palpable. Dieter is your ground zero, vivid and stormy. He is what yesterday was. You read somewhere once that when you have a child with a man, their genes have the ability to change your own. Though you and Dieter have no children, you feel like something irrevocable like that happened — that you carry a part of him in your genetic makeup. It doesn’t make Dustin worse for it. In fact, it makes him better, an exotic vaccine into your very tired bloodstream. You deserve it. You deserve it so much, and you practically beg for it, mewling as Dustin kisses his way down.

“I bet you taste like heaven,” he mumbles warmly into your skin, licking a teasing strip over your midriff. You watch, mouth agape, heart beating wildly in your chest. Dieter tilts your chin up, directing your attention towards him, feeling impossibly greedy now. He kisses you languidly, tonguing lolling gently against yours, making it lasts forever. Your mind is in a haze, the slow, sensual turn of your tongues lighting a fire in your belly as Dustin uses his own on you. He trails lower and lower, warm and wet, fingers drawing down your underwear and then—

“Fuck,” you say, gasping out the word. You surprise yourself. Dieter captures the word in his mouth and groans in soft appreciation. You glance down your body, your knees hanging loosely over Dustin’s shoulders, watching his warm tongue pressing against your clit. It’s a sight to behold, the way his pink tongue flattens over you. His large hands grip onto your legs, holding you apart as your back presses into Dieter’s front. You feel his semi-erection nudge into your back.

Dustin spends his time with you, teasing you lightly with his tongue at first, learning the careful intricacies of your body. As you run your hands through his unruly bed hair, the tip of his tongue dips into your opening experimentally. He looks up to you, blue-green eyes searching for approval. You buck against his face, desperate, full of want and drugs and something indescribable but undeniably exciting. Ambition. Want. Joy. You used to masturbate to this man. His nose grazes against your clit and he laughs as you struggle. It is warm and bubbly, and you feel it all the way down to your bones.

You tug his hair so hard that he sends another noise vibrating through you: a low, half pained, half aroused groan.

Dustin brings his mouth back to your clit, grazes it gently with his teeth. “Oh,” you say, your head drawing backward, falling into Dieter’s shoulder. He watches you, his dark eyes fixed. He presses his lips onto yours like time hasn’t changed anything. You bask in it, give yourself over to the fantasy with the ease he’s offering it—you kiss like lovers, familiar and intimate, an unformidable duo in sex where you weren’t in marriage.

Dieter doesn’t leave your lips as he says, “I never got to see this sort of thing from this point of view. You’re so goddamn pretty.”

His hands tease up your sides, fingers drawing closer to your chest. “Is he making you soaked? Just like I used to?” he asks, his voice a low drawl. You arch up, bringing your lips up to his. He slots his mouth over yours, pressing into you roughly as his fingers find a pebbled nipple through the cloth of your night shirt. As he scraps over the top of it with the pad of his thumb, you draw your eyes closed. The heady scent of Dieter surrounding you mixed with the intoxicating feel of Dustin pressed against your cunt is almost too much to bear. Almost. You moan against Dieter’s lips again as Dustin’s tongue works you, and Dieter smiles, nodding. “Oh baby, he’s gonna be like me. A pitiful, helpless fool for you. Aren’t you?” he says, looking down the valley of your body to the other man.

Dustin grunts wordlessly against you and your hips fail you again, pressing up into the vibration. Sensing this isn’t the end of lack of control, Dustin presses a hand against them, pinning you down. As he licks you open, spreads your folds with the warmth of his eager tongue, you feel on fire, the sensation reaching every part of your body. He’s good at that. He’s lapping and lapping, his strong nose meeting your clit at just the right time each time he comes up.

“He’s so fucking good,” you say helplessly, uncaring of who hears. The drugs make you uninhibited, looser. You meet Dustin’s eyes as he takes your clit into his mouth again. He is sucking lightly and you try to roll your hips into him, but he presses down, a silent no. “Fuck, you’re so—good at that. Oh my god.”

Dieter pinches your nipple between his fingers, humming softly at the sight before him. “You’re gonna make me jealous, baby.”

Dustin’s mouth grows more focused, intent. You feel your orgasm drawing up, coming closer and closer. You open your eyes, blown wide with desire, and focus on Dieter. He kisses you softly again, bringing his hand up to your other breast. Dustin sucks your clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into your soft flesh, and your hardened nipple scraps against the warmth of Dieter’s palm. It's all so right. You cum then, toes curling into the sheets, body going rigid beneath the touch of them both. Dustin doesn’t stop; he laps up your want greedily and Dieter draws up his head to watch. His eyes darken, full of desire and what you assume is a begrudging respect.

After you’ve ridden out your orgasm on Dustin, Dieter huffs out a soft laugh. “He wants to fuck you,” he tells you, thumb swiping affectionately across your cheek. Dustin, unable to let that one go, presses a kiss to your inner thigh and muffles a laugh against your skin.

“Bravo, you’re so jealous it’s making you stupid. She knows that,” he says, nuzzling his face against your inner thigh. “Of course she knows that.”

“M’not jealous,” Dieter denies evenly. When he looks down at you, brown eyes too kind, you half believe him.

You break the eye contact and smile appreciatively down at the man between your legs. A finger you’d locked in his hair now swipes across the bottom of his shiny lips. He takes it into his mouth, wetting the pad, and you say, “You aren’t a very good team. I think it’s important to be a good team.”

Dieter places a hand on your arm, more of a phantom touch than a grip, but you know it’s a stroke of possessiveness. You glance back up at him, cupping his cheek in your palm. “Dieter likes men,” you tell Dustin, not looking away from Dieter. “He’s not playing nice now and I think it’s a shame because I bet you taste just like me right now. And I know—“ your gaze drops down to Dustin, your voice velvet “—how much this dearest ex-husband of mine likes the taste of me. Have you ever kissed another man, Dustin?”

Dustin bites at your bait, smirk growing wide as his body stalking up yours. “Of course. I looked like a God in the ‘90s. Everyone wanted me and I wanted everyone,” he jokes, his warm hands flattening against your torso. His legs rest behind your thighs as he sits upwards, and you can see the tent of his erection against his sleep shorts. The black of them does little to conceal the full outline, and you thrill at the idea that he’s probably not wearing any underwear beneath the fabric.

You’re not one for getting starstruck - not anymore, anyway, a Los Angeles resident for years and the ex-wife of a star - but the fact that you used to masturbate to this man in front of you is something you still can’t shake. It occupies your mind, the way you had rewinded scenes from his raunchy, made for tv erotica over and over. Even now, many years later, you can still picture it: his younger frame pressed behind a blond woman, fucking into her in haste, his hands all over her and his thrusts rough. It was incredible to you back then, placed in some seedy location like an alley. Public and animalistic—the stuff of paperback romance novels. You remember the way he tugged her shirt upwards, how in the heat of the moment he grasped at any part of her he could get. A black bra and a long skirt, the bra pushed askew, going higher and higher with each thrust, and the skirt gripped onto, used for leverage as he pushed into her from behind. The VHS that hosted the scene had been passed from friend to friend in your college days, until someone’s VCR had eaten it. You feel a bit excited to know you’ve got the real thing right here. You think about telling him.

But it’s not about you, not now; it’s about Dieter. You widen your legs, make room for the ‘90s heart throb to slip between your body and come closer to the man you’ve dedicated your life to. In this moment you can admit as much. Dieter’s got his cock pressed against your back, and you know he would do anything - anything - for you if you’d just ask. His love burns like a million suns and you’ll be Icarus in every lifetime. You fool. Kiss another man hard and seek penance in his presence behind you.

Dieter stiffens as Dustin presses closer and closer to him. You shift to accommodate them, moving your body up, guiding Dieter along. He holds you close like a shield but doesn’t protest when Dustin’s lips press into his.

Dustin tastes of earthy vineyards and you—like sweetened strawberry wine and the familiar palette of tangy and acidic that’s blessed Dieter’s tongue many times over. That’s it, he thinks with a smile against Dustin’s generous lips. That’s how you taste. He savors it like a wine connoisseur does his wine, running it over his tongue and thinking too long about how to describe it. It is so utterly you, it makes him yearn for another life.

He plunges his tongue so deeply into Dustin’s mouth, it threatens to gag them both. But it doesn’t. They’ve both got their party tricks, after all. Dieter’s kiss grows hungry and suddenly there’s no space between any of you. You are a perfectly molded puzzle, fingers on skin, in hair, tongues swiping against lips and chests, and there are deep guttural moans exposing what the erections do well to show.

You know Dieter wants this, can feel his evident excitement press into your back. You happily welcome the warmth of Dustin’s firm body pressing impossibly close to yours. Dieter wets his bottom lip and squeezes you reassuringly, a habit from other life slipping into this new one.

You alternate kissing one another, creating a new taste on your warm, eager tongues. It is perfect. Dustin’s hands gingerly fumble over your chest, not focused or intent but curious, and Dieter’s allow it. The possessiveness has translated into something entirely more agreeable, and these men work together like lovers.

Your fingers grip at Dustin’s muscular shoulders, trail lower and lower over the slope of his chest down to the dip above his shorts. The path is slow and arduous to your lust riddled brain. He grunts against your collarbone, his hot breath fanning over you, and you go lower still, taking the shorts with you.

Dieter’s eyes trail the same place yours do, his chin tucked into your neck; you share the same view of Dustin: the red weeping head of his cock as it bops against his toned stomach, eager to be touched and licked and surrounded. Dustin sighs hotly against you as you press against him - against it - and Dieter swipes his tongue behind your ear. It is heaven, the way Dieter and Dustin feel against you, combined like this. You want them both. You need them.

You wrap your hands in Dieter’s curls, let him support your body as it rubs frantically over Dustin’s. Dieter peppers kisses alongside your neck and whispers, “God, you’re so fucking hot. God, I was so fucking lucky—“

The rest of it is lost against the shell of your earlobe. Some things - even the kindest, most genuine things - are better left unsaid.

Dustin emits soft, urgent moans as his cock catches between your bodies. The tempo of your shared thrusts grows quick, more focused, and he is close, on the very brink of letting go. You knit your brows, watch curiously and excitedly as he draws closer. You think of it: A hot spurt, just for you. Dieter holds up your sleep shirt, seeming to expect the same.

But then Dustin stops, his thick fingers rough and tight against your skin as he stills your movements. In the morning you’ll be bruised, a thought that thrills you. “Not yet,” is what he says in explanation, leaning his forehead against yours.

Dieter laughs softly, some terrible joke about bad endurance dying before it rises to be heard. He’s on his best behavior. Dustin tastes of you, of him, and you’re all naked and you’re so happy, so pliant. You lean against him like he’s someone you can lean on, and he swallows the serenity of that thought silently. Dieter is a half guilt, a perpetual bleeding heart, and you are his salvation. He knows it doesn’t work like that, can’t, but sex is not about what is real and logical. That’s why you were always so fucking good at it; it was beyond the both of you, and somehow a language you spoke best together.

He should feel worse about Dustin. Perhaps it’s because you want it so bad, or maybe it’s because he’s so horny, but the inclusion of him feels less intrusive than before. This is not your marriage bed - it’s been lost to the cruel seas of time - but it feels like a union, and Dustin plays a curious part. Not the voyeuristic onlooker, but the active participant, his glistening cock hot and heavy against your beautiful stomach. It should make Dieter sick. It did, thirty minutes ago. But now it makes him hard, wets his mouth. The bastard is good looking.

What can he say - you have always had good taste.

You turn your head and lick into Dieter’s mouth, redirecting your attention. He turns you between their bodies, pressing you into him as he kisses you feverishly. Dustin assists him, holding you against his body like Dieter had been doing before, only upwards. Dieter draws back and lifts the cotton sleep shirt over your head. He takes advantage like Dustin hadn’t been smart enough to, wetting your nipple with his warm mouth and tweaking the other between his fingers. You squirm, pressing your hot cunt against his stomach. He feels too clothed suddenly, having been denied contact because layers. You help him take off his shirt and Dustin helps you take off his pants. You waste no time wrapping your hot hand around him and tugging loosely.

His mouth finds your nipple again and you wrap your fingers into his unruly hair, jerking him off slowly as he kisses and sucks at your bare chest. He knows you’re already dripping, seen it on Dustin’s glossy lips when he got done with you, but this is his body remembering you and he can't stop. He remembers the way you got when he licked at you like you were the last scraps of his final meal on earth. How desperate and needy you became, just as desperate and needy as him. His hand travels down your stomach, straight down to your cunt, and he palms the wet heat of you into his hand. Dieter relishes the way you gasp into his mouth as the heel of his hand finds your clit, a smirk on his lips and a sentence like, “That’s it, baby,” coming out against you.

He fingers your entrance teasingly and finds you devastatingly wet. This is heaven, he thinks, the wet stickiness of you on the pad of his finger and your hot breath on his lips. You dig your nails into his shoulder, shut your eyes against the sensation of one of his fingers entering you. Dieter is ground zero. In your Garden of Eden, Dieter was there, at once Adam and the serpent. This is the apple. How delicious it is to be fucked, how perfectly human. Of course they’d turn on God for this. Cover up with leaves and be terrified of the whole earth later. Bleed and cry. Divorce. Whatever. This is worth turning back on perfection for. Poor Eve. Poor you.

You rub yourself against his hand and Dustin takes one of your breasts into his hand, watching. Dieter is so focused on the squelch of your juices and the way his finger - fingers now, two, and you stretch so perfectly for him - enters you that he doesn’t even mind. You’re no pissing contest, he sees that now—you're the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He swallows your moans and tries his best not to cum. Your grasp on his cock is so loose and it’d be so embarrassing to cum on your stomach when the tugs are nothing, and besides this is about you. So he focuses on trying not to.

“Condom,” you mutter, your lips landing on the side of Dieter’s mouth. Dieter nods his head but doesn’t pull back from you. He watches, enchanted, as your hips move against his hand. He can feel your orgasm build in the way you clench around his fingers, the penultimate pressure too much to bear. When you come, its with a shudder, your body tight and rigid above his as you ride it out. Dieter is so high and so in love with you, and he’s so sick about it that all he can do is laugh earnestly, even though what he wants is to ask you to marry him again.

Dustin is touching you all over with his hands, palming your perfect breasts, and you’re arching farther and farther back. Dieter can hardly bear the sight—not because of the jealousy—but because he’s deathly afraid this is it for him. You’re the best thing he’s ever had, and he knows he can’t think that way. You had a good run—you’re great friends now—but God, you married him in Vegas and you used to sketch his nose with careful affection onto canvases you kept for yourself. Who’s gonna sit in your studio now? Who’s gonna take up space in your heart, make you smile over the canvas as you work? He would weep if you didn’t look so pretty and sated, leaning into Dustin the way you are.

He kisses you hard on the mouth just to get rid of the thoughts, and then he kisses Dustin too, grabbing roughly at the back of his hair the way he hasn’t ever with you. It’s not kind, but Dustin doesn’t seem to mind; he moans gruffly, absorbing nothing but the desire behind it.

Your hands explore Dieter’s exposed skin as they kiss, warm and gentle, unconsciously fingering the scar he got as a child. You know the map of this body. When his hard cock bops against his stomach you take it in your hand again. Before he has time to think, you put him in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against Dustin’s lips. They stop kissing, looking between them at the sight of you. Dustin is so considerate, so much better than Dieter has ever been. He moves aside your hair, kisses against the curve of your spine. All Dieter can do is think about not cumming. He feels bad about this, wishes he could gather enough strength to think about your hair and things like that. But your mouth is warm and you take him in with expertise, bobbing in a rhythm he wouldn't dare break. Up, down, the tip of your tongue running alongside a vein, back up again. He’ll cum like this. You look up at him through your eyelashes and he touches the top of your head with unspeakable tenderness. Cum, you beckon, but he won’t. Can’t.

Where is that goddamn condom? How can he make this last forever?

He pulls back from your lips smiling an apologetic grin when you at him, surprised. You seem to understand, a devilish little smirk playing across your glossy lips. He wants to kiss you, but even that feels dangerous right now. He thumbs your lips instead.

“Condoms,” he tells you softly. You nod your head.

“In my bag.” You point over to the corner of the room. Dieter pads off to get them.

Dustin’s hands sneak between your thighs and you sigh when he finds your entrance, the tip of a finger rubbing the spot Dieter abandoned. You’re so wet and you want it so badly. He presses his lips against your shoulder and you feel the heat of his breath against your goose pimpled flesh. As you loll your head against him, he slides a finger in. You scratch the back of his head and nod frantically.

“You’re so tight.” He nips your skin and then licks at you with a desperation you’ve only experienced in Dieter. You like being wanted this badly. You lift your hips and ride his finger, squeezing around him. So tight, right. He laughs and you feel that too. “You like being talked dirty to, don’t you? You’re being so good, riding my finger like this. I can’t wait to fuck you. To feel you around my cock like this. And I bet he’s thinking that too.”

You both look over to Dieter as he unwraps a found foil and takes out the condom. You sigh; Dustin’s thumb finds your swollen clit. “We’ve got to make him cum in you, but I don’t think you’ll find that hard. He wants you so bad. Look—“ You feel Dustin’s grin already across your back. “He’s so fucking hard for you. Just as hard as me.”

Dieter strokes himself through the protective sleeve as he watches the two of you. You feel the familiar sensation of heat spreading low in your belly. When Dustin dares to enter another finger into you, you gasp, feeling full and stretched and yet not full enough. He spreads his fingers inside you, preparing you. You tug at his hair and make eye contact with Dieter.

He smiles lopsidedly, suddenly boyish and more handsome than he’s ever been. You think he looks happy for you—so pleased that you’re pleased, with a glint in his eye. Maybe it’s the drugs. You don’t know. Maybe he is happy that you’re happy. He was always better at saying he loved you than he was at showing it, but you suspect that this is his showing you. Love. Maybe it spills over in divorce, just another cruel thing you’ve got to cope with.

When Dieter comes back, he presses a condom into Dustin’s thigh. You are at the edge of another orgasm, everything perfectly in place — the sensation of Dustin’s thumb, the way his breath hits your skin, the idea that Dieter is watching you—but he denies you it, interrupting. You go to protest, whine, but he doesn’t give you a chance.

Dustin’s fingers are still in you, on you, when Dieter leans down and presses his tongue flat against your clit, greedy with lust. He licks at you around Dustin’s fingers and it feels like too much. They seem to make an agreement, working you at the same time. You cum quickly and this one seems to go on for eternity. You squeeze Dieter’s shoulder. The other condom package falls loosely onto the bed as Dustin uses his hand to keep you steady, your knees weak from the pleasure.

You tug at Dieter’s hair to make him stop. Dustin seems to know instinctively, leaving you feeling empty when he takes his fingers away. His slick covered fingers rest on your hips as you tell them both, breathlessly, “I can’t do another one. It’s too much.”

Dieter shakes his head in protest but Dustin takes the information in stride. He’s too good at this, moves through the motions with ease, improvising quickly. He extends his slicked fingers to Dieter. Dieter, who has been so focused on you, looks at them quizzically, unsure of what they mean. Then he seems to get it, hard features smoothing out in realization.

He looks at Dustin, and it’s not like with you. He's focused, not icy or angry but so intent. It’s not a loveless gaze, per se, but it is devoid of love; filled not with something warm but something hot.

Dustin’s cock presses into the small of your back. As Dieter’s mouth wraps around his fingers, you feel a warm bead of pre-cum drip onto your skin. You bite at your lip. You’ve never seen Dieter with men before, and this new side of him excites you—like unlocking a new door in a house you’ve had for ages. He puts on a show for you, bobbing like you did on him. Dustin’s fingers seem to be an extension of yourself. You shudder as Dieter tongues along them, and Dustin rubs himself helplessly against your backside.

“I want to see what you’re like with men,” you say to Dieter, your voice barely a whisper. But Dieter hears you and his eyebrows perk in interest. This is a long unanswered question to something you’ve never been brave enough to ask. You’ve always known that he’s been interested in men — that he’s had sex with them — but you’ve never really questioned outright about what it was like. It felt equal parts too personal and hurtful; you didn’t want to know what it was like with other people before you. But everything seems different tonight. You want to know badly, like he’s got secrets that could be your salvation hidden in him.

You slip from between them, lying against the pillows. Before filling the space, Dieter looks over at you. His brown eyes implore you for a sign and you nod your head.

He’d asked you earlier, when Dustin asked about rules, if you’d be alright with them touching each other, maybe even entering one another. You hadn’t expected it to get to that, so it had been easy to say you didn’t mind. In fact, you had figured Dieter only said it as a means to scare you away from the idea. And now that the notion is not only on the horizon, but a reality, it comes just as easy to say yes—maybe even more so.

He stalls, hesitating, so you nod again, laughing. He smiles. Your ex-husband is a startlingly beautiful man like this, looking so openly vulnerable. He’s physically and emotionally naked and you’ve waited decades for it.

Dieter and Dustin kiss each other like men do, aggressive and dominating, neither willing to lose the good fight just yet. You feel your interest piqued, watching the way their fingers touch each other. How they tug and grip, search for purchase all over. Dieter is much rougher with Dustin than he’s ever chanced to be with you, with bruising kisses and bruising touches. When he grabs the man’s cock, it is with an ugly dedication, fast dry and quick tugs. Dustin hisses the first time but doesn’t protest. In fact, he thrusts his hips unashamedly into Dieter’s closed fist, licking into his mouth with a degree of delight. They tug at the back of each other’s heads of hair and eventually Dieter gives way, falling back to allow Dustin to mount him.

Dustin searches for the condom on the bed, his chest rising and falling heavily in an attempt to grasp at long denied air. You watch through heavy lids as he slides the latex onto himself. He’s circumcised, pink and swollen at the tip. Drips of pre-cum have made him all glossy and you bite your lip watching him struggle to line himself up. When he gets the latex down to his base, he smiles a satisfied smirk. He doesn’t look at you. If he notices you staring, he doesn’t mind at all. This is his favorite play, and he’s an actor after all.

Dieter’s knees knock apart to accommodate his frame—a body you’ve begun to notice with quiet admiration in your desire. He’s broad, much broader than he’d been in his youth, and he’s got muscle all over now, whereas before he’d been lean and lanky. He’s hard and tight and as he begins to rub himself against Dieter, you’re taken with the way his skin stretches over the plains of his back, his arms, his stomach. Dustin is in impeccable shape, perhaps one of the only men who can claim he’s doing better now than he was in his youth. Gone is the boyishness, replaced with a heady, sure masculinity.

Dieter seems to relinquish his fight happily now, soft growls emitting from his lips. Dustin presses down into him, and while most of what they’re doing is obscured by Dieter’s legs, you can imagine it well enough: the steady, erratic thrusts of Dustin’s cock rubbing against Dieter’s. There’s a sheen of sweat on them both and Dustin buries his head in Dieter’s neck. He licks at the places you had once, and it is nothing but erotic little huffs from them both.

“You’re…” Dustin begins, but falters off. He lifts himself up, repositions, bracketing Dieter’s head between his strong arms. Dieter’s eyes are pressed closed, his dark features etched with pleasure. All they do for a while is rub against each other. You feel like an intruder, like something stopping them from getting where they need to be. Maybe you are.

You dare to speak: “Aren’t you going to touch each other?”

Dieter looks startled. He’s red in the cheeks, the exertion of their movements and the heat of his desire making him flush. He taps Dustin on the arm, making the steady roll of his hips slow until suddenly it’s nothing. It’s all quiet for the first time in minutes.

They both look at you with intent eyes. But Dieter is the first to take charge. “You should fuck her,” he tells Dustin. Dieter looks at you, questioning.

“But—“ you protest. Dieter shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Later.”

Dustin has no qualms about the interchanging of you and Dieter. You notice that he's notably gentler with you than he was with him, though. He crawls to you, kisses you chastely—as if testing the waters. There’s nothing necessarily erratic or rough about what he does to you. He looks between your spread legs and fingers at your entrance once more, circling the area teasingly. You groan in anticipation and his head falls to your chest. He takes a taut nipple into his mouth as he plunges his fingers inside of you, pushing them against your front wall. As you sigh heavily, he moves his wet mouth to the other nipple.

You turn your head, catch Dieter’s fixed gaze. He reaches out his hand and you lace your fingers together. He’s touching himself through his condom, stroking softly. You want to devour him.

Dustin takes his fingers from you, and you look back at him. Before you can plead for more he says, “I’m gonna enter you now.” You nod, wordless.

He gathers the slick from his fingers and coats his latex covered cock with it. As you squeeze Dieter’s hand, Dustin lines himself to your entrance. His kiss is soft, barely a kiss at all, and he enters you, inch by careful inch. He feels so overwhelmingly right, snug, puncturing something decidedly primal inside of you when he bottoms out.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan hotly against his shoulder. He manages a small laugh, running his lips against your cheek. “Go hard,” you ask. He hasn’t moved yet, stays still inside of you. You think of the way he was with Dieter.

“I don’t know if I can. I think I’ll…” He swallows. “I know I’ll cum.”

“Please,” you beg. You dig crescent shaped nail marks into ass and he smiles teasingly, running his warm tongue against your sensitive skin. He presses so intimately into you, your nipples scrap against his chest. It feels so good. Everything does.

“He said no,” he answers, looking up to meet your eyes.

“He’ll give me anything I want,” you say. Dieter’s fingers leave yours then, and you look over. You think you’ve made him mad but he’s only repositioning himself, coming closer to your bodies. He doesn’t say anything.

Some things are so true they don’t need to be confirmed. They just are. The sky is blue and people die, and Dieter is a man who will give you everything because he was once a man who gave you nothing.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Dustin mumbles, finally drawing back. You nod your head, encouraging, but he doesn’t go harder. He moves in the same way he did before, experimental and slow. When you look at him, imploring silently, he shakes his head. “But a rule is a rule, baby. ‘Sides, I think he’s making me get you ready. Your husband is a bit of a pervert. He’s touching himself, watching me stretch you open with my cock.” Dustin presses his lips into yours. Against you, he mumbles, “Did ya know he likes to watch? Bet he likes to hear too. You—“ Dustin pushes back into you, stopping himself, and the squelch of your juices adds to the effect. He smirks. “—You’ll get fucked. Just not by me. Not yet. Maybe I’ll fuck him while he fucks you. Maybe we’ll do it..” he grunts, bottoming out again, “We’ll do you together. You’re tight as hell, but I know we can get you wide. Couldn’t we?”

You feel Dieter’s fingers but can’t move your eyes away from Dustin’s. They’re greener like this, up close. Dieter trails a line over your body, and then up to Dustin’s, with a lone finger. Dustin turns to look at him and he smiles, nodding. They seem to work without words.

Dustin reaches down to grip the condom as he pulls out of you. You look over at Dieter, half angry and half amused that he could interrupt. You realize what they’re doing almost immediately. Dieter holds open your legs by pressing his palm against one of your knees, and Dustin shuffles, moving back to let Dieter take his place.

His cock probes against your entrance and he smiles down at you like a fool. “Hey,” he tells you evenly, half sober. You ache for him. You clench around nothing as he licks into your mouth.

“Hey,” you respond, overcome. Your fingers wrap around his arms and you notice that he’s got more muscle than before too.

“You want to be fucked?” Although he attempts to make this a question, it is more of a statement. You nod along anyway. He kisses you hard, rough like with Dustin, and he nearly enters you as he rubs himself greedily against your naked warmth, wetting himself with your slick.

“Yes. Hard, like you do with him,” you tell him. He smiles against your lips. You take his cock in your hand, so much more sure with him than anyone, and he slides into you. It feels like homecoming, wet and warm and familiar, your fingers digging into his skin and the smell of sex in the air. He does what you ask, his thrusts sharp, his hips snapping against your hips.

“Dieter,” you pant out, nodding your head. He kisses the side of your mouth sloppily and you smile the best you can. Where Dustin felt right, Dieter feels perfect. You feel like you touch the hem of eternity as he plunges into you with the intensity you requested, uninhibited and giving in the roughness.

He repositions you both in one expert movement, moving to his knees, pushing your hips farther up. This makes you let out a startled gasp; he hits you far deeper like this, his thumbs digging into the flesh on your hips with bruising intensity. You can’t kiss from this position, but it doesn’t matter. He fucks you. Really fucks you.

You see Dustin in the hazy peripheral. Lolling your head to the side, you focus on him. He stands at the side of the bed, smiles at you when you catch his eyes. With his cock standing out in front of him like that, he looks a bit unserious. If you weren’t so full of Dieter, perhaps you’d be amused by this. He doesn’t even touch himself. This makes you frown.

“D—Dieter,” you stammer out.

“Huh?” he grunts.

“Dustin.”

“Mm, what—what about him?”

“Let him fuck me too. Please.”

Dieter shakes his head. “No, you’re mine right now. You’re—“ he snaps into you roughly, the bed creaking. “I’ll suck him off. Or maybe—“ Dieter grunts again, “Maybe he’ll be smart and he’ll get behind me. And maybe he’ll—“ his head drops to your neck, and your head the next part through mumbles. “Maybe he’ll rub against me like he was doing before. But it doesn’t matter right now. Just think about you. It’s all for you.”

You close your eyes, nodding. That sounds fine. Great. Dieter’s finger gazes at your clit and you nod, your hand reaching out to hold his wrist. You always liked to feel the way his forearm moved as he did this to you.

“Cum for me and I’ll cum for you,” he says, and you feel it begin, the stirrings of another orgasm. You think of him, of the way he punctures his thrusts with grunts, how good he feels inside of you, bottoming out like this with measured fury. You like how rough he’s being, like never before. You like this side of Dieter. You like that there is more of Dieter to know.

When you cum, you call out his name. He swallows it, pressing his lips to yours. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me. You’ve always been.” He fucks faster into you, his own release on the horizon. You squeeze around him once, twice, and that’s it; he’s filling the condom up and he’s gasping earnestly, amazed and so goddamn in love. He kisses you on the mouth and it’s so genuine. You kiss him back, smiling like a newlywed.

“Dustin,” you say against Dieter’s lips, after a moment. Your chests are both heaving and you're drenched in a thin layer of sweat. He presses his forehead against yours and you smile. “Let me take care of him,” you tell him.

Dieter rolls off of you, collapsing into bed with a soft groan and saying nothing. You take a moment to recuperate, breathing in and out, letting the bliss of this moment wash over you.

“Come here,” you say to Dustin, patting the open space of the bed beside you. He listens, the bed dipping beneath his weight. It takes a lot of effort on your part, but you rise to your knees. You guide him onto his back and he helps you straddle him. For a moment, you just sit there on top of him, looking at him.

“I used to masturbate to you,” you finally admit. This makes him grin. Beneath your cunt, his erection jumps a little.

“Thanks,” he says. His hand palms one of your breasts again. “You don’t have to do anything to me. I can finish myself off if you want.”

You shake your head, grinning. “Didn’t you hear me? I used to masturbate to you. This is a dream.”

Another hand comes up to cup your other breasts. “Are you sure you don't feel too sore? He fucked you pretty good.” You begin to glide your cunt alongside his prominent erection. He sucks in a swallow breath. “Guess that’s a no.”

“That’s a no,” you confirm.

“Just let her fuck you,” Dieter tells him quietly. You smile over at him but he doesn’t see it; he’s too busy watching the way you move your hips over Dustin. Even with a flaccid penis and in a state of post-coital peace, you manage to get to him.

You ride Dustin quickly, grabbing onto his strong shoulders as he tongues your alongside chest, finding your nipples. He groans, the sensation vibrating throughout your body as you follow the motion his hands set for you. A fast up and down, your back arching, taking him in completely and then pushing back so far he nearly falls out.

Admittedly he does most of the work, your legs wobbly and your body tired. But it feels good. God, does it feel good. You like this, being with two men back to back, each of them taking turns. Dustin generously tries to get you to cum again, his fingers sliding between your bodies, but you stop him.

“It’s too much. Just this,” you tell him. You grind down on him to make him feel better about it, and he hums sympathetically around a mouthful of your breast.

You ride him less enthusiastically the closer he gets, both of you too tired and worn. He stops aiding you so much, kissing anywhere he can access: your jaw, your neck, the side of your mouth. He lets your body fall forward into his. It’s a sort of lazy fucking that you do, meeting halfway to create the sharp thrusts that push him closer to climax.

“Cum in me,” you tell him, voice silky against his ear. He knows how tired you are, feels it too. He gathers up the last of both of your strengths, rutting up into you with intent. As he cums, you ride him, curious, taking all he can give. Dieter is too sensitive, can’t stand to move when he cums, but Dustin nods, moaning against you. When it’s over, you collapse into him, hugging his sweaty body. He laughs against your warm skin.

“Thank you,” he tells you softly, so only you can hear. You nod. You lie on him like that for a moment, listening to the beat of his heart. Dieter watches you, his expression unreadable. But he doesn’t look faraway.

You reach out to him with your fingers and he smiles, coming to.

Dustin helps you off of him and you fall between them, sated and spent. He slides off his condom and reaches across your body. “You want me to take yours?” he asks Dieter. Dieter, no longer feeling jealous but merely tired, nods. He hands the man his condom and Dustin pads off to the bathroom. Dieter and you watch this, amused.

“I kinda understand what you see in him now,” he confesses, smiling. He interlocks your fingers and you let him.

“Thank you,” you say, ignoring his comment. You look over at him.

He nods, sincere. “Of course. I assume I did it right?”

“You did it right.”

“And you don’t regret it?”

You shake your head. “I don’t seem to regret you. Even though sometimes it’d be better if I did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I love you.”

You kiss him chastely, even though you know you shouldn’t. “I know,” you tell him softly. “I love you too.”

“Like a friend?”

“No.”

“Like a husband?” he asks, testing the waters. You laugh. Dustin comes back from the bathroom.

“No. Something more than all of that.”

“I can handle that.”

You nod your head. “Me too,” you tell him.

The bed dips from the weight of Dustin once more, and you roll over to your side, cuddling into him. He passes a warm rag to Dieter and he accepts it, cleaning himself. He goes to hand it to you, but you shake your head.

“I’ll take a shower in a little. When I can walk.”

This earns a laugh from them both. Dustin reaches an arm around you, drawing you closer to his body. Dieter, surprisingly, doesn’t mind this; he curls up behind you, too, wrapping an arm around your waist. You’re all so close, and it’s nice. He thinks maybe they might be something to this sharing after all.

“I liked that,” you say to no one in particular.

Dustin hums, fingering trailing over your arm. “Enough to do it again?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I think the opportunity for this kind of thing only happens once in a lifetime, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know about that. This is Hollywood, and they love sequels,” Dieter adds, smiling.

“Yeah,” Dustin nods, “That’s true.”

You close your eyes, smiling faintly. “A sequel, then, maybe,” you say tiredly.

In the morning, you do not regret any of it.

—-

A YEAR LATER.

SUBJECT: THREE’S COMPANY, BUT ONLY SOMETIMES from: [email protected]

I was at an art show the other day and I saw a painting with your name on it. The guy in it looked a little familiar (they told me it was an old painting, from nearly a decade ago, before you were both famous. Cute). I bought it, of course. Not that I’m in the habit of buying paintings from people I’ve slept with, but it was for charity and it looked good and I’ve got a new apartment that I’ve got to fill, so I thought why not? It cost a lot (good for you!) and because of that they let me wrangle an email address from them to tell you what a brilliant job you did. You did great. Very Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton of you. Anyway, to the point: You weren’t at the premiere of the documentary with Dieter last month. He told me that it's because you don’t like that scene, and I don’t blame you. Neither do I. But I was wondering how you feel about commissioned paintings? And do you think that Dieter would like to come with you to deliver it if your opinion is positive? (He told me I had to ask you that myself, so I think he’d be happy to accompany you if the canvas is too big to carry by yourself). P.S. I’m asking you for sex–a sequel, as it were–but I really would like a painting, too. I’ll spend a lot (not for the sex, but the art. I guess for the sex too, if you’re into that). Love, D. Mulray.

—-

SUBJECT: HOPEFULLY NOT ROSEMARY’S BABY SITUATION to: [email protected], [email protected]

Sometimes I commission art work for people I like and sometimes I make an exception for those I don’t if they pay enough. I’m sure you fall somewhere in those categories, Dustin. But I must warn you: I won’t do dick drawings. I might do a vagina one if the inspiration strikes. I must admit I’ve never had a man ask me for sex over email. Kind of thrilling, like a retro sext but without any of the sexy parts. I’ve attached Dieter to this email for obvious transparency reasons. He says he’d gladly help me carry your canvas (figuratively and literally). P.S. It will cost you. For tax purposes, I hope you’ll let ‘it’ be the art.

—

from: [email protected] to: you, [email protected]

Who said divorce couldn’t be sexy?

#pedro pascal #dieter bravo #the bubble #dustin mulray #david duchovny #the bubble fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x reader x dustin mulray #dustin mulray x reader #dustin mulray x you

[starstruckwillows]

james potter x wife!reader

okay, what if we see little moments of the two of them raising harry all the way through his 7th year? like harry hosting sleepovers with ron and hermione and ginny and y/n and james being the best parents ever. and dropping harry off for the first time at platform 9 3/4. and girls coming into the picture. and idk, but you get it right?

♡ we deserve this life - j.p ♡

starstruckwillows 🂱

pairing; james potter x wife!reader

category; fluff, tiniest bit of angst if you squint with reading glasses on

summary; your beautifully regular life with your husband years after the war

warnings/content; none

other; fem!reader, erasure of so much death and canon sadness cos no thanks, bi harry

the war was painfully long and sorrowful, and when you fell pregnant, you were terrified to bring a baby into such a warstricken world.

but when your son was only a year old, the terror ended with what you thought would become a sacrifice. ultimately, things shook out and voldermort was killed.

you and james got the happy years raising your son that you needed.

"this is the life we deserve angel, i promise." james had whispered on the night of your wedding.

philosopher's stone

"go on harry, run!" james nudged your son's shoulder, who gripped his trolley uncertaintly.

you ruffled his hair, "don't worry, dad'll go first."

your husband shifted awkwardly, "erm well, i haven't... in a while, you know... since our last year and..."

with a laugh and an eyeroll, you slipped through the barrier, harry and james appearing just after, confidence restored.

and as harry rushed away to converse and load his things onto the train, you watched him with bittersweet love.

when the train took off, chugging away, james squeezed an arm around your shoulder as you buried your face into him to hide your upset.

"he's gonna have fun! don't cry love."

you sniffled, "oh yeah, like you won't be bawling later."

chamber of secrets

well, have fun he did.

amongst hosting sleepovers with his newfound trio over the holidays, it had slipped his mind to mention he could speak parseltongue, or that the heir of slytherin was traversing the school with a murderous basilisk.

you clutched your heart with an open mouth as you read the letter from dumbledore, "basilisk?" you screeched.

meanwhile james enthusiastically encouraged your son with a howler.

"oh merlin is ginny alright?"

"so proud of you harry!"

"fawkes? oh gods-"

"how's quidditch going anyway?"

"hermione, petrified?"

"oh, and also-" james frowned, cutting himself off and turning to you, "did you just say hermione was petrified? how'd harry and ron get anything done?"

you laughed shakily, still in fear, "oh i'm sure she found a way to tell them anyway."

james noticed your unease, ended the howler and swept you up into a dramatic hug, spinning you round until your ribs hurt from laughter.

"jamie, put me down!" you gasped out through your giggling, which he finally did.

"we raised the coolest son in the world."

prisoner of azkaban

your heart dropped when you read the headlines - peter pettigrew escapes azkaban.

james and you shared a look of pain. for the first time, this was not your husband comforting you when you fretted over harry being so far from home. this was a real threat, maybe even more so terrifying for james.

"mum, dad? what are you reading?"

wordlessly, james leaned back onto the sofa and a ran a hand through his signature mop of hair.

harry moved forward, peering at it, "peter pettigrew? who's that?"

you let out a sigh. thirteen years without harry knowing wormtail as the man that had almost got you all killed had been a push. it was always going to come to this eventually.

you felt better knowing remus would be teaching at hogwarts this year, sirius moving to the castle with him.

still, that night you could do nothing for james but let him push his face into your neck and tighten your arms around him.

goblet of fire

when harry's name was pulled from that goblet, james surprised everyone by being fully and completely on your side, screaming in dumbledore's office with mcgonagall's backing, so loudly the owlery rustled every few minutes.

and when you finally accepted the situation, you were his most enthusiastic supporters, taking temporary residence up in hogsmeade and spending your weekends burning the 'potter stinks' badge.

"you can't beat up a child."

you scoffed, "james, i'm not going to beat him up. the malfoys weren't ever going to raise a nice kid, i don't blame him yet."

james hummed, nodding, "mhm, right, so why is your wand in your hand?"

you looked down at it with a sharp laugh, "this isn't beating him up."

order of the phoenix

admist the war, something you never wanted your son to experience, there was a tiny beacon of what you thought was hope.

harry's relationship problems - he did not consider them hope.

"so in short, i really like cho, but she's just broken up with cedric."

you hummed in thought, "i see. are you close with cedric, will it impact your friendship?"

harry groaned, thunking his head back onto the wall, "well, i really like him too. it's a classic bi crisis situation."

considering the triangle until it made both of your head's hurt, he threw his hands in the air, "alright, i'm putting this behind me and focusing on my o.w.ls, and throwing umbridge off a cliff."

james walked in at that moment and admonished him lightly, "c'mon harry, y'know your mum doesn't like you talking about teachers like that. even sniv- snape."

you snorted, "umbridge is a troll. actually, that's harsh... to trolls."

half blood prince

you and your husband were curled into balls on the sofa, laughing until tears burned on your face.

"half- oh merlin i can't!" you wheezed, coughing.

"prince! oh my, snivellous his royal highness!" james pushed his glasses aside as they grew misty from the condensation of his crying.

you gasped, "he called himself that. seriously."

harry mumbled, "actually, he still does."

and the laughter started all over again.

"also, i kissed ginny."

you bolted up, almost knocking heads with james, chanting at the same time, "knew it!"

deathly hallows

the battlefield was rough and shredded and covered in debris. many had been lost. other's changed for life by injuries. all traumatized by the destruction.

your son trembled in your arms for the first time in a year, exhausted and drained. for the most awful, wrenching, angry feeling in your life, you thought you'd lost him. dry screams had brought you to your knees. but he was here now. it was over.

"you're alright harry, you did so good, i'm so proud of you." you fought back your sob as your husband joined you sitting on the stairs.

families were embracing and mourning across the space, and in this moment, you had never appreciated your family so much.

you deserved this life.

taglist:

@anordinarymuse @ellora-brekker

#starstruckwillows #fluff #marauders #marauders era #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter x wife!reader #james potter #harry potter

[fieldofsecretss]

M’ gonna marry your daughter-D.M

Fluff <3

Draco x fem!reader

Summary: Draco asking for your fathers permission to marry you for eight years straight. Cute huh?🥰

Warnings: NONE (not proof read)

——————————————————————

First year

Draco and y/n 11 years old

Family day

Hogwarts had started a new tradition that every year they’ll be hosting a family day. A day when parents can see their children and just spend time together with them.

You were sorted into Slytherin and quickly became the one and only best friend of Draco Malfoy. He was always so kind towards you, always asked about your day, you had sleepovers at each other’s dorms and sometimes picnics at the black lake. The picnics always ended up with Draco throwing a tantrum because some seventh years told him about how cute you two were and such.

Sometimes you’d just mess with each other and make jokes about Professor Snape’s greasy hair or something else that’s actually not funny for anyone but the two of you. It was safe to say that he was the greatest and the bestest of friends you could wish for at your first year of Hogwarts.

Family day was going well, almost everyone’s parent had gone home again, except your parents who was hugging you goodbye. Draco was looking at you with the whole world in his eyes before he approached you.

“Is that your father over there, y/n?” He asked politely.

Your parents were walking away a few meters away from you and Draco.

“Yes, why?” You asked.

“You’ll see, y/n” he said and walked over to your dad, he tapped him on his shoulder as he turned around to face the blonde boy behind him. You walked closer to hear what he was going to ask in pure curiosity.

Your parents knew about your good relationship with the Malfoy’s son.

“Yes?” Your dad said with a raised eyebrow. He knew it was Draco, he’d went to hogwarts together with Lucius and he could never misstaken him for another boy thanks to his platinum blonde hair.

“I’m gonna marry your daughter...” Draco started. Your cheeks crimson red

Second year

Draco and y/n 12 years old

Family day

Same place as last year, Draco talking to your father while you stood a meter behind, blushing.

“-and make her my wife…” Draco kept on going like last year. Your father just stood and listened carefully as the speech went on.

Third year

Draco and y/n 13 years old

Family day

“-I want her to be the only girl that I love for the rest of my life…” Draco was more grown. His hair gel period was finally over matter of factly.

Same as every year, but you loved it. It quickly became a tradition for you and your family, to listen to Draco asking your father for his daughters hand, asking your father for his blessing.

Fourth year

Draco and y/n 14 years old

Family day

“-and give her the best of me till the day that I die…” his voice darker, he’s grown a tad bit taller than last year. He was almost as tall as your dad while he stood and talked to him with hands behind his back.

You had to admit that you loved family day all because of Draco and his spontaneous idea in first year.

Fifth year

Draco and y/n 15 years old

Family day

“-I’m gonna marry your princess…”

There you stood now, pink cheeks and heart eyes as you listened to his angelic voice, blonde hair getting a golden color in the evening sun.

Your mothers head on your dad’s chest, his arm around her body while smiling in content.

Sixth year

Draco and y/n 16 years old

Family day

“-and make her my queen…”

Every year Draco had grown, now taller than your dad. For every year that passed you’d memorized all the words he’d say to your father with a polite daydreaming smile. Draco had an all black suit, and you decided to match you boyfriend this year with an tight all black dress with a silver necklace with a snake, that you’d gotten from Draco on your three months anniversary.

Seventh year

Draco and y/n 17 years old

Last family day

“-she’ll be the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen…”

You held his hand. You looked down at you intertwined fingers that had matching rings. Yours was silver with a green gemstone and the initials D.M carved into it. Draco’s was silver with your initials carved into it.

One year after graduation

Draco and y/n 18 years old

Draco talking to your father in the y/l/n

manor

“I’m gonna marry your daughter, and make her my wife. I want her to be the only girl that I love for the rest of my life, and give her the best of me till the day that I die. I’m gonna marry your princess, and make her my queen. She’ll be the most beautiful bride that I’ve ever seen!” Draco said for the last time to your father.

“Well, malfoy. Since the day I met you I knew you were I little troublemaker. But after seven, now eight years of asking for permission to marry my daughter, I’ve come to realize that you are her world. You are of legal age, so let’s say that you got my permission to marry y/n y/l/n.” Your father said to Draco. Draco held out his hand as a thank you gesture, but your dad only laughed and pulled him in for a real hug.

And that was the beginning of y/n and Draco’s future.

——————————————————————

The wedding s’ coming soon, loves😘

#draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #fanfic #imagines #drabbles #draco smut #fluff #draco x reader #hp smut #draco fluff #draco malfoy smut #draco angst #draco imagine #Spotify

[achy-boo]

Alvaro Amato

(The Archiver: Ansel and Alvaro share the same link.)

1. Neka

Name: Alvaro Amato

Romaji: Amato Alvaro

Quote: “Why keep remembering the past where you can move on from it?”

V/A: Neuvillette from Genshin impact (both in Japanese and in English)

Gender: male

Sexuality: Closeted Omisexual

Age: 19

Birthday: January 10th

Zodiac Sign: Capricorn

Eye color: dark purple

Hair Color: black

Height: 6'7

Weight: 104lbs

Race:fallen angel(hidden)

Homeland:Unknown

Family: Ansel Amato

School Status and Fun Facts

Dorm: Scarabia

School Year: 2nd Year

Class: 2-C

Student Number: No.21

Occupation: student at day, Host in a host club(secret)

Club: Light music club

Best Subject: History mostly

Favorite Color: Dark and neutral colors

Favorite Food: homemade food mostly

Least Favorite Food: Lilia's cooking, overly sour food

Likes: Ansel, spending time with his friends, light music club, flying, history, night walks with Ansel, sleepovers, Yuu, helping out students but Yuu held a place in his heart along with Ansel,

Dislikes: seeing Ansel angry, people asking him about his home life, Azul Ashengrotto(He pretty much hate his guts and he never reveals why), Sebek, Rook Hunt, nosy people, mentions of his disowned parents

Hobbies: cooking, baking, making drinks(only at S.L.D), basically what Ansel's hobbies are but he loves reading

Talents: knife throwing, he is a vibe reader

Nicknames: Varo(Ansel, the girls in Sapphire Lake Dorm), Mute boy(Leona), Ally(ADeuce duo)

Other Nicknames: Little Alvaro(Crewel), Mr.Silence(Sam)

Appearance and Personality

Appearance: Alvaro has long black hair that reaches his butt. Alvaro had dark purple eyes that held nothing most of the time. In Scarabia, he wears the typical scarabia male dorm uniform. In the host club, he dressed the same as Ansel but the colors are black and dark blue. Unlike Ansel, Alvaro only wears his glovettes at school but never at work. Ansel wears fake glasses

Personality: Alvaro is the exact opposite of his twin. He is deadly silent, distant, cold, and more like a robot. But unlike Ansel whose eyes held more emotions than his words, Alvaro's words held more emotions than his eyes. He is loyal, compassionate, helpful and just an understanding boy. He only speaks when he wants to.

𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒂

-Alvaro's UM is Eyes reveals Lies

-Have his parents disowned with Ansel at 17 before NRC

-He gets along with Jamil

-Alvaro have a small case of separate anxiety but he got over it

-His eyes held no emotions

-Alvaro sleeps with a comfort stuffed animal and he also sleeps with Ansel on the same bed

-Both him and Ansel are twisted from the lamps of Genie and Jafar

-Both him and Ansel knows the four girls of Sapphire Lake Dorm(my fandorm)

-His eyes had no light and no pupils when he activated his UM

Alvaro's chant: "Every lie is being poured out from one's mouth. Let the eyes reveal your lies. EYES REVEALS LIES!!"

Ansel's chant: "Words are words but there are some words that are hidden like little scared kittens. Reveal those words to me! HIDDEN WORDS!!"

#twst oc #Scarabia oc #Alvaro Amato #Twin Brother of Ansel Amato #The Hidden Mansion Library #The archiver writes #My oc

[rhettabbotts]

━☆*:₀. hi friends! i’m going to be hosting a lil blurb/drabble sleepover in honor of hitting 1.2k followers! i’m gonna keep requests open until friday feb 17th.

divider credit @firefly-graphics

RULES.

minors dni.

prompts can be mixed.

i won’t limit how many requests are sent in but please be patient.

PROMPTS.

smut action prompts

smut dialogue prompts

fluff prompts

fluff dialogue prompts

angst prompts

CHARACTERS.

rhett abbott (includes dilf rhett x babysitter)

top gun: maverick

ryan (yellowstone)

joel miller

tagging some lovely mutuals: @sebsxphia @hangmanapologist @lt-bradshaw @bradshawsbitch @beachbabey @thesluttyarchivist @nobody7102 @oncasette @lt-natrace @mayhem24-7forever @jostystyles @therebeccaw @rosesvioletshardy @sandbarbirdie @bradshawsbaby @topguncortez @sunlightmurdock @lilgreyarea @mothdruid @withahappyrefrain @rae-gar-targaryen @valhallaas @canarysposts @mxgyver @bobfloydsbabe @callmemana @t-nd-rfoot @angelic-dreams13 @babyonboardfloyd @endofdays56

#shelby’s sleepover #rhett abbott #top gun maverick #bob floyd #bradley bradshaw #jake seresin #mickey fanboy garcia #javy machado #joel miller #reuben payback fitch #natasha phoenix trace