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alexc-draws · 18 days

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"Are you alright?"

Short blurb below

Motes of magic twinkled in the air unaware that their master had just met a righteous gruesome end. The remains of the myrmidons fizzled out of the physical plane with minor fanfare.

Dame Aylin excused herself and the rest of the group slowly put themselves back together. Shadowheart tended to wounds and Karlach immediately began rifling through the pockets of the newly deceased.

Sorrel’s heart still beat at a frantic rate. She knew she aught to be used to chaotic rhythm of battle, it had been her entire life for countless weeks now. However there was something about a battle against a mage that made things more dire, the raw power that could be summoned with the most flippant of motions was frightening. Still frightening.

“Are you alright?”

His voice was muffled by the ringing in her ears, but unmistakable. Looking up into his bright eyes, any response died on her tongue as a gentle swipe of his fingers brushed over her cheek.

Rolan looked down at her with a worried expression, tension written into the creases at his brow. He had reacted quickly to the combat and despite his teacher’s failings he orchestrated the weave around him flawlessly. Even Gale had given him a firm pat on the shoulder.

“yes,” the response came out as an exhale. “I’m sorry.”

Confusion overrode his worry, “Whatever for? My mast-Lorroakan chose his fate when he made such nefarious intentions known. You did well to try to persuade him from such routes, but he is-was a vain and cruel man.”

The tiefling dropped his hand back to his side, acutely aware that it had lingered on her skin for quite some time. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Sorrel winced, “But your apprenticeship, your plans, all of it. I…I mucked around in your life again.” The last part came out a cautious whisper.

Rolan audibly sucked in a breath, glimmering eyes searching the crown of her head for the words he wasn’t sure he could say.

“You did. And I thank you for it,” Sorrel’s bright eyes met his, “I don’t know if I could have found the strength to push back against him. I wanted so bad for all of this ...to mean something.”

Just as she was about to open her mouth a crooked grin silenced her. “No more apologizing.”

#myart #bg3 #rolan #sorrel #this is my first time putting my writing out there in DECADES #plz be gentle

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mcdynamite · 11 months

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Eddie always tries to be as quiet as he can when he gets home from late shifts at the bar – holding his keys tightly so they don’t jangle too much and avoiding turning on lights if he can help it. Steve is usually asleep by the time he makes it home smelling of greasy bar food and whatever beer blew its keg that evening all over his uniform tee, and Eddie hates waking him. His boyfriend doesn’t get much sleep as it is. The last thing he needs is for Eddie to come tumbling through the door and interrupting the precious few hours he gets every night.

So every time Eddie gets home from work in the earliest hours of the new day, he tries to be as quiet as possible.

And every time, Steve wakes up anyways.

Contrary to what most people might assume, it’s actually not Eddie’s fault that Steve can never sleep through his homecomings. (Years of living in a thin-walled trailer with a man who worked nights and slept during the days made him a master of moving stealthily through his home, after all.) It’s just that Steve Harrington is the lightest sleeper who’s ever lived.

According to Steve, he wasn’t always this way – he used to sleep through alarm clocks and his mother banging on his bedroom door to get him up for school, when he was younger. No, the light sleeper thing didn’t start until after Steve learned that monsters were real, and it only got worse after Upside Down Part 2: Electric Boogaloo, when suddenly he had a whole troupe of children to worry about all night. Every little creak of the floorboards could be a demogorgon, or a preteen in need of help fighting off a pack of demodogs. Faint police sirens in the distance could be headed to Steve’s house, where some uniformed cop would come knock on the door and tell him that something had happened to one of the kids.

It sounds like a nightmare, in Eddie’s opinion – not being able to sleep more than a handful of hours a night – but Steve always shrugs it off, like he’s already gotten so used to it that he hardly notices it anymore, and Eddie thinks that might be the case. It makes him feel horribly guilty (and maybe a little sad) whenever Eddie is the cause of Steve’s late-night wakefulness, but despite his desire for his boyfriend to get the sleep he needs, Eddie can never quite force himself to be too upset whenever Steve stirs as Eddie tiptoes into their shared bedroom.

Because sleepy Steve Harrington is, frankly, infuriatingly adorable, and tonight is no exception.

He hears, rather than sees, Steve wake up in the darkness of their room. It starts with a little snuffle, then a rustling of bedsheets, and finally – like always – a gravelly, endearingly hopeful, “Eds?”

Eddie’s heart warms in his chest, melting away the ice left there by a long shift dealing with drunk idiots and coworkers who would rather bitch about their jobs than actually do them. His job is exhausting at the best of times, and downright soul-sucking at the worst, but it’s okay, because at least at the end of the day, he gets to come home to this.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he sighs tiredly, ignoring the part of him that balks at being foiled again in his quest to let Steve get some sleep. Carefully, he toes off his shoes and makes his way to the edge of the bed so he can brush a few messy strands of hair from Steve’s forehead.

Steve instantly tilts his head to press into the touch, and Eddie can’t help but smile. “Wha’time s’it?” Steve slurs.

Eddie glances at the clock on their bedside table and nearly winces when he sees just how late it is. “Almost two,” he murmurs guiltily. He can see Steve’s mouth turn down into a frown now that his eyes have adjusted to the lack of light.

“S’late,” Steve mumbles. He rolls onto his side and reaches blindly for Eddie, hand eventually wrapping around Eddie’s bony wrist and squeezing gently in a mostly subconscious show of sympathy. His eyes blink open – bleary and unfocused – and scan over Eddie’s face. “Everything ‘kay?” Even half-asleep, he’s a worrier. Eddie finds it both endearing and a little heartbreaking.

He smiles, despite himself, and begins to card his fingers through Steve’s sleep-mussed hair, an unbearably fond feeling settling in his belly when Steve lets his eyes flutter shut again. “Yeah, sweetheart, everything’s fine,” he assures his tired boyfriend. “Just a long night. Pacers game a few blocks down, y’know? Spent a whole extra hour after close catching up on bar dishes.”

Steve furrows his brow and makes a discontented noise. “Gross,” he mutters, and Eddie huffs out a laugh. God, he is so stupidly in love with this beautiful, bitchy man.

“Very,” he hums in agreement.

“Y’should come to bed,” Steve says, and his voice is almost whiny, just like it always is when he tries to coax Eddie into their bed without a proper shower. He does it almost every night, and it almost never works. It’s certainly not going to work tonight, with Eddie smelling of shitty beer and grease.

“In a bit,” Eddie sighs, bending to press a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Gotta shower first.”

Steve properly whines at that, petulantly mumbling something incoherent.

“Baby, I’m covered in Miller and fryer grease. Do you really want me getting that shit all over our pillowcases?” Eddie says fondly.

“I want you to come cuddle with me,” Steve grumbles.

It takes more effort than is probably reasonable for Eddie to stifle the cackle threatening to burst from his chest. “In a few minutes, ‘kay? Just gonna go wash off real quick, and then I’ll come cuddle, you needy little bastard.”

“You’d better,” Steve says not at all threateningly. Eddie just laughs and kisses his forehead again before dragging himself away and into their little apartment bathroom for a quick shower. There’s a ninety percent chance Steve will be asleep again by the time Eddie makes it into bed, in ten minutes, so he can’t really bring himself to feel too guilty.

Still, true to his word, he showers quickly – rinsing all of the greasy smell out of his hair and scrubbing the spilled beer from his skin. He uses the bergamot soap Steve got him for Christmas, because he knows Steve likes it, and Eddie likes when Steve likes things. (And he’ll never admit this, but he doesn’t hate the smell of bergamot, either.)

When he’s finished, he quickly towels himself off and slips on the pair of plaid boxers Steve left out on the bathroom counter for him earlier (just one of those little, caring things that Steve does every day that make Eddie love him all the more). He plaits his wet curls so he doesn’t wake up with hair worse than Doc from Back to the Future, then he finally, finally, makes his way to bed.

Steve’s breathing is a slow, steady rhythm, but the way he instantly shifts closer to Eddie the moment he climbs into bed is a clear indicator that he hasn’t quite managed to fall back to sleep yet. Eddie has hardly had a chance to pull the covers up before Steve is pushing back into him, silently demanding the safety of his arms.

Eddie is all too happy to oblige.

It’s automatic and achingly familiar when Eddie rolls onto his side and wraps his arms around Steve, pulling his boyfriend close so Steve’s back is pressed to his front. Even then, it doesn’t seem to be close enough for Steve, who wiggles back even further until it nearly becomes impossible to tell where he ends and Eddie begins. It’s so disgustingly sweet that Eddie sort of wants to cry. Instead, he buries his nose in the crook of Steve’s neck and leaves a soft kiss just behind his ear.

“Hi, baby,” Eddie breathes as Steve rests one of his hands atop the one Eddie has tucked under his side and laces their fingers together. He leans forward slightly to kiss Steve’s cheek, just because he can, and before he can pull away to settle against the pillow, Steve turns his head to capture Eddie’s lips in a soft, barely-there kiss. The kind of kiss that instantly settles even the most frantic parts of Eddie’s soul.

“Hey,” Steve murmurs, lips still brushing together, and Eddie can both hear and feel the way his mouth has curved upwards into a smile. Eddie gives him one more peck on the lips before they both fall into their pillows again. “Missed you,” Steve whispers. It makes Eddie smile and shake his head with tired amusement.

“Missed you, too,” he whispers, even though it’s only been ten or so hours since they last saw each other. Christ, when did he become such a goddamn sap?

(He knows the answer to that question, obviously. Eddie “The Freak” became Eddie “The Sap” the first time Steve Harrington looked at him with that secret little smile on his face – the one he reserves for Eddie and Eddie alone, these days. The one that silently says, I love you.)

Steve hums contentedly and snuggles deeper into Eddie. God, he’s so fucking sweet like this. Eddie loves him so fucking much.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Eddie says softly, moving his free hand to run his fingers through Steve’s hair, because he knows it helps his baby sleep.

Steve’s voice is already sleepy again when he murmurs, “’kay,” and then, even softer: “Love you.”

Eddie smiles. Holds Steve just a little bit tighter. Gives Steve’s hand an extra little squeeze and marvels at the fact that after everything – after murder accusations and monsters and government payouts and three fucking years as a senior at Hawkins High – he gets to have this. And sure, maybe he’s feeling a little extra sappy because of the simple ring he’s got buried in his guitar case – the one Robin helped him pick out just a few days ago, even though they can’t technically get married in the state of Indiana. Maybe that’s why he smiles a bit wider tonight with Steve in his arms…why his heart thumps a bit harder at every sleepy snuffle his boyfriend makes…

But the sappiness stopped bothering him a long time ago, when his sharpest edges were sanded out by the presence of the little family he found in the aftermath of the Upside Down, so Eddie doesn’t mind. Soon, he’ll be able to fall asleep next to his fiancé, instead of his boyfriend. They’ll get to call all of their adoptive rugrats and tell them the news, and Steve will be beaming so brightly it might just blind him. And it’ll be perfect.

For now, Eddie just lets himself sink into the warmth of having Steve Harrington in his arms.

And he sleeps.

This is for @steddie-week Day 5: Established Relationship. Just a little ficlet that popped into my head at literally 2 in the morning. I hope y'all enjoy!

#steddie week #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fluff #steddie cuddles #cuddles #soft steddie #I literally love them so much #plz I just want them to be HAPPY #and sleepy Steve would be adorable I will take no arguments #mcdynamite writes

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fauvester · 4 months

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THE KING OF THE NORTHERN DESERT... AND THE LITTLE CROWN PRINCE OF THE NORTHERN DESERT!

i like to think that demon children are naturally very self sufficient and feral and after birth their parents just sort of. throw them to the wilds to raise themselves. but shang qinghua isn't going to let MBJ pass up on being a boydad god damn it

#sv3 #moshang #OOOHHHHHH LITTLE DOMPLINGFACE XUEJIAO BABBBYYYYYY #IN HIS LIDDLE BOOTS...#thinkin about how Caligula means like Little boots cause his father would always take him on military campaigns with him <3 #mbj like. what do you mean 'raise' a child. they 'raise' themselves.#if they die they die. if they dont they will grow strong enough to fight for the throne #sqh out here fighting for his life with his own attachment issues #like HOW AM I THE MOST SENSIBLE AND EMOTIONALLY COMPETENT PARENT HERE... PLZ MY KING #mbj will get used to parenting. he'll thaw out. even tho his kid is.. not what he expected lol #having a kid via writing him into existence is VERY different from raising one homemade.. rip

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rhys-writes-some-shit · 3 months

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"Sing to Me?"

Alastor x Reader (QP)

Yawning, you trudged out of the bathroom, drying your hair loosely with a towel. You were warm from your shower and the filling meal you'd had a little while earlier. Alastor was probably the best chef you knew, a fact you were extremely proud of. Even if your preferred form of protein was banned from the hotel premises, Alastor was always able to make do with what he had.

Despite it being late at night, you grabbed your laptop (a very rare, not VoxTech one) to work on some paperwork. You'd promised your boss to get these spreadsheets done, and you weren't one to shirk on your promises. Yawning again, you tuned your old-fashioned radio before settling down with your laptop. The radio had been a gift from Alastor. Many late nights had been spent listening to his broadcasts. They'd always been a comfort, even before you'd signed a contract with him.

Some light jazz filtered through the static, one of your favorite songs. Alastor knew you were listening. Smiling lightly, you started typing away.

The music was occasionally interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream or a sharp whimper. Your smile never left, humming along while Alastor had his fun. Part of you was vaguely aware that the radio show was now being broadcast all throughout Hell, that you didn't even need the radio, but you liked it, so it stayed on.

The spreadsheets were simple enough. With the radio in the background, you were able to focus just enough that the job came naturally. In the back of your mind, you started going over the next day’s schedule.

You'd ended up zoning out while you typed, not even noticing how the radio switched to static and then turned off by itself.

A single knock preceded Alastor's entrance, enough to break you from your thoughts. You were quick to notice the faint blood splatter on the sole of Alastor’s shoes, the only evidence of his previous activities.

“My dear, you know how I abhor those vile machines,” Alastor reprimanded, walking and starting to subconsciously organize your room. A chair was pushed in, a painting adjusted so it was even, the bottom drawer of your dresser lightly closed.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grinned to yourself. “I need it to do my job, Al. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to find a piece of electronic equipment that's not created by VoxTech?”

“All the more reason to get rid of it.” Alastor walked over to the window and stared out at it. He was a little lost in thought himself, it would seem.

Typing a line, you said, “I liked your broadcast.”

“I'm glad.”

He was quiet. Something was wrong. Your grin died down, pushing your laptop to the side. Alastor’s smile was still there, but dimmer. Sadder.

“Al? You okay?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, dearest,” Alastor replied, a slight edge in his voice.

You wanted to push. To get him to talk to you. But you knew it wouldn't be worth it. If anything, he'd just get upset or shut down more.

“You know, sometimes I wonder what would've happened if we'd met while we were alive,” You said nonchalantly. “I mean, obviously that would've been impossible in the first place, considering I wasn't even born when you died, but I just wonder about it.”

“What a ridiculous thing to wonder about!” Alastor laughed a little. “As you said, it would have been impossible. And why think about being alive when we have all of death to enjoy?” His tone lightened a bit. “There is so much entertainment to be had! Life was quite dull, comparably.”

You wondered for a moment, trying to figure out where to lead the conversation. “Where did you live, when you were alive? You already know where I lived when I was alive, it's only fair I know where you lived.”

Alastor’s grin softened a bit, still sad, but with a hint of happiness in there. Nostalgia, if you had to guess. “New Orleans, Louisiana. I lived there with my mother. I had a delightful job as a radio host.”

“You're still a radio host,” you teased playfully. “What was it like, back then?”

“Ah, it was… entertaining.” He didn't say anything more, lost in thought as he leaned on his cane. You were vaguely aware that you were the only person who ever saw him like this. Alastor wore his smile like armor, guarding himself with a nonchalant facade, but very rarely, behind closed doors, the guard would fall, just for a little while.

Just as you were about to open your mouth to ask another question, Alastor spoke, “You seem quite tired, my dear. Maybe it is time we part ways for the evening.”

Pressing your lips together, you knew he was right. You really should be getting to bed, but you were worried about Alastor. You hadn't seen him like this before, so it was impossible to guess what he'd do once he was alone.

“You really should learn to hide your emotions better.” Alastor turned suddenly, chucking to himself. “There is nothing to worry about, darling. I am perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, you say that, but for some reason I don't believe you.” Stifling a yawn, you gave Alastor a look.

“Now, now, don't be like that.” Alastor came and sat on the edge of the bed, using his magic to set the laptop on top of the dresser. “What can I do to convince you to sleep?”

Leaning back, you thought for a moment. When the idea hit you, your face flushed with embarrassment for a moment, but you swallowed the anxiety. He did ask, after all.

“Sing to me?”

Alastor laughed, causing you to glare. “Again with the ridiculous ideas!” When your face fell subconsciously, Alastor hesitated.

When he didn't say anything, you accepted the fact that it was a ridiculous request. Assuming he'd leave the room on his own accord, you used your magic to turn out the lights as you slid under the covers of your bed. You never did get all those spreadsheets done like you'd wanted.

“Parlez-moi d’amour.”

Alastor’s slightly-static-filled voice was quiet. His eyes faintly glowed in the dark and you watched him with wide eyes.

“Redites-moi des choses tendres.”

Smiling softly, you sank into the bed, closing your eyes and allowing Alastor’s comforting voice to wash over you.

“Votre beau discours /

“Mon cœur n'est pas las de l'entendre /

“Pourvu que toujours /

“Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes /

“Je vous aime.”

((The song))

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #plz don't come after me for the french #I just copy/pasted off google T-T #rhys-writes #alastor x reader queerplatonic

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muffinlance · 2 months

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Do you get the impression the live action is treating us like utter morons?? Like I thought that making it aimed at an older audience would open the doors for more subtle story telling, but no, they're just using monologues to tell us eveything! Like in the second episode Katara's like 'oh his power isn't that he's the avatar, it's that he ~connects~ to people'. Girl we're not idiots we can see that!! And the first episode with Aang's goddawful 'I don't want this responsibility' monologue

THIS, YES. The word that keeps coming to mind is definitely "subtlety". The show for literal children? Had it. The remake for adults? Not so much.

#This is literally Storytelling 101: Show Don't Tell #I'm sorry scriptwriters I know you were working before your union won minimal staffing in writers' rooms and decent pay and all that #but You Know What You Did #Also cgi artists plz unionize #A few more hours on Momo would have maybe taken him further out of the nightmare monkey puppet category #I know some people are reporting him as cute #But all I can see is a creature from the Magnus Archives #that thing is the skin of Momo being worn by something that doesn't quite move right underneath #And maybe it is looking for a better fit #Don't let it touch you adorable child actor Aang #avatar the last airbender #atla #natla #Anyone looking to block the live action posts I'll be tagging all of these with that natla tag going forward #But yeah not going to post about it much #I came I saw I deemed it not worth the hours of my life it asked #I can literally write a better Avatar AU than this #Anyway back to Toph beating up Blind Zuko!#*write write write"#(their big budget fanfic can't hurt me it can only introduce more fans to the original)

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mafuyuakgae · 2 months

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binge read @senblades time travel fic 'faith for the second run' the past 2 days

#persona 5 royal #goro akechi #fftsr #this single handedly dragged me back to p5 hole. i love the sumi characterization so i had urges to draw her but then i latched onto #this scene #my art #comic #plz keep writing this fic i await with bated breath........time travel fics my beloved.#this is how to get me

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saotoru · 1 year

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how they eat it

dante, nero, vergil x fem reader

tw cum eating

dante

dante is sloppy. he likes it filthy and messy. the sight of your sticky cunt covered with his cum drives him so fucking feral that he lowers his mouth onto you and laps it up, moaning at how good you both taste. he knows you’re still sensitive from your last orgasm, overstimulated by the way you squeal his name and pull on his hair, but dante doesn’t care. he needs to feel you cum on his face. he wants it so bad that he whines into your cunt, slipping two fingers inside you while his lips wrap around your clit, the sensitivity bringing you close to another orgasm.

“fuck, you taste so good, angel… tastes so good when you’re covered in me. cmon princess, squirt for me, please make a mess on me…”

a hand comes to press down on your lower abdomen and that’s enough to send you hurtling over the edge, all the pressure building up finally releasing. you shake violently while dante fucks you through your orgasm, but he’s got you, licking up all you have to offer. he pulls back for a moment to admire your pussy glistening with saliva, cum, and squirt, smoothing his hands over your thighs. “good job, pretty girl… give me another one, yeah?”

nero

nero is sweet, so gentle that it’s almost teasing. he’s nervous peeling off your panties to admire your pretty pussy, shiny with arousal. he’s so awestruck that he forgets he’s just staring and his warm breath tickles, making you close your thighs instinctively, a bit shyly.

“no, no,” he says as he gently pries your legs open once more. his eyes meet yours. “you’re so gorgeous.”

“nero…”

the whine in your voice is so cute that nero just can’t help but give you what you want. he presses a kiss at the junction of your thigh, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on your knees. “i know, baby.”

he loves to kiss everywhere first, softly, over both thighs and all over your pussy. he wants to show you how much you mean to him. it makes you squirm in anticipation with how slow he’s being, how ticklish his lips feel, that you almost whine again before finally feeling him press a long kiss to your clit. nero rewards you for your patience by making out with your sensitive clit, the moans it earns him spurring him on, his tongue parting your folds. he can’t get enough of your reaction, entranced by the way your hips twitch with every flick of his tongue. you’re so cute when you grind yourself against his face like this, that he can’t help but hump into the mattress, getting himself off to being used to make you cum.

vergil

vergil is actually feral. for someone who prides himself on composure and self control, he’s rough when he eats you out. he can’t help it. his burning desire to taste you is so overwhelming that all he can do is shove his face further into your pussy. he grips the soft flesh of your thighs hard and pins them to the bed, leaving you unable to squirm away from his relentless tongue. it’s too much, your clit still sore from your third orgasm but vergil isn’t done. he needs more. “your taste…” his voice is a growl, borderline inhuman. “it’s driving me insane.”

the nails digging into the flesh of your thighs become sharper, and you realize that he’s close to dting. the realization has your legs accidentally clamping around his head but vergil growls, large hands forcing you open and holding you still.

“enough. take it.”

you can’t interrupt him, not when he’s like this, not when he needs to have his fill of you. he mouths at your pussy, pressing his face into you as much as he can. slick coats his face, tongue, nose, everywhere, filling his senses with you, but it’s still not enough. he gives your clit a rough, hard lick, pleased how you writhe and whine beneath him. vergil loves how vulnerable and pliant you are, letting him make you cum again and again until he’s satisfied.

#i forgor how to write #LOOK AWAY #plz do not perceive this #dmc x reader #dante x reader #vergil x reader #idgaf if this even shows up in the tags lol #I just needed to post this so I can stop re editing it lmfao #i still hate it and am not happy w it LMAOO

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dustybones · 3 months

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a lil gift for @capriclonus featuring a scene from their dj shadowheart fic

#they write shadowheart so well go check the fic out plz #shadowzel #dj shadowheart #lae'zel #bg3 #dusty art

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midnight-moonlite-melancholy · 6 months

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This piece is based off of a conversation I had with @l3viat8an :p so not all of these ideas are 100% mine and the green text is a direct quote from Ro ♡

My brain is mush so there may be some spelling/grammar errors :/

Banner by @/cafekitsune

Your temporary stay at the castle was supposed to be a mini vacation from the chaos of the House of Lamentation but in all honesty it was just an excuse for Diavolo to have you all to himself. Without the brother's interference he could simply take you whenever and wherever he pleased. And that included the kitchen while Barbatos was out buying ingredients for a new dessert. Going into the kitchen for a quick snack turned into Diavolo pounding you over the kitchen counter.

This wouldn't have been the first time in your short stay that the poor butler was minding his own business when he was graced with the image of you being folded up or bent over and fucked silly on some random piece of furniture in one of the many rooms of the castle.

The scene that followed was Diavolo offering an apology to Barbatos for letting this happen... again. Diavolo being shocked into silence by Barbatos' suggested method of compensation. You. After all it would only be fair for Barbatos to have his turn to play with you. The only rules set for Diavolo is that he had to watch. He wasn't allowed to interact with the scene unfolding before him.

That's how you found yourself writhing under the touch of Barbatos' skilled fingers. The smug yet calm look on his face almost sinister as he listens to you beg for him to let you cum already. Not even half an hour ago those pretty pleas were for him to just fuck you already but now they were nothing more than broken whines to let you cum. They almost sounded like desperate little prayers to Barbatos' ears as he subjected you to his favorite method of sexual torture.

“See, now you both know how I’ve felt. Not knowing what I’d be walking in on and then only being allowed to watch. A shame isn’t it?”

Bringing you to the edge only to pull away again, Barbatos chuckles when he hears Diavolo letting out an almost frustrated groan. He wants nothing more then to see your face when you cum but Barbatos continues to take that pleasure away from him. There is nothing stopping Diavolo himself from cumming, yet the hand stroking his cock seems to follow Barbatos' pattern of teasing, bringing his movements to a hault whenever Barbatos pulls away and starting up again respectively.

Although Barbatos would love too see you turn into an overstimulated mess under the ruthless pounding of his cock, he much preferred to see you pleading just the way you are now. While one of his hands moves to push his fingers back inside you, the other travels up your body to toy with your already abused nipples. Barbatos looks up from your trembling form to stare at Diavolo, getting you closer then he had before, even rubbing his thumb in quick circles over your clit only to pull away again and click his tongue.

Taglist: @anxious-chick

#it's bad #but my adhd brain had to write it #so #plz don't come for my ass #obey me #obmswd #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos smut #obey me diavolo #om! smut #obey me diavolo smut

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