#Thinking thoughts this us gonna be such a crackfic but. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

syoddeye · 7 days

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down the hatch

141 x reader, featuring a smidgen of soapgaz in this bit. ~1.5k words.

continuation of you thought your life was over when your psycho, end-of-days conspiracy theorist austrian neighbor kidnapped you.

tags: poly141, soapgaz depicted. reader is a little cuckoo for coco puffs after being alone for three months. voyeurism. half-assed masturbation. a gun. kind of crackfic, kind of not.

banner from @/cafekitsune

“we’re not gonna hurt you,” ballcap insists, crouching to open the cupboard under the sink.

“just a little,” dry bones adds, not bothering to lower his voice.

“he’s lying, kitty, swear we won’t hurt you.”

holed up in the surveillance room, you listen over the crackling feed through the attached headset, absolutely fuming. panicking, too, but the door is shut and locked. the seal blends with the maintenance room’s panels, and the button to open it is hidden in the electric panel. the bunker’s build, many cameras, and folding bunks in the second bedroom suggest the austrian had long-term plans to repopulate earth or intended to abduct others but ran out of time.

either option would’ve blown, but now, his paranoia and apparent voyeurism came in handy. the stupid, unwashed idiots look dumb as hell crawling around looking for you.

after a while, they assemble in the kitchen and spend the next hour taking inventory. they are not impressed by the yanni collection, but they are intrigued by the bed you stopped making and the half-completed puzzle of the eiffel tower. you snarl as ballcap completes one of the corners. fucking uncivilized freaks, trampling all over puzzle etiquette. if you didn’t have the external feed and a pile of hardened ooze for proof, you’d know the world had gone to hell in a handbasket. depraved.

eventually, scragglebeard rustles up dinner. it’s obscene, the amount of food he uses. the men lounge and luxuriate in your kitchen and your living room. it doesn’t look like they’ve struggled for much. they eat like a pack of feral dogs when presented with a stew and mash. mohawk produces a half-full bottle of liquor, and the four nitwits have the nerve to toast the discovery of their new home.

a growl from your stomach tempers your outrage. you didn’t consider supplies when you hid. just survival.

the men laze after their meal.

“gonna go have a shower.” mohawk announces, slapping his thighs as he stands.

“thank christ.” dry bones jeers.

“join me?”

you straighten in the swivel chair. that's unexpected.

“nah, i’ll go later.”

“is it an open invite?” ballcap asks.

“always.”

“warm it up for us, then.”

you won’t use the cameras that the austrian installed in the bathrooms—that’s crossing a line. then, a minute later, ballcap follows mohawk, and walks right past the three-quarter-finished eiffel tower. you think, vive la france, joie de vivre, or whatever.

a pity the cameras in the bathrooms don’t have speakers. the lens is a bit foggy, but the view is decent. the men waste no time stripping.

the camera sits in a vent, points through the grate, and into the showers. they’re in the stall closest to the door, convenient. mohawk pins ballcap to the slick tile, his hands gripping the other man’s hips so tight you see his knuckles whitening. desperate thing.

it’s kind of boring after a few minutes. mostly mohawk sloppily kissing and nipping at ballcap’s mouth and lips, occasionally detouring down his neck. their junk is mostly hidden at this angle, presumably slippery from the shower and all the dry-humping. wet-humping? ballcap kneads the fat of mohawk’s ass, his eyes fluttering when a particular patch of his throat gets attention.

fuck, okay, maybe this is more titillating than you originally thought. you adjust in the chair, finding the seam of your jorts (craftily fashioned from men’s jeans you found in a closet), and slowly grind along it. it’s lazy, but you’re not gonna stick your hand down your pants if this is all you’re getting.

and as if reading your mind, mohawk breaks from ballcap’s grip and sinks to his knees. his juvenile haircut flops flat under the water, but ballcap’s dick sure doesn’t. even through the sub-optimal camera feed, you know it’s pretty. the way mohawk immediately hones in confirms, licking up the underside and palming his sack. when he finally gets his mouth to the good part, you unbutton your fly, shove two fingers in your mouth, and lean back.

near-constant masturbation lost its novelty around week three, but it's like riding a bike. you manage a few good, firm circles, beckoning heat out of hibernation when sudden movement on the camera startles you right out of a lovely, burgeoning haze.

fuck bucket. ballcap has mohawk hoisted by the armpit, their abandoned cocks practically wagging. he’s rapidly speaking and pointing right at the fucking vent. how the hell he spotted the tiny red light, you don’t know, but dry bones and scragglebeard stumble into the bathrooms moments later.

dry bones disappears beneath the frame, and the camera shakes slightly as the vent cover comes off. he steps back, mouth moving beneath his mask, and the four men exchange looks.

scragglebeard speaks as the naked men hastily dress, then start a second sweep of the bunker. this time, armed with the knowledge that somebody’s watching, they don’t split up. they move as a unit.

you watch in horror as they upend the bunker. they move furniture, poke outlets, and empty all the shelves to feel for switches and levers. distantly, you think you would’ve made for a decent escape room operator in the before times. you stifle a mad laugh at the idea, nearly choking when they finally enter the maintenance room.

hand pressed to your mouth, you breathe shallowly as they search. they’re more careful, skipping the electric and valves altogether, probably afraid if they fuck with anything too much, the power or water will go out. they check the ridges between the panels, and you hold your breath as dry bones runs his fingers along the hidden seal.

he stops and peels off a glove. pressing his palm to the secret door’s front, he hums. he glances over his shoulder, directly into the camera, then at scragglebeard.

“the wall’s warmer here.”

“think there’s something behind it, lt?” mohawk asks.

lt. initials?

mohawk shoulders dry bones out of the way, pressing his full cheek to the panel and paws at the metal. you freeze, unsure if you’re breathing at this point.

“think it’s residual heat from wiring.'' mohawk finally concludes, pulling away with a shrug. ‘lt’ looks unconvinced, and scragglebeard itches at his namesake.

“it’s gettin’ late. let’s bed down, look again in the morning.”

“you’re not worried someone’s watching us, sir?”

sir? ooh, is it like that? kinky.

“no. if they are, they know we’re armed and in good health. ‘sides. we’re going to cover them.”

your mouth dries. no. no. no. no. fuck, your one advantage.

the men file out, and lt leaves last. he fishes a strip of cloth from a pocket and stuffs it around the camera’s base, obscuring its view.

“gonna find ya.” he mutters.

one by one, they cover the cameras they’ve found, leaving you with only three. thank you, austrian freakshow, for not skimping on surveillance. you still see the living room, a sliver of the kitchen, and the maintenance hall. it’s not much, but it’s enough to inspire a plan.

you watch the men turn in for the night. you’re not stupid, though. you wait an hour and a half until there’s no further movement, and the bunker’s dark. it’s now or never.

sneak out. grab food, water, and a kitchen knife. flee the bunker. easy.

if it’s still standing, your old one-bedroom rental is a short distance away. you’ll fortify it, then work on luring the rats out of your nest.

tiptoeing past the bedrooms, at least two of the men saw logs. ugh. didn’t miss that in the apocalypse.

in the kitchen, you gather supplies. tins of tuna, soup, and vienna sausages. the last potatoes. some protein bars. a reusable water bottle. salt and pepper. (spices and seasonings are on the top of your scavenging list.)

satisfied, you tie the corners of your makeshift bindle together and turn to head to the entrance point when your eyes drift over a small shape in the dark. there, atop a side table in the adjoining living room, is a handgun.

in theory, you know how to use it. you logged a good thousand hours on goldeneye 007 as a kid. loads more effective than the paring knife in your hand.

you creep toward it, eyes widening and heart racing. could use on the interlopers while they sleep. but how would you get their bodies out of the bunker? you don’t want to training montage until your muscles swell, not with their corpses doing the same thing in the spare bedroom.

no. much more useful out there. you reach for it.

and somebody reaches for you.

a hand closes around your forearm, squeezing hard to force you to drop the knife, and another wraps around your head, hand clamping over your mouth before you can cry mon dieu.

the wrapped cans clatter and smash to the ground in the struggle. a deep voice, harsh in your ear and tinged with insufferable smugness, whispers.

“told ya i was gonna find ya.”

#you’re what the french call les incompétents.#we love crazy quasi-loser readers over here this is a safe space #the time-honored tradition of giving them the dumbest nicknames continues #i wrote that nice little price piece to self-soothe and then immediately was like well now i have to write something absurd #poly141 #141 x reader

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sansundertale14x1 · 3 months

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why NauseAxe_404 loves your writing so much…

based on this silly tweet, I’m gonna use ‘Nick’ for this- for ease of writing (and for my poor poor hands.)

no pronouns but ‘you’- little post cuz I haven’t written in a while.- use of the in-game website: "Dumblr", no it's not a typo;-; Proshippers DNI

word count: 878

content warning: brief explanations of canon violence, creepy stalker-ish behavior (NOTHING SEXUAL ATTACHED), Nick being a weirdo honestly.

vvv that isn't my art, and this entire writing is a fanfic for a game " Monster x Mediator" made by HeadLocker! I really recommend playing the game or watching the gameplay, cuz it's really fantastic!

Story under cut :3

Nick’s in love with your writing…(if you already couldn’t tell), but it’s difficult for you to understand why.

Usually, when you'd open up your laptop, it was after a tough shift at your crap job and you just wanted to do something to fill in the time after dinner and before bed. It was always on the shorter side, 100 words each, and was normally just a quick and crappy self-insert fic to satisfy your creative urges from doing a boring-ass job all day. You never really thought your tiny one-shots would attract any attention, but the man you've been staying with proves otherwise.

"NauseAxe_404" is what he called himself, but you've just been calling him 'Nick' for now. He had been reading your old Dumblr blog for who knows how long, and he's taken a major interest in your little shitposts...So much, so that he had taken the time to print out every single one of your posts and personal information pinned to his room's walls. It's extremely creepy...but also sort of charming?

For the last few days or so, you've been held in Nick's hotel room, practically glued to a desk with a typewriter...slowly making your way through a 100-paged fic that he specifically requested of you. Though you technically could stand up and leave...you'd really prefer for your skull to stay in one piece...and not have a bullet put through your temple.

Nick has been staring at you almost the entire time...which only certified in your mind that he is not human. Every time you turn to see if he's still there...like an unmoving fortress, he always is. It's been a solid 8+ hours of you sitting there and writing...and your stomach starts to emit loud sounds of hunger. You pray he didn't hear that, and continue to type away at the dated machine. However, to your dismay, his deep voice chimes in.

"...What page are you on...?"

Nick asks, seemingly trying to speak quietly for you, but his naturally booming voice isn't giving you any favors.

"...uhm..."

You take a moment to review what you have done...it doesn't look like much but it feels like it took AGES to write out...

"About...10? It's not a-"

"That's wonderful, Superstar!"

He cuts you off just as you begin to speak.

Of course, he's going to be ecstatic. You can't fathom why he seems to be so hopelessly in love with whatever you slap on the paper. You're curious..so you begin to speak.

"...uhm...Nick...why do you..take interest in my writing?"

You softly speak, trying to be careful with your words...you can't afford to overstimulate this man.

For a chatty guy...Nick was oddly silent at the ask of this question…or at least for a few seconds.

“I was trying to find a way to ease the boredom and loneliness of this fucking hotel, so…huff…I joined Dumblr and started to search for writing…that was…huff….purposeful…and that could fix me..”

No way in hell your crackfics could change this man...He must've come out of the womb like that. (or...however the hell he was made..)

"...I came across your first post years ago..huff...and fell in love with the way you wrote your love interest....huff...I knew you were talking about me when I wrote all those comments~"

You never looked at comments due to embarrassment...and you honestly didn't think anyone would even care to comment in the first place.

"....you weren't responding to me...huff...so I might've found everything about you in the meantime...huff...just so I could notice you in a crowd...I always will~"

Okay, now it's getting creepy. You hope that by just turning back around and continuing to write maybe he'd shut up...You guess it's sorta your fault for striking up a conversation with the creep.

"All the other writers don't know shit about writing...huff...1k word counts...huff...long and complicated stories that don't make any fucking sense..."

There goes the rambles. You stop typing for a moment to process what the hell he just said. He either is really balls-deep into this fantasy of you being a perfect human...or he's just trying to fluff you up so you'll continue writing for him. He's really delusional, that's it. It's seriously hard to believe your crap was life-changing for Nick.

“Simplicity is the most important part…huff…not describing some stupid walk sequence for 3 sentences…huff…it’s a waste of space..”

"....maybe you just like simpler writing...?"

You softly reply, yet again praying that you didn't accidentally strike a chord with this guy. He stares you down, and even if you aren't looking back at him, you can still feel the burning of his eyes on the back of your head.

"That's possible."

Oh, it's highly probable. He gets so emotional over the tiniest bit of anything, so...He just doesn't need too many words to evoke a reaction...It checks out because you also like to write a straight-to-the-point sorta piece.

"but don't let your mind wander for...huff...too long...my superstar...you've got at least 90+ pages to go~"

Shit, he was right...time to get back to work.

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 10 months

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I’m Stuck! | Ettore Crackfic

Summary: Ettore happens upon you, completely stuck in the doors of the Box and will help you out on one condition | Word Count : 1.1k~ | Warnings below the cut~

A/N: you should all completely blame @ewanmitchellcrumbs for this bc this is...something man (but also loved that u peer pressured me into this). I’m not even gonna put my taglist here, saving you all cos truly idek what to say lol, this is going deep on the masterlist <3 ily

Warnings: terrible dialogue, porn-level sex, stuck!trope, ass slapping, p in v sex, creampie

Nobody told him that being stuck on a weird prison spaceship would make a man indecently horny 24/7.

The last few times Ettore had ventured down to the Box, it had been occupied. So he was made to wait to have a wank.

What decent man has to wait just to tug the flesh snake? he thinks, as he makes his way down the ladder, huffing a sigh, knowing that it’s likely to be occupied again.

He swings his arms as he walks towards the device nestled in the corner of the dark hallway, his eyes on his feet. It’s been probably a solid…few hours since he last had a tug, so he’s likely to be pent up again.

He stops right in his tracks when his eyes meet the funniest fucking thing he’s seen in a while.

It’s just a body without a head and shoulders, an ass poking out of the Box’s doors. He barely even recognises her without seeing her face, but her annoyed sounds give it away.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he laughs, probably the first genuine smile he’s cracked in a while.

Her hands struggle with the sides of the automated door that are pressed against her middle, “What does it fucking look like! I’m stuck, you idiot!”

A half-restrained chuckle leaves him, before it evolves into genuine hysterical laughter. The kind that makes tears cover his eyes and makes his stomach hurt.

"Will you shut the fuck up and help me?" She says, annoyed. He can imagine how embarrassed she must look, though he can’t see her face.

He wipes his eyes, composing himself, "You know what? I'm tempted not to. This is too funny"

She grunts annoyed, still trying to pull her top half free from the doors. God, it’d be so easy to help her. Push one button and the doors would open. It’s like those horrible pornos he used to watch where some girl would be stuck head first in a washing machine or something. And her ‘step-brother’ would happen upon her.

He bites his lip at the thought. And feels his dick get hard.

Maybe there was an alternative to the Box.

A more, fulfilling one.

She tenses up notably, when he presses his clothed erection against her ass, “That better not be what I think it is”

He laughs, “It’s certainly not a fucking rocket, I can tell you that”

She pushes her hips back in an attempt to make him go away, but it only encourages him further as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of her sweatpants.

“Hey, if you let me have some fun, I’ll help you out. Deal?” he says, taking advantage of the fact she can’t see the shit-eating grin on his face.

She huffs, annoyed at the situation she’s been put in.

Then again. Would it really be so bad? Ettore isn’t bad on the eyes. There are definitely worse prisoners to happen upon her in this horrendous scenario, she can’t complain much that it’s him.

“Fine” she huffs, “But no funny business”

He grins, “Funny is my middle name”

“Yeah right, somehow I doubt tha-ow!” she’s cut off her sentence as he pulls her sweatpants over her ass and delivers a wide firm slap to the skin there, “I didn’t say you could do that!”

“Too bad” he snickers, “Guess you can’t do anything about it”

He drags two digits through her folds, finding her already wet. He can feel how she tenses up at his touch and can imagine how she’s holding her lips between her teeth, to not give him the satisfaction of knowing she likes it.

“All this for me?” he grins.

“You wish. I just used the Box, you idiot”

He shrugs. A pussy is a pussy, he supposes. Better than his fist.

He plunges into her, filling her to the hilt with his cock and moaning loudly when he reaches her end, completely burying himself inside her. God when was the last time he fucked a woman? He genuinely couldn’t remember. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of a woman’s pussy, he thinks. And now he’s had another taste of it, he really doesn’t want to let it go.

But hey ho, he might as well have fun with it while he can.

With most of Ettore’s sexual knowledge coming from porn, unreliable mates and a…not so great past, he doesn’t really know how women work. Just put your cock in a move it around right? There’s supposed to be an orgasm involved somewhere as well, but like fuck if he knows how to do that.

If they can’t cum from that, how else are they meant to?

Oh well.

He fucks her quickly, he’s so beyond pent up and his hands venture higher to grip her waist underneath the shirt she’s wearing, pulling her body back onto his cock as quickly as he’s railing her.

He can’t deny, it does feel damn good to have a woman.

God, I sound like such a fucking virgin when I say that, he thinks.

Ew. Feelings. No. Back to fucking.

He can hear her small little whines and breaths echo into the Box, muffled somewhat by the door that is stuck around her ribs. And he can tell she’s trying not to be too loud.

Was this the elusive orgasm? She sounds like a bird in pain or something.

He feels his own orgasm creep up on him sooner than anticipated, having not wanked for a good few hours before this happened. So with a pitiful moan and the twitching of his hips, he cums deep inside her. He kind of hoped he wouldn’t cum too quick, partly because he was enjoying fucking her so much and also because he hopes she won’t make fun of him later for it.

After he’s done and all tuckered out, the poor thing, he pulls his softening cock out of her, mourning the loss of her warmth for a moment, before tucking himself away. He feels his heart going so fast in his chest he has to brace against a wall to keep himself standing, with his eyes closed, replaying what just happened in his head, keeping it for the wank bank later.

Almost so entranced he doesn’t realise that she’s turned her torso, so she can easily slide out of the door she was previously ‘stuck’ in, slipping out without so much as a complaint.

She smoothes down her clothes with a content sigh and pulls her sweatpants back up over her hips, using her palms to make sure her hair doesn’t look awry.

He looks at her, mouth open in shock, his dick still warm and his blood running cold. But she simply shrugs and gives him a smile.

“Thanks. Washing machine next time, yeah?” she says before turning on her heel and sauntering off, looking far too pleased with herself. She leaves Ettore utterly speechless in the hallway next to the Box, with the doors now shut without her stuck in them.

What. The. Fuck.

Next time?

It really is like those pornos.

dividers by firefly-graphics

#ettore x you #ettore high life #ettore crackfic #ettore smut #ettore x reader #ettore #ettore high life smut

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noxturnalpascal · 6 months

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PLENTY OF TIME

(HB x Tommy) (3.8K of new story)

CrackFic based on the @gracieispunk HBF!Joel series (that I am FUCKING OBSESSED with). HB (reader's husband) x Tommy Miller

**CHECK OUT THE NEWEST STORY IN THE HBF-VERSE FAKE BLOOD**

The moodboard represents MY head-canons and ONLY MY head-canons. Picture HB however you want!! (not you @strang3lov3 or @sr-lrn)

A/N & Warnings: I have some more of my own personal head-canons at the bottom of this fic. You can read them before, or after, or not at all. Please be aware this is MLM (Unprotected PinA, Oral M to M, come swallowing). If that isn’t your thing don’t read. I have never written MLM before so please be gentle with me. I appreciate your kindness.

Approved (and encouraged by) Gracie, but this IS NOT CANON

….(yet)

So this sordid little tale takes place during JEALOUS (please read that first). I’m not sure if Gracie meant to leave HB and Tommy alone in that hotel room for HOURS….. But somewhere deep inside her mind palace (lurking along the back corridors of the White Lotus)...... HB made sure that’s exactly what happened.

TEXT IN PINK IS PART OF JEALOUS - WRITTEN BY @gracieispunk

Your husband -HB- took Joel, Tommy, and all the guys, on a business trip for an architecture seminar.

Of course they didn’t have to come, but he insisted.

He who currently stands at the bar with Tommy, absolutely shit faced.

Joel’s other work friends hover around with the women they brought with them on the trip. Whether it’s their wives, girlfriends, or someone they met last week. Everyone is relaxed, despite the music thumping loud. Chatting and casually drinking beers, none of them as drunk as HB - who’s the only one who has to be up in less than 6 hours.

You stand in a short floral dress, your elbow perched on the table you’re seated at, your head in your hand. You pout as you sip your beer, because you rather be up in your hotel room with your book.

You try not to pout more as you watch Joel grind into another woman while they dance.

HB had drunkenly kissed you earlier and Joel wasn’t happy to witness that. Finding his revenge in one of the wives friends, who had supposedly been brought just for him.

He put the moves on her fast, laughing, and winking - and making you extremely jealous over a man that was indeed not your husband.

Joel looks over at you as he dances with her, raising his brows as his hands wander up the sides of her thighs like they do yours. You watch his hands and you can almost feel him on your legs instead.

It makes your stomach turn but you can’t stop watching. That is until Tommy gets your attention. He’s lugging a drunk HB over his shoulder.

“Think I’m gonna tuck this one in,” Tommy yells over the music.

You smile and nod before turning to HB who can’t even keep his eyes from rolling. You hold his face in your hand and completely miss the look of contempt Joel gives you, when he sees.

You lightly smack HB’s face and there’s hardly any response. You nod to Tommy to take him away and put him to bed.

Tommy drags HB into the elevator, the young couples already in it making room for them at the back. The other couples get off on the 3rd floor and Tommy shuffles HB off his shoulder for the remainder of the ride. HB stands up straight and stretches his back, all pretense gone, popping his neck and lowly groaning in the process.

“Took you long enough,” Tommy mutters. “Thought we were gonna be down there all fuckin’ night.” He crosses his arms, clearly pissed off.

“Relax, would ya?” HB reaches his hand to squeeze Tommy’s shoulder, lingering his touch. “Had to wait for the right time to get outta there.”

Tommy scoffs as the elevator dings, signaling the top floor arrival. HB squeezes Tommy’s shoulder harder and uses the grip to guide him out of the elevator and down the hall towards his room.

Once inside, HB stops just outside the bathroom and toes off his shoes. Tommy walks further into the large suite and sits down on the bed, shuffling off his shoes and socks and then moving quickly to unbutton his shirt. HB approaches him and grabs his hands, stalling his movements.

“Quit rushin’. I promise we’ve got time.”

“How can you be so sure?” Tommy looks up at him, brow still furrowed in frustration. HB runs his thumb across Tommy’s chin, sliding his palm across his stubbled-cheek and back into the hair on the side of his head, tugging lightly as he drags his fingers through it.

HB places his palms on top of Tommy’s thighs and lowers himself between the other man’s spread legs. Once on his knees he continues the slow unbuttoning of Tommy’s shirt, leaning forward to intermittently place gentle kisses on the edge of Tommy’s jaw. Tommy closes his eyes and breathes deeply, tension in his shoulders visibly relaxing.

“Everyone’s pretty preoccupied,” he hums, not revealing any of his secrets. He knows Tommy was expecting more alone time together tonight, but he had to put the work in to make sure they would remain uninterrupted. He also knows that the kisses he laid all over his beautiful young wife’s face hours ago began a chain reaction.

He sat back and watched the dominoes fall, planted at the bar with Tommy all night pretending to get drunker and drunker. Watching Joel grope his little date (that HB had insisted be invited), and observing the way his own wife’s mood grew more and more sour. Finally, when she and Joel couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, he knew that he and Tommy wouldn’t be missed.

His buttons undone, Tommy pushes the shirt off his shoulders and yanks the cuffs over his hands, tossing the shirt towards the foot of the bed. Impatiently, he grabs at his undershirt with one hand and it joins the other clothes on the floor. He reaches for HB’s already-loosened tie but his hand is slapped away.

HB pushes his hand flat on Tommy’s chest, guiding him to lay back on the mattress. He reaches for Tommy’s belt and in one fluid motion the buckle is undone, a swift jerk releases it from the loops on Tommy’s khakis. Tommy groans in anticipation, making HB smirk.

Tommy bucks his hips off the bed in anticipation, reaching down in his impatience to undo his own button and fly. They don’t get as much time like this together as they want, so they're often both eager, rushing to make each other come as quickly as possible with hands and mouths.

Not tonight. Tonight HB wants to take his time.

He runs his hands up Tommy’s torso and then back down to his hips, curling his hands into his trousers and pulling down. Tommy plants his feet on the ground and pushes his pelvis to the sky, allowing more freedom for HB to remove his pants and underwear together. As HB pulls them down Tommy’s legs he hooks his fingers in his socks as well, leaving Tommy completely bare.

Tommy throws his arm over his face, groaning again as the cold air from the room hits his flushed, leaking cock. Wasting no more time, HB leans forward, grabbing Tommy’s dick firmly at the base, and begins swirling his tongue around the foreskin-covered head.

After a few circles with his tongue he closes his lips around it, suckling gently and bobbing his head very slightly up and down. He begins to firmly but slowly pump his hand up and down the shaft, his grip gliding smoothly as Tommy’s velvety skin slides up and down underneath his fist.

Ignoring Tommy’s increasing mewls of pleasure, HB returns to running his tongue along the head, slipping his tongue under the skin. He glides it around the ridge and swipes it across the slit, licking up the precome steadily leaking out. Tommy seems to grow even harder under his attention, his cock now dark red and straining towards the sky.

HB gently pulls his fist down the shaft, dragging on the skin to reveal more of the head. The sensitive underside of Tommy’s cock now exposed, HB sticks his tongue out of his mouth and gently taps that part of Tommy’s cock against it. The soft, wet slapping noises are barely audible over Tommy’s whines.

HB shifts his body, ignoring his own painfully hardening cock in favor of paying attention to the gorgeous man laid out in front of him. Still gripping the shaft, he alternates rubbing the frenulum side to side with his tongue, and taking him into his mouth and closing his lips around him. Each time he takes Tommy into his mouth he swallows him down further.

With his free hand HB guides Tommy’s one thigh up, resting his foot on the edge of the bed. Tommy moves his other leg up on his own, opening himself up wide for HB between his legs. Not stopping what his right hand and mouth are doing, HB cups Tommy’s balls with his left hand, gently rolling them, applying light pressure to them, and tugging them ever so slightly.

Tommy’s arm is still laid across his face, working to muffle his moans. HB reaches up with his left hand and pushes Tommy’s arm off his face. He stretches to touch Tommy’s face, dragging his fingers down over his nose and slipping his index finger into Tommy’s mouth. Tommy begins to suck on HB’s finger, mimicking the rolling tongue movements he feels being done to him.

When Tommy releases HB’s finger he brings it back down to the apex of Tommy’s legs. HB removes his mouth from Tommy’s cock and lowers his mouth to his balls. He begins to lick each one thoroughly before beginning to gently suckle at them, alternating back and forth. Eventually he takes one at a time into his mouth, rolling his tongue over them and letting them bob around gently inside.

When Tommy’s balls are in HB’s mouth, lifted and out of the way, HB takes his spit-slicked finger and begins sliding it along the space behind Tommy’s balls. Tommy scrabbles to grab a pillow and covers his face with it just as a loud, wanton moan releases from his mouth. HB lets a low moan out himself, vibrating Tommy’s balls in his mouth, sending him further into ecstasy.

HB continues his ministrations, moving his finger back just a bit further and pressing against the tight ring of muscle. He dips his head down and begins to lap his tongue wetly along the area he just trailed his finger, letting Tommy’s noises guide him. Lazily pumping his fist over Tommy’s dick, he draws swirls and circles with the tip of his tongue along Tommy’s perineum and over his puckered hole.

Tommy is now incoherently babbling into the pillow nonstop as HB flicks his tongue back and forth, up and down. HB is waiting and he knows he won’t have to wait much longer. Almost as if on cue, Tommy throws the pillow off his face and keens the word please, his eyes scrunched closed and his face contorted as if in pain.

HB raises his face up and grips Tommy’s cock extra firm, making Tommy sit up on his elbows and suck a breath through his teeth. His eyes meet HB’s and then HB growls out just loud enough for Tommy to hear over his own panting breaths.

“Give it to me.”

Tommy’s head lolls back.

“I wanna taste it,” HB adds before he opens wide and swallows Tommy’s cock down to the base.

Tommy’s hand immediately flies to the back of HB’s head, threading through his silver hair. HB pushes his finger against Tommy’s tight hole, inserting his finger to the halfway point. HB begins to swallow, knowing the sensations on Tommy’s over-sensitive cockhead are going to send him over the edge.

He can feel Tommy’s balls tighten up and he pushes his finger in knuckle deep as Tommy’s cock begins to throb, releasing his hot spend down HB’s throat. HB can hear Tommy’s muffled groans as he swallows down everything Tommy is giving him. HB hums, coaxing him through it all until Tommy stops convulsing and then he gently pulls his finger out from Tommy’s clamping grip.

He pulls his mouth off Tommy’s softening dick, and wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his arm, still fully clothed. He stands up, his tall figure towering over the bed.

Tommy sits up and begins to hastily undo HB’s trousers, once the zipper is unzipped he quickly moves on and begins to pluck the buttons undone going up his shirt. HB clutches Tommy’s hands in his own once again, stopping him. He shakes his head slightly, releasing Tommy’s hands before stepping back and resuming the unbuttoning himself, but slower.

“I already told ya, we got plenty of time.”

Now he draws it out on purpose, lazily drawing his tie down his chest, letting the skinny end pull from the knot, tugging it from his neck. He delicately eases his now open shirt off his shoulders, dragging it down his toned arms. Plucking the cuffs over his fists he walks over to the chair in the corner, making a show of gently laying the shirt and tie over the back of the seat. His trousers follow, folded over the chair as well.

Tommy rolls his eyes but HB isn’t finished, as he walks around the room in only his underwear and socks, bending over to retrieve Tommy’s discarded clothes one by one. He gives them the same treatment, shaking them out and folding them over the back of the chair with his own.

He goes back to Tommy, sitting at the edge of the bed again, and shuffles in close between the man’s legs, pressing his covered erection up against Tommy’s cheek. Tommy wraps his hands around the back of HB’s thighs, squeezing the flesh there and pulling him tighter to his face.

Tommy reaches down and takes HB’s socks off one by one, discarding them where he stands. Then he reaches up to the waistband of HB’s boxer briefs and hooks his fingers in, pulling them down torturously slowly, while tilting his head back and keeping eye contact with a grinning HB. Tommy leaves them to pool at HB’s feet and turns his attention back to HB’s cock in his face.

HB watches Tommy’s face, always so expressive when he looks at his cock. HB is significantly longer than average, not overly girthy, but proportional. He keeps his pubic hair trimmed short and his balls and ass waxed clean. He’s been told by several lovers how impressive it all looks, including by Tommy (and by his wife back when they started dating).

Tommy grips HB’s ass and pushes him forward, mouth open to receive his huge straining erection. HB would love to push it deep into Tommy’s warm, wet, waiting mouth. But instead he stills his forward movement, pushing back against Tommy’s gripping hands. Tommy looks up immediately, concern etched across his face.

“I have something else in mind,” HB whispers, taking Tommy’s face in his hands.

Tommy’s brows knit together. HB reaches over to the nightstand and opens the drawer, pulling out a small bottle of Astroglide. Tommy’s eyes widen when they land on the small, purple-capped bottle. He scrunches his brows and groans.

“I don’t think we have-”

Shhh Shhhhhh, HB silences him with a finger over his lips. “Don’t you worry about anyone but us.”

HB grabs one of Tommy’s hands off his bare ass and squirts some of the lube into his palm. He guides Tommy’s hand to him and lets him spread it over his shaft, smoothly jerking his long-ignored cock. His eyes close and his head falls forward at the sensation of finally having attention paid to him, dark and dripping, straining for relief.

HB revels in the attention for a moment. He lets Tommy tug firmly on him, plant kisses along his hip, grab handfuls of his ass with his other hand. He spends so much time in his own head, so much time on pleasing his clients, so much time planning his next project. When he does get to blow off steam he tends to do so in a selfish, spectacular, explosive fashion.

This trip was supposed to be just him, attending a conference as the keynote speaker. He would have been making and watching presentations all day, schmoozing with bigger firms at the hotel bar, and answering the same goddamn questions over and over. His wife, who he knew was proud of him, asked to come along and help celebrate him. Maybe part of her was trying to rekindle their long-lost closeness.

But once the idea was in his head to make this trip more personal than professional, he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to invite Tommy, only a little ashamed to admit that he would rather have him there than his wife. Once Tommy was on the guest list he knew he had to bring his wife, and of course, his wife’s ‘secret’ boyfriend - his best friend Joel. And then, knowing it couldn’t be just this awkward little foursome, he invited the rest of Joel’s crew and their partners along as well.

Why not? He had the fuckin’ money to pay for it all. When he told his wife he invited everyone she actually looked almost disappointed for a moment, a little wave of hurt flashing across her face. But he shrugged it off, knowing that having Joel there would be a comfort to her. Although he did feel a tiny pang of guilt when he told the other guys to have their wives bring a girl for Joel, especially knowing Joel really only had eyes for one girl - his girl.

But he needed the distraction. He needed attention paid elsewhere. He needed this.

This time alone with Tommy, time that they never got back home.

HB opens his eyes and guides Tommy to lay down on the bed again, this time laying over him, kissing his mouth, wet and wanting. They make out like that for a bit, rough stubble scraping against each other’s chins, Tommy’s one hand still moving up and down HB’s cock, HB’s hands tugging and pulling at Tommy’s shoulders and hips, fighting to pull him closer.

When HB pulls back they’re both panting and Tommy’s pupils are blown wide, desire painted on his face.

“Have you done this a lot?” Tommy whispers, breathless. He swallows past the lump in his throat, visibly nervous. They both know this is his first time.

“No,” HB lies. “Not a lot.”

It had been years, since before he got married, that he’d been with a man in this way. And he’d never fucked his wife like this, even though he thinks she might have wanted him to at one point. So he doesn’t feel like a complete shit when he tells Tommy this lie. The lie will soothe him. The lie will put him at ease. The lie will get him in faster.

HB stands up and encourages Tommy’s legs up on the bed again, spreading him open further with a gentle push on his knees. He grabs the bottle and dribbles lube onto Tommy’s dick, which is getting hard again already, watching it drip down his balls and towards his ass crack.

Tommy lifts his feet and moves his knees towards his head to open himself up even more, breathing deeply and holding back whines. Tossing the bottle aside, HB begins to massage the back of Tommy’s thighs, smoothing his hands over Tommy’s hips, pelvis, and cock, which hardens further under his touch. Gathering the lube, he massages Tommy’s balls, his ass, and dips his digits towards his end-goal.

Making sure his thumb is lubed up, he presses against Tommy’s taut hole once again, rubbing circles around it in tandem. He grabs at Tommy’s hands, encouraging the man to jerk his own dick while HB continues his attention lower.

“How does this feel?” HB asks, already aware of the answer.

Tommy manages a feeble whine in response, something that sounds like a drawn out yeah.

“Are you okay?”

Tommy’s head nods quickly, eyes clamped shut.

HB pushes his thumb in slowly, feeling Tommy try to relax and enjoy the sensation. HB begins to ease his thumb in and out while he slowly rolls the fingers of his other hand around the crown of his own cock. Watching Tommy laid out like a buffet, jerking his own dick with both hands and getting finger-fucked has HB ready to come just like this.

But he has plans to follow through on.

HB takes his thumb out and moves forward, replacing it at Tommy’s entrance with his cock. He meets Tommy’s eyes and sees his look of apprehension.

“Are you good?”

“Yeah. Just… N-nervous,” Tommy stutters out.

“We’ll go slow,” HB affirms, bending down to plant kisses on Tommy’s knees in the air.

HB guides himself forward, pushing on one of Tommy’s cheeks with his free hand to spread him, watching as the head enters him. Tommy makes an effort to breathe slowly and relax his body. They’ve talked about how good this can feel and Tommy has put his trust in HB for this moment.

HB stops with just the tip in and takes some deep breaths himself. He wants to make this last.

“Can you take more?” HB asks. Tommy nods in response. “Hey, talk to me.”

“Yeah,” Tommy pants. He continues brokenly, “It feels… good… keep going… please.”

HB rocks his hips forward genty, pushing himself in another couple inches. Before Tommy has ample time to react HB pulls back, watching the other man’s changing facial expressions. He slowly eases himself in and out, one hand still on his dick, the other now resting on Tommy’s knee, pushing it gently down towards his chest.

HB is quiet, much less vocal than he usually is, and Tommy is quieter beneath him than he was during the blow job. Thank god for that, HB thinks, because if Tommy was moaning like that now it would be over for him. HB is clutching tight to his own resolve, trying so desperately not to end this early. He’s been waiting for this moment for months and it feels so fucking good, he wants it to last forever.

“Keep touching yourself,” HB orders, “I wanna feel you come again.”

Tommy lets a low whine escape from his lips. HB watches Tommy’s movements over his own cock increase in tempo and vigor. Tommy loves it when HB takes control, loves it when he uses his vast experience to show him new pleasures, loves it when he talks dirty.

HB continues to gently saw in and out, both hands now on Tommy’s knees, careful to limit himself to only thrusting about a third of his length inside. He doesn’t want to hurt Tommy and he knows this is enough, this is hitting Tommy in all the right places. Tommy is going to come from this, and then - finally - he can come.

He’s selfish in a lot of ways, but he’s never been called a selfish lover.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck,” HB moans out, “Feels like this tight little hole was made just for me.”

That’s apparently all Tommy needed because HB can feel it before Tommy has a chance to even announce it. Tommy cries out and clamps down on HB, who pushes himself in as far as he dares to. Tommy’s cock begins to release ropes of come, hitting both of their chests and one spurt reaching up to stick to HB’s chin.

HB can’t hold on any longer, he grabs his dick in his fist to stop himself from pushing forward into Tommy’s tense opening. He groans loudly as he comes, filling Tommy up, listening to him sigh as he feels HB’s hot release. When HB has finished, he slowly pulls out, watching his spend leak out of Tommy onto the sheets.

It doesn’t matter if the sheets are dirty, he’s sure his wife won’t be coming back here to sleep on them tonight.

He pulls Tommy up and drags him to the shower where they both spend a long time under the hot spray of water, washing each other, kissing, and laughing. At one point Tommy gets nervous that they’re going to be interrupted, trying to speed up the shower so he can leave. HB shushes him once again.

“Aren’t you worried she’s gonna come in here and catch us?”

HB chuckles. The thought of his wife catching him, given her own activities, doesn’t worry him at all. But Tommy doesn’t know about what she’s been up to with Joel. He actually wonders if part of her would be relieved to see it, if it would make her feel justified in her own infidelity. Would she leave him? Would he want her to?

“You don’t think they’re gonna notice I’ve been up here so long?” Tommy asks, still nervous.

“I don’t think they noticed,” HB soothes him. Unable to tell him why, he makes up a lie. “I bet everyone is so drunk right now they’re all passed out in their rooms.”

“But this is her room-”

HB interrupts Tommy with a tongue in his mouth, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing the breath out of him.

Finally, just over two hours after they came into the room, Tommy is fully dressed, adjusting his belt, and kissing HB goodbye as he heads out the door. It’s almost 2am and HB has to be up in less than four hours for tomorrow’s schedule. He doesn’t mind, he can pound coffee all day if he needs to, maybe sneak in a nap.

It was worth it.

You spend more hours making small talk with the women and watching Joel dance with one of them. Aggressively getting bolder with each song. At one point he lowers himself behind her and runs his mouth along her bare legs, all while holding eye contact with you.

Your stomach burns and you raise yourself from the table. Paying your tab at the bar and wandering out into the empty halls of the hotel

You’re walking away with your arms crossed, when you hear running footsteps on the shitty abstract carpet.

“Heading to bed so early?” He huffs.

You don’t turn around. You know he was pissed at you for a kiss, to the man whom you’re married to, that you couldn’t control.

His eyes meet yours and you blink up at him. Your mind wanting to stay furious with him for turning this into a huge joke and your body wanting to give into him - like always.

You open your mouth and go to speak, but the elevator doors open and Tommy goes to step out, before getting startled.

“Oh, shit,” he huffs on impulse, and you can’t help but step farther away from Joel.

Joel, who only pivots on his heel towards Tommy and furrows his brows.

“Y’put that old fart to bed?” He asks.

Tommy steps out and around you both. Giving you a suspicious look, before his eyes flicker back to Joel’s

“Uh, yeah - m’headin’…” he points with his thumb, back down the hall, towards the bar.

“Back in there,” his sentence trails off and Joel slaps his arm twice with an over exaggerated smile, before following you into the elevator.

“Great, just gonna make sure this one gets to her room okay.”

Tommy gives you both another strange look as the elevator doors close. You don’t bother looking him in the eye.

After the elevator doors have fully closed and he sees the box of light begin to lift off the floor, Tommy huffs a loud sigh of relief. He thought for sure he just got caught. He thinks both of them must have been quite drunk to not realize how long he’d been gone, just like HB said. He runs a hand through his still-wet hair, then nervously adjusts his belt again before he heads back to the bar to close out his tab.

This was a labor of love and I had lots of help along the way. I want to thank @gracieispunk for her permission and encouragement first and foremost. (I really do love you girl.) This was SO fun to write and I hope I did her characters justice because I love them so much and her writing means A LOT to me. I also want to thank everyone who offered me advice and support in the writing of this piece, which I took way too seriously lolol. This is the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written (BY FAR) and it’s the first time I’ve ever written mlm. I am nervous and I really hope I did it some justice but I apologize if I didn’t do it well. BIG thank you to @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog who gave me the idea to mimic some of the scenes that hbf and his reader have done. And thank yous to the following creative people for helping me with beta reading and workshoping various parts of this absolute cock-fest: @theywhowriteandknowthings @bonezone44 @hiddenbabynyc @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @clawdee @ievutebebe

My own personal head-canons (not based on facts or encouraged by anyone - just some background I had in my head while I wrote this non-canon story) *not required reading - only read if you’re interested.

I head-canon HB as Timothy Olyphant. In my mind reader is 28/29, Tommy is 34/35, Joel is 39/40, HB is 48/49. Reader & HB have been married about 5 years.

I don’t think that HB knows everything that goes on, but I do like to think that - being an architect-bro and a pretty high-tech dude, he has cameras in the house - potentially ones that his wife doesn’t know about. So, he knows 100% for sure that she and Joel have their thing going on. He’s not really upset about it.

HB refuses to pin himself down with a label, sexually, but in my mind his appetite is varied and he goes through phases (His wife thinks he's straight). When they met he thought she was beautiful, smart, and kind. They had a fun relationship, good sex, and she was impressed by him, made him feel good. Most importantly, his mother liked her, and since his mother was ill at the time, he proposed and married her after a whirlwind romance. His mother has since passed away.

Unfortunately (or fortunately?) for his wife - after the first couple years of their marriage he started to lose interest (sexually). It's kind of a sugar daddy vibe going on and since he's pretty self-absorbed, he has no qualms about keeping a pretty young thing on his arm. He’s not a serial cheater by any means but he is currently having a secret fling with his best friend’s brother - Tommy Miller (who is newly bi). This is relatively new and it’s not the reason why he’s doing it - but he justifies this affair with the knowledge that she and Joel were fucking each other first.

He likes his wife, cares about her, finds her attractive, and enjoys fucking her from time to time (he's certainly not gonna say no to getting off if she initiates). He’s not a bad guy, but he’s definitely selfish and prefers to remain emotionally unavailable. He doesn’t treat her badly but he very rarely treats her with the care and attention she deserves (I didn't say he was a good guy, but he could be worse).

Part of him is unaware of all the selfish ways he acts (narcissist) , but the part of him that does know how shitty he’s acting is soothed by the fact that he knows his best friend is taking care of her. Not even just in a sexual sense, part of him knows that Joel cares about her and looks out for her (aka is obsessed with her).

#HB x Tommy Miller #hbf!joel #hbf!joel universe #gracieispunk #so much ass #mlm

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devilsrecreation · 3 months

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I just thought of this:

So I’m thinking in my crackfic, after Jasiri and Kenge come back from Oz (as in wake up from a dream) and she’s telling everyone about it, Janja jokingly says “Next time, I’m goin’ to a fantasy world”, hinting at a joke sequel crackfic which I’ll never make.

And now I give you…..Janja in Wonderland

Janja follows what he swears is Ushari’s ghost down a hole or an Aardvark den into a strange new world where everyone seems to be crazy

The cast:

Janja as Alice

Ushari as the White Rabbit (ghost snake)

Sumu plays the role of the Doorknob but instead is the gatekeeper

Cheezi and Chungu as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum

Mzingo and his Parliament as the Flowers

Shupavu and Njano as the Cheshire Cat (skinks)

Kenge as the Caterpillar

Reirei as the Mad Hatter

Kiburi as the March Hare

Goigoi is that little door mouse inside the teacup cuz he’s so sleepy

Zira as the Queen of Hearts

Scar as the King of Hearts

The rest of the Outlanders as cards

Azaad gets the role of the Dodo, with the Night Pride participating in the Caucus Race

Extra notes:

-Janja’s the self aware one this time. He recognizes all of his friends but decides to play along for the hell of it

-Wema and Tunu play the role of Dinah (Alice’s cat), who follow Janja until he falls into the hole. Then they do that little kid “BYYYYEEEEEE!!!”

-Janja never cries, instead he gets pissy and fed up with everything. “Hey, that ain’t fair!” and “Oh, that is some bullshit” is a running gag

-Kiburi gets an accessory this time. He wears a gold chain and a cute little bowtie

-Instead of smoking, Janja finds Kenge using a tree as a punching bag. He’s also carved vowels in various trees with his claws. He gets mad when Janja grows bigger than him

-The scene where Alice gets stuck in the White Rabbit’s house doesn’t happen here. Mainly cuz I wouldn’t know what to do with it

-The “eat me” and “drink me” things still exist, but it’s a bone instead of a biscuit and a drink bowl instead of a bottle

-The minute Janja sees Scar and Zira, he immediately believes he’s gonna die 😭. It goes as well as you would expect

-Mzingo and his parliament are basically a club where they talk about random stuff while holding various types of flowers

-The fic ends with Janja waking up from his dream and everybody thinking he’s crazy Jfhhfgdg

#help i love this idea HDGDGDGD #leaving jasiri out of this one cuz she deserves a break #although ig she plays alice’s sister in this case #i think this is my way of tormenting the outlanders #no but cheshire skinks would fit so well cuz they’re little shits #crack fic idea #tlg outlanders #the lion guard

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softrosehale · 2 years

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That Took A Twist! - Rosalie Hale

A/N: hi so i was really high when i wrote this and i intended it to be a funny, light-hearted crackfic. don’t get me wrong, i have no idea wtf is wrong with me, like some parts of this don’t need to exist but here you go. anyways, i genuinely think that rosalie is one of the most complex characters in the series and smeyer fucked her over that’s all bye

“You know what I love about you?” You asked, peering at your mate from your upside-down perch from the couch, legs kicking playfully in the air. Rosalie quirked an eyebrow at you, full lips pulling up into an affectionate smile. “And what would that be?” She asked, her voice honey sweet.

“Is it her ample bosom?” Emmett asked from his spot on the ground, brows furrowed as he gripped his remote controller tightly, cracks forming in the flimsy plastic. Rosalie’s eyes rolled, and she turned to the gigantic teddy bear. “Excuse–”

“Nah, it isn’t her bosom,” You answered. “Though,” You grinned at your mate, practically leering at her. Your eyes glinted predatorily. “Her bosom is indeed ample.” Rosalie squinted at you, even though you could feel through the bond, that she was internally preening at the twisted compliment. You growled softly in her direction, the lust in your eyes evident. Rosalie swore that if she could blush, she would. In fact, she could feel the phantom heat of blood rushing to her cheeks. She winked at you, crossing her arms across her chest, pushing the subject of the conversation higher. You let out a soft squeak and turned away quickly, feeling faint.

“Hey, can we please stop using the word ‘bosom,’ please?” Jasper grunted out from his spot on the love seat in the corner, Alice twined around him. Edward, in the same position with a golden-eyed Bella, nodded in agreement. Bella turned to him, brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong with the word bosom? You complimented me on mine just an hour ago, Edward.”

Edward choked silently while Emmett and Jasper roared with laughter. You turned to Edward. “Really? Bosom?” You shook your head sadly at him. “This is why you were still a virgin at 110 or some shit,” You lamented.

“Seriously,” Jasper agreed. “Why not call them what they are?”

Alice quirked an eyebrow at him. “And what would they be?”

“Are we speaking about Bella’s bosom or yours?”

“I thought you said that we weren’t using the word bosom anymore?”

“Can we also put Rose’s bosom back on the list? Hers is ample.”

“So are Bella’s!”

“So are Alice’s!”

“Why are you lying to her?”

A half an hour later, three broken walls and about half of Emmett’s limbs removed, courtesy of Jasper, Bella, Edward– well, everyone, really. Alice was searching on her phone about which push-up bras were best and pouting. Jasper was still nursing both bite marks and biting hurt from insults hurled (“Shut the fuck up, Jasper! You were a fucking Major for the Confederates, you’re used to suppressing someone else’s rights!”). Edward was rocking back and forth, his hands carding through his hair, raking it into a wild mess. His eyes were haunted– they grew that way when an impromptu wet t-shirt contest was held. Bella was looking at you and Rosalie thoughtfully, nodding her head. Yes, Rose’s bosom was quite ample. Emmett was still sulking about the lost arm-wrestling match between you and him– hence one broken wall explained.

Rosalie, as always, was unbothered, staring at her perfectly manicured nails. She made sure to keep them shorter this time. You were curled against her, head rested on the reason for three broken walls, Emmett losing half of his limbs, and a slight but repairable rift in the family. You nuzzled your face into your mate’s chest, a soft purr rumbling through your throat. “You never answered my question earlier,” You murmured, softly enough for only your mate to hear.

“Yes, you can go on top next time,” Rose murmured back. “It’s quite fun when you’re on top, not gonna lie.” She mused. You blinked. “...That wasn’t the question I was talking about, but…” You trailed off, cocking your head thoughtfully. “That’s good to know. No, I meant, wanna know what I love about you?”

Rosalie’s expression melted into something warm and soft, eyes full of love. “What would that be, my heart?” She asked, brushing her fingertips along your cheek. You leaned into her soft, tender touch. “I love everything about you,” You smiled, capturing her hand in yours. You pressed soft kisses to each of her fingers, happily noticing the much shorter length of her nails. You ended it with a kiss to her palm. She curled her fingers around yours. “There’s nothing about you that I don’t love,” You continued. “Thank you. Thank you for giving me this life and wanting me for eternity. I promise to love you for as long as that is for us, and beyond.”

Alice’s eyes unfocused for a second, and she smiled to herself. Edward, seeing the vision through his gift, smiled as well. He and Alice unobtrusively herded Bella, Jasper, and Emmett, who was still subdued from his loss (of limbs and arm-wrestling match) followed along silently.

Rosalie’s eyes welled with tears that could never fall. For so long, she loathed her existence, cursing herself for her beauty. It was all anyone had ever noticed about her– nothing below the surface of the complex girl with the face that rivaled Aphrodite’s. Until you. You’d seen beneath the cold, stoic, angry mask– clawed your way past the surface with bare hands and a determined heart. You knew her. You saw her. Her beautiful face and ample bosom were just three bonuses– very nice ones, but bonuses nonetheless.

“I love you with everything I am,” Rosalie’s reply was soft, but no less filled with heart than yours. “My entire heart is yours.” She intoned. You squeezed her hand gently. “I promise to treat it with nothing but the utmost care,” You replied. “I know that others in the past have not, but I promise that I’m not like them.”

Rosalie inhaled shakily. Those wounds, no matter how old, were still raw. She wondered if they would always be– wondered if the pain ever lessened. She hoped it did; she had to hope that it did. “I know,” She agreed quietly. She leaned forward until her forehead pressed against yours. “And me?” She breathed softly, liquid gold eyes wide. “Do I have your heart as well?” Her voice was teasing, playful, but her eyes held hope that both heartened but broke your heart as well– that she could doubt her worth to you.

You pulled her closer, twining yourself around her like a koala would a tree (minus the chlamydia). You looked up at her, golden eyes glowing with warmth, your love for her practically roaring through the bond like a wildfire. “You know you do. You have, ever since the first ‘hello.’”

#Rosalie Hale x Reader #rosalie lillian hale #my writing

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fabricated-misslieness · 1 year

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Viktor x gn reader (arcane)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: It wasn't very often Viktor was denied things, being a very important scientist. It seems he's grown too used to it.

ʀᴇ𝐐: no ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 684 ~ crackfic!

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: probably ooc

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: i struggled on the math part lol (also inspired by "what difference does that make?" in the bridge scene after vik visits singed)

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Hey, love?" Viktor calls from the kitchen.

"Yeah?" You reply mindlessly, taking another sip from your coffee.

"Could I have another koláč?" It was has hardly a question that required an answer for him. The only thing the koláče were in danger of was shortage, and the only thing he was in danger of was mild discomfort. The pastry's crumbs would, perhaps, get stuck in the corners of his mouth and the jam's texture might cause him a bit of trouble. All in all, though, it was mighty worth it.

What he doesn't expect is for you to say, "No."

The only thing you can hear is the padding of his little socked feet before he's a the kitchen doorway looking at you as if you've just betrayed him. "What?"

"You've already eaten so many."

"Wha–no, no I haven't." He denies it through his teeth. He could only have eaten like, one or two, at most!

"Okay, darling, let's see, I made a dozen." You begin.

He follows along, "Uh-huh."

"And I've eaten one. There are five left." Now he wasn't following. There were five left? "Do the math for me. You're the scientist!"

Viktor doesn't roll his eyes, even though he would've if the circumstances were different. Okay, twelve minus one minus x equals five. That means he's eaten six. No way he's eaten six. He does the math again in his mind once, then once more. But you were right, he was a scientist, he had to have had the math right the first time.

He doesn't realize it, but he's spent several minutes silently blinking as he registered the answer.

"Vik? You got that result for me?"

"Six." He says, like a good boy. He's eaten six.

"That's right." You reply immediately, tapping your finger in the air. "You've eaten six. Not only is that gluttony–"

"It'd be the last one." He reasons, "I swear."

"No, my love." You shake your head at him disappointedly and the shame begins to set in. "Your teeth are gonna hurt and you're gonna complain about it."

"I wouldn't complain!" He argues quickly, "I'd figure out a solution myself."

"How?"

How. That was the question.

"You're a scientist, Vik, not a dentist. Not to mention you'd continue asking for more." Viktor's lips open and close like a fish, but words do not come out, so you continue. "All I'm saying is that when it comes to this, your promises aren't so valuable."

"What? H–" He chokes on his own spit and has to bite back the feeling of sourness in his throat. "How dare you!"

The tantrum that boils up within his body doesn't help his case, though. He was a scientist, it was only a logical thought, objective. On the subjective side, no that wasn't true! But again, it wouldn't help him. So instead of that approach, he crosses his arms over his chest, the only sign of protest he thinks he is able to afford, and says, "It'll be the last one. I'll hold myself to that promise."

"Really?" You say. He can hear it in your tone that you seriously doubt his promise and tries not to take offense from it.

"Really." He replies, totally serious.

What he didn't know, what he hadn't realized, and what mostly tipped the scales in his favor, was that he was pouting. You could even hear it in his voice. It was awfully cute.

You sigh, "Alright."

"Really?" He blurts, shocked despite putting up such a "good" argument.

"Really." You affirm.

Viktor grins, covering the distance between you with short, quick steps. His excitement spills over the edge in the form of a laugh so angelic and joyous the following complaints might be bearable. Then, most graciously, he cups your cheeks and presses a big yet quick kiss upon your lips. "Thank you!"

"You know, my love, I will always make more." His joy was so contagious you couldn't help but laugh. "I just need you to exercise a bit of control."

If it meant he could keep eating koláče, he'd do it. "Of course."

#viktor x gn reader #viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor x gn reader #arcane x reader #arcane x gn reader #🌸 // success!#🎟 // league of legends #🎫 // viktor #league of legends fanfiction #league of legends x gn reader #league of legends x reader

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shadowcatzone · 1 year

Text

-here's a "crackfic*" *it's not really a fic tho-

Creator: i accidentally revived decarabian.

Venti: HOW DO YOU "ACCIDENTALLY" REVIVE A GOD??????

Creator: i've practiced divine necromancy.

Venti: THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE!!!

Creator, looking down: it wasn't specifically decarabian i just thought his tower was the point with the best overview...

Venti: WHAT IS THAT EVEN- wait. Did you revive everything in old mondstadt?

Creator: ...that was the easiest way to practice-

Venti: OKAY NO TIME!!! I'LL BERATE YOU WHEN WE'RE DONE!!!!

-venti runs off, dragging the creator behind him-

_____

Nameless bard: *confused* ...hhhuh......??

Venti: !! FRIEND!!!!!! *runs up and hugs him*

Nameless bard: *flinches* ??? Who are you? And what the hell is going on...

Venti: *excited* it's me!

Nameless bard: *stares*

Venti:

Nameless bard: ...the elf?

Venti: ...well, my name is Barbatos... but i currently go by Venti...

Nameless bard: oh, i see. Haha, Venti suits you better than barbatos...

Venti: well, what about your name?

Nameless bard: what about my name? ...I guess it suits me?

Venti: no i mean... what's your name?

Nameless bard: *feigning hurt* you don't remember my name?? Didn't i introduce myself as bard?

Venti: *deadpan* those aren't gonna work on me. I'm a bard, too.

Nameless bard: ahahaha, shame. No, my name is Himmel*, i think i told you.

Venti: ...i'm sure you didn't.

Himmel: yes i did! Right after calling you "elf", i introduced myself! ...maybe you don't remember? You were a wisp at the time.

Venti: ...why would you call yourself another word for sky??

Himmel: *chuckles* well... it's the name my parents gave me. Something about, "naming your kids what you wish for the most"! ...by the way, why me...?

Venti: why... what, exactly...?

Himmel: well, you're wearing my face. Kinda.

Venti: oh, uh... umm... i, well, you see- RIGHT right we have to meet the creator right now, let's go!

Himmel: alright, wonderful. On the way there, you can tell me why you look like me, in detail!

Venti: *flinches* ...you're not gonna let this go, are you?

Himmel: well whadd'ya think?

_____

Decarabian: i'm most honored to meet the revered-

Creator: nah man, ya gotta go. *bonks him*

Decarabian: -excuse me?? I don't think i follow- OW

_____

Venti: Creator are you here?

Creator: yyyah

Venti: i want to introduce you to- is that decarabian?

Creator: *bonks the unconscious decarabian* i need a bit more time. *bonks him again*

Himmel: ...that's the person you like so much? ...i already like them.

Creator: *bonks* oh hi. You must be the nameless bard?

Himmel: actually my name's himmel.

Venti: ....how many hp does he have?

Creator: *bonk* 999.550 of 1.000.000

venti: how much dmg do you do...?

Creator: *bonk* i'm not proficient in fighting, so i only do each bonk 1 dmg. *bonk*

Himmel: ...you're gonna be at this for a while....

Venti: i taught you how to use a bow though?

Creator: *bonk* do you see a bow that i missed?

Himmel: that's fair, let me help you~

Venti: -but you also don't use a weap-

Himmel: *bonks decarabian with his lyre* ...2 dmg

Creator: *bonks* 3 dmg per turn! We're gonna be finished within the week! *bonk*

Venti: *stares in abject horror*

Himmel: *bonk*

Creator: *bonk*

Himmel: *bonk*

Venti: ... *charged shot, dealing 22.000 dmg*

Creator: *backing off decarabian* you know what? Why don't you handle this.

Venti: *rolls eyes* ...i'll try, oh revered creator...

Himmel: *stares*

Creator: ...you should take these out by the way.

Himmel: ...what?

Creator: ...the arrows? ...why are these so deep in? Last time i saw you they barely struck your flesh.

Himmel: *looks down* ...i think that may be because Venti hugged me.

Creator: need help with those?

_____

-venti still firing charged shots at decarabian, now down to 600k hp, zhongli storms in-

Zhongli: CREATOR DID YOU- Call... for me...?

Creator: *teary eyed* OH! morax i accidentally revived decarabian! But the director said you were busy...

Venti: wait, you went to Morax first???

Creator: well, yeah...

Zhongli: ...does it physically hurt you people to call me zhongli? ...who's he?

Himmel: hi i'm himmel, ventis friend, i was dead now i'm alive.

Zhongli: Creator. Might i have a word with you.

Creator: no, you have to unalive decarabian.

-venti and zhongli proceeding to beat the crap out of decarabian while himmel braids creators hair-

_____

-*somebody else called him himmel so i did too.

Pls dont bonk me if you dislike it, i have 50Qi hp online. 10 hp in rl

#i'm eating gilbird #genshin impact #genshin incorrect quotes #genshin venti #genshin barbatos #genshin shitpost #genshin crack #genshin creator au #genshin zhongli #genshin morax #nameless bard

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banannabethchase · 1 year

Text

Not Really a Dick Pic - also on AO3

Pairing: Danny/Yuta

Rating: T, for excessive discussion of boners

For @wrestleprompts Week 4: asking permission to send a dick pic. This is a crackfic. This is chaos and nonsense and...I almost feel the need to apologize. Warnings for: excessive use of the word dick, mildly horny medical concerns, and bromoerotic interactions.

Wheeler blinks down at the phone. He closes the text app, and opens it again to make sure he’s reading it right.

Yup.

dude I think u broke my dick can u check

Wheeler sighs. He’d been hoping he’d been struck with an acute case of wishful thinking or word-based hallucinations, but nope. This was Danny Garcia, who he had just flattened in a tag match, asking him to check his dick.

Am I really the one to ask? I’m not a doctor.

yah but ur the 1 who did it so

Wheeler is sure he’s going to regret this. Go ahead and send me the picture.

He braces himself and tries to convince himself he won’t be a creepy combination of unprofessional and horny. It’s not really a dick pic. It’s a medical concern, possibly medical emergency, that his colleague is asking for help about. A boner is inappropriate. His, or Danny’s. He’s about to see Danny’s boner.

Oh boy.

His phone dings and Wheeler’s hands are, to be fair, a little shaky. It’s not because he’s into it. He’s not anticipating anything. He’s concerned for the wellbeing of his colleague.

Exhaling slowly, he opens the photo.

“Huh.”

It’s clinical, he tells himself, the way he examines the image. He notes a gentle curve to the left, a red-purple color, and thinks about the gory parts of Grey’s Anatomy to remind himself he’s here as a clinical support.

What’s the issue?

its bent it doesnt usually bend

Yeah, go to the doctor, man. This is not my area of expertise.

There’s a few minutes, and then there’s a phone call. “Why’d you land on my dick, anyway?”

“Hello, Daniel, nice to speak to you,” Wheeler grumbles. “Your dick looks fine.”

“But, like,” he huffs on the other end of the line. “You fell on my dick during the match. Why’d you fall on my dick?”

“I don’t know, man!” Wheeler finally says, throwing his free hand in the air. “Jesus, you can’t send a guy a dick pic and expect him to know how to deal with it.”

The other end of the line is quiet. “It wasn’t really a dick pic, technically.”

“It was close and I got flustered,” Wheeler retorts. He takes a deep breath. “Okay. I don’t notice anything wrong with your dick, okay? But, I, uh. I might not be the best reference, since I’ve never seen your dick before.”

“Would you want to?”

Now it’s Wheeler’s turn to go silent. “What?”

“Ignore that,” Danny says. “Fuck. I don’t know. I’m gonna, like, go to urgent care, get this checked out. And then next Wednesday I’ll come find you and – and apologize for the dick pic.”

Wheeler can’t fight a smile. “I thought you said it wasn’t a dick pic.”

“It wasn’t!” Danny says. “Stop – you broke my dick, and you’re making fun of me.”

“Wait a second,” Wheeler says, “does that mean – did you have a boner during our match?!”

“You and Claudio were – I had to – shut up!”

“Danny,” Wheeler says, “do you wanna get railed by Claudio?”

“No!”

The only other option hits Wheeler like a train. “Um. Do – do you want to –”

“Signal’s going out,” Danny says, “can’t hear you. Talk to you next week.”

Wheeler is left, baffled, staring at his cell phone. When the call closes, it goes back to the photo of Danny’s dick.

He allows himself to look at it, for real this time. “Goddamnit,” he mumbles. “This is the best dick I’ve ever seen.”

Full disclosure, this started as a HangMox fic, and then I realized that Mox isn't quite this much of a dumbass. But you know who is? Danny Garcia.

#DannYuta #Fucking dweebs JUST FUCK ABOUT IT #Anyway #This fic went seven directions into the sun I'm sorry #wtf i like wrestling now???#in which sara writes

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star-shard · 2 years

Text

Black Cat

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Catboy!Elvis x Reader

Premise: ’Twas the night before Halloween… at Graceland! And Elvis just isn’t having it, he can’t seem to get into the spirit. It seems like it’s going to be a lost cause. Until that very night, under a full moon, a little magic is done.

Genre: Crackfic, NSFW

Info: Sub!Elvis, Mentions of Dom!Elvis, Spanking, Anal fingering/Anal toys, self stimulation

Words: 5k

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

It was your first holiday at Graceland, and you couldn’t be more excited. Even if you only visited, you felt so at home. Elvis could be withdrawn now and then, but he knew how to go all out better than anyone. And you could just imagine what he had in store for Halloween, the decorations, the parties, he was such a showman surely he had the perfect costume in mind too.

But even as the big day approached, it seemed your boyfriend hardly seemed aware of it. Invitations to get togethers were met with a polite decline at the most and a shredder at worst. And the only decorations in Graceland were the piling fallen leaves that were quickly raked away.

So when you sauntered into the kitchen one day, spotting a black and orange envelope in his hand, you just had to say something, “honey, can’t we go to this party? I already have a costume picked out, you wouldn’t have to worry a thing about it.” Elvis made Graceland his little world and as grand as it was, you thought he could use a little change of scenery too. Mainly one that included jack-o’-lanterns at the very least.

Elvis sighed, a wry smile on, “I think you’d do just fine wearing that costume just for me” oh he had that look on. Those bedroom eyes. But, you couldn’t let him melt you so easy.

“I think you’d do just fine not being such a grinch about Halloween,” you said right back, giving his nose a poke. He nipped at your finger. You really would love it, seeing Elvis dressed for the occasion. “Please? I promise it’ll be a night to remember.”

He sighed, he couldn’t sex his way out of this one. “Fine. I guess. But, I’m not putting on anything that’s gonna mess up my hair, you hear?” You just wrapped your arms around him in a squeeze. You were sure you could convince him otherwise.

—

Halloween was tomorrow, so was the party, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to try out your look. Elvis had bought you such nice dresses and you were sure this lovely black piece would look marvelous with a witches hat. “Not bad, huh?” You asked, the entryway to the closet was like a little stage for you. However, he was in bed reading.

And when he made a huffing sound you knew he was just being a grumpy gus about it. “Now a fan of witches either, huh?” You crawled onto the bed and peered at him, looking both above and below his book, one that was full of scribbles of his notes and ideas. “What is it. Are you a scaredy cat?”

Elvis then rose an eyebrow and with it came that smirk. “I just don’t make a fuss around Halloween.” He wasn’t all too amused by you interrupting his reading, but he was amused by the way that witches hat was one size too big for you. Just as you tapped his book, he tapped your hat which then drooped down to your face.

You pulled it back up, he was being silly with you. “Come off it, it’s a full moon! Don’t you know magic is afoot when the moon gets full?”

“I said I’d go with you, but lemme pretend Halloween doesn’t exist until then. How about that. The whole day, it’s creepy, you know? Just damn common sense why it doesn’t get me going.” He thought he was being real logical about it all. As if that was the point.

You pouted, sighed, but eventually flopped down next to him. “The parties tomorrow. You know… you’d make a lovely black cat, collar and everything.”

He smirked, and that was enough to get his attention, he could always read tomorrow. He got on top of you. “Try saying that agin.” You smiled back, feeling smug.

“Only if you meow for me.” Oh, now you were really in for it, you just knew that tonight you were getting spanked. And how it delighted you. And just as it usually went, the night ended in some very productive fucking.

—

You had to leave early in the morning. It was a big day after all, you had family that were having their own little events. But as you got dressed you were sure to place a kiss on Elvis’s sleepy head, even if he was snoring under the covers. God, you loved him.

In any case, even if he wasn’t in a celebrating mood, you knew he had a full schedule to keep him busy anyway for the first half of the day. There was recording and then something about the colonel. It was why when you arrived again that evening, that you were surprised when you were told that he’d stayed in bed all day. That he wasn’t feeling like himself.

Now, if Elvis was sick, you’d be more than willing to skip the party. Even if you were already dressed up, pantyhose that would no doubt be ruined by the end of the night be damned. You know you could help take care of him if he was ill. And yet the maid assured you that he wasn’t. That he just couldn’t leave his room.

And when you headed for the stairs, the cook stopped you with a glass of milk in hand. “It’s all he’s wanted all day,” she said, handing it off to you. You knew he had his cravings. But… milk?

Now, you weren’t sure what was going on. But if this was his way of avoiding the party, there were better ways to do it. You went right up the stairs, milk in hand. And you opened up his room which was darker than a cave, except for the television humming softly just across from the bed. “Elvis?” You flicked on the light to try and get a better look.

With it, Elvis had thrown a blanket over him and you heard a cat hiss. Odd, usually the animals weren’t let up here, too hard to clean the black furniture. Clearly something must have been up.

“Elvis, hon, what’s going on now? If this is about the party-“

“Just leave the milk on the nightstand,” he cut you off and seemed to wind himself even deeper into the blanket, anymore and he might just get locked inside of it. Now, sometimes Elvis could get moody. But you didn’t even know what to call this mood. Maybe he was feeling sickly. You set the glass down.

“Do you need a doctor? Elvis, come on just-“ You pulled the blanket off as much as you could when it was bunched up. And he covered the top of his head right away. But he didn’t have time to cover his back side. A tail coiled behind him. A long, furry, sleek black tail.

That was no costume. “Is that… is that a-“

“It’s a tail!” He cried out, his hands slipped from his head and down to his face in embarrassment. That’s when you saw a pair of twitchy cat ears atop his head. Even with his hands masking his face you saw it take on a shade of pink you’d never seen. “What am I going to do? I missed a recording session, I was gonna play some football with Jerry. All I did was lay around all day, I even want fish! I hate fish!”

A cat, Elvis was a cat or… one quarter cat? You didn’t know the human to DNA ratio going on but you did know those were real moving cat ears and a tail to match. And he looked just as embarrassed as a girl getting a blemish before prom. You had to say something. “I- I’ll call someone, I’ll go call someone.”

Before you could get half a step away he grabbed your arm and if he wasn’t so emotionally fragile he might have snapped it. “No! No one can know about this! Are you crazy?!” His face started leaking with stress.

“I,” that was a good question honestly, from what you were looking at. Were you crazy? How many boyfriends changed up their ears over night? Like a sexy mister potato head.

In any case he was an absolute mess and you weren’t about to run out on him. Besides you needed that arm, you didn’t need it broken. You slipped down to his side and he looked on the edge of ugly crying.

“Alright, it’s okay- let’s try and think about this logically,” you tried. And you stared at him and he heaved some noises. Thinking logically was a lost cause before it even got started. But you had to get to the bottom of this somehow, before other cat parts started showing up. “We’ll figure this out. What do you remember, I mean, did you wake up like this?”

He had to snort and rubbed at his face, “well,” he tired to recall last night. “I remember reading and… then we screwed and it was…” He sniffled, “I came on your face and that was really fun,” you nodded, remembering it just as well, a little got in your eye. “But then you went home and I just had a sandwich and went to bed.”

You reached into your pocket and handed him a handkerchief, which he gratefully took to properly blow his nose. He continued. “I had the most, incredible sleep. Out like a light, all night, all day…” A hell of a cat nap, but you kept that comment to yourself, there was a time and place and Elvis was very sensitive right now. “And Mary knocked on my door to bring me lunch and… that’s when it happened.”

You leaned in a bit more, if he was about to reveal that a real live witch broke in through the window, you wanted to hear it. He mumbled. You leaned in more, he mumbled it again. “Elvis, you got me on the edge here.”

“I meowed!”

This was very serious. Your boyfriend turning into a cat boy, dead serious. But then… your boyfriend turned into a cat boy.

“Don’t you laugh at me, it was involuntary. Like a sneeze. And I didn’t grow these on purpose, they were just there when I woke up.” The mystery just got deeper. Although magic wasn’t totally out of the question yet. There wasn’t much in terms for clues.

“Alright alright, back to what’s important. If you slept that well, I’m thinking it must have started when you went to sleep. So,” you felt like you were putting together a puzzle in the dark. There was no play book, nary a combination vet/doctor here to help fill in the blanks.

But an answer hit you both at the same time. “Sex!” “Sandwiches?”

As haunting as a cursed peanut butter and banana sandwich sounded, he didn’t hold onto his theory very long and as per usual, was more interested yours, his favorite bedroom activity. “Alright, follow me on this… last night I was teasing you because you were being a real wet blanket about Halloween and, with a full moon out?”

He paused, he thought, “…Did you fuck me into being a cat?” He asked it the same way he asked if you were cheating on him. And as much as you’d like to take credit for putting the most adorable cat ears on the most adorable man, you didn’t recall dabbling in any dark arts on purpose. So you just had to genuinely shrug, it was a hard maybe.

There was a knock at the door. Elvis zipped under the blanket faster than you’d ever seen him move, it was actually impressive. “Hold tight just, don’t… sneeze.” You got up and tried to look like you weren’t someone in the middle of a supernatural emergency. You creaked the door open, it was one of Elvis’s boys, perfect timing. “Red, hi,” you gripped the door like you might break it.

You didn’t know it for sure, but you could have sworn Elvis was moving his blanket like shield off the bed, like he was heading for a corner. “Oh hey there, you’re here early. Got Elvis’s suit for tonight, just got dropped from the cleaners.” You quickly took it in hand. “Is he doing alright? Haven’t seen him all day.”

“He’s doing so great. I mean, not too great. Not great enough for a chat. He’s busy. He’s… got a bad hair day, you know how it is.” Elvis hissed and Red peered behind your shoulder to which you made the crack in the door even smaller. “Welp… take it easy.” Before he could say another thing you shut the door tight.

Elvis peered up from the blanket, yes, in the corner on the floor now, his attempt at getting far away from the door. “Bad hair day.” He said it flatly.

“I’m not wrong. You have more than you had last night.” That was too close though, you were not a good liar and if he knocked again you didn’t know what would come out of your mouth next. “But, babe, you really got a fresh suit for the party? You do want to go,” that made you smile, you were touched.

“…Well, wouldn’t want you going alone,” he may have not loved Halloween, and more mixed feelings were packing on by the second, but he wasn’t going to half ass it when you were already dressed up. “But, I can’t now. Can’t go anywhere! Unless you’re ready to fuck the cat back out of me.”

You held the suit close, and you only needed a moment to think before setting it down and then tossing yourself onto the bed, arms and legs open. “Do it.” You kept yourself open, staring up and dutifully waiting.

You couldn’t see Elvis’s face, but his eyebrow raised so high you did hear it hit the ceiling “How’s that gonna work?”

“How do you got cat ears, a tail? And an attitude that I don’t appreciate right now.” You shot back, still spread eagle. If he had another idea, you’d love to hear it. He shrugged, so crazy it just might work.

And well, if nothing else, nothing cleared the head like sex.

“Well… I gotta get in the mood first.” He admitted, you supposed the circumstances weren’t ideal. And you yourself looked more like a sacrificial offering rather than an enticing vixen. You had some damn incredible sex last night, you’d say it was nearly magical. If you were going to recreate the circumstances it had to be good.

You knew how to get him going. It involved getting rid of this dress. “Alright… let’s bring out the tiger man.” You started with getting on your knees on the bed, letting your hips sway back and forth as the thin little number you had started going down your shoulders. Making a real meal of it, giving him a show.

Elvis watched from his corner, his ears turning this way and that and the cover slowly coming off him.

“Daddy?” You said, your bra now out as you crawled to the edge of the bed, “I think you can do better than last night,” you sang, “I think you were just holding back on me.” Teasing, you knew that would get you in some trouble. A little rough foreplay from him was the perfect way to get him hard.

Elvis got up, holding himself high as he came over.

And you curved your back, letting your ass stick out. “You’re just a silly little kitty, bet you can’t make me squeal.” You wiggled his target, and he raised up his hand and, he bit his lip.

“I… I don’t think I can do this.” Your face planted into the mattress, oh come on, that was a fine performance, you even got in on the cat motif. “I mean, your tits are unbelievable in black lace and you did turn me on there but,” his shoulders looked a little caved in and he fiddled with his thumbs.

Now if Elvis was feeling uncomfortable you’d of course call it off. But it looked like he wanted to say something, it just wasn’t coming out right. “Tell me what I did that turned you on, sweetheart,” you asked curiously.

Elvis was getting pink again. “When you… called me a silly little kitty.” As you lived and breathed. Elvis Presley had a submissive side. Now, you knew he could be sensitive, but he hadn’t voiced something like this before. And you refrained from showing too much excitement. You’d been considering switching it up for a while now but didn’t want to rush things.

And then it made all too much sense. So you said it out loud. “Of course. You fucked me, you turned into a cat… it makes sense, that I’d have to fuck you.”

Elvis looked up at that, “you can’t tell anyone, not any of the guys, if they knew they’d never let me hear the end of it. I’m still living down the time they started laughing at me when I said I ate pussy once.” He looked like a poor little school boy worried about what his friends would think.

“Elvis, you’re part cat right now. There’s a lot of things going on in this room I’ll never tell anyone about.” Though you’d have a talking to with them someday, pussy deserved to be eaten out. He trusted you, you trusted him. But you were sure he was nervous about trying this. Even if he wanted to. “And you’re sure you really want to? Is it you or the kitty talking?”

Thats when he looked ready to bury his face into something. “Can’t it be both? Damn it.” God, you could kiss him right there, right on the cheek he was too cute for you to handle. Oh yes, this would stay in the bedroom, witch’s honor. Magical cure or not, you’d both get something out of this. “I’d like it, if you… called me some names and maybe, spanked me a bit… Just, let’s get it going.”

Oh he was being big and brave right now. It took guts for Elvis to put himself out there. You slid off the bed and wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him. He looked a little surprised at the sudden kiss. “I’d be happy to spank you, Elvis. Dirty kitty.” He looked the other way embarrassed but you felt him getting hard against your leg.

Well, first things first you needed a good target yourself. Your arms went from his neck and down to his butt, which you squeezed. Elvis often took control, and unfortunately felt he had to be macho sometimes, so alas his ass had been regrettably neglected. You could tell because he almost let out a yelp just from that.

Of course there was more down there now. His cat tail was straightening up too. “Get out of those pajamas, sweetie. I wanna see how ready you are.”

Elvis nodded, in truth, he sort of couldn’t wait. Now Elvis may have been a star on stage but even he had his insecurities and he rarely got fully naked. Like he needed at least one layer, whether for the mystery or for his pride. But, you were curious to see what he’d do.

And he didn’t disappoint. First came off the shirt, button by button. Then you watched as the pants came down. Only the underwear left, a tight cotton layer that hugged his now very interested dick. A bit different from last night, he blindfolded you when those came off. But you’d be front and center. You were an audience.

They slid down slow and there he was. All of him, a decent size. And more. Literally, he had extra body parts for the moment. And well? God could strike you down for being a pervert. There was something so sexy about Elvis looking all shy with those kitty ears on his head. He’d make quite the pet.

“Ain’t you pretty,” you said to him, which made him nod and say a little ‘thank you ma’am.’ “But, I know where you’d look prettier.” You gave a look and a nod back at the bed.

When he got on it, he looked eager. He looked ready, he looked like he was holding back from bringing the claws out he was so desperate. Damn, he should have said something sooner, he didn’t need to grow a tail to tell you he wanted his tail smacked up. You’d do that for free any day of the week.

And it seemed even just assuming the position was enough to get him nice and needy. “Lots to work with here,” you nodded. “Let me just take my time…” you said slowly as you could. And then you took his tail in hand, you didn’t have to wait for a reaction, his back arched.

“…Please,” Elvis murmured, his southern accent in full force and his voice dropping to a sultry octave.

You strummed your fingers against his right cheek, “let me think.” And then smack! You cracked your hand against him and he gave such a cry. And yes, at the tail end of it it almost sounded like a little mew. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” You kept an eye on his cock as you spanked him. Once, twice, a third time. You made sure to pause. Elvis knew what word to say if it got harrier than it already was.

But he was just about going to pieces. If turning into a cat boy wasn’t enough to shake him up, leaning into his more personal urges did. And you especially loved when at one point he shouted out, “bless it all!”

You thought he might cum just from this, his dick bobbed up and down, it dripped. He was making a bit of a mess. And when you took on a scolding tone about him being so very filthy, you added a pinch to his nipple. And that was a very good idea.

Well, he was more than warmed up. “Has anyone ever played with you back here, kitty?” You asked nice and soft. Now you didn’t want to brag, but you had some experience with men in the past that liked to be toyed with. The circumstances with Elvis were different of course, but not as different as one may think. Animal ears were popular.

His bottom was sore and his head was down in the sheets, and as much as he wanted to touch himself, he held off. “…Sometimes,” he said shyly, “when I’m alone.”

Now you were both getting something out of this, but you’d sure be glad to get rid of that needless shame. Elvis was in your care right now, he was your kitty. And though you could tease him, you would make sure he lived out whatever fantasy he wanted damn it. “How big? I don’t want to hurt my baby.”

Elvis peered back at you, his tail swished back and forth. “There’s a toy. Keep it… in this music theory book, hollowed it out.” That one sent you. You had wondered why he only had a single academic book about the art of music. And now you knew why. And now you wanted to fuck his ass and watch him cum so bad.

And of course because it was Elvis, when you opened up the book near the bed and saw the pages that had been spliced just right to hide something, the toy itself was custom. It was shiny, it was pink. And you were pretty sure Elvis gifted you one just like it last Christmas. Your tastes were so similar, you felt a stroke of pride.

Elvis needed to turn into a cat boy more often.

In any case, you didn’t need to ask him where the lube was, you knew very well where that was. You first coated your fingers, just to get him ready. One hand was wet the lube, the other would get wet another way. Of course you’d be getting off too. And frankly you needed him just in this position while you did it.

Your hand parted his sweet red ass, rubbing at his hole which relaxed very easily. A good sign, this would be great for the both of you. Meanwhile, your other fingers crooked down below you and you touched at your clit just through your panties. You supposed it was crass but you were in a way taking care of business for the both of you. Elvis melted at your touch.

And yes, even before the toy he was vibrating. Not just vibrating, purring. “That’s a good kitty,” you hummed, praising him, “that’s it, kitty loves it in the ass.” Elvis just enjoyed the massage, especially giving off a moan when you curled your fingers a certain way and you joined him right after when a you hit a nice spot on yourself.

Elvis’s cock was straining. His will power was incredible. This clearly wasn’t his first rodeo. But now it was for the main event, fucking him with this cute toy. It was a good girth, smooth, it had a curve. Smaller than his dick but you were sure now that he had someone helping him out, he might go up a size.

And so you angled it, coated it nice and slick and let it slide in. Elvis really moaned this time and his hand went back for his dick. Every man had his breaking point, it just made you chuckle which made him blush and more turned on.

You put the toy in and out of him and he stroked himself in time, and you stroked yourself too. He was building, you were building. “Fuck me!” He whined and that’s when you shoved the toy in hard, once, twice, and his back arched and his head was thrown back. Wherever you’d hit? It was perfect. And seeing him like that? Did it for you too. And your toes curled and you had to cling to the bed. Elvis came and his cum made quite a mess on the black sheets. He was down for the count. Toy still up his ass.

You had to hang your head a little low to catch up with yourself. Oh yes, this was the first of many, you already knew. You’d heard about strap ons before, you were sure it was worth the investment. Maybe one in gold. “Was it good, baby?” You asked him.

“Mhm.” The toy gently fell out, a slick little pop on it’s way out. And when he looked at you? The cat ears and tail were gone. And by god, you couldn’t believe it actually worked. If it hadn’t you were this close to calling the kind of doctor that did cat scans.

“Elvis!” You pointed at him and he right away knew what you meant, he touched his head and was just as blown away as you. He let out a laugh and so did you. And you did a crash landing hug on him. Fresh off an orgasm you two rolled in twain, you were probably ruining your dress with the cum stain but you didn’t care. It actually worked.

Elvis looked right at you and kissed you. “I knew you were magic.”

—

You had arrived fashionably late to the party. After all, Elvis was about as messy as it got and had to prim his look together from when he was a bit more animalistic. And luckily, you kept some spare dresses in his closet. This one was red. And upon strolling in, you were dressed as a couple of friendly looking devils. Hey, at least it wasn’t cat ears.

The party was fun, Elvis socialized and you’d never seen him so jolly about anything to do with Halloween. He even danced to The Monster Mash, though there was a little pain behind his eyes for that one.

You just had to pull him aside though, just for a little moment alone. “You’re enjoying yourself,” you said to him in a cramped dark little hallway just off from the noise.

“Well, I’m not going to be a cat for the rest of my life,” Elvis said in all honesty, “I think it’s worth letting loose a little.” And you couldn’t agree more.

And having him to close in this cramped hallway, you had to see it. “Show it to me. Come on, it looks so good.” Elvis chuckled and pulled down his shirt collar to reveal it. A white leather collar. It had originally been a gift for you, but you decided as you’d gotten ready tonight, that it would be a shared token. And of course it had EP etched in right on it. It looked good on him, even if it was a little secret between you.

“We really should get a leash for it,” you mused, giving it a tug and well that made him pink and his pupils got big. And it did something else. Your eyes went from coy to wide.

“What.” And atop his head, next to those fake devil horns? Cat ears, back again. And when he noticed too he looked to the ceiling and back down to you.

And it seemed both of you were getting similar ideas. “Well… we know how to fix it,” you mentioned simply. “How roomy is the backseat of the Cadillac?”

He didn’t answer. He just grabbed your hand and everyone wondered why Elvis and his girl were leaving the party, giggling. But attendees would later go on to recount that the last thing Elvis called out before leaving the party early? “I love Halloween!”

#Elvis #Elvis Fanfiction #Cat Boy #Happy Halloween!#👻#sub!Elvis #I can't believe myself I had so much fun writing this

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astercontrol · 1 year

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omg this is a cursed fanfic idea

Premise:

Before Sark captured him, Ram was an actuary program for an insurance company. But that means he's got some features that can't really be used much on the Game Grid, right?

Taking a page from "Overcharged" : let's say, like in that fanfic, his actuarial subroutines still get supplied with power but never get used-- causing energy buildup to painful levels, until he needs to relieve it by getting circuit-stimulated to the point of overload and reboot.

A thought experiment, here:

Is circuit-stimulation the only way to bleed off that energy?

or could he also get relief through the actuarial subroutines themselves?

"just let the nerd do math when he wants to!" seems like an obvious solution

But would that work only as a preventive measure to stop energy buildup from happening?

Or could it be used as a release valve once he's already gotten all overcharged?

My instinct says the latter is possible... but it would go slower. Torturously, edgingly slower.

Which leads me to the premise of the weirdest kink idea I've ever thought up:

...

Could an adventurous dom keep Ram restrained until he was going crazy with energy buildup... and then make him do their taxes til he gets off on it?

Or, better yet, their insurance?

...

A taste of the absolute batshit crackfic idea I'm thinking of:

...

"I'm not going to deny you release, Ram. You'll get it. I'll make you discharge all that pent-up actuarial energy, don't worry. But not all at once, program. Yes, you will get to have that good feeling that you get from helping folks plan for their future needs. But you will get it one drop at a time, one tiny step of progress at a time, while you get passed around from the pharmacy to the doctor's office to the insurance company to the damn pharmacy again, until you get that motherfucking prior authorization to go through...."

"ah... ahh... Is this... nnngh... is this 'cause I told you I deserve to be punished? For the whole working-for-an-insurance-company thing?"

"It's because I need you to do this, Ram. Don't make me start thinking about real punishment. But don't think I'm not gonna enjoy it-- watching you on the phone with fucking Healthpartners, trying not to moan and beg."

"aaah... I'll do whatever you ask, User, please..."

...

(...as a pharmacy technician in my sad off-Grid life, I guess fanfic can be more than one kind of outlet...)

#ram tron #tron 1982 #insurance #fucking insurance companies #circuit fic #tron fanfic

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i-dont-want-your-hysteria · 2 years

Note

ok again I clearly cannot read, so yeah it doesn't have to be a crackfic sjfkdjhk (tbh I thought that just meant funny, so make it funny ig? like a comedy fic then, The Hangover style)

Disclaimer: Ami sent me 2 asks before this before she finally got the hang of how she was supposed to submit LOL

Prompt: you show one of the guys your hometown- but your hometown is notorious for having the worst quality roads. (non era-specific)

Words: 405

-----

"Christ-! Be careful!" Sav ordered when you hit another deep bump in the road, "You're gonna make me spill this!"

"How many times do I have to tell you, I am being careful!" you barked back, not tearing your focus from driving, "You can't say I didn't warn you!"

And warn him, you had. You were both fortunate enough to be in the area of your hometown while also having down time from touring. A bonus: Sav had stayed true to his word when he said he wanted to spend this down time having you show him around where you grew up. It was just a short little day trip, and you'd prefaced him earlier that day with a bit of background info of the area. But, there was one thing you told him that he didn't take seriously.

"When you said the roads were 'bad', I didn't think you meant that every five seconds there was a bloody- ah!" he yelped and placed a hand over the top of his filled cup when the car unexpectedly bobbed again.

You laughed at him evilly, "Oh, so you underestimated how much I was stressing the 'bad'? Darling, it was a bad day not to get a lid on that soda."

"Yeah I- I see that now."

"Now imagine riding the school bus on these roads," you quipped.

"Bloody hell, I'd be sick..." he rolled his eyes.

"Ever wonder why I've got the strongest stomach out of all of us? It's cos' I've been conditioned. Watch, I'll even go slow-"

Pressing on the brake, the car began to bobble and wobble less forcefully, but deeper into the potholes.

"-and it's somehow worse."

"I've seen a lot of roads..." Sav began, observing the approaching track before you both with a nod, "...but this might actually be the worst."

"Told you so, now hang on tight, we only have so much time-"

Hitting the gas again, you sped up to let the car bump and thump as it was before.

"Ah! Y/n-" Sav objected, "You're forgetting I have a-"

Just then, you hit another big bump. The liquid in Sav's cup flew upwards just enough that some of it splashed down onto his lap when it landed.

"-drink!" he sighed, but couldn't help but laugh at himself as he hung his head.

"Told you, sweetheart," you laughed out loud with him, "Bad day not to get a lid."

-----

requests are open!

submit here!

#def leppard #def leppard fanfic #def leppard x reader #rick savage x reader #original content #requests #this idea is based on where i live eirgnwoerngregnre

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ctrsara · 1 year

Text

How to Catch a Spiderman

My very first crackfic. Which, the idea was really more of a collaborative effort with @asyouleft, MinecraftBees (do they have a diff tumblr name?), and @cajun-fangirl, and then @yes-i-am-happyaspiehappyaspie was happy to contribute thoughts as I wrote it.

This was supposed to be like 1000 words. Actually, this wasn't supposed to be. I was trying to finish 200 Park Avenue today. But instead: This. Sometimes weird things happen on Discord… (If you read or write Irondad, join us!!) We are also doing an Irondad bingo this year, and this story fulfils RED card: Crackfic…

“Tell me again why you think this is gonna work?” Cara asked her co-worker, eying the fluffy canine at his side. Well. Was what they did “work?” Partner-in-crime? Nah. Her work-proximity associate? Anyway.

“Dude, haven’t you seen all the pictures?” Gordon said. “Spiderman’s always like, rescuing cats in trees, and helping lost dogs find their homes. We just have to spot him patrolling, and let her loose nearby. Her tag has a number, and he’ll call it, and he’ll totally bring her right back to us, and we can grab him!”

“Where did you get this dog?” she asked, petting the soft terrier mix.

“It’s a friend’s. She’ll be fine.”

“I just somehow feel like you haven’t thought this through.”

“I’ve totally thought it through. My gramma’s cool to play the little old lady who can’t drive to come get her lost dog.”

“Your gramma? Dude… ”

“What? She’s always up to earn a benjamin. And it’s not like Spidey’s gonna hurt her, even if things go south. She’s like… ninety. He’s not the type.”

“Isn’t he super strong? How are you going to keep him once you catch him?”

“Uh… I dunno. Threaten the dog?”

Cara raised an eyebrow of disbelief.

“My cousin has these really big chains. I bet I can borrow those. Here, watch her for like an hour, and I’ll be back!”

“Gordon! No! Get back here!”

Continue reading on AO3

#irondad and spiderson #spiderman has a weakness #cute puppies #crackfic #crackfic black fic crackdust blackdust? Wait wrong reference.

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idabbleincrazy · 1 year

Text

Neither Holly Nor Jolly

Fandom: Angel (Buffyverse)

Rating: T

Pairing: Spangel, mentioned past Sparmony

Word Count: 1119

Warnings: fluff, crackfic, some swearing, minor bashing of xmas carols, tiny mention of thoughts of suicide, brief angst

Summary: Spike has a good reason for not liking modern carols.

A/N: yeah...i have no idea.

Written for @mfbingo Christmas edition for the square "A Holly Jolly Christmas"

“If I have to hear that bloody song one more time, I’m gonna rip someone’s vocal chords out!”

Angel heaved a sigh and looked up from his paperwork as Spike stormed into his office, slamming the door behind him. Stomping across the room, the blonde vampire flopped into one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, splaying himself lewdly, one leg slung over an armrest.

"What the hell are you whining about now, Spike?"

"Look, Peaches", Spike ignored the low growl of warning at Angel's hated moniker, "I know this place is evil-"

"Formerly evil."

"Yeah, right, formerly evil. Whatever. Point is, evil or not, if one more person starts singing A Holly Jolly Christmas 'round me, I cannot be held accountable for my actions."

"Thought you liked Christmas carols?” Angel set his pen down, resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t be getting any more work done until he managed to placate the whining blonde sitting across from him. “You certainly wouldn't shut up the entire month of December back in the day."

“Yeah, but those were real carols; Good King Wenceslas, Silent Night, Joy to the World, those are Christmas carols. This sugary pop bollocks from the ‘50’s onward have nothing on the songs we’d hear pealing out from the men, women, and kiddies crowding the London streets as we sought out our own li’l holiday feasts.”

“So you don’t like the modern carols because they don’t have evil memories attached to them?” Angel tilted his head, one eyebrow raised in confusion. Sometimes, he just couldn’t understand his Grandchilde. “Shouldn’t that fact be a reason to like them even more?”

“No!” Spike started, then paused, his eyes darting away from Angel’s bemused gaze.

“Then what?”

“I…it’s not ‘cause they’ve evil memories attached to ‘em. It’s just…they’ve got memories of family, of us, attached to them. After me an’ Dru parted ways with Darla, we never really bothered with the whole Christmas thing, not like the four of us did. Weren’t the same.”

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. Y'know, she nearly drove me barmy that first year, after China - Dru. Almost the whole bloody month, she wouldn't stop wailing. Threatened to greet the sun a time or twelve, too, till I started chaining 'er up in the basement durin' the day." Angel's eyes widened at the revelation as Spike spoke. He knew Drusilla had taken his departure hard, but he'd no idea it had been that bad for her. "Was a time or two I nearly decided to let her, an' follow right behind."

"Spike-"

"Didn't, did I?" Spike cut over Angel, needing to get it out before he lost the suddenly bolstered nerve. "Week before Christmas, though, she stopped. Right in the middle of a cryin' fit, she went still, her eyes huge as could be. An' then, in the silence, I could hear it, same as she did. Carolers, their voices drifting in through a window one of the minions must've left open. O, Holy Night. As they sang, a smile, first in a long while, spread on her lips, and she just…sagged against me. I don't think she'd felt a moment's peace from the night you left until just that instant. She actually laughed, one of those sweet giggles of 'ers, y'know? And for the rest of the night, she was lucid again; we were able to hunt like normal, there was no threat of chasing the sunrise."

Spike looked back over at Angel finally, newfound guilt etched on the elder vampire's face at the realization of the pain his curse and subsequent abandonment had caused his Childer. Spike sighed and gave him a small smile, inwardly kicking himself for unthinkingly adding onto Angel's copiously burdened soul.

"Things went better after that. Whenever Dru started callin' out for you, I'd start singing for her, and she'd quiet down soon enough. So, yeah, I prefer the older ones over these chart-toppers any day. They've lost the depth of it, lack the heart and storytelling of the old stuff."

Angel nodded silently, mulling over the blonde's confession. There really wasn't much he could think of to say that would make things better, or make up for Spike having to go through that pain in the first place.

"Look, would it help if I put an office-wide moratorium on Christmas songs written after, say, 1915? I can't go back and change what happened, but I can at least pull rank as CEO and keep the mindless minions of evil from driving my Childe, and consequently, me, up the wall."

"You'd really do that? For me?"

"Tis the season, right?"

Angel stood from his desk and walked around it, pulling Spike up to his feet. Cupping the younger vampire's cheek, he smiled sadly.

"You do know if Darla hadn't given me that ultimatum, I would have stayed, right? I'd followed you guys to China because I hated being away from my family, but she wouldn't settle for letting me hunt in a way the soul could accept. And I just couldn't be the kind of evil she wanted."

"I know, pet. Didn't then, she never explained it. But I get it."

Angel sighed and pulled Spike into a hug, his cheek resting against the heavily gelled hair as the blonde tucked his head under his chin. Unbidden, a soft purr began in Spike's chest, Angel's rumbling in automatic response as their demons found an odd peace.

Just then Harmony walked in, singing loudly as she crossed the office and set another stack of files on Angel's desk. Spike's purring turned into a growl, and he struggled to pull out of Angel's embrace, but the brunette tightened his hold around him until his secretary flounced back out the room.

"Can I at least kill her? She is still soulless, after all."

"No, Spike."

"Oh, come on! Memo or no memo, y'know the bint is gonna be tryin' to goad me with that bloody song the rest of the month!"

"I don't know, I kinda like that one."

Spike scoffed and shoved away from Angel.

"You would. Christ, A Holly Jolly Christmas is bad enough, but Last Christmas?!? Seriously? I should hunt down the people who gave Wham! a career and eat their bloody hearts."

"Spike, no eating people's hearts, and no killing my secretary. Anyways, Harmony probably owes you a few digs, she is your ex."

"So're you."

"Technically, I'm your ex-ex. And, luckily," Angel smirked evilly and darted back as he began to sing off-key, "baby, all I want for Christmas…is youuu!"

"Oh, you rotten son of a bitch!" Spike gave chase as Angel ran out of the office. "That's it, Angelus. I'm gonna deck your bloody halls, mate!"

~~~~~~

All Things Spike: @leatafandom @captain-peroxid3

#spangel #mf bingo #holiday fic #xmas fic #a:ts fanfic #buffyverse fanfic

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