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#fank if
ttaibhse · 1 year
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i know at least some of us on here drink coffee i know we’re out there!!!!! rb if you want :-)
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vamprisms · 1 year
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moneyndior · 1 month
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luke castellan who absolutely looks and holds you like it’s the last time.
he observes—no, memorizes each perfection in your face. the colour of your eyes, your nose shape, how your lips slightly pierce together under an awkward situation and how your gaze softens when you look at him. he’s almost got you down to the last molecule.
luke doesn’t understand how nobody else can tell when you’re uncomfortable. it’s so obvious by the way your eyes drop in the this-is-too-much-for-me way and not the usual i-got-2-hours-of-sleep way. luke doesn’t understand why people still go up to you and ask you to help them when your shoulders are tense—which is the biggest indicator that you’re angry.
annabeth just says it’s because he’s in love, he says it’s just because you’re you. he tries to understand you so you don’t have to. luke understands that you like to cuddle this specific way and not the other way.
he sees your eyes shine just before you’re about to fall asleep—as if it’s the final warning to tell you that he loves you more than anything before you fall unconscious. luke’s tight grip doesn’t lessen as your breathing falls into a rhythm, his fingers entangled with yours as he had a hand on your hip and his chin resting at the top of your head.
luke has gotten every inch of you memorized. he’s preparing for the day that it will be his last day looking up at you, his head resting on your lap. he’s making sure he’s ready for you to be his last sight—and he’s making sure he remembers everything. he cannot pass on without memorizing how you try your best to smile to bring him comfort when you’re crying.
he’s making sure he doesn’t regret a thing.
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eldritch-spouse · 6 months
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after some sort of “accident” in the shop, there comes to be a fleshlight that is bound to admin. everything that happens to it, admin can feel! <3 admin attempts to hide it but has to go deal with some important business and leaves it in the break room. what’s going down?
[Oooh nice!! I changed the source of the fleshlight a bit though. Fem reader.]
TW: Sex toy sharing (unsanitary); Dubcon; Double penetration in one hole.
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You have absolutely no idea what this is.
It felt like a joke in poor taste, at first.
This... Fleshlight -Because it can only be that- Appeared in the break floor. A deep violet case with golden swirls around the rim, featuring an uncannily realistic mold of none other than your pussy.
So many things went through your mind as you picked it up. Who could have done this? Certainly, to be here on display, only one of your staff team could have concocted such an insult.
Perhaps Santi. He did always have the strangest and lewdest gifts for everyone. He'd offered sex toys molded after notable figures before, this wouldn't be entirely uncharacteristic out of him. Did he simply forget it here or is he planning to give it to someone?
If not Santi, then maybe Nebul. He does operate the shop, and toys of all kinky kinds hold no secrets for him. He could easily make a custom one, right? But he's not the type of monster man to have such a careless lapse and forget his fleshlight on the kitchenette counter like this. This would have to be intentional of him.
It could also be Fank-e. Lord knows that robot will get his metallic little hands on any kind of genital attachment and weird toy he can find. Maybe the creep wants to use a model of your vulva as his own genitals. You wouldn't put such past him. It's a lot more likely the mechanical menace could have gotten distracted by something and left the toy out in the open.
Humming, morbid curiosity makes you gently touch the depraved imitation, fingertips dipping to scissor the thing open when you notice that it's clean.
Instant regret washes over you.
The moment you do such, it's as if phantom digits pierced into your covered cunt and physically spread you out. The thing is dropped back onto the counter and you bend to clutch your panty-covered privates as a sting of pain punishes you.
For a blank moment, you almost believe that Lord Krulu had been the one to finger you. Even if he usually likes to announce their presence before using your form. But it can't be! Your higher has been busy all day, you can feel how diminished his connection to you is right now. This is not his doing.
Paranoid, you glance behind you just to be sure that there really is no one somehow screwing with you. Predictably, you're alone.
Eyes narrowed, you pick the toy up again and reshape your approach, this time making a slow stroke up the left labia, feeling it in your right with a scary level of intensity. The quality of the material itself is strikingly life-like, not just cheap silicone. It's even... Warm? Dear Lord, it's probably the same temperature as you, as your insides. The thought has a gross kind of shiver racing up your spine. Daringly, you thumb over the imitation of your clitoris, met with direct feedback in your own body which perfectly corresponds to the tentative circular motions of your index over the sensitive bundle of nerves.
You stop the moment your knees reflexively press forward.
This... Is magic. Which puts a new candidate on the table. The thought alone makes you scoff, could Patches truly be audacious enough to do this? No. Not at all. You don't doubt he'd take a toy molded in your vague resemblance to pathetically rut into- But actually connect said thing to your body? That's already a level of courage that can't be expected of the dullahan in question.
Unless... Ah, this can be the work of his trickster counterpart. That you find more believable.
A pulse in your pocket has you setting the plaything aside to check your phone, reading the text detailing your esteemed guest's arrival.
Maintaining ties to the Rings is imperative in this stage of Krulu's vision for the future. Hell and its denizens are apparently sources of great potential in your Lord-Master's eyes, and he's been very keen in keeping close ties to the fiendish rulership of said location. You're only too happy to help forge bonds with these demonlords, which means scraping around and trying to get to know them. Ironically, it falls upon you the responsibility to tempt them into seeking contact.
Your latest endeavor of this sort involves establishing an explorative partnership with one of the demonlords' sons. He's quite the character, and now that you know he has arrived at the front of The Clergy, you can't just leave royalty waiting.
Both hands busy with texting back a hasty reply, you panic as you try to guess where you could stuff this gross little thing away. Taking it with you is not an option, there's no pocket large enough to conceal the thing and its depraved outline.
Time is not on your side.
The meeting can't take that long, can it? What if you just... Left it in one of the cupboards above the kitchenette?
Yes, and then you'll come to retrieve it, interrogate the team to find which of these losers thought it was a bright idea to play with fire.
That'll do. Hopefully.
Opening a cupboard loaded with small plates and cups, you quickly stuff the fleshlight inside and make your way over to the elevator, fixing your hair and clothes to go greet someone of great importance.
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Vinnel almost barges into the floor.
More of his coworkers had caught the ride up, talking amongst themselves idly, but the jester wasn't preoccupied with their small talk, he was ravenous.
The first item on his shift was a show he had been particularly looking forward to, an opportunity to test some bizarre new weaponry and a game whose rules he deliberated on for more than a week prior to the event itself. Needless to say, it was a display that took a lot of work, tears sweat and love poured into it- And fucking Hell did it pay off! He's ecstatic! And hungry. Starving.
Doing a good show always gets his stomach riled up.
Some flecks of blood still covering his suit, Vinnel is quick to dart to the kitchenette, ignoring anything and everything as he rummaged around for snacks that aren't there.
His temper spikes when the fridge is devoid of meals.
" Chef! " He barks, turning to the blue shroom monster in question, who is only now just setting his apron aside. Morell rises a brow. " You're slacking! "
The large monster scoffs into his scarf. " None o' you assholes got a fuckin' hint of shame, do ya?! " His locker door slams shut. " Ah ain't gonna cook for ya every single day! "
" But- What are we supposed to do then? Starve? " The waiter whines, making big twinkling magenta eyes at the other.
" Not fallin' for it. " Is Morell's flat response.
" Have you tried making your own food? " A bartender chimes in. " I know doing anything for yourself is challenging for you, but give it a try. "
" Rich coming from someone that can't cook for the life of him. "
The jester has entirely disconnected from the banter going on, a shred of hope driving him to keep searching fruitlessly. It's not as if he believes anything to be in the top shelves where cutlery is stored, but maybe one of them could be hiding some type of candy?
Slamming cabinets and cupboards open, the last thing he expects is for something to fall off them. So he nearly jumps in the air when a sizable object tumbles from the cupboard shelf right onto the carpeted ground.
The floor becomes silent, everyone stares blankly at the item in question for a pregnant pause.
Gloved orange digits pick the thing up, Vinnel bringing it closer to his mask. " Huh. "
He knows what it is exactly.
It looks very high-quality, and clean thankfully. Vinnel swears something about the model itself looks... Almost familiar. Hm. Nevertheless, laugher starts bubbling out his chest and he sways his head, juggling the thing.
" Ohohohoho!! " The next time the toy falls, Vinnel grips it viciously and points the thing right at-
" Morell! Such interesting kitchen utensils you have here... "
" Wha- That ain't mine! " The shroom retorts a little too fast.
" Suure. Then why was it in the cupboard, buddy? "
There's a glare, people around the chef are beginning to murmur amongst themselves.
" Like Hell ah know! For all I fuckin' know, ya could'a been tha one to put it there and fake tha whole thing- 'S yours! "
Vinnel titters, clapping as best as he can with his occupied hand. " Oh no, you think that lowly of little old me? " A feigned gesture of offense is met with no sympathy from the rest of the staff team, who do, in fact, think that lowly of the jester. " Unfortunately no, I don't usually perform tricks with fucktoys... Not the silicone ones anyway. "
" Well it ain't mine. " Morell insists. " Which one o' ya little sickos put a fuckin' pocket pussy in the kitchen? "
The suited performer, still vaguely examining the thing, finding it to be a little heavier than most of these toys tend to be given the materials involved in their manufacturing, swivels his head towards the next suspect.
" Sex pest! "
Santi, already very interested in the turn of events this day is taking, smiles as if just having been complimented. " Yes? "
" Why did you put your fucktoy here? " The performer looms over his demonic coworker, accusatory and demeaning. " So we could find it? So you could be gross about it, hm? "
The incubus hums, eyes on the toy rather than his frilled coworker. " Mm no, that's not my toy sweetheart. Though do let me have a closer look, maybe I can find a trace of our dirty little culprit... "
" Liar! " Vinnel spits.
Santi chuckles, making a move to grab the object yet thwarted when Vinnel angles it away.
" And why would I lie, love? If it was mine I'd tell you readily. I've brought toys to work before, haven't I? Never lied about it. "
And he's right, much to the jester's chagrin. The incubus could bring a cum-soaked dildo into this floor shamelessly, he wouldn't lie about a fleshlight.
Vinnel growls and floats back to point it directly at Nebul, but the shopkeeper beats him to the punch.
" I do not bring items from the shop into the break floor. Furthermore, I don't recognize that model. Does it have a brand? "
The jester checks, flipping the thing in all angles only to find neither words nor numbers printed anywhere. He glances to the crowd around him again, gears turning, machinating, until his attention falls on the dullahan, making Vinnel dart to him.
" You've been far too quiet this whole time, gourd brains... " He accuses, painted eyes narrowing.
Patches flusters, arms raised and leaning back. " What- What do you want me to say? I don't- "
That vegetable expression shifts suddenly, going from uncomfortable and anxious to complete focus. It's enough to make the jester tilt his head. " What? "
" That thing is brimming with magic. " He points out, leaning closer as if the gesture could reveal more by itself.
" ... Is it now? " Vinnel won't lie. It's a possibility. The fleshlight looks and feels anything but normal.
" You- You do know what that means, right? " Patches fumbles, squirming in mild discomfort. Those green cheeks acquire a tint that makes the jester's eyes roll in irritation behind his mask.
" Oh do fucking enlighten me, you masochistic kabocha. "
" Boys, boys- " Santi starts, tail wagging as he wedges himself between the two men. " We're missing the point. I've seen this before. That little thing is connected to some poor sap. And, if I'm not suddenly visually impaired, it looks extremely human to me. "
Another moment of silence stretches across the room
The jester's inked grin widens, and armed with a brand new realization, he starts feathering his digits along the edges of the pocket pussy's entrance, paying close attention to it. His mask nearly falls off when the thing physically seems to twitch. Uhuhu!
" No. " Belo begins, pointing a trembling finger at the demon. " You wouldn't dare suggest- "
" That our lovely Administrator has sent us a gift? " Santi challenges, tone sultry. " But of course, Belo! This is a reward for our hard work, and ohh, I just can't wait to make the most of it. "
Vinnel has now managed to slip one finger inside, completely tuned off to the conversation happening right next to him. Shock of all shocks, the thing hugs his digit as if it were real. And, as he experimentally removes the intrusion, a sheen of what can only be arousal wets his gloves. It really is you. He just fingered you. Hah!
" Filthy beast! You shall not touch that, this can't be right. " The angel's wings flex and twitch in growing agitation. As always, he seems very eager to try to choke the life out of Santi- And he would, if he didn't already know that the demon would immediately salaciously get off on it.
" But what if it is? What if she wants us all to take turns, experience her supple little cunt? " He taunts, surfing the room, gouging the reactions of his coworkers as most of them flush with sudden want at the idea. Yes, they like it as much as he does, Santi's just honest about it. " Would you reject her gift, Belo? "
The power in question is puffed like an angered parakeet, a myriad of emotions warring in those expressive, large eyes. " Control that foul tongue of yours lest I rip it off your worthless mouth and make your depraved clients very disappointed. "
" One day you'll revel in your own perversions. " He says it calmly, as if it were fact, grinning when the angel prepares another outburst.
" Guys. "
Vinnel is now two fingers deep into the magical fleshlight, a stupefied look on his face as he finds the toy -You- Welcoming him without resistance. You clench around him. Gods, he can't wait to stuff his cock in there, to fuck you, to rail you knowing that you can't do anything to stop him. At least not until you find him. Oh, he could make a game out of it!
" She's practically dripping. " The jester pulls both fingers out, spreading them to showcase a film of arousal between both digits.
" She's... Enjoying this. " Patches murmurs, breathy, fixated on the dirty gleam.
" Alright, if you're done being manchildren, I want to go first. " The slime suddenly pipes up, moving in on the stage performer.
" My ass you will! " Grimbly gets in the way, scoffing.
Vinnel finds a crowd of monsters suddenly gather around him, hands twitching for the item in his hands, eyes glinting like wolves corralling a chicken in its coop.
" Give me that, jester, it needs to be secured somewhere safely- "
" No no, give it to me, I'll make her feel so good! "
" Maybe if I have it, I- I can tell whose magic this is. "
" It was in mah cupboard, maybe she wants me ta be first! "
" Nuh uh!! " The jester suddenly shouts, floating higher in the air. " Finders keepers! Piss off! "
An ashy hand clamps around his ankle, jostling the bells there. " Were you not accusing us of being perverse? Let us take that dirty thing off your hands. " Nebul beckons.
As he's tugged down, Vinnel deforms his limbs inside his suit to twist away from the hands pawing at him. Growling, he pulls away, towards the window, towards the outside. If he can make it through the window, a significant portion of the staff team will be halted in their pursuit. He might get to hide with the toy and keep it all for himself.
Gallon, anticipating this, moves fast. Yellow tendrils coil over both the jester's legs and waist, trying to pull the extended arm back into the room even as Vinnel tries his damndest to keep it at out, his arm bending weirdly inside its red sleeve.
" Fuck off! All of you sad sacks of shit- This is MINE! " The slime gargles and screams, other hand clinging to the tall window's edge as tightly as possible. " I found it! "
" Stop strugglin' boy. We gonna talk this out. " The chef chuckles, successfully using brute strength to start pulling him inside.
The others help. He's fighting a losing battle and he knows it.
As soon as the performer feels a disturbance in the fabric of his suit's composition, he freezes. Primal, soul-shaking terror, grabs a hold of his body and he gasps, shrieking as he drops both hands to instantly claw, kick and try to mangle whoever's about to possibly rip his suit.
There's a chorus of pained cries and he's thrown to the ground, clinging to his form for dear life. Literally. Because if anything opened, he would potentially leak to the carpet and meet his end very quickly.
" Gah-! You useless clown! He dropped it! " The bat squeals, a high-pitched noise that grates on everyone's ears.
Vinnel startles. His possible panic attack and frantic body checking is halted by the sudden realization that yes, he did drop the fleshlight in his panic. That means...
The orange and purple menace stumbles to a stand shoving the group bent over the window aside to poke his head out and see for himself where the sex toy landed. After a few grunts and curses, the view is revealed.
On the grass of the garden outside the building, the toy landed sideways, rolling aimlessly over mutated flowers that lean away from the unidentified object. There's a beat of stillness.
Everyone knows it's only a matter of time until the thing is retrieved, possibly by a client, which means they'd have to waste time hunting for a random loser before getting to their prize. They exchange stares, aware that as soon as someone moves, the hunt is one, the game starts.
And yet, before even a step towards the elevator is taken, the scene below them changes.
A bench sat some distance away uncurls, black iron body turning into a grayed gangly mass with a wooden chest for a head, teeth poking out of it. Said monster seems to stretch himself before moving on all fours to inspect the thing.
Sybastian squats, picks up the fleshlight. Although his eyes are hidden in the great darkness of his objectum head, everyone can practically see the gears turning in his head.
The mimic glances up, perplexed yellow eyes staring dubiously at his coworkers.
" Syb. " Patches calls, reaching a hand out. " That is very special, leave it there. Do not touch it- "
Too late.
" No! No!! "
He found a toy, he's going to play with it. Sybastian starts hurriedly moving out of view.
" Motherfucker! I'll gut you! " Vinnel screeches, banging uselessly on the building's exterior.
" Blasted mimic... " Belo is the first to peel off the window. " What do we do now?! "
" Well... " Morell sighs, pulling his apron back on while everyone sulks and simmers.
" We go huntin'. "
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Huh.
Isn't that one way to wake up...
Sybastian's nap had been disturbed when he sensed an impact nearby. It couldn't have been something very large, but part of his hunting routine involves being in that fine line between resting and alert enough to sense the faintest vibrations, categorize them as noteworthy or not on a subconscious level. His curiosity had him rising anyway, shedding his disguise and following the direction of the sound until he found...
A sex toy.
In the middle of the grass.
His eyes don't deceive him, he knows what kind of toy this is, has seen them in the undead's shop. They're the kind you can fuck into, small and convenient.
He was unsure as to why such a thing had been tossed out, so he looked around and found most of his coworkers already fixed on him. It didn't take a genius to piece together the fact that they had been likely squabbling over the thing.
Yet, oddly, it didn't smell used. In fact, it featured an odor Sybastian could swear he's had his face buried in before.
The mischief of his nature acted up, and the mimic crawled away with the toy held in his maw.
He knows the rest of them will come looking for him immediately, so the mimic scurries deep into the less stable parts of the garden- Where Hellion tends to dwell. The parts that can shift, remold and relocate themselves in the blink of an eye as the establishment periodically "refreshes" itself. It's a gamble, he admits, but it's the only place staff will hesitate to enter due to its volatile nature. Sybastian is more well-equipped to deal with these areas, given he spends most of the time in the garden, has learned many of its tricks.
Let them bump around like blind moles.
Eventually, Sybastian finds an area dense in plantlife, a good distance away from the main building already, and sensing no approaching threats, the mimic seats himself next to a wide trunk, spitting his conquest into his hands and taking the time to examine it.
It's a fancy fuck-pocket alright.
Curious about the scent, he drags the thin end of his tongue across the length of the artificial pussy, eyes widening when taste hits him. Not just any taste, arousal and wetness and- Human. A human he's put that same roving muscle upon before.
You.
Sybastian is certain these things aren't meant to have such specific tastes. He's not sure how such a thing came into being, a carbon sort of copy of your cunt, but he understands why the others were fighting over it. Syb would too.
A little thrill crawls along the length of his spine.
No time to waste, he better make use of this before he's accosted by a swarm of angry monsters.
The mimic drools and smiles as he pushes a good portion of his deep blue tongue past sweet folds and into the surprisingly warm, hugging insides of the toy. He removes his loincloth hastily and palms his already chubbing cock to the thought of you flipping your work outfit up and spreading yourself out so he can have full access to that puffy pussy. The mental image of your provocative, inviting smile while you grab onto the fat of your ass has him moaning, dick pulsing.
Fucking the pathetic little escapists is one thing, but nothing beats your delicious, perfect holes. You have everyone here by the balls and Sybastian is no different.
Releasing a filthy murr of anticipation, the mimic's shackles rattle as he brings the now thoroughly slobbered pocket pussy down, teasing it along the head of his cock.
Oh, if all of them feel this real then he really has to bother Nebul for one.
Sybastian swears he feels it quiver against his length, panting as soon as he starts sinking it onto his thick length. The moment his tip pops in, he rumbles, feeling its walls immediately clinging to him, spasming in such a life-like manner he can't help bucking into it, greedily and impatiently stuffing more of himself into the exceptionally pleasurable fucktoy.
He couldn't take it slow even if he wanted to, claws curling viciously around the purple tube as he starts jerking himself off with it in earnest, loud groans echoing amidst his panting. It feels exactly like you! Hot and tight and spongy and so so good, he loves to fuck you- This is going to be his favorite toy ever.
Syb's hips snap into a grossly desperate rhythm, a lurid plap of skin on wet artificial skin as his balls hit it with every senseless rut upwards. His maw closes slightly, the mimic's eyes glaze and he pictures you there. On his lap, back turned to him, juicy ass on full display while you put both palms on his gangly knees and ride the monster for all he's worth, milking his cock and drooling like you've never had better.
Gods, if Sybastian focuses enough, he can almost feel the softness of your rump on him with each thrust. He wishes he could grab onto your waist, onto the cushion there, and use you the same way he's using this copy to breed into.
You're the hottest, prettiest little human he'll ever have the opportunity to stuff himself into.
There isn't a single intelligent thought in Sybastian's head when he starts grinding the pocket-pussy down, the tensing of his legs and abdomen bringing him ever closer to that sweet release, and he's looking forward to flooding the fucktoy full of his cum, feeling it clench heavenly around him the same it has been for a while now.
With one last, obscenely loud slap of his meat into the fleshlight, Sybastian howls and throbs hard, coming undone with great intensity and melting onto the grassy ground, the feeling of his own hot jizz spurting out the toy and leaking past his balls to coat this thighs a depraved sign of his victory.
He lies there, boneless from his own orgasm, hand still clumsily dragging your toy up and down his now spent cock, and all is well for a blissful moment.
...
Until-
" Bravo. Mm, good show... "
Sybastian peers up, not as sharp as he would be now that he's disoriented from cumming. A pair of glowing green eyes poise on him, and none other than the incubus makes it past the foliage of this part of the garden.
He's vaguely surprised the other was brave enough to come here.
" What? " Santi places a hand to his hip. " Thought I wouldn't find you? I could smell you getting off like a rabid animal, you need more than greenery to hide from me. "
Fair. Syb was being loud too. He doesn't let go of the toy however, suspiciously allowing the demon to lewdly scheme the dirty mess between his legs.
" Hand me the fleshlight, love. "
There's a growl. Santi frowns.
" Oh come now, you greedy slut, I'll make sure you get something out of it too. " He lulls, drawing closer slowly, to the point where he stands in front of the mimic, before crouching.
Sybastian keeps growling faintly, pulling out of the fleshlight to hold it away from the high-ranker, a gross pool of cum still oozing off the recently used thing. He doesn't miss the way the incubus' nostrils flare.
" Why, I'll even tell you a little secret, hm? "
Santi crawls between the mimic's legs, collecting a bead of the monster's cum and putting it to his mouth, luridly sucking the fluid off his finger before spitting onto his palm and using it to stroke Sybastian.
What begins as overstimulated shocks that force his legs to twitch and squirm away is forcibly turned into a brand new wave of arousal and need. He doesn't fight it, letting himself get stimulated anew and only offering a little bit of resistance when Santi pulls the fucktoy out of his grasp.
If he's here... Where are the others?
" What if I told you this little thing here- " Santi starts, selfishly and deliberately fingering globs of cum out of the toy for his own amusement. Syb notes the rigid length bobbing between his coworker's dark thighs. " Is loaded with magic? "
A toothy head tilts in confusion. Sybastian kind of assumed there was something unknown at play here, he just can't tell the implications.
" You can smell it, right? You know who this reminds you of. "
Syb's eyes widen.
" Did you also know that this fleshlight is connected to our Admin? She felt everything you just did to her, Sybastian. " The incubus chuckles, letting his drool seep onto the rim of your pussy, then spreading the aphrodisiac fluid over your lips, circling you clit with it languidly.
Sybastian doesn't need to be a scientist to know you're probably losing your mind by now.
" Oh you fucked her open like a rabid bull. I wish I could see her state right now- I bet she's sweating a storm in her clothes, her own cum and wetness dripping down her legs, too cock-drunk to speak! What a good job you did... "
Sybastian spaces off slightly, picturing what the results of his careless and selfish fucking must have reduced you to. He almost feels bad, if the image the Lust demon painted in his head wasn't so awfully erotic. He literally used you.
" Mmm, now, let's give her something to really scream about, big boy. "
In a blur of movement, Santi presses against the gray monster, both lengths squeezed together, pumped hastily a couple times but with practiced precision that makes Syb groan. And then, much to his growing amusement and shock, the incubus hovers your toy above them both, strings of falling seed used to further lubricate both of them.
The demon looks to be burning with anticipation, shuddering as he presses the thing down.
" ... Won't. Fit. " The mimic eventually mumbles, wondering if Santi's intent is to actually rip you open.
" Don't be silly- " There's a rasped snicker. " I've seen her bounce on Lord Krulu's lap. Just lie back and let me make this memorable for the three of us. "
It's a stretch. A fat stretch, but it seems the magical properties of the toy are indeed aligned with your own physical limitations, because the fleshlight gradually accepts both monsters, clenching with mind-melting pressure against both leaking cocks.
Santi is the first to moan low and needy, claws sinking into the bark of the tree his coworker leans against so he can steady himself in the face of such sudden ecstasy. Sybastian follows with his own trill, their members twitching and pulsing, trapped against each other, within you.
When Syb makes a disoriented motion to try and grasp the thing, make it move over them both, the incubus snaps his teeth at him in a language the other understands, determined to control the pace. And control he does, viciously pumping them both off, twisting, grinding the thing frequently.
A pace that would otherwise certainly chafe both males is now sloppy and soaked, lubricated by Syb's seed, your wetness and Santi's precum. They fuck themselves silly, trading groans and frantically bumping their hips, one moment thrusting in perfect sync, the next selfishly seeking their own pleasure.
The incubus' tongue hangs and he tosses his head back when a certain familiar pace of contractions around him is felt.
" Oh- Ohhh fuck- " He calls to the other. " Feel that? Yeah? " Sybastian nods and makes a strangled ambiguous noise. " She's cumming. Hard. "
Both of them grow fevered, preening at the knowledge.
" I hope she's fucking screaming. I hope she's trying to guess who we are. "
The fiend had always been too good with his obscene little comments, Sybastian's second, overstimulated orgasm is flayed out of him with no ounce of mercy. Santi gets almost hysterical with the conquest, getting high off the power he's exerting over both you and the mimic, climbing to his peak and letting his eyes roll back when the first pulses of an approaching end seize him.
The only reason he doesn't scream when he's suddenly grabbed by the horns is because there was already little breath in his lungs to begin with.
A pair of metallic, sticker-adorned arms loom from above, rigged hands wrenching his head back to face a slightly cracked visor displaying a deceitfully friendly face.
" 1'll B3 t4k1Ng 7H4t N0w. :] "
Fuck.
His robotic coworker uses superior reflexes to grab the toy, wrench it off both monsters, and bolt out of sight with surprising speed for a being of such immense density.
Instincts claw at the hellish monster. He only stands there for a stunned second, clutching nothing but air, before he's snarling like a feral creature and racing after the party bot, pushing many of his other coworkers away.
Grimbly gains on all of them, but when the incubus drops onto all fours the two collide and roll away in a mess of shouting limbs.
Gallon passes by them and laughs, then gets lashed aside by a whip lit on dullahan fire.
Vinnel is thrown across the garden, apparently launched away by Fank-e cackling in the distance.
This isn't ending any time soon...
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pupcha · 7 months
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🦋💌
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(i take too much canvas size, so Tumbrl does not want to insert sketches in one line 😔😔)
more more more!!
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the second sketch was drawn back in August, so don't pay attention to the fact that it is so different from everything lol ☝️🤓
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support
and now there will be random sketches that you haven't seen yet (I think I should show them because this is my art account—)
Margo for @//thelone-copper
old and new design. tbh i wanted to draw another mob version, but I don't have enough strength 😮‍💨
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this is a gift for @//clownsuu's birthday (which was September 21-22. my time zone is very different, so I didn't understand the exact date 😔💥). I liked this silly sketch, so why don't I show it to you
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🤭🤫 yeah, this is not an illusion. my WH oc is under development
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so, why I started drawing so rarely:: I'm trying to cope with my bad thoughts that tell me that I'm drawing nonsense that no one needs. I want to somehow stand out among other artists, so I put myself in a stupid frame that significantly slows down the process of drawing..... and also I get very tired because of the things in my life—
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garoujo · 6 months
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I GOT GOJO CAT LATTE ART UEUEUE
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and also some of the totoro cream puffs :< SO CUTE !
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riotvandemofan · 3 months
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A young curious deer becomes a boY
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carehounds · 2 years
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may i request some fluffy fluffybird art 👉👈
(ps love your art, makes me want to start drawing dhmis again)
Yeas......
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parkercore-69 · 2 months
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LETS GO GUYS IM TEMPORARILY THE HEADER IMAGE FOR THE TROBED TAG !!
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abovethefoldd · 23 days
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just sharing ben’s promo for she loves me in FL !! :3
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balu8 · 3 months
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Gary Frank: Dream and Delirium
Source comicartfans
Dream & Delirium (of the Endless), in barney  the cantankerous's Sandman: Unpublished Comic Art Gallery Room (comicartfans.com)
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partoftheairforce · 7 months
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i am hyperventilating
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8bit-mau5 · 24 days
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Some preclaimed adopts from Easter! The easter theme was totally by accident tbh, but anyways, I adored tehse adopts so much and i've been having a lot of fun with this base i got from @/dino__desu 🥺💙💙 To think these started cos i wanted to practice more with fem designs and clothing.. very proud of these dresses :'3
The left belongs to @kingmel0n and the right belongs to @ramgodd / @huahualania now 💙
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dailyfrank · 11 months
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eldritch-spouse · 4 months
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How would the Cergy react if their darling asked them, "When you get tired of me, will you kill me quickly?"
Morell: " ... Tha Hell's ya on about so early? " (He squints like you're irritating him) " Yer hungry, right? "
Gallon: " I'd tell you to have a drink, but it's far too early. So go on, tell me what has you in such a foul mood. "
Patches: (He frowns) " ... Firefly, you know you'll only die when the time to make you an undead comes. I've already planned the whole thing out. "
Santi: " Hmm, I'm going to start waking you up with head, it might help that morning misery. "
Grimbly: (The bat scoffs) " Oh, and I'm the dramatic one. Sure. "
Nebul: " Of course, you've behaved very well this far, I see no point in torturing my favorite pet. "
Vinnel: (He hacks out a laugh) " Poppet, have I ever killed anyone quickly? "
Fank-e: (You're stared at for several seconds) " ... L0L WH47? "
Sybastian: (He seems greatly confused by the outburst) " ... Why? "
Belo: (His entire body seems to puff) " B- But do I look like some beast to you?! "
Krulu: (He barely even rolls his eyes) " Your faulty memory irritates me. As my vessel and chosen, you will die however I see fit. "
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spectrerie · 1 year
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Your Simon
Simon Riley x reader (gn I'm 99% sure)
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TW: toxic!Simon, whump, captivity, psychological torture(?), kidnapping, yandere!Simon, maybe don't read this if you're only comfortable with fluff and light smut... even though there no smut in this (maybe I'll add an epilogue or sm idk)
Approx 2k words, random drabble. wrote this at 4 am, un-betad. Let's not nitpick, yeah? Cool.
Simon knew you were fragile, but he didn’t think you could be so easy to break. This was his third deployment since he’d met you. The third since he’d pulled you into his life. At first you’d been panicked, indignant and ungrateful. You didn’t understand the significance of his actions. Every detail meticulously planned out, every minute aspect of your stay without him accounted for. You just had to stop fighting him and start fighting for yourself. Fight to stay alive, just like him. He just wanted to share this with you, why wouldn’t you let him?
“Don’t worry, Love, I’ll be back in no time. You won’t even get a chance to miss me.” His hand stayed on the back of your head, fingers locked in your hair, holding your head up so you could look into his eyes. So you could watch him lie to you. You knew the routine well at this point. 
First the devil may care Ghost would ply you with cheeky taunts to smooth out your concern. His abrasiveness would wear you down, polish you into a reflection of himself. 
Despite yourself you began to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. In the beginning it wasn’t him you had missed. It was the promise of regular meals, and fresh water. Baths. Heating. Freedom. Now he was the centre of your world. He was your everything. 
While he was deployed you didn’t know how long you’d be left to stew in your own sweat and the grime of the basement he’d thrown you in. The smell of dust and mold hung heavy in the air down here. Soon the smell of your body would join them creating a fetid blend that would stay in your nostrils for weeks after your release. If you lived that long. The single hanging bulb barely illuminating your surroundings, not that there was much to see.  
Gallons of water lined one of the walls, at least a dozen of them neatly tucked from one dusty corner to another. You’d count them in earnest when he left you. Your mind was to panicked now to begin the frantic calculations of how long you could stretch your supplies. Just in case. 
Two boxes of hardtack biscuits and cans of god only knew what were neatly pressed up against another.  At times you feared he’d been feeding you cat food. You’d opened cans of greying meat floating in gelatinous gravy, other times the cans contained some kind of soup. Either way you’d choke it down cold. 
A part of you loved it here, you felt closer to him. You were a soldier too. This is where you’d live or die. Your battlefield.
His hand left your head and he went to the centre of the room where a small metal cot with a thin mattress stood. No pillow or duvet, but at least he’d given you a thick itchy woollen blanket. Army surplus to complete your private barracks. You’d earned the cot after weeks of good behaviour, no crying, no useless begging, no disobedience. A luxurious upgrade from the sheets of cardboard he’d left you to sleep on during his previous deployments. You followed before he even turned to call you, taking a seat on the mattress. 
“Will you miss me, pet?” He asked, coaxing your chin up with a gloved finger. 
“Yes, of course” you said between sobs. He huffed out a humourless laugh, and stroked your head. 
He hardly had to grind you down anymore, soon Ghost gave way to Simon. The mask he wore over his soul fell away, leaving behind the raw and broken boy he’d been before he learnt being someone else was as easy as covering his face. Part two of your dance begun.
The tears you thought you’d controlled began to fall again, pouring out of your tired eyes as you looked up at him. Your protector and captor. The man who told you everyday he’d die without you, the same man who held your life in his hands. 
“Please, please, Si… don’t forget about me here. Please.” The last word came out as a choked sob as you pressed your face against his thighs. Begging him to let you go was useless. You knew the steps now. Let him lead you, let yourself need him. Let him have something to control, someone who wouldn’t disappoint him. Someone he didn’t have to pretend with, unless he wanted to. 
“All you have to do is survive, pet. Same as me.” He knelt down in front of you, dark eyes shining with a mania that told you he was past pleading with. “All we have to do is survive. Think of me while you’re fighting in here, yeah? And I’ll be thinking of you out there. You’ll think of me won’t you? Hmm?” 
You nodded. 
“So say it.” 
Gathering yourself, you pulled away from him, eye to eye it was easier to believe the words that tumbled out of your mouth. 
“I’ll be thinking of you Si, so please, please,” your voice began to quake with unshed tears, “please come back to me. I’ll die without you.” 
You knew he was smiling beneath his mask. His hands came up to cradle your head, his grip too tight to be anything but a reminder of the control he had over you. 
“Of course you would. We need each other, don’t we?” 
You nodded and said your well rehearsed line. “We love each other.”
He watched you weep for a while, and you knew a part of him felt sick with himself. If he returned, if you lived, he’d tell you as much when he came home. 
The realisation that this was your home hit harder down here, puling more tortured sobs out of you as he watched. You weren’t sure if the ragged breaths you heard were yours or his. 
“Simon, Simon” you chanted his name over and over as you cried, like a prayer to a long dead god. He stood above you, within reach. One touch and you’d know he was real. But you cried out his name, and he watched. Until watching became too much and the sound of his name was punctuated with the sound of his boots ascending the stairs. 
The sound of a key turning.
And then the silence. 
— — — 
You counted the days by litres of water, cold canned meals, and fitful slashes sleep. 
One of each a day. 
No cheating. 
You recited songs in your mind, the lyrics painted dark by the deep gravely voice of your thoughts. Simon’s voice. 
You imagined a life with Simon, a life different from this. Those dreams were all that kept you sane. If this was sanity. 
A life with sunshine and tenderness that didn’t have to be earned. With music and hot food, baths together. The warmth of his body against yours. Every dream began and ended with the sound of a key turning, the creak of the old cellar door, deep lungfuls of fresh air. 
After meals and before sleep you’d press your nose to the tiny blacked out window. Taking deep breaths of the English countryside before closing it again. Air when were awake, warmth when you slept. These rules and rituals were what kept you alive here. Hell was rolling green hills and cloudy skies. Hell had no one around for miles. Hell and home were two sides of the same coin.
The same countryside he’d offered to show you when you’d first began dating him. You recounted those first few dates with him often. Combing your mind for any sign of the man he’d turn out to be. 
It had been too soon for a weekend away, you told yourself this time and time again. Turning your captivity against yourself in your darkest moments was a game you hated but still played. What fool would take a trip with a man they barely knew.? You hadn’t even known him for two full months when you went away with him. Your 6th date. This may have been the longest date in history. 
Sometimes you thought of your friends and your family. Were they worried? Were the little dribs and drabs of communication Simon let you have with them enough to keep them satiated. Had they stopped caring, like Simon said they would. 
He often told you the family a person was born into was rarely their true family. Like his. You knew pieces of the life he rarely spoke about. The father he hated, the mother he pitied. The brother he held complex, painful feelings for. You hardly heard about him at all. You suspected he was the only person outside of the 141 Simon cared about. Maybe the only person he truly loved. 
Did he love you? Actually love you?
Could he? 
Another litre, another can.  Another day. 
— — — 
The creak of the old cellar door woke you, as usual. You’d long since stopped running up the steps when you heard it, not trusting your mind to be honest with you. 
“Baby? Are you awake, Love?” 
You didn’t believe it. You couldn’t. The disappointment would hurt to much. 
The sound of heavy boots descending the stairs drew something out of you, but yet you still couldn’t let yourself believe it was real. That you had survived. Again. 
Warm fingers caressed your cheek, tracing the shape of your eyes and nose, until they finally settled on your neck, below your jaw. A beat passed in tense silence, you could still be dreaming.
A shaky breath that wasn’t yours filled the room, “thank god.” You opened your eyes, and he was there. A dark figure against the light, stoic among the swirling flecks of dust in the air. 
“Si?” Your voice was weak and hoarse from who knew how many weeks of disuse. 
He nodded, lifting you from your cot with ease. Holding your body against his tightly as he brought you up the stairs. Your eyes fluttered against the light, the early evening sun cutting  through you until you help your eyes tightly closed.
You heard him shush you softly before you realised you’d been crying. 
“Si,” you said again and you felt him hold you closer. 
“I know baby, I know. I’m so proud of you. We made it.” 
He set you down on the edge of the bath and began the careful work of peeling your filthy clothes off. 
The final chords of this tragic, disgusting song had begun, and your dance was ending. 
He washed you gently, tears in his eyes as he rinsed away the layers of pain he’d caused you. 
He spoke to you in gentle tones, barely above a whisper, as though any loud noise would send you into shock. He didn’t wait for your responses, knowing you were too exhausted to give any. 
“It’s okay, pet. It’s okay, you’re safe now. You’re out. You’re out.
“Were you scared? I know baby, I know how scary it was, but you’re safe now. I’ll never let anything happen to you, never. You’re too important, I love you so much, pet. Too much.” 
You let the hot water and his words baptise you, remaking you under the heat of his love for you. He washed every part of you, yet nothing felt as intimated as when he washed your hair, stroking your head gently as he cried and promised you things you weren’t sure would ever come to be. 
When you were clean he wrapped you in a towel and left to get you something to wear. 
Was that you? Was that really you in the mirror? Chapped lips, large sunken eyes, your cheeks were hollow and your skin dull, your natural undertone wiped away and replaced with a pallid grey. When he came back you still couldn’t look away from the person in the mirror. He placed a pair of sweatpants and one of his t shirts on the heater and closed the door, giving you time to settle back into yourself. Your new self. 
You hated him. You hated him for doing this to you, making you this person. 
You opened the cabinet and went through the minor motions of humanity. Brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, and pulling the t-shirt on mechanically. You left the bottoms folded, knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep them on no mater how tightly you tied them. He was just too big, and you were just too small. 
You clutched a hair band in your hand, knowing he’d want to tie your hair back. He loved doing those small things for you. And you hated him for it. 
When you shuffled into the bedroom you stood in the doorway, watching you with a grief in his eyes as though he hand’t done this to you. 
He pulled you close, picking you up and laying you gently on the bed. The mattress felt obscene after weeks on the cot, you wept again and hated him for turning you into this person, a person that cried at everything. A person who knew what it felt like to sleep on the floor. Someone who felt blessed to have a bed. 
He took his place beside you, and you pulled yourself close, holding your body to the curves and edges of his. His arms wound around you and pinned you to him, his lips brushed your forehead and you felt his tears fall, running down your cheeks and mixing with yours.
“I was so scared without you. I really thought I wasn’t gonna make it this time.” 
“Me too, Si.”
You understood how much he needed this, how much he needed to be the villain, how much he needed to hate himself before he could go into hell and be a good soldier. So he could come back home a hero, a rescuer. Your protector. 
Your Simon.
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