Hell is Empty, And All The Devils Are Here @fatedforhell-blog - Tumblr Blog

Permanent Hiatus.

This blog is closed. I’m not deleting it because there’s an off-chance I may get a wild hair to write it again, but for now - nothing new will be coming from here.

#(ooc | out of hell)

subtleelevation-deactivated2018

Allison Scagliotti

#(face | georgie)#(post | georgie)

Hiatus Notice

This blog is on a mostly-full-hiatus until the end of May. I’ll continue to work (VERY SLOWLY) on plotted threads, but I won’t be taking on any new things until I’m out of school. <3

#(ooc | out of hell)

Dearest Darling Alaric. On the occasion of it being Friday (I think). xoxoxoxo PS also comes with a free BJ.

PPS I’m drunk.

You cook? That wasn’t in the portfolio...

Come on over. Door’s unlocked.

#v; murder by numbers #(post | alaric)#submission

mysticfallssource

#(face | alaric)#(post | alaric)

ricsidiotbestfriend

bureau regulations || dalaric

fatedforhell-blog

ricsidiotbestfriend:

Climbing the stairs with a hard-on was interesting. What made it harder – the ache? Or the fact that literally all of the blood in his brain had rushed south, and coordination was of less interest to him right then than doing something about it?

Alaric’s room was the same as Damon’s, or rather, the mirror image, except that it looked like a home, with clothes on the floor and bedding that looked somewhat broken in (not as much as it was about to be; rawr). Damon eagerly let himself be pushed against the wall, hips rolling against Alaric’s as he felt that mouth against his neck, those hands beginning to explore his body.

Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

“Almost wish I was still fully dressed,” he mumbled. His lips were almost sore; he hadn’t been kissed that thoroughly in… well, years. Maybe ever. He leaned against the wall, and caught the edge of his sleep pants with his thumbs, pushing them down slowly, revealing more stomach, a snail trail that led to a thatch of dark hair. Alaric was a hell of a lot more fun to look at. So masculine, with that hair on his chest, and muscles won doing actual work, not hanging out in gyms. Chasing bad guys, hot. “One of these days I’ll give you a good old-fashioned strip tease that ends with two thirds of a blowjob on the couch. You should get a pole installed.”

Fuck it. He pushed the flimsy pants the rest of the way over his hips, letting them fall to the ground. He closed his hand around his cock; though he never broke eye contact, his eyelids might have fluttered somewhat for a moment there.

“I hope you fuck like you kiss,” he said. He stepped closer to the bed, and climbed up onto it, on his knees, straddling Alaric’s thighs. With their faces an inch apart, Damon licked his lips, and took another long look at Alaric’s mouth, red and hungry. He swiped his tongue along Alaric’s bottom lip, and pushed the shirt off his shoulders, almost purring at the feel of the rich muscle he could feel beneath his hand. “I’ve been wondering about both since you walked into that interrogation room.”

It seemed only fair to give Alaric warning that he had about thirty seconds to pull the plug on this before he found that Damon was capable of getting seriously attached way too quickly. Maybe they should pause for a cup of tea and discuss the ramifications? Or, nope. He could let Alaric find out in his own sweet time.

“Get the pants off,” he said, rolling out of Alaric’s lap, stretching out on the bed behind him for a second – okay, the intention had been to lie there looking as fuckable as possible for however long it took for Alaric to get the rest of the way naked, but in no time, he was up on his knees, crowding close behind him, nuzzling against his neck, the back of his ear.

“And tell me you’ve got lube. I’m not what you’d call patient,” he growled, one hand moving down Alaric’s stomach, the other reaching up to tip his chin back for an over-the shoulder kiss.

I hope you fuck like you kiss.

“Only one way to find out.” Alaric’s voice was a growl, low and nearly threatening with those words. He was attempting to drown out the voice at the back of his mind that was whispering what a terrible idea this was. Whispering. A step up, he supposed, from the screaming that same voice had been doing prior to tonight.

Or a step backward, depending on how one looked at it.

Ric wiggled backward, helping Damon with his attempts to remove his shirt (and cursing himself for not wearing easily-to-rid clothing. He needed to change his wardrobe, apparently). Then his hands were once again wandering – up Damon’s thighs, across the expanse of his lower back, until Ric could pull him flush against his body and taste those lips once more.

Alaric smiled once the kiss was broken and Damon issued his command. He stood (incredibly difficult given his raging hard-on, and the fact that he’d just been grabbed by an apparent octopus), and began to clumsily push too-tight jeans down his hips.

Yup, definitely time for a new wardrobe if this was going to become a habit.

“Side drawer,” he said, nodding his head back toward the small black table on the left side of the bed. “Condoms too. I don’t use them often…but you know…emergency.” There. He didn’t want Damon to think he was dragging home people every weekend, but there had been a couple of overnight visits. Nothing recently.

Fuck, he hoped they weren’t expired.

He turned mid-kiss, using his knees to crawl back on the bed even as he kept them locked in the kiss. Walking them backward, Alaric kept going until he could push Damon down on the bed – body molding into the pillows and sheets as if they were made for him. Ric wasn’t going to dwell on how perfect he looked there…how right it seemed.

Closing a hand around Damon’s cock, he worked slowly at first – fist sliding up his shaft experimentally, testing, teasing, seeing what made his new lover twitch. His thumb swiped over the tip as his lips moved along Damon’s throat. “Tell me what feels good, what you like…what you want. I want this to be good for you, Damon.”

#ricsidiotbestfriend #v; murder by numbers #p; bureau regulations #nsfw #(post | alaric)

allroundlostcause

vampirediaries

TOP 20 VAMPIRE DIARIES CHARACTERS ♛ (AS VOTED BY MY FOLLOWERS) 15. Enzo St. John

#(face | enzo)#(post | enzo)

subtleelevation-deactivated2018

Allison Scagliotti

#(face | georgie)#(post | georgie)

cognacandchess-blog

whiling away the hours || eliric

fatedforhell-blog

cognacandchess:

As pretty as Alaric’s face was, it was primarily that extraordinary mind, that wonderful intelligence, which piqued Elijah’s interest – why, then, did it delight him when Alaric swore helplessly like this? And it was delightful. The guttural tone, the harsh Anglo-Saxon syllables, the tensing of the muscles in his stomach. The same mind that could concisely weave a narrative of the Civil War whilst drenched in bourbon whiskey, barely able to utter a full sentence; Elijah loved it. He loved knowing he had been the one to bring Alaric to this point.

He didn’t care if it didn’t take long. He was engrossed in the feel and taste of Alaric’s cock, even the faint flavor of denim. The way his jaw distended around Alaric’s considerable girth, the reckless way Alaric fucked his throat.

He barely had time to pull back far enough to taste every drop of his spend, and even then, Elijah took his time, swallowing and sucking and leaving Alaric clean.

He pulled back only reluctantly, giving Alaric a dry smile as he rocked back on his feet. Few had ever seen Elijah on his knees. He hoped no one else ever would. He indulged a fantasy whereby he had, just weeks before, stumbled headfirst into the rest of his life, happy and purposeful.

He climbed to his feet and tugged Alaric back in the direction of the bed, pulling him down against his own body, mindful of the insistent way his cock pressed against Alaric’s stomach. He guided Alaric’s hand to his cock, sucking air through his teeth, and angled his face up for a kiss, knowing full well Alaric would taste himself on Elijah’s mouth.

“Use your hand, darling. I want to kiss you,” he said, voice more ragged than he’d planned. “I want to look at you.”

Alaric went willing to the bed, hand wrapping like a tight-fitting glove around Elijah’s cock. “Then kiss me,” he murmured, angling his head to brush their lips together. Ric could taste himself on Elijah’s lips, salty and bitter, and he moaned into the kiss. Hand beginning to move, he started out slowly – staying away from the most sensitive parts of him in order to tease. “Do you like this? The way I’m touching you?”

I love you.

Three little words. Powerful words. And they’d almost slipped out as naturally as saying ‘good morning.’ What scared him even more was how desperately he wanted to say them. But words like that? They deserved something more than slipping out in the throes of passion. They deserved to be said over candlelight, across a table in Paris while they were holding hands.

Elijah deserved that much; he’d spent a thousand years looking out after everyone but himself. He deserved to know someone was putting him first.

Ric’s hand moved a little more insistently, thumb dragging over the tip of his cock. He half-rolled off Elijah’s body, resting beside him as his hand worked faster, his lips moving in perfect synch with his lover’s kisses.

He pulled away a moment later, just far enough to watch the shifting expressions on Elijah’s face. He was so beautiful…probably a little silly for him to say…but it was the truth. “I love looking at you like this.” So unguarded; so un-Elijah Mikaelson. “You look so happy.” (He wasn’t going to add that any man would probably look happy when getting jerked off…) “Are you happy?”

Another kiss before he could answer, another slow drag of his palm up Eljah’s shaft. “I really want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

#cognacandchess #v; something unexpected #p; whiling away the hours #nsfw #(post | alaric)

subtleelevation-deactivated2018

Allison Scagliotti

#(face | georgie)#(post | georgie)

allroundlostcause

zydeco

fatedforhell-blog

allroundlostcause:

It had been pointed out to Alaric more than once that he was a… what was the term? Danger whore. Long before he’d become a vampire, he’d found himself entranced by the possibilities that powers might offer. Huddled over a spell book, he found himself itching to try something that he thought might not require intrinsic magic. His slowly-growing collection of dark objects, which he had collected for the purposes of ‘study’ – while he’d still been human, he’d found himself touching them just to feel the little jolt of power they gave off.

When he became a vampire, Alaric found himself pushing at the boundaries. His early abortive attempts to make fog had been almost funny. His effort to connect with an animal (Damon could control ravens; why not Alaric?) had resulted in a brief and sickening flash of awareness that he had entered a head that wasn’t his own, less funny.

“The only real talent I have is spotting other supernaturals,” Alaric admitted. “Which is sort of ironic, because I always thought it was dumb that vampires can’t spot each other. Or werewolves. I mean, there was this werewolf girl back in Mystic Falls, once; she sniffed Damon out the second she spotted him, while he spent all afternoon tryin’ to figure out if we were right about her.”

Did he really need anything else? It wouldn’t take much to start abusing an ability to sneak into someone’s head.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Alaric promised.

He stopped in the street, pulling Freya closer.

“I have an idea,” he said, his nose grazing against Freya’s, lips brushing together. “I know this great boarding house close to the Loyola campus. Great big bed… good bourbon… great company. I’m already sick of sharin’ you.”

Freya’s face lit up the second Alaric pulled her into his arms. If she were not familiar with witchcraft, she would have sworn this was some sort of spell. Things like this did not happen to her; she had spent her life being denied love and hope – anything that remotely resembled happiness. Then just to have it fall in her lap in the form of Alaric Saltzman? It seemed like a dream, really.

“What did I do to get so lucky?” she asked, palm cupping the side of his face. The look on her face was one of pure adoration, probably a little scary since they’d barely started getting to know one another. “I apologize if I seem a bit sappy, I just… Feeling like this is new to me. I’ve not had much opportunity to be this happy.”

A few frat boys, but that had always left her feeling hollow and a bit melancholy.

“Don’t let me scare you away. Just tell me to…what it the term? Chill out? I may be a thousand year old witch, but I have lived very little. My heart tends to run away from my head.” Why was she telling him this? So that he knew she was a basket case when it came to romance? So that he would have a head start if she became too much, too quickly. Freya might not be a vampire, but she loved like one. Fast and hard, when given the opportunity.

If Alaric ran now, Klaus would have years of ammunition to tease her with.

“But if the offer still stands, I would love to see this boarding house you speak of, Alaric. I am a huge fan of big beds and great company.” She winked teasingly, and stepped back just enough to give him space. “I’ll even settle for the bourbon…and take your word that it is good.”

#allroundlostcause #p; zydeco #v; loyola #(post | freya)

ricsidiotbestfriend

bureau regulations || dalaric

fatedforhell-blog

ricsidiotbestfriend:

It wasn’t until Alaric actually kissed him that Damon realized he’d been sure it wouldn’t happen, that he’d stammer some lame apology and go home again, that Damon was about to once again go upstairs with his dick in his hand and a head full of fake BFF (who was, genuinely, the real BFF as well).

Not tonight.

Damon was dizzy in moments. Alaric’s hands were big, and… dominant in a way that suggested he was in for an interesting night, if Alaric could stay out of his own way. Damon felt a strong desire to do something, literally anything he could come up with to make Alaric keep going. Not just tonight. Tomorrow. The next day. Days and nights and weekends. Something real, in this sea of fake. Some trick, some performance that might prove he was worth coming back to. He felt Alaric’s tongue slip past his own and pushed closer.

I don’t want you to be a secret.

Fuck. If Damon hadn’t been sunk before he was now. Alaric, if drunk, sounded as sincere as anyone Damon had ever heard utter a word out loud, and urge to just fuck the rest of the world right off and insist on being folded into those arms was strong.

He licked his lips. If Alaric called this off now Damon was going to lose his mind. He might just pack a backpack and get on the next bus out of town.

He closed his eyes, and pressed his jaw into Alaric’s hand. Okay, apparently drunk was catching.

“She’ll be fine,” he said, opening his eyes again. Alaric’s pupils were as big as dinner plates. “Look, head to the side, airway clear. She’ll wake up sick as a dog and walk back to the bar to pick up her car, about the same time I’m nudging you awake for round two.”

Maybe the words were smartass but his voice… no, his voice was wrecked. Fuck the keys, he knew Alaric had a spare set in case of emergencies (and this was that, even without the gangsters). Damon opened the door and pulled Alaric through. He was torn. More efficient to just make their way to Alaric’s apartment like sensible adults and resume this once they were in his bedroom, but he had to be careful Alaric didn’t get a chance to start thinking straight, either.

… but no. There was nothing new about this expression. Alaric wanted him. It was the same face he’d seen at the end of the bar only a few hours ago, the same face he’d seen when he’d stepped out of a dressing room down the street the weekend he’d arrived. The only difference was that now, he’d had a taste, and he wanted even more than he had before.

“I don’t care if it’s a secret,” he said, turning the knob on Alaric’s door and pulling him inside. “As long as it’s real. I can be real with you. If I have to be this shadow, Damien, everywhere else, I can be Damon with you. Don’t change your mind when you’ve sobered up. Promise me.”

It sounded like something halfway between empowered and pathetic, which was probably about right. He put his hand on the back of Alaric’s neck, kicked the door closed and pulled him down for another kiss.

“So take me upstairs,” he said.

They were in Alaric’s apartment before he could even process what was happening. He remembered sparing the girl (whose name he couldn’t remember) a glance over Damon’s shoulder to make sure she was in the condition Damon claimed she was in, then he briefly remembered the door opening. After that, it was a blur…mainly because his brain was racing a mile a minute.

But, this time, it wasn’t whispering that getting close to Damon was a bad idea. This time he was screaming at him to pull Damon closer, lock the door, take him upstairs, and not let him go until he was a pile of goo on Alaric’s bed. It sounded like the perfect plan.

“Come on,” he said, voice huskier than even he recognized. Ric took hold of Damon’s hand the second the kiss was broken, reached behind him to flip the lock on the door with the other, and started tugging him toward the stairs. There was a momentary panic when he tried to remember if he had the things they needed upstairs; it had been a very long time since Ric was with anyone – and certainly much longer since he was with a man.

But yeah, he thought he had them covered.

There was laundry in the floor (it had been on the bed, but Ric kicked it off in a vain attempt to get to sleep earlier), but other than that, the room was sparse. It was a loft, open enough that it made having overnight guests awkward. His bed was large, soft, hunter green sheets that were heaven (if he did say so himself). Thick pillows. Ric really loved his bed; it was his favorite place in the entire apartment. Other than a nightstand on either side of the headboard and a chair (also covered in laundry), that was the sum total of his furnishings in there.

Which was fine; he rarely did anything but sleep there anyway.

Head spinning – but blissfully not from the booze – Ric pulled Damon into his arms the second their feet hit the carpet of his room. He had him pressed against the wall a second later, hands wandering down his sides while his lips wandered down Damon’s neck. “I can’t wait to get you in my bed. I have wanted this since…” Too many words. Sealing his lips over Damon’s, he kissed him hard – tongue tasting his lip, teeth tugging playfully.

Ric stepped back, to the side, and took a seat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped just a bit, as he began tugging at his shoes, the buttons on his shirt. “Take your clothes off, Damon. I want to look at you.”

#ricsidiotbestfriend #v; murder by numbers #p; bureau regulations #nsfw #(post | alaric)