specifically make him THAT KINDA FREAK we already know he loves to toy with others (from his battle with the Guards of the Globe) and is crazy asf with a sense of dark humor. My fic idea is where he’s with his gf and this is their first time having sex tg and she doesn’t know about his kinks or anything since she would just take his comments of him telling her to ‘try to choke him’ or basically to inflict pain on each other as a joke.
Slap Me Silly
Note: This is yummy, we like this, we NEED this. I've seen maybe two fics have elements of this, so lemme just—slide myself in. (the pic is a hint SOMEONE TIE HIM UP)
Warnings: Nipple play (most male receiving), Switch Lenless!Mark, Dom!Reader, Riding, SadoMasochism, Tit Squeezing, Biting, Dark Humor, Choking, Degrading, "Good Boy", Slapping, Dirty Talk, Porn w a Plot, Smut, and ofc the over usage of 'Dude'.
Synopsis: The title is self explanatory... buckle up.
No Goggles/Lensless!Mark x Dom!Fem Reader
Word Count: 2,303
The apartment is quiet, save for the occasional hum of traffic outside and the soft rustle of fabric as you shift on the couch. Mark is stretched out beside you, legs spread like he owns the place—because, in his mind, he does. His grin is lazy, all teeth, and his dark eyes flick toward you with that ever-present glint of mischief.
“You keep staring at me like that, babe,” he murmurs, tilting his head against the couch cushion, “and I’m gonna start thinking you actually like me.” You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “God forbid.” He chuckles, low and amused, and suddenly he’s closer—leaning in like he’s got a secret to tell. “Nah, I think you do,” he teases, his breath warm against your jaw. “Like, a lot.” You scoff, pushing at his chest. “You wish.” Mark lets himself fall back dramatically, spreading his arms out like he’s been struck. “Right in the heart. Dude! That was brutal.” Rolling your eyes, you reply. “You’ll live,” you deadpan.
“Oh, I always live.” He winks, and for a second, there’s something in his expression, something dark and knowing, a reminder of just how much weight those words actually carry. But then it’s gone, replaced by that ever-present smugness. His fingers drum against his thigh. “Y’know, I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“Ha. Ha.” He smirks. “No, but really—since we’re both so hopelessly in love or whatever—” You snort, but he ignores you. “—don’t you think it’s weird that we haven’t, y’know, done anything yet?” His eyebrows lift, feigning innocence. “Not that I’m complaining. I like a good slow burn. Gets me all antsy and horny.” Your stomach tightens. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Mark is—well, Mark. Infuriating, cocky, always pushing just to see how far he can go. But he’s also magnetic in a way that makes it impossible to look away. And when he wants something? He gets it.
Still, you manage to play it cool. “I figured you’d explode if you went more than a week without getting laid.” Mark grins, tilting his head. “I do like explosions.”
You shake your head, but before you can throw another sarcastic remark his way, he moves. Fast. Not using his full speed—he’s learned his lesson about freaking you out like that—but enough to make your breath hitch as he’s suddenly towering over you, hands braced on either side of your hips. “Wanna hear something funny?” he asks, voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken.
You swallow. “That depends.” His fingers trail up your arm, barely touching, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You remember all those times I told you to try and choke or slap me?” You let out a brief chuckle. “You mean when you were being weird?” Mark hums, lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. “See, that’s the thing—you think I was joking.”
Your breath catches. His eyes are half-lidded now, watching you with something between amusement and hunger. “…You weren’t?” Mark smirks. “Dude. You have no idea.” He leans in, brushing his nose against yours.
You stare at him for a second, searching his face for any sign that he’s messing with you. Nothing. Just that same cocky, lopsided smirk—like he knows something you don’t. His grin progressively widens as you open your mouth to speak, “You have to be kidding.” Mark tilts his head, feigning offense. “Why would I joke about something so serious? Dude, I’m hurt.” Here he goes again with the dramatics. “Oh, I’ll hurt you, alright.” The words leave your mouth before you can grasp them, but Mark’s eyes light up like you just handed him a winning lottery ticket.
His lips part slightly, tongue flicking out to wet them. “Please do.” You let out a laugh—sharp, disbelieving. This idiot. He’s always like this. Pushing buttons just to see what happens. You stared, more interested than before, your head shaking. “You’re insane.” Mark doesn’t miss a beat. “And you love it.”
You roll your eyes and, without thinking, lift your hand and smack him across the face. A sharp pop echoed as your palm struck his cheek, snapping his head to the side. Not hard, just enough to wipe that smug look off him. Or, well. That was the intention. Because instead of looking shocked or offended, Mark just stares at you. Slow blinks. Chest rising and falling a little too deliberately. “…Holy shit.” He gasps, making you hesitate.
He lets out a breathy laugh, touching his cheek where you slapped him. Then, with a grin that is way too excited for comfort, he looks back at you. “Dude.” His dark eyes go heavy-lidded, lips parting slightly as he exhales slowly, shaky, and wrecked like you just did something unspeakably good to him, and he’s already desperate for more. You blink. “What?”
“Do that again.”
You pull back slightly in hesitation, wondering how you even scored this crazy fuck. Taking notice, Mark clicks his tongue, shaking his head like you just deeply disappointed him. “C’mon, Dude. Don’t be like that.” He leans in again, voice dipping lower. “I liked it.” Your stomach flips. You open your mouth two seconds away from calling him an absolute freak, but Mark beats you to it. “See, this is why I keep you around,” he muses, like he’s talking to himself. “You get me.” He rasps with an estranged fascination, seemingly savoring the sting against his cheek. “I literally do not—”
“—you do, though.” He gestures vaguely. “Even if you pretend you don’t. Which is, like, really cute, by the way.” He pauses dramatically with a slight sing song “And hot.” You exhale through your nose. Okay. Fine. He wants to be weird? You can be weirder. So, with the most exaggerated sigh you can manage, you lift your hand and slap him again. This time, it’s harder. The slap lands sharp and sudden, a crisp crack that echoes in the quiet room.
His skin is warm under your palm, the impact sending a fleeting sting through your fingers, while the faintest thrum of satisfaction lingers in the air between you. Mark's head tilts slightly from the force, but the way he laughs is low, throaty, and giddy. The kind that sends something hot and electric through your spine. His gaze snaps back to you, darker now. “Oh, yeah,” he breathes, voice thick with something you don’t quite know how to name yet. “That’s the stuff.”
Your gaze flickered lower, his hips fidgeting. He was hard.
Mark leans in, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath against your lips. He’s still grinning like he’s just won the lottery, panting like an excited mutt before he whispers, “…Your turn.” You took this as an invitation to explore his other kinks, his willingness empowering you like never before.
The space between you ceased to exist in an instant, your bodies pulled together with an urgency that set your skin ablaze, his lips claiming yours like a force of nature. Groans filled the space within your mouths, his sloppy kisses trailing lower over your neck. You deserved such romance for your first time, but his body was already seething for more.
His hand reaches forward, fingers tingling with excitement as they curl around your throat. He forces you down against the couch, the pressure against your windpipe causing you to gasp. Before he could do more your hand lashes out, striking his cheek with a resounding slap. He paused, welcoming the change from his usual dominance. "Fuck yeah," he growls, his voice thick and eager. "Don't hold back, babe."
Emboldened further, you push him back and climb onto his lap, straddling his hips. You can feel his hard already weeping cock pressing against your clothed sex, the heat of him seeping through the thin fabric of your panties. You grab his throat, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. "You like this, don't you? Being used like a little bitch?" You insulted, testing the waters.
Mark's eyes flutter closed as he lets out a shuddering moan. "Yes," he hisses, his hips bucking up against you. "I fucking love it." His hands grip your thighs tightly, fingers digging into your skin.
You tighten your grip on his throat, feeling his pulse jump under your palm. "Beg for it," you demand, grinding your cunt against his straining erection. "Beg me to choke you while I ride your cock." Mark's eyes snap open, gleaming with satisfaction. "Please," he rasps, his voice strained from your hold. "Please, please, choke me while you use my dick. I want to feel you squeeze the air from my lungs as you cum all over me."
A thrill runs through you at his words, at the complete submission and desperation in his voice. You release his throat, only to fist your hand in his hair, yanking his head back. "Good boy," you purr, before crushing your lips against his in a fervent kiss. You rake your nails down his skin, leaving angry red lines in their wake.
You whimper into his mouth—his hands moving to your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh. You can feel him throbbing against you, his cock leaking pre-cum into his pants. Breaking the kiss, you lean back and hastily remove your top—exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His fingers follow suit, bringing his shirt over his head as he refuses to blink even once.
"Fuck yes, Mistress." He groans, voice strained as his eyes glued to your tits. "You're so goddamn sexy." His lips nearly prepared to worship you.
It was odd, you stared down at him enjoying the power you have over him. He could easily turn the tides at any moment, but he was so willing to fuck you with such courtesy. Your fingers gently tapped against his throat—just threatening—begging him to make a move that would cause your grip to tighten.
Mark immediately sits back, panting and red-cheeked. You lift your hips, his hands shove down your panties and help you kick them off. Then, with a courage-building sigh, you line up his cock with your dripping entrance. Mark groans—hands flying to your hips. "Need to feel your tight pussy around my cock."
Without warning, he slams you down onto him, taking him to the hilt in one smooth motion. You both groan at the sudden intrusion—Mark's head falling back as his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. "Oh god," you moan, savoring the feeling of him stretching you open. "You're so fucking big, where were you hiding this thing?!"
"I'm gonna fill this pussy up so good," Mark declares between giggles, his hips starting to move beneath you. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it's leaking out of you." The dirty words only spur you on. You start to ride him fast, your hips slamming down onto him as you chase your pleasure—barely allowing yourself to breathe. Your hand never leaves his throat, tightening and loosening in time with your movements. Mark's face is flushed—his eyes glassy with lust as he bucks up into you—meeting you thrust for thrust.
"Harder," you demand, squeezing his throat tighter, his eyes rolling back. "F-fuck me harder." Mark lets out a choked groan, but does as he's told, slamming up into you with renewed vigor. The new angle has him hitting depths you didn't know existed, making stars burst behind your eyelids with each thrust. You can feel the pressure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter as he pounds into your g-spot.
Releasing him from your ever-desired grip, he protests, his hips punctuating as you let out a yelp. “Dude..!” He whines, exasperated before a resounding clap echoes against his cheek, his face growing warm as blood swelled. “Again! Again…!” He encouraged, and you followed suit devilering smack after smack. The feeling only rousing him more as his hips pressed further.
Arching your back forward, your tongue finds the blistering streaks left from your nails. Soothing them with the soothing stroke of the muscle, you lick over his nipples—teeth tugging on them gently. The small buds hardened slightly from the cold air, and his grunt echoed from above. “Holy shit... yes!” Coming up for air, he returns the favor—hands leaving your ass and latching onto your tits as he squeezes them like stress balls. It's painful—he knows but he attones as his thumb traces rings around your areolas causing mild pleasure.
Your hands returned to his throat, tightening like a vice. With a strangled chuckle, his cock twitched inside you as he floods your pussy with his hot seed. The feeling of him pulsing inside you—the overwhelming sensations overloading your senses, and the obscene squelching sounds of his cum filling you pushes you over the edge. You throw your head back with a scream as your orgasm crashes over you—your cunt spasming as you gasp. Were orgasms always meant to feel this strong?
Mark groans as he feels you contracting around him. "Milk my cock dry. Take every last drop." You continue to ride him through your climax, grinding your clit against his pelvis until the last waves of pleasure fade away. When you finally collapse against his chest, both of you are panting and covered in sweat.
You could barely catch your breath when he spoke up. "Dude, we're definitely doing that again," you murmur against his chest, exhausted, he chuckles, his chest vibrating beneath you. "Hell yeah we are." He says to himself. Without missing another beat, you're suddenly flipped over—his cock hardened with renewed energy. "Ready for round two?" He asks, tracing patterns against your calves as he spreads your legs over his shoulders. Now it was truly your turn.
Can you guys tell I love submissive or freaky men? Hopefully, this fulfills your request!
here's a peek at the prompts for the emeto kinktober week of 2025. this event will take place during the first week of october, from days 1 to 8. happy writing/drawing for everyone and can't wait to see what you guys come up with!
don't forget to check the rules for participating
text prompts
1. On purpose: Motion sickness // Overeating // Food poisoning
2. “Not on the --!”: Puking on caretaker // Puking on themselves // Didn't make it
One of the things I love about a lot of Mechsploitation is that there are normal members of whatever authoritarian military we have in the setting, and they usually dress like regular normal ass enlisted personnel and officers, and then there's the Handlers, who always dress like anime villains
This is a longer form draft so I'm gonna give warnings just in case
Warnings for Incest OBVIOUSLY, chubby Dean appreciation, Super light breeding kink like its only really in Sam's passing thoughts- and honestly everything else don't matter- READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! (Base on @winchiya1 's amazing art which is at the bottom of the fic, GO SUPPORT AND FOLLOW THEM THEY LET ME USE THEIR IDEA!!)
Dean's definitely put on a bit of weight over the years, nothing bad but he's gotten softer in spots, and Sam has DEFINITELY noticed it... the small roundness of his tummy and the chubbiness in his thighs, Sam finds it hard to keep his hands off Dean, he doesn't think deans noticed- and if he has he certainly hasn't mentioned it, maybe he's embarrassed, thinks it makes him less attractive to not have a six pack but Sam doesn't this so, it was only a matter of time before Sam started grabbing deans thighs at diners or wrapping his arms around Dean from behind just to get a feel at his stomach, Dean always bats his hands away but it reaches a point where Sam can't keep ignoring it.
Sam comes up with his plan of attack, he tells Dean to grab him something, and while deans bent over in the fridge, Sam gets behind him and runs his hands over deans tummy. Dean mutters a gruff. "What are you doing-" Before a gasp is knocked out of him by the force of Sam's bulge grinding against his ass. Sam doesn't relent. He grinds up again, and this time, he unbuckles deans belt, pulling his pants open and sliding his hands up Deans shirt. "You're so hot, dean- fuck you dont even know do you? All soft and sweet for me" Sam growls into deans ear, it doesn't take long for them to find themselves in their bed, Dean stripped, and Sam with three fingers buried in his big brothers hole
Dean, letting out small sobs. Squirms and thrashes a bit in bed, he grinds down on them and the rocking of his hips hypnotises Sam with the way the soft chub bounces with him, it only takes a few more whines for Sam to be forcing his too big cock into dean, the older of the pair cries out under Sam as he starts a rough pace that shocks dean to his core. Gasping and sobbing, he grips at the sheets while Sam thrusts with deadly accuracy into his prostate, making Dean see stars.
Sam mumbles praises, even saying Dean looks girlish with his new chubbiness, which makes Dean whine high in his throat, and it really tips him over the edge when Sam mutters in his ear that Dean looked like the perfect fit for a mother, Dean cums over his stomach and chest only serving to push Sam over the edge with him. Sam wastes no time leaning down to lick deans cum off his soft pudge, Sam thinks he hears dean say something about it being gross but he's too far gone to care at this point.
After the adrenaline cools and they are left cuddling eachother in bed it doesn't take long for Dean to slip into a light slumber, Sam takes that time to watch his big brothers relaxed face.
Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, characters are 18+, explicit sexual content, oral sex, cock suffocation (potentially dubious consent — I apologize I’m new to these terms), praise kink, slight degradation kink, hair pulling, spit, roleplay/mask kink, choking, no condom, rough sex
A/N: Again I do apologize for any missing tags or if it’s overkill, I’m still trying to figure this all out! I did mention that this could potentially be dubious consent as there is some rough/forceful face fucking. Consent was my intent with this story, however I do want people to be warned just in case.
Summary: Sebastian knows your love of dirty books, however tonight, he decides to punish the bookworm — sweetly, cruelly, and with all the love in the world.
It was late in the evening and Sebastian still hadn't returned from his late shift. You were standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment, lights off except for the soft yellow glow coming from below the microwave. You were standing barefoot on the cool tile floor, wearing one of his old tees with a cup of warm tea waiting for the low rumble of his bike.
You leaned over the counter to read a few pages of the current book you were reading. Sebastian always teased you for the all of the dirty words on the pages and how the girls loved being chased or "preyed upon". Though he did learn to appreciate the way they made you feel after reading the spicier scenes. You had just flipped to a new page when you heard his bike pull up outside.
Excitement filled your stomach even though you had just seen him that morning. You turned on the kettle to make him a fresh cup of tea and leaned back over your book, trying to get in a few more paragraphs before he came up. Purposefully, you leaned over a little more than needed, so his shirt would ride up some, giving him a glimpse of your lacy panties when he walked in. You giggled to yourself already thinking about his reaction to seeing you like that.
The front door creaked open and you heard his footsteps down the hall. The sounds got louder as he got closer to the kitchen.
"Sebby," you called out sing-song, still not looking up from your book. You gave him a few seconds to say something or even do something, but you didn’t hear or feel anything.
You turned around to see his dark figure standing in the doorway, one arm leaned up against the frame. He still had on his riding jacket, gloves, and oddly his bandana. He usually took it off before coming up. The sight made your heart skip a beat.
"I'm warming you up some water for tea, hun," you said, returning to your book. Again, you gave him a few seconds to reply, but you were met with silence. "Sebastian?"
You turned around again and now he was standing in the middle of the kitchen. The way he stood, the way he looked, reminded you of Ghostface though he was missing the mask. But he was acting all weird and silent, stalkerish almost.
"Oh please don't kill me Mr. Ghostface! I want to be in the sequel," you teased, but he didn't laugh.
He slowly walked closer towards you, cocking his head slightly to the left. The lower half of his face was covered by his black bandana, but his eyes showed he was smirking. He pressed you further against the counter while he towered over you. You could smell the cool air of the outside on him, faint gasoline from his bike, and his spiced cologne.
Now that he had you backed against the counter, he took one of his hands and stuck it under the dark cloth on his face, pulling the glove off with his teeth. His now ungloved hand came up to caress your cheek gently before snaking into your hair. He grabbed at the roots and pulled your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. Through his bandana, you could feel his hot breath as inched closer to you. The book behind you lay opened still and he noticed — he always noticed.
"My little bookworm has been reading her naughty books again hasn't she?" He finally spoke. Warmth radiated your cheeks. "Answer me baby."
"Y-yes," you replied.
He chuckled lowly and with his other hand, he slowly lowered the cloth covering the bottom half of his face. His lips brushed against your skin below your ear, causing goosebumps to pop up all over your body.
"What am I to do with you now?" He breathed against you. He gently started to suck on your neck, nibbling enough to cause you to gasp. He didn't stop until he knew a bruise would form. Your neck stung where his mouth had just been and he blew on the wet area, sending shivers down your spine.
He looked at you then, pulling your head straight back by your hair. His other hand came up and he ran his thumb down your lips before grabbing your chin. He leaned in close, lips brushing your own.
"Still want to play psycho killer baby?" He whispered.
You couldn't speak and your legs felt like jelly. You'd never be scared of Sebastian, but the character he was playing made you nervous — in a good way.
His lips came crashing down onto yours. The grip he had on your chin lowered to your throat, squeezing gently. You gasped at the new pressure and he used the opportunity to allow his tongue into your mouth, quickly asserting dominance. Your lips moved fluidly together.
His hold around your throat went tighter and you gasped even more. He breathed into your open mouth over and over, not saying anything. He was just breathing you in while you struggled beneath him. His minty breath was filling your lungs with each small pant you took. You started seeing stars when he finally released you.
You were still dizzy when his lips were on yours again. His mouth was devouring yours in a heated frenzy as his hand that was around your throat before now trailed down your shaky body. In one motion, he lifted you up onto the counter, standing between your spread legs.
Your brain was frazzled at his quick movements, barely giving you a chance to register what he was doing. His hand was now easing its way under the shirt you were wearing to grasp onto your underwear. Slowly, he dragged them down your thighs and let them fall onto the tile floor.
"Did you wear those for me?" He asked, glaring at the maroon pool of lace on the floor.
You closed your eyes, still seeing outer space behind your eyelids, and nodded your head slowly. The humming in your body got louder as he lowered his head between your thighs, lifting your shirt higher up.
He peppered gentle kisses along your thighs at first, getting himself closer to your core. As he inched closer, his kisses become harder, biting down on the soft skin. It sent heat straight into your core as he sucked hard, leaving behind a trail of bruises that led right where you wanted him at.
Your stomach was already tight before he even had his mouth on your center. He licked up once, teasing you, before pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. His eyes met yours as pressed his mouth messily against you. He didn't ease into it or start slowly.
"Sebastian," you moaned out, but he didn't relent. Your head slammed back against the cabinet behind you as you gripped the side of it. Your fingers were tingling already and the stars in your eyes returned.
He pulled you even closer to the edge of the counter, your ass was practically hanging off as he tightened his grip around you, your thighs dangling off his shoulders. He brought one of his hands up to spread your lips apart and started sucking your clit. Your breathing became uneven as you felt your nub being pulled in and out of his warm mouth.
"S-Seb...fuck," you cried out. You leaned your head back against the cabinet trying to collect yourself. You didn't want to finish yet, but you already felt the tightening in your stomach. Your other hand was gripping tightly on the edge of the counter, causing your knuckles to go white and your fingers to ache from the pressure.
Moans escaped your lips like a rushing waterfall. You couldn't stop yourself as they filled the small kitchen, echoing off the white walls. They only fueled his fire as he flicked his tongue against you. You felt the orgasm start in your core and ripple through your abdomen. His face was being smooshed by your thighs as you rode out your orgasm against his face. He didn't stop even after it was over, lapping up everything, and turning you sensitive.
His lips were glistening when he moved his face away and before he had a chance to wipe it off, you grabbed his face and pulled it to your own. He melted under your kiss even though he was trying to uphold this character for you. His chest has heaving beneath your hands as you held him close to you and kissed him like you needed it.
When he pulled away from you, you saw his eyes darken as he pulled his bandana back up over his face. With one swoop motion, he lifted you up off the counter and back onto your feet.
"Get on your knees little bookworm," he muttered under his breath.
You did as he asked and lowered yourself to your knees before him. The tile was cold and hard under your skin as you heard the soft clink of his belt. He unzipped his pants, pulled them off, and stood before you with his erection in your face.
"Open your mouth baby," he said. Again, you did as he asked and he leaned forward slightly, spitting into your mouth, before using his hand to coax your mouth shut. "Now swallow." He hummed in pleasure as you listened to him and swallowed, looking up into his brown eyes.
You knew what he wanted next, you wanted it too. He used his hand to open your mouth up again as he lined himself up to you. His hands rested on either side of your head as he slowly pushed himself past your lips.
"Hands behind your back," he demanded as you had started to rest them on his thighs. You crossed your wrists behind yourself as though he had them tied. "Good girl," he murmured under his bandana. His hands started to hold your hair back.
You took him fully in your mouth as he groaned. The stretch already had your eyes watering.
"That's it sweetheart," he said. "Take me. Gag on me. Make me feel it."
Your knees wobbled at his words. He rolled his hips forward, making you take even more of his length in your mouth until it was all inside.
Your wrists were pressing hard into each other, fighting the urge to hold onto him. Tears spilled down your face and spit was slicking your chin. Still, he didn't let up, holding you flush to him with his cock buried deep in your throat. You whimpered, a muffled sound around him.
His grip tightened in your hair as he tipped his head back, groaning. "Fuck, baby." He looked back down at you, his eyes full of lust. "Look at you. Eyes wet, drool everywhere. You're a fucking dream like this."
When you coughed, he only pulled you back long enough for a gasp of air before forcing you down again. Your nose was pressed to his pelvis and your chest was heaving.
"Stay there," he growled, keeping a you pinned, cock suffocating your mouth. "Breathe through your nose, baby. Take it. Take all of me."
Your nails were digging crescents into your palms as your whole body trembled with the effort, but you didn't stop.
"God, I could die like this," he whispered hoarsely.
Your vision blurred as more tears pooled in your eyes, streaking your cheeks. Spit spilled down your chin, down your neck, and wet the collar of the shirt you were wearing. Your nose was starting to run too, breath coming in wet, shaky waves as he would let you up for a fraction of air before forcing himself back in.
Sebastian was gasping too. He couldn't decide between watching the mess that you were and slinging his head back in pleasure. His hands stayed tight in your hair though, dragging you back down on him every time your body would instinctively pull away.
"Don't you dare stop," he moaned. "Take it sweetheart, every inch."
Your body trembled, giving him exactly what he wanted. You didn't stop — you wanted to take him like this. His knuckles whitened as his grip around your hair was so tight — not pulling just holding.
You were a mess before him. Tear-stained, saliva covering the lower half of your face mixed with the drips from your nose. The look alone nearly undid him on the spot.
His hips stuttered and his teeth clenched. "Fuck," he groaned, continuing to hold you down. "I'm so close, baby. Gonna finish down your throat if you keep looking at me like that."
You swallowed around him, causing him to swear loudly again. Every swallow sent shockwaves through his body.
He was about to finish and forget what he was there to do — what he wanted to accomplish this evening. He slowly pulled out of your mouth and a thick strand of spit connected your lips to his tip before it snapped.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he breathed. Sweat had glittered his back under his jacket and at his temples. He was breathing heavy as he used his thumb to smear your drool across your lips. You sucked on his thumb and he watched you with an open mouth. “You want more don’t you sweetheart?”
You nodded and he leaned down to lift you up. He bent your body over the kitchen counter, hands still behind your back where he had told you to keep them. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he said, grazing his fingers over your crossed wrists.
He hiked up your shirt to reveal your bare ass. You were on your tiptoes, leaning over the hard counter as he lined himself up with your entrance. Your face was flush with the cool countertop, your mug of tea long forgotten inches from your head.
He rushed inside you, not giving you any time to adjust. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, starting to move his hips. He was stretching you out in all of the right ways. The fire in your belly was burning already.
He leaned forward to brush his covered face against your ear. “Is this what you wanted little bookworm? To get fucked by a masked man in your kitchen?” He growled. You moaned in response, whimpering below him. “That’s not an answer baby,” he said.
“Y-yes,” you replied.
He chuckled lowly at your response. He continued pounding into you, his hips slapping your ass with every thrust, sending your body into the counter.
His hand wrapped around your throat again as his breath was hot against your neck.
“Tell me you’re a dirty little bookworm,” he whispered.
Your breath hitched and you looked over at him. Electricity felt like it shot through your chest at his request.
“I-I’m a —“ you started, but you got shy.
“Don’t be shy now baby, come on. I want to hear you say it,” he rasped as he continued thrusting into you.
The nerves bundled in your stomach.
“I’m a dirty little bookworm,” you mumbled.
He pulled out of you to drag you off the counter. He slid his bandana off his face enough to kiss you hungrily. His jacket and shirt came off next along with his boxers. His freckled chest lay bare in front of you. You’ve seen it hundreds of times but his body still got to you. He laid down on the kitchen floor and dragged your body with it.
“I want to watch you ride me,” he said, pulling you on top of him. He tugged at your shirt so you pulled it off, exposing yourself completely to him.
You slowly sank down onto him and threw your head back in pleasure, moaning out his name.
“Christ, baby you feel so good,” he groaned. He pulled you down onto him the rest of the way. Your hands lay flat on his stomach as you started to grind against him. Each movement you felt him hitting your g-spot, causing you to moan out even more. He watched intently as he had the perfect view of his cock entering and exiting your body with each movement.
It was getting harder to move as your thighs burned with each grind. Sebastian must’ve noticed because next thing you knew, he pulled your body down to lay flush against his.
This time, he started off with slow thrusts up into you. But each time he pulled out, he went back in faster, until he was drilling in and out of you. One of his hands snaked around your waist and the other found its way back into your hair. He didn’t pull this time, he only held your body close to his as he drove into you.
He raked his hands through your hair and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. He bit and sucked where he had already left a pretty large hickey earlier, causing a deeper sensation.
“Sebastian,” you whimpered out, but he continued to pull the skin into his mouth. It stung even more than the first time he created it. You knew it would be massive and a deep plum by the time he was done with you.
The coiling in your stomach tightened like a rope being pulled and Sebastian was the one pulling it. Your breaths became erratic again and he could feel you pulsating around his cock.
“That’s it baby, come for me,” he pleaded against your skin.
The rope wound tighter and tighter inside of you until you finally felt it release. It didn’t take Sebastian much longer to release inside of you, filling you to the brim with his warmth. Before he pulled out, he pulled your face in again to kiss you over and over.
He eased slowly out of you, pressing another quick kiss to your cheek. He helped you to stand up and guided you to the bathroom with him. After turning on the shower, he urged you in first and followed you in. He helped clean you up with a cloth, warm from the water.
He noticed the deepened mark on your neck and peppered feather-light kisses over it, a quiet apology for his roughness.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Dirty books and all.”
“I love you, Seb,” you replied, kissing him once more.
Hiya! This is a snippet of an old birth fic I had been working on ages ago. I’ve decided to post the beginning of it- if you guys like it, maybe i’ll write more for this story.
Oh yeah, this is also vaguely western coded. Hope you enjoy!
Annie groaned softly as the wagon continued along its path. She held her swollen belly in her hands, trying not to focus on the contractions. She had started labor this morning.. but her group couldn’t afford not to move, so they just threw her in the back of a wagon and said “hold it in until we get there.” She didn’t even know where “there” was. She wasn’t the only pregnant woman here- there was Lorenna, who had well surpassed her due date by now, was still walking along outside. Another contraction interrupted Annie’s thoughts, making her gasp and lean down slightly, holding her belly in her hands. She did her best to not spread her legs- the last thing she wanted was for the baby to come here..
Suddenly, the wagon stopped. Annie perked up hopefully- had they reached their destination? This hope was almost immediately ended when Lorenna was practically pushed into the cart, panting softly. The cart immediately started moving again, and she stumbled into the seat next to Annie
“You too..?”
Annie put a hand over her Lorenna’s, who nodded, gently rubbing her massive belly.
“I t-thought it was just braxton hicks again..”
Annie nodded sympathetically, and leaned on Lorenna gently. The two women labored together, holding eachother tight as each pain came- both their contractions grew closer, and hours dragged on. It was about midday when Lorenna suddenly cried out, a gush of fluid splashing down and soaking her dress.
“O-Oh god.. no..!”
She hissed, trying to close her legs.
Annie gasped- surely it should have been a few more hours of labor before her water broke? Annie didn’t know if she would make to a spot where they could lie down..
“I-Its okay.. just don’t push okay? You have to hold on..”
“I-I can’t..!”
Lorenna groaned, unable to stop herself from bearing down on her belly over the next couple contractions, feeling the head starting to painfully batter against her cervix. Ashley reached over, placing a hand on Lorenna’s belly.
“We have to wait until we stop.. nobody will help us in here..”
Lorenna panted hard, her contractions coming one after the other- she pushed again, crying out as her baby made rapid progress.
“I-I can’t stop it! It’s coming!”
She cried out, tugging her dress up- she pushed again, groaning as the baby made its way down. Lorenna started to spread her legs fully apart. The head was massive, stretching her birth canal to its limits as it started to descend. Annie held her friend tight-
Eruptive Disruptions (Jade x POV Reader Prefect Burping Fic)
Got another kink fic to share that's been on my brain for a while. I headcanon Jade as far more of a kinktease than arguably anyone else in NRC. So, with him and the Prefect dating, and knowing the Prefect's 'interests', he chooses violence and goes out of his way to rile his lover up like crazy when they're in the library to study for an exam.
Content Warning: Burping, Slight Bloating, Belly Kink, Burp Kink, Kink Teasing, Public Kink Teasing, etc.
You had only yourself to blame for ever daring to confide in Jade Leech about anything. Least of all, certain 'interests' you had. Why you felt something as mundane as being the merman's lover would, in any way, make him kinder about the subject was something only psychiatric professionals could ever answer.
Nevertheless, here you were in the library, trying to study for an alchemy exam, and there, Jade was, being a conniving bastard like always.
The young merman in disguise was sitting right besides you, reading from his book as well, with that oh so “innocent” smile on his smooth, handsome face. He knew you was glaring at him, yet, he didn't say a word or so much as shift in his seat. Instead, he was simply studying like any good student would ahead of an exam. You knew it was coming. You knew him. So you waited expectingly.
After a minute or so, though, nothing did. It wasn't that you thought it passed, but you knew that he wasn't going to do anything so long as you were staring. So, against your better judgement, you turned your eyes back towards the book, trying to memorize the quantity of ingredients for a stamina enhancing elixir.
The measurements were critical, so knowing them off the back of your hand was going to be important to correctly brewing the elixir come exam day. Unfortunately, it was a little hard to memorize when, sure as the sky was blue, yet another thick, rumbling sound erupted from behind Jade's lips. One that puffed out his soft cheeks slightly.
...For the umpteenth time, Jade had just burped. A thick, forceful sound that he stifled behind his clenched lips. Even muffled, they were so heavy and deep-sounding. You wouldn't have even needed to be sitting next to him to hear it rumbling in his mouth within the quiet library.
Sighing to yourself, you glanced back at Jade, who gave an airy chuckle and daintily covered his mouth with his gloved hand.
“Fufufu, excuse me,” Jade said in his sweet, innocent tone of voice. “Truly, I don't know what's wrong with me this afternoon.”
In the most deadpanned voice imaginable, you remarked that it most certainly couldn't have been all those fancy sodas he guzzled down during lunch. Nope. Absolutely not.
Again, Jade chuckled. “Well, I'll certainly admit. I do still feel a bit bloated,” he remarked, leaning back and slowly rubbing his stomach up and down with one hand. You swallowed thickly as you saw his normally concave midsection pressing out noticeably against his school blazer.
He saw your cheeks redden some more and smirked just enough to show off a bit of his pearly white fangs. “Perhaps, you could do something about that?” he asked with a hint of wickedness in his voice as he grabbed your hand and rested it against his stomach. You shuddered as you felt how bloated he was. Even behind his blazer and shirt, you could feel Jade's belly pressing out by a good few inches, and how drum-tight his gut was. The button holding the blazer in place was straining a bit from the extent of Jade's bloat.
To say nothing of the bubbling you could feel from just how much carbonation Jade had sucked down. For a moment, you instinctively let your hand roam Jade's belly, lost in your obvious kinks, so eager to unbutton that blazer and unbutton his dress shirt to get your hands on his bare belly. But you were in public, and despite how Jade behaved, even he didn't long to make a scene in public. He just knew he could be subtle enough to rile you up without drawing any eyes to himself.
What didn't help matters was the way Jade took another deep breath, pushed a fist against his mouth, and intentionally held back an especially raunchy belch, one that rumbled pretty forcefully behind his lips. You could literally feel his stomach muscles clenched as he stifled that eructation.
“Hahhh...excuse me,” Jade repeated insincerely, before grimacing, taking a breath, and just barely muffling another, bigger burp that rumbled in his mouth for a few forceful seconds and ended with him huffing and once again muttering, “oof, hehe, excuse me again. It's a good thing I can hold those in, else the entire library would hear those...”
Ohhh, you hated him so damn much...
You sharply reminded him that the exam was in a few days and you still have to catch up on getting a few more formulas memorized. Jade smiled and bowed his head “respectfully.”
“Of course, putting studies first is the kind of exemplary example befitting such a prestigious academy,” Jade said, beaming at you in that “polite” way of his.
Yeaaaah, he wasn't going to let up...
“Here, I'm a touch more well-versed on these specific formulas. As your upper classman, I'd be delighted to assist you,” Jade insisted, scooting closer to you as he leaned towards you and pointed towards the formula with about a dozen different ingredients. “Now, the trick with this formula is that nearly every ingredient is as minimal as possible, due to how potent each one is, so-” Jade paused, took a breath, and gave yet another thick, closed mouth belch that reverberated heavily behind his lips. He pushed a fist against his mouth and let rip another even heavier one that sounded like he could barely hold it in.
When it ended, he huffed wearily and blew his soda-scented stomach gasses aside...
...And by aside, of course, that meant right in your f&#king face because of course it did...
“Mph...talk about potent,” Jade remarked, chuckling with self-amusement at his own joke, aaaaand at how cherry-red your cheeks got. “Now, where were we?”
On the verge of slamming your heavy alchemy book right in Jade's face?
Again, Jade chuckled before playfully patting the top of your head a few times. “Now, now,” Jade assured “sweetly,” adding, “that was an accident. Honest. Is it my fault that you react in a certain way when my stomach is, shall we say...a little more active than usual?”
...Yes.
“Fufufu, come on. We need to make sure you get this one right, as it will be crucial come Friday.”
At this point, if you wanted any hope of even passing your exam, you were best left studying as far away from Jade as humanly possible.
“Simply reading the ingredients, of course, is one thing. Professor Crewel is going to expect to see you brew with confidence. If you'd like, we can stop by Sam's shop later on and buy some ingredients for some trial runs, just to make sure you get the hang of it,” Jade offered.
Seemed a bit pricy an option, but you had a way of getting a few extra Thumund. After all, you DID need to pass this one. You reviewed the ingredients needed, just so you could run the numbers in your head, since you'd probably need a few extra, knowing how badly you'd probably screw up the first few attempts.
And you got JUST lost in your head enough to not catch Jade taking a deeper breath, leaning closer, and muffling one of the thickest belches you'd ever heard...RIGHT in your ear. The gas rumbled intensely behind Jade's lips, puffing his cheeks out a bit more as he seemed to genuinely struggle holding that monster in. Worse yet, it lasted a solid five seconds. When it ended, he breezily blew his gas right in your face again with a weary little laugh.
“Haaaahhh...goodness, that one was building up for a while, it seems,” Jade muttered with a none-too-subtle hint of relief in his voice.
Your face was so red that you started resembling Riddle any time he was about half a second away from blowing a gasket.
Though, in your defense, you WERE about to blow a gasket, with how riled up the cruel, handsome, evil, and handsome bastard was making you.
Still, riled up or not, what you'd learned a long time ago during your stay in Night Raven College was never get mad...get even...
So, clearing your throat, you smiled back at Jade, not even bothering trying to hide how red your cheeks were. You remarked that all that extra bubbly soda really did have to be doing a number on his stomach. And before Jade could make some remark scientifically designed to rile you in ways you didn't believe possible, you rested your hand against Jade's stomach.
Your cheeks reddened some more...obviously, but you held it together and added that it was no wonder Jade was burping so much. After all, you could practically feel all the bubbles stirring in Jade's belly. The poor guy must have beens struggling to hold back an absolute monster.
Jade's eyes immediately widened as he quickly deduced what you were up to.
And before the young merman could even open his mouth to protest, you pressed down on his taut gut firmly.
You could hear a thick, ominous gurgle, that quickly rose from Jade's belly up his chest and throat. About half a second later, Jade hastily tried to cover his mouth, but it did absolutely no good whatsoever for what was going to force its way out...
Out from Jade's fang-filled maw exploded forth an absolutely MONSTROUS belch, one that bellowed with such force that you could feel the table itself reverberate in its wake. It was a brassy, forceful sound; fueled by way too much carbonation that had been festering in Jade's gut since lunch.
The boorish, decidedly ungentlemanly sound drew the eyes of the few other students studying or reading away, and lasted an embarrassingly long time, clocking in at over six seconds.
When it finally ended, Jade quickly covered his mouth in shock; his own pale cheeks had grown a good shade red for once.
“Good grief, kid! This is a LIBRARY! Y'tryin' to wake the dead here?!” angrily barked a school ghost, ironically enough.
“...E-Excuse me...my apologies...” Jade remarked in a genuinely embarrassed tone of voice, still covering his mouth behind his gloved hand.
Slowly, his eyes turned to you as you smirked victoriously back at him. You remarked that he can rile you up all he wanted in private. But if he does that sort of thing in public? Then you'd show him that two can play at the public embarrassment game.
After a few seconds, Jade cleared his throat and managed a smirk of his own. “Hmph, well, well...seems I underestimated how sharp your fangs could really be, Prefect. Fufufu...well played...”
You flashed him a wink and patted his belly teasingly.
At which point, Jade's grin widened a bit more to show off his fangs yet again before he leaned down and whispered, “Though, before you get too big a head on your shoulders, I'd remind you that my fangs are much sharper...and should you be compelled to do that again...? Then I might just be compelled to swallow you whole...” As he spoke, he slowly ran his tongue across his fangs in a decidedly predatory manner.
Your confident smile wavered a bit at that as you smiled a bit more modestly and promised to be good.
Once again, Jade's placid, “friendly” smile returned to his face as he beamed and said, “Good! Now then, where were we...oh! That's right, we were riiiiiight here...”
You were confused for a moment which page 'here' was on.
Unfortunately, 'here' was Jade pulling you close, leaning down, taking a deep breath, and parting his lips subtly as a slow, quiet burp rolled out of his maw and right into your ear. It was a muted eruption, but one Jade had complete control of, stretching it out for a staggering eight seconds as it maintained the same volume right until the very end, where it hitched louder, but not loud enough for anyone else to hear and be distracted by.
When it ended, he smiled fiendishly and in a far more ill-intentioned voice than usual, said, “Hehehe...excuse me...”
Sufficed to say, you prooooobably weren't going to do all that great on this upcoming exam...
The thick musk hung in the air as though a fog. You’d caught small hints of it downstairs, wondered if you had imagined it. But now, in the isolation of your room with nobody else to disturb the familiar scents, it was all you could smell.
You found the pillow haphazardly laid across the floor, wondering how it had landed there and gone unnoticed this morning. Thinking out loud, you began to ask ‘what the Hell’, before losing the words in a daze of thick heady smog. You could practically taste desire in the air, as if it were calling out to you, demanding you. You picked up the pillow, curiously bringing it to your nose. Yup. That was it. Underneath the perfumed tones of washing powder and marshy woodland was the most powerful aphrodisiac scent you’d ever come across.
Throwing the pillow back on the bed, you tried to take slow, deep breaths to clear your mind. Getting off was NOT the answer to everything, goddamn it. Just because you were going through the worst of your season, does not mean you have to mount your fingers every five fucking minutes.
Although, it wasn’t just your digits that were available. You wandered over to the dresser, standing with a long pause while you considered the toy concealed under a few layers of underwear.
Shaking your head, you thought about how incredibly messy and flushed you’d look if you came back downstairs after using that. You’d already offered to help cook; there was no way you’d have time.
Leaning your forearms on the dresser, you tried to fight off the powerful scent making you ache for relief. You couldn’t even think straight while it filled your mind, entirely unbothered by HOW the pheromones filled your room, and only focused on surviving them.
You swayed your hips side to side, trying to breathe through the urges as if you weren’t slowly losing to them.
“Ugh... fuck it. I can’t do this.”
You relented to your body’s cravings, pulling out the toy and flopping back onto the bed, causing another wave of thick fog to assault your senses as you hit the pillow.
You pulled your jeans to your mid-thigh, pulling your underwear to the side to allow the toy to sink into your eagerly soaked folds. With a sharp grunt, you penetrated yourself and allowed the toy to stretch you gradually, wincing against the slight cold when all you wanted was the heat of flesh.
You grinded the toy into you, curling your fingers into your clit with one hand and controlling the toy’s thrusts with the other. The musk seemed to only get stronger, heightening your need as you whimpered and rocked hard enough to creak the mattress.
You imagined him leaning over you, scalding into your thighs with tight grips and bared claws, taking your body for his pleasure only.
You felt the pace of your body’s rocking almost becoming a bounce as you fucked the toy into you, angling it a little more forward to glide against that sweet spot, compounding with demanding fingers in small circles. Your body answered as though commanded, enticed by the delicious imagery in your filthy mind. With a final cry of his name, you fell apart, writhing and shaking as you held the toy still inside your clenching walls. You blew out forceful breaths to keep from moaning, hips jolting with the waves of orgasm, each growing further apart as you came down from the ecstasy.
Between the exhalations, the aphrodisiac scent was unrelenting. It felt as though your release had barely quenched your thirst enough to get you by; there was still so much need wracking your body, making your breasts sore and belly knot. You writhed against the toy, seeking that finality of relief after a successful orgasm, yet not quite feeling done.
In frustration, you removed it with a sharp intake of breath, hastily fixing your jeans in place as you took it to the ensuite to clean.
The bathroom was thankfully less scented, allowing you a moment’s clarity for the desire to ease off enough to relax your shoulders.
In the short time you were in there, you gained enough sense to fix your hair and apply some makeup, hiding your flushed face under concealer and mascara. You made sure to spread some foundation and powder down your neck and chest after seeing the bright pink staining under your thin fur.
Steeling yourself to walk back into the bedroom, you lock your breathing through your mouth alone and force your sense of smell to cut off completely.
It wasn’t enough. At ALL.
It was almost metallic and hot on your tongue, nearly making your eyes water. If it was any thicker in the room, you’d choke on it. Your legs faltered as you walked forward, tripping to your knees and clinging on to the side of the bed. Your nostrils filled with unwanted waves of desire, making your thighs shake with need that you just couldn’t satisfy. You broke out in shallow whines, pressing your fist against your mouth and rocking your hips in the air.
At this point, you were ready to beg.
Whatever the hell he wanted, if he could stop this ache, this pain, you’d give it to him.
Relinquishing any form of dignity you had, you stumbled to your feet, tucked the toy back in the dresser, and fought your way to carefully tread across to the bedroom door.
Outside the room, the wall of cool air hit you, a merciful relief.
You regained your sense of self, clutching onto your sanity with urgent gasps, gratefully feeling the desire in your groin easing off to a manageable level. You choked back deep breaths, coming down from the lustful high safely and steadily.
With enough composure now, you found that walking was far more manageable, leaving you looking relatively normal as you made your way down to the kitchen to help prepare dinner.
Angel had already started slicing the vegetables with a pan on the boil by the time you joined. He eyed you suspiciously, waiting for you to get settled in with seasoning the meat before speaking.
“SO, that was a sudden disappearance. Where’d you go, eh?”
You blinked up at him, confused and afraid of being caught getting off, “uh, just to fix some makeup on, i felt a little... underdressed? I don’t know, why? Did something happen?”
He narrowed his eyes, studying you. “So you just went to your room, huh? Alone?”
“Yeah, obviously. Why?”
“You know you should probably tell me if somethin’s going on with you and... someone else here. Might not be safe for you, ya know?”
Genuine confusion crossed your expression this time. “Wait what? Safe? Do you think I'm sleeping with anyone? Do you have any idea how long it’s been since i got laid? Pal, i can promise you, that is NOT the case. Don’t you worry about that.”
He chuckled, sensing the honesty behind your proclamation. “Alright doll, i believe ya. It’s just... ah, forget it. Just look after yourself okay? Lotsa unsavoury characters end up in Hell, and you can’t be sure who to trust.”
“Thanks for the advice... i guess? Um... anyway, is that pan supposed to-”
“Oh shit!”
He leapt across the kitchen, turning down the heat under the pan that bubbled over. He swore, mopping up the mess and grumbling. You sighed in relief, sensing the tension easing just a little.
It bothered you, though. The way he thought you were seeing someone, just because you’d disappeared. It’s not like anyone followed you. It didn’t make enough sense to put two and two together, which frustrated you enough to lose focus a couple times on the recipe and have to double back and re-check a few steps.
By the time dinner was ready, you were pretty well composed. You and Angel proudly showed off your hard work; though neither of you were great cooks, you’d at least produced a semi-decent spread that was probably not too overcooked, and generally smelled pretty great thanks to the ungodly amount of onions and garlic you’d charred.
The table filled with hungry-looking guests and staff, even earning praise from Husk and Vaggie as they tucked in their seats to begin plating up. Alastor’s absence caught your attention a few minutes into the meal; you looked around the room, seeing no sign of the red demon, feeling a wash of disappointment compounded with confusion.
You ate slowly, trying to work out how you were going to sleep tonight if your room still smelt so damn strong. Maybe you could ask one of the others for a sleepover, or just crash out on the sofa. Though why your pillow smelt so damn strong, you had no idea-
Your thoughts were interrupted by a violent wave of musk hitting you like a brick wall.
Losing your senses to heady desire, a tiny whine slipped out. Biting your tongue, you played off the noise as a little backache, stretching your arms dramatically as you tried to subtly peek at the demon you knew just entered the room.
With dark, tired eyes, Alastor smile-scowled into the room, hands tightly gripped behind his back. His smile was so tight it looked almost pained, with flashes of teeth as he warned off those staring at his late entrance, aimed at everyone except you. He refused to look at you with arrogant determination in his eyes.
It dawned on you all at once; the scent was HIM.
The overgrown curve to his antlers that poked above his hairline by an additional few inches gave his animal instincts away; the poor guy was going through rut, HARD, and you’d just served up an entire buffet where you’d touched every. Single. Damn. Dish.
Regret and dread warred in your stomach as you realized how brutally he was going to suffer during the meal.
Those heavy lids looked a far cry from the bright eyes you normally saw; even in such a short time from watching him join the twister game, he looked exhausted, as though he’d run a marathon or two. Even his hair was slightly unkempt, flicking upwards and mussed out to the sides as though he hadn’t cared to perfect it to its usual state. Much to your dismay and lack of control, he looked hot as fuck.
The scent was winning over your mental capacity for public decency. You rested an elbow on the table, covering your mouth to hide the teeth clamped on your lip, biting back the urge to beg and plead for him to bend you over the table and fuck the need right out of you.
Nobody else seemed particularly affected by his scent. As you curiously checked the faces of other demons, they seemed to be only vaguely concerned for his wellbeing, or mildly afraid. A few demons munched happily, avoiding the Radio Demon’s gaze at all costs. You swallowed, remembering you were here to eat, not to stare. Forcing a few mouthfuls down, you contemplated how badly this situation could go if neither of you were able to get a hold of this goddamn season. He was far too proud of a demon, an OVERLORD, to allow himself to look this sloppy. It threatened a much more sinister break in his composure that would, without a doubt, leave someone on the sharp end of those claws.
It must have been intensely sore for him for his usual composure to slip this much. He was visibly tensed in every muscle, every movement measured and precise.
If he felt the hormones the way a dominant stag would on Earth, there were only two routes for his aggression to be tempered off at this point; fighting or fucking.
You snatched a sharp breath in as two and two finally came together.
The pillow. He’d stolen your fucking pillow. That’s why your room smelt so strongly of him.
Without thinking, your face contorted into confused disgust, pondering why in Lucifer’s red Hell he would steal a pillow, especially if only to return it. Did he take it during the night? Did he... oh no. The DREAMS. OH NO.
A giggle burst from your throat before you could catch it. Wide-eyed and fighting back hilarity, you forced your hand over your mouth and bit hard on your tongue. A few eyes pivoted towards you, not helping the situation. You forced your eyes to lock onto an inconspicuous cup nearby, losing the battle between the laughter choking in your throat. Your shoulders started to shake and eyes teared up as the situation cracked your composure.
Feeling more eyes on you, you cringed into your hand, scrunching your eyelids shut. One hand pressed into the table, trying to keep you grounded and stop the laughing, but honestly it was far too late. You’d caught him now. He had a weakness, and it was the exact same one you were suffering from.
Goddamn deer hormones.
You sank your teeth into your cheeks, wiping your tears with a napkin and steadying yourself to take your plate out. You were far from done; but if you sat here any longer, you’d look at him and start wheezing.
You stumbled out of your chair with the half-eaten dish, determined in your faulty stride to get to the kitchen, nearly dropping the plate on the counter as another round of giggles struck.
In the back of your mind, a cruel joke made of spite and revenge toyed with temptation.
Acting quick, you left your plate on the counter and rifled through the cutlery drawer, finding a metal skewer and a small thin filleting knife. The perfect size for a bedroom lock. Little tricks you’d picked up working in the rougher parts of the Pentagram before you found your way here.
Running upstairs, taking the steps two at a time with an overzealous chuckle, you sprinted to the one room you’d never dared to go near.
You knew it was his before you came close; the smell of woodland swamp humidity and feral need was nearly overpowering, even from down the corridor. The fine detailing on his nameplate made you laugh harder, thinking about how far from dainty he looked right now downstairs.
You worked quickly, feeling the pressure of time, feeling the latch give in less than a minute. You sprinted back to your room, hopping inside and grabbing the pillow from the side you slept on the most, the one he hadn’t taken before. Glee lit up your expression as you lobbed it into his room, watching it flop and roll over to his pillows before you quickly shut the door.
It’d take too long to re-lock it, so you just abandoned the door shut closed and made a beeline for the kitchen again, sliding down the stair railing to save time.
You fixed your composure, maliciously mulling over how badly his room was going to reek of your suffering and pleasure the next time he went up there.
Cleaning your plate and looking around, the excitement was just too much of a high for you to go back to the table and act normal.
You flitted over to the fridge, checking out the options to whip up a dessert.
Overeager, you pulled out just about every fruit the shelves had, and dug out the ingredients for crumbles and a sponge mix. Clutter laid out on the counter like this was a more than pleasant enough distraction from the visceral lust swirling behind your decisions.
The smog of heady musk slammed into you as you whipped the sponge batter, making you freeze in place.
Behind you, the Radio Demon gave a low chuckle.
Steadying yourself with a deep breath, you pushed on with your preparation, barely able to concentrate on the consistency you were aiming for.
He came closer, his presence overwhelming as the heat prickled up the back of your neck. You felt as he stood just behind your left shoulder, as if he was a sun burning into your skin.
Swallowing loudly, you peeked back at him, trying to stifle the humorous grin that threatened to break through. His narrow eyes slitted in warning as he met your gaze, though the smile on his lips was far more frightening. The teeth were bared to the very gum, lips tight with fierce tension.
Wordlessly, he looked over your shoulder to the phone beside you, investigating the recipe you had on the screen. He surveyed the mess of ingredients as you mixed and silently picked out his own chopping board and knife, collaborating with your project. You pursed your lips, wondering if he felt the arousal just as strong as you did.
Needing a little more flour for texture, you spotted it on Alastor’s left. Wicked thoughts tempted you; you took your first shot at challenging the Radio Demon the only way you felt brave enough to. With your body.
You pressed your elbow into his front, pushing him back from the counter and reaching past to grab the flour. He froze, stunned, knife mid-air as he waited for you to move back into place. You added the flour as if nothing happened. He took a good twenty or so seconds of processing before hesitantly carrying on chopping fruit, eyeing you cautiously from his periphery.
This was far more fun than you intended, now you knew he wasn’t angry for no reason at all. Rather the opposite; you played a game of pure rage-bait as you dug your shoulder into his as you walked past to grab a baking tray, knocking him enough to turn him sideways. He smacked his palm on the counter, glaring at you, but still not speaking.
The desserts became a minefield of careful digs and pushes, intentionally keeping things out of reach so you could barge into him to grab them.
Finally, as you took the bowl from his hands and pushed his chest out of the way to grab the oil, he snapped.
A harsh growl tore from his throat as he snatched your wrists, pinning them against the counter and forcing you to face him. Inches from you, his visage of domineering accusation loomed over you, antlers creaking as his temper blazed under your barrage of disrespect. Feeling utterly pleased with yourself that you’d finally been brave enough to earn a look from him like this, you gave him your best smirk. His brows twitched, faltering in his fury.
In a menacing tone, he spoke to you directly for the first time since you moved into the Hazbin Hotel.
“My dear, how frightfully dangerous of a game you seek to play. You have no idea how very vulnerable you are right now, yet you wish to tempt me to violence? Have you no self-preservation?”
You drank in his presence, mind spinning with the heat and adrenaline coursing through your entire body. You wondered if he felt the pulse hammering in the wrists he held tight.
“Not particularly. Especially since i don’t mind your little temper tantrums. They’re far more satisfying than you just ignoring me. Do i have your attention now?”
He blinked at you, sclera blackening and bright neon green sutures flashing at his lips. “You think i haven’t seen you? Haven’t heard you? I know the way my name falls from your lips, sweet doe. You’re playing with a fire you cannot comprehend.”
Your thighs pressed together and hips bucked involuntarily, startled by the direct confrontation. Your lips parted as his eyes darted down your front to where your thighs clenched tightly. You wanted to keep going, to push him further. “See, i thought you had a little more dignity than this. But a pillow? Mister Radio, sir, all you had to do was ask.”
His voice pitched with radio tuning as static filled your ears, demanding and loud; “what do you believe i would ask for that you could possibly give? I need nothing from you.”
“Nothing at all?” You widened your eyes, giving the sweetest Bambi impression you could as you tilted your chest and face up towards him. “So, you can turn around and walk away right now, leaving me to finish up MY baking, right?”
His lips twitched with a sneer over the forced smile, lowering until he was barely an inch away from your face. In laboured snarls he rebutted your suggestion. “Fuck you.”
You chuckled under your breath, feeling the spite in his expression as he glowered down at you.
“How eloquent. I love it.”
He snorted, nose pinching in affront. “I hate you.”
Licking your lips, you leaned back into the counter, daring him with your eyes. He instinctively followed, eyes unfocusing for a second as he drank in your scent when he came closer again.
“Say that again, but with a little more conviction.”
His face turned slightly, lowering to level beside your cheek, hovering so close to your skin that you felt it could set alight any second.
“I... HATE... you.”
You dragged in a shaky breath, clutching your hands around the counter, feeling him tighten his grip painfully around your wrists. The heat of his breath prickled where he lost himself in deep inhalations intermingled with panting against your neck.
Fighting to stay semi-lucid, you pushed just a little more, sensing his control so close to breaking.
“Do you hate me, or want me? I’m getting real mixed signals here-”
He slammed his body into you, the cabinet giving a muffled clatter as he pressed every inch of his front against yours. His legs, hips, torso, chest, everything pushed against your heated skin. You gasped against him, resting your forehead against his shoulder as the prominent bulge curved into your sex like a sinful request.
Fuck, he smelled so good. So smoky, with vibrant notes of carnal pleasure and dark promises, his sweat gave off the very scent you’d chased for days now, magnified a thousand times over as your nose brushed his collar. Driven by pure lust, you licked the exposed skin at the edge of his jaw leading to his scalp, confirming he tasted just as good as he smelled. He flinched into you, cock twitching from the unexpected stroke of your tongue. He seemed to be fighting the desires raging through his body, resisting the breeding urge that drove him to seek you out so ardently. With the subtle creak of growing antlers and shudder in his shoulders, you felt him losing the battle. He arched his pelvis forward, snatching irregular gasps of breath as he rocked back and forth, grinding against you. You felt the friction burning against your pubic mound, fantasizing the possibility of just lifting up a little, parting your thighs, letting him in-
The clicking door handle disturbed the delicious moment, leaving you dropping unceremoniously to the floor as the body holding you up against the cabinet suddenly disappeared.
You caught a brief glimpse of dark shooting through the kitchen and out of the doorway; the Radio Demon fleeing the consequences of his actions, leaving you far less fortunate.
Angel rounded the kitchen island with a stack of plates, inane chatter flowing in from the doorway. He halted, spying you doubled over on the kitchen floor, bright red and crying from laughter. He helped you up, unable to get you to admit what was so funny.
He eventually helped you finish off the dessert while you bit back more laughter; the occasional flash of amusement catching you in a snort as you thought about how very badly Alastor was going to be suffering now he was hiding in a room that smelt violently of your pheromones and a well-worn pillow.
--------------------------
/Alastor/
He cursed in three languages as he stalked across his bedroom, finding no escape from the torturous heat and merciless pressure at his balls. The rigid shaft brushed harshly against his pants with every step, testament to the testosterone demanding his every sense to seek out his mate.
He snarled, trying to snap out of it to no avail. Even the tiny respite he’d gotten from pleasuring himself just before joining dinner seemed to have nil effect to temper these feverish fantasies. Behind his eyelids, her sultry eyes saw right through him, peered into his very core and asked for everything he had. With the incessant perfume of her musk filling his room, he knew he was about ready to submit to her pleas.
She’d played fucking dirty with the pillow. It wasn’t even the one he’d washed; she’d thrown her favourite one on his bed like a fucking grenade and left him to lay in the ruins.
He gritted his teeth and stood at the edge of the illusory space into his personal Bayou, feeling just a hint of cool fresh air overcoming the thick smog. He gulped down the clean air, though didn’t step further. For how much it tortured him, he revelled in the scent of her.
He toyed with the idea of hiding out here and visiting her in the night; an idea so perilously tempting, he knew it would end badly in one of them getting hurt. To be left alone and so riled up would be devastating the second he came near the real flesh and blood of the sublime demon doe.
Gathering the shredded remains of his wits, he adjusted his coat and did up an extra button than normal, barely concealing his tight trousers enough to pass for public. It looked strange for him, yet it was necessary. He wanted to go claim what was his.
He waved his hand to unlock the door from across the room, hearing a strange lack of click. With minute curiosity, he approached the lock and peeked into it with the glow of green flame, spying multiple harsh scratch marks inside the mechanism. He laughed raucously as he realized that she’d been so brutal as to pick his lock, not even capable of basic sorcery to commit her misdeeds.
Knotting his hands tightly behind his back, he made his way towards the landing, contemplating the shadows in the hallway and wondering how much time had passed since he’d abandoned the ‘confrontation’.
Glancing down to the lobby over the railings, he paused mid-step, catching her eyes as though she’d been expecting him. Her smile creased the corners of her eyes as she stifled a laugh, not looking away from him this time. He bit his cheek, fighting back his own genuine smile as he stared down at her from the banister.
He made his way down the stairs slowly, enjoying the brief respite from her scent, entirely focused on her presence. How he’d never noticed the pride in her smirk, or the way one leg cocked arrogantly, he had no idea. She didn’t flee, didn’t cower. Especially not from him. His mate would never.
She seemed to wait for him, no longer engaging in the conversation by the pool table, ignoring everyone else around her.
He approached her directly, feeling a faltering in the rhythm of his heart as the scent grew thicker with every nearing step. She waited patiently to greet him until he was close enough to keep her voice hushed. The two deer demons stood respectfully distant for the public spectacle as they held each other’s unwavering attention.
Alastor cleared his throat, picturing the words he’d rehearsed on repeat, controlling his tone to keep as quiet as possible so only her alert doe ears would detect his voice.
“I don’t give in easily. It takes a lot to break someone like me. But i must hand it to you dear, you have quite the advanced weaponry on your hands. A pillow? Pure carnage and destruction in every facet of my senses, and yet you smile up at me like you have nothing to apologize for. Did you even hesitate when you invaded my privacy?”
Her eyes darted to the curious faces observing the quiet conversation, keeping her voice equally hushed. “Did you hesitate when invading mine?”
He startled, affronted by the truth. “I’d come to check on you, after Charlotte demanded so. I had no idea what you were doing, right up until the moment you sang my name. Tell me, was that the first time? Or had you been tempted for far longer?”
Pink stained her cheeks as she looked pointedly at the ground with amused embarrassment. “That’s a very private question. I’ll answer that if you answer one of mine;” she met his eyes, determination in her expression, “were you in my room? Did you stay?”
He hesitated, considering the correct way to answer. “I never... lingered. It was always one reason or another that ended up with me being momentarily trapped by the situation you put me in. Entirely your fault, really.”
“Hmm. Mine alone. Nothing to do with how your scent would wake me from sleep and overpower me, or bring me to the brink of falling apart just by walking in my own bedroom? You think that’s all my fault too?”
“My... does it affect you the same way? Impossible. You’d be on the floor. You’d be broken. You’d....”
His argument trailed off as he remembered her falling to her knees by the bed after leaving the bathroom; at the time, her arousal had penetrated his nostrils like tear gas. Shit. Maybe he did have that effect on her. His lips twitched with delight as he felt a little of the power dynamic shift, relieved he was not alone in this infernal suffering.
She could clearly see him processing, tapping a finger on her arm as she patiently waited for him to draw conclusions.
Clearing his throat again, he looked out over the gathering, catching a few curious and cautious gazes from other sinners and staff. So far, he was behaving well enough to be allowed this conversation, though Vaggie and Charlie were glaring at him like hawks ready to swoop in. He returned his own menacing smirk to the ladies, amused when Vaggie scowled back.
The pool table erupted with juvenile cheers as a victor was finally named. Alastor noticed the intent blazing in the doe’s eyes as she looked between him and the pool table, raising a brow expectantly. He acquiesced willingly, catching a cue as it was hastily dropped by a nervous sinner.
She chalked hers up, flickering her ears as she sauntered around the table.
“Standard rules, no magic, no telekinesis, no bullshit. Just pool. I’ll rack, you break. Ready?”
He nodded, entertained by her bossy tone. He helped collect the balls from the pockets and rolled them easily towards her, noting the familiarity she held with arranging the triangle. Finally, he picked up the white and placed it on the head spot, taking his time to bend low and measure up his angle. She hesitated as she lifted the rack, eyes wandering over him carnally with barely a blink until they met his gaze. She had the decency to look a little embarrassed, at least.
He took the opening break shot with a loud clatter of red and yellow balls scattering across the table; one red sank into the far-left pocket, announcing his colour with a challenging smirk. As he lined up for the next shot, he made tactful conversation plenty audible enough for the nearby demons to hear.
“So, did you finish dear?”
She coughed, startled. “What?”
“The dessert? Did you end up completing the dishes?”
“Ah, uh, yes, i had help. Angel. Yeah.”
He lavished in the flustered voice, catching her eye briefly before pocketing another red with a loud clack.
He chose his next target, easing into a low bend across from her. “Excellent. And how did it taste?”
She was definitely getting more uncomfortable as his double meanings met their mark beautifully. His own aim faltered as her shifting knees distracted him, causing him to send his next ball wide. His lip curled, displeased with the failure.
“Rather delicious, actually. As good as it smelled.”
She followed the cue ball slowly around until she was at the right-hand side of the table, picking out her options. Honestly, it didn’t look like a good spread of yellows; many were trapped in a cluster of reds, or blocked from straight shots into pockets with a few tricky angles. He watched as she tilted her head and checked for different perspectives, picking out one in particular he wasn’t expecting. The yellow ball had a three-cushion bank shot before it could possibly sink without her hitting either one of his reds on the way or knocking the black. She dipped incredibly low, arching her back and creating a spider-like bridge to support her cue. With little surprise, the yellow ball went completely away from the only pocket it could possibly land in, rolling uselessly nearby a centre pocket at a tricky angle.
He chuckled under his breath, amused at how tightly she controlled her expression.
Alastor picked out his next shot, pocketing a red with ease, wondering whether he was being outwardly cruel to win so quickly. The doe bowed her head in praise, a small twitch in her lip giving away her enjoyment of the game.
“So, Alastor, that book you’re reading must be very good. You’ve been on the same chapter for... three days now? Romance, or thriller?”
He bit back a smirk as he debated a rebuttal, aware she was entirely correct. He’d barely even turned a single page in the last few days. “Something of a dark fantasy, I'd stretch. The kind of scenes that make you wonder how sane you truly are to enjoy it.”
Her sharp inhale of breath distracted him at the last second, catching him off-guard and missing the break shot he’d planned, hitting one of her yellows instead.
“Tschh, whoops. My turn. Two shots. Mind moving over?”
He complied, taking his sweet time so she had to sidle right up next to him before he was out of striking range from the cue. He noticed as her body stiffened with a shallow breath, clearly as intoxicated by scent as he was.
She appraised the full set of seven yellows steadily, not giving away the desperation she must have been feeling.
Watching her pick out another nearly impossible shot, he wondered if she’d ever really played this game for anything less than drunk amusement prior to this. The ball went clearly astray, rolling to a halt way off from any possible pocket, only just within reach of a future shot to the back left.
She lined up another, peeking briefly up at him before rebounding one of the central yellows off one of her own, causing them to both lazily roll across to the corner pockets, only sinking one. She seemed pleased, giving a quick nod before picking out her next shot, missing once again.
“You know, if I'd known you were this inexperienced, I'd have been a little more gentle.”
She side-eyed him at the remark, brow raising a fraction with indignance. “I take my time. If you’re expecting an easy win, you’re not really enjoying the game.”
He grinned maliciously at her, striking the cue ball with a natural English spin that delicately pocketed a further red. Amongst her sea of yellows, his imminent win seemed promised.
“Excuses. Your technique is laughable and your shots are sloppy. I could of course teach you, if you’d be amenable to being so very near me.”
She sucked her teeth, staring down at the table and considering the very real offer.
Truthfully, as much as he desired to bend her over the table and press his stiff length against her backside, he knew temptation would win out over public decency. It wouldn’t do very much to protect his proud image if he took her right then and there.
“You say that like I'm afraid. Take your shot, Radio. You’re wasting everybody’s time right now.”
Enjoying the thrill of this discourse, he purposefully sent his next shot astray, allowing her to take a turn. She had the audacity to look displeased, audibly sighing and crossing her arms.
“Throwing the game? Really?”
“Just giving you a chance, my darling. Besides, your yellows are making it hard to see my reds.”
She laughed, chalking up her cue and crossing her arms. “Put the cue ball back where you fucked it up, and take it again. Do it properly, or don’t bother.”
He measured her determined gaze, pleased that she wasn’t easily backing down from her pride, even if she was losing horribly.
“Very well. You may stand to regret this.”
“Perhaps. How about a little wager?”
He paused, surprised. “Oh? You think you have something to offer?”
He ducked low, striking the cue with precision, pocketing a red with a tight spin directed off a side cushion. In his periphery, she grinned down at him, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth in mischievous amusement.
“I know YOU do. How about, if I win, you answer one single question with absolute honesty. No matter how personal, invasive or terrifying, you will answer in plain English and using a fully logical, grammatically correct sentence.”
“HAH, i hardly imagine there is anything valuable you would gain from such a request, as unlikely as it is you’d be able to claim it. And if i win?”
“Is there anything in particular you’d desire, Radio?”
He mulled over the options, considering what he could ask for that wouldn’t make the demons around him blush scarlet red. “I want to destroy something particular of yours that i would hope to never see the light of day again. A physical object, no harm caused to any person or being. Agreed?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Pardon?”
“You heard.”
The conversation overlayed his current struggle as he noticed how many pockets were blocked by her awfully failed shots, contemplating how he’d have to attempt a jump shot to manage his next one.
“That’s... ominous. Fine. Deal.”
He grinned up at her from his bend, gripping the cue to a precise angle before making the white hop cleanly over one of her yellows. It rolled just slightly off the mark, missing his red, rolling into the side pocket as his smile faltered.
The audience seemed rapt, now sensing the stakes were a little higher now the Radio Demon clearly had a bone to pick with something she owned.
On the table were six yellows, two reds, the black, and now the cue ball in hand within the half-circle. Alastor felt glee in tandem with desire as he imagined the chemical flames that vile invasive toy would make as he burned it in front of her, reminding her that she belonged to him and him alone.
She aimed, appearing far more relaxed than she should have been for how alarmingly out of range her angle was going to take the yellow she pointed the cue ball at. With no surprise to Alastor, it bounced sharply off a cushion close to the pocket, rolling to a halt vaguely near the pocket he now had guarded by one of his remaining reds.
Tightly controlling her expression, she met Alastor’s victorious grin.
He lost himself in the gaze, resting his hands on the table and drinking in the sight of her. She mirrored him on the opposite side, holding the cue in one arm as she leaned slightly forward, her hair dangling in soft curls.
“I want you to look me in the eyes as i win, Alastor. Can you do that?”
Her tone ran with an electric undercurrent of carnal promise, jolting through his groin and reawakening the barely concealed bulge in his crotch. He’d only just managed to control himself, damnit. Even some of the nearby sinners looked a little surprised and awkward at her tone. He leaned forward as she did, holding her gaze as she lined up the cue without looking down. She gave one quick glance to adjust the angle and created a loop with her forefinger as a bridge before fixing her gaze back on him.
She struck quickly, cleanly and very accurately.
The cue ball knocked the yellow near the far-right pocket, not even finishing its course before she was already moving around the table to meet it. With another quick glance down, she bent, met his eyes, struck the white, and pocketed the yellow by the central pocket between Alastor’s hands. His own eyes darted down as he realized the shark in the waters. Each yellow was in a perfect place to guard a pocket, except from the one he had guarded with a red. She’d lined every single fucking one up ready for this.
Her eyes sparkled as he caught on to her ploy. She’d never be able to pull this one off on him again, that was for sure. It was remarkable. Another glance down, another fixed gaze, another pocket. The audience around them grew audibly excitable at his downfall, watching the violent turnaround with the appreciation that it deserved.
Down to her final yellow, she was trapped with the cue ball central to the table, the only viable pocket blocked at an angle by both of his reds. There was no way she could get that yellow past his, plus no safe way to rebound off the cushions without likely pocketing one of the reds as a consequence.
She seemed undeterred, crossing over to stand in front of Alastor, pushing her hand against his chest to move him a step backwards to clear space. He complied, fascinated by the way his body felt alight where she touched him, even through clothes.
She hitched her left leg up on the pool table, bending low enough to brush her hair and breasts on the felt lining. He lost any and all focus on where she was angling the cue, entirely distracted by the wicked curve of her ass and arch of her back in front of him.
He heard a loud clack, just about tearing his eyes away from the view to notice the vicious running English shot that made the cue ball ricochet off the left cushion and graze the yellow so finely, it sent it into a spin, curving naturally in an arc towards the back left pocket away from his reds.
His stomach sank as the ball rolled in with a little plunk to announce her success.
She stood up straight and gave a pointed cough, gesturing two fingers for him to look into her eyes as she’d demanded. Gritting his teeth with a feral grin, he followed her movements as she strode to the other side of the table, now in pathetically easy grasp of winning. A glimmer of fear dared dance in his chest as he wondered what she wanted to know.
With only a few seconds of lining up and drawing back, she held his gaze and called the central pocket between his hands as the designated target. He tucked his fingers away from the cushion, keeping well out of any potential trajectory.
Eyes locked on his, she struck the cue ball, pocketing the black between his hands with ease, nil cushions or trick shots needed.
He heard hysterical laughs behind him from both Angel and Husk, alongside a few muffled chuckles from both Charlie and a few sinners. He took the defeat gracefully, offering a slow clap and wide smirk as she gave a bow to her audience.
