#I also look 12 so I have to swear up and down that I'm over 18 when I order a drink 💀

[thatuselesshuman]

Being in a country where the legal drinking age is 18 is lowkey embarrassing cause there's these kids fresh out of high school drinking a pack of beers by the hour and I'm over here having to treat drinking like I'm already 40 years old

[onlyseokmins]

size matters • l.c.

Pairing: lee chan x afab!reader Genres: major smut (minors PLS dni!), losers + idiots + besties to lovers Warnings: *deep breath* MONSTER COCK CHAN, swearing, love me some switch action, reader does not use specified pronouns but refers to their pussy as "she", reader also wears a skirt, pet names, alcohol and goofy drunk antics, bad humor, use of "whore/slut", tons of dirty talk, they're kinda pervs, mentions of toys, masturbation (fem), hints to past sexual partners, mentions of oral (male), actual oral (fem. receiving), car sex (kind of), condoms, fingering (fem. receiving), WAP lmao and squirting, bantering, degradation, wee bit praise, unprotected/protected MESSY sex, underwear play (??? lmao), precum play (??), edging, face-riding, groping/manhandling, objectification, reverse cowgirl position, bulge kink, slapping/spanking, possession, almost choking, biting, tears and crying, a bit of overstim and if i missed smth lmk sdfjkajdf WC: 8.3k A/N: this started out purely self-indulgent as usual and reads like a bad pornhwa but it's also nana month so a happy early birthday to @bitchlessdino because i will be asleep when the clock actually strikes 12 tomorrow! and bc i will dedicate all chan content to the loml! this is like my 3rd longest fic on this blog and 4th longest fic ever and it's just utter filth and smut... hate it here. i always get into a crazy headspace when i write for this man. i hope y'all enjoy my delusions before i retire out of shame 😬

"I'm worried my dick's too big."

Laughter bubbles in your chest at the same time the beer you'd just taken a swig of swishes around in your mouth. It's so like your best friend to say something stupid. Especially when your mouth is full.

He frowns in mild annoyance as you rock back and forth with mirth, struggling not to spit out your drink and make a mess. But also trying to refrain from choking. Because if you die, you sure as hell will find a way to make sure everyone knows that a dumbo and his terrible concern over having a big cock drove you to your demise in such an unfortunate manner.

And no one wants that.

"I dunno what's so funny," the man in question irritably gripes, "but for god's sake, calm down and swallow."

Though it ends up that Chan is the one gulping first. Ears burning and eyes widening when you wiggle your brows deviously and do as he says. Sticking your tongue out for good measure — just for proof that yes, you did swallow —  but he's quickly whipping his gaze away. Head turning to the side as if that does anything to hide the embarrassing look overtaking his expression. 

He thinks you'll back off, hoping the nervous twiddling of his fingers will deter further teasing. But he should really know better. The telltale signs are littered across the table in front of him and even overpower your usual sweet scent when you lean close into his personal space.

"So, you like it when someone swallows versus spits for you, Channie?"

"You're drunk."

"So are you." 

Because that's what happens every movie night. The two of you enjoy too many beers after a feel-good show and start talking nonsense.

"Yeah, and we're having a very serious conversation right now. A drunk one. But still, serious."

You purse your lips. "You're bluffing. No way you're complaining about the hugeness of your dick. 'Cause no one does that."

"It's not like I'm trying to boast or even insecure, I'm just worried."

"Worried about what?" you snort and push at his shoulder. "There'd be no reason to worry if you know how to use it. In the end, size doesn't matter at all."

Chan quirks an eyebrow, side-eyeing you. "At all?" 

"If your technique is good, it shouldn't matter as long as everyone feels satisfied. You know, you just gotta hit that one spot…" 

You start doing hand motions to demonstrate your point that seem wildly inappropriate and are honestly so drunkenly uncoordinated to the point that Chan not only feels compelled to stop you but doubts anyone would feel good from that. Then again, he's never really managed to partake in sloppy sex, so who knows? 

He grabs your hands to still them and though you no longer move, you protest. "What? You'll have 'em seeing and feeling stars! To be honest… you prolly will too if ya try your best."

"You know, I do know how to pleasure someone. It's not really an issue once I'm inside, it's just getting there that's kind of a problem."

"Channie, are you secretly a virgin?" You lay your head on his shoulder, hand running down his forearm and weaving your fingers between his. "Issokay if you are."

"You know I'm not!"

"Well, yeah I guess you're a bit of a whore. Still love you no matter what."

Chan chokes out your name in frustration. "All I'm saying is that I have a huge cock and I'm sad about it!"

"And you keep saying I'm drunk. Look, you're valid in being… upset about having a fat dick even if I don't understand. Just telling you that sometimes a ton of prep is helpful and even a decent amount of lube. No shame in that. Not everyone's built to take a large-ass, whopping cock." And then you mumble extremely quietly, "If it's even that big."

Unfortunately, he hears you and scoffs. Popping his shoulder up to gently shove you off him. Though that only causes you to grasp for his sweatpant-clad thigh and hold onto it for dear support in your half-drunken stupor. The perverted part of both your brains flash to your hand squeezing tightly around something else; the unmistakable heat of said something else radiating towards the closest part of your hand and causing a hot rush to flare across your entire body.

Or maybe that's just the alcohol.

Doesn't stop you from shamelessly ogling what you can only presume to be his bulge, gray fabric stretched over his groin and straining against muscular thighs. 

"Are you flaccid right now?"

"What's it to you?"

"Just curious. Thinking about my different dildo sizes."

He balks at that. "Pl-please don't."

"Yeah, not sure I wanna compare what your dick would realistically feel inside me," you admit even if you find it difficult to tear your hungry eyes away to take in Chan's mortified expression. 

"Can we stop talking about my personal parts now?" he squeaks out and you shoot him a dubious side-eye even though you do easily acquiesce.

"With pleasure. Speaking of which…"

Chan's hushed groan of "Oh dear" goes ignored even after you drape an arm on the back of the couch behind his head, lay the other across his chest, and splay your legs over his lap. Your lips end up leaving a sticky residue on his cheek, neck, and ear as you graciously whisper your own sex secret — the spontaneous topic of tonight — to him. 

"Only my bullet vibe has the ability to make me squirt. None of the others, not even the thirteen-inch one with suction ridges. So yeah, hm… size doesn't matter, does it Channie?"

"Well, those are toys and uh… my big dick is simply what it is. A big, regular human dick. Nothing fancy."

"Then you should try harder."

He apologizes for having such blatant ignorance about the matter and then eventually you end up falling asleep together. 

Limbs tangled and wrapped around one another just like every other night you doze off with the comfort of the other's body warmth. And like usual, you and Chan peer at each other with eyelids heavy from sleep and goofy but comforting smiles — merely inches apart when the sun's rays sneak a peek through the blinds to shine onto your faces. Because everything's normal and just right between the two of you. 

Like always.

Except it's not.

All you can think about is your best friend's dumb, gargantuan cock and his weird embarrassment about it. If you didn't know Chan as well as you do, you might think he was just using that as an excuse to get into your pants but you know better. He's genuinely perturbed over his too-big dick! 

You let out a sigh. Warm breath fans the tip of your ear while large hands lay on your hips, ringed fingers teasing the bare skin revealed by the daring crop top you decided to wear tonight.

"Am I boring you, baby?"

"Kind of," you admit, displeased that you weren't enjoying the usual thrill of grinding on the dancefloor with a hot man. Turning around to face said man, you purse your lips. "How would you feel if you had a big dick, Cheol?"

He raises an eyebrow in the self-assured way only the Choi Seungcheol can. "Shouldn't you be asking what it's like possessing the largest dick of the century?"

"Not helping, I'm not talking about big dick energy."

"That's not what you said when it was shoved halfway down your throat."

"Can't say much if I'm sucking someone off, you dolt. And I said you made my jaw hurt 'cause you're a guy that likes it rough, not 'cause I thought your dick was overly huge."

"Brat," Seungcheol says rather affectionately, "so whose humongous cock are you taking tonight?"

Your eyes wander over his shoulder to the bar, the same place he noticed your gaze strayed towards all night. A glee-filled smirk is on your face when you meet his eyes again though you only casually state with a shrug, "An absolute loser's."

"Wasn't aware it was self-pleasure night, sweetheart," he jokingly snorts, nudging you in that direction before you can get too mad at him. But not without delivering a playful slap on your ass as a 'good luck to charm' to send you on your way. "Go get 'em, Tiger!"

The cocky bastard must think you're after Soonyoung tonight, who greets you by placing a polite kiss on the cheek and a casual side hug. Though he looks hella fine tonight with slicked-back hair and donning the signature head-turning 'leather jacket, silver jewelry' fit that Seungcheol is sporting, he's not who you have in mind.

You squeeze him back though, always ready to return the affection you receive. "Rare to not see you dancing, tough crowd tonight?"

"Nah, I just have my priorities set." He angles his head toward the bartender who sneaks subtle glances at the two of you as if to distinguish what intentions you had approaching such a striking man. 

That they just so happen to have their eyes on. Luckily Soonyoung does too.

"Ah, well, so do I!" 

Never one to want to get stuck between two people and cause a potential misunderstanding, you pat him on the arm, wink encouragingly at the bartender, and skip away to find the person who's been occupying your mind for the past few days in a very different way like crazy.

Chan hasn't moved from where you last caught sight of him — in the corner of the bar nursing the same glass of bourbon for far too long. There's distinctly more water in it from the rapidly melting ice ball than alcohol but you still ease it out of his grasp. Taking a sip only to wrinkle your nose in disgust.

Your best friend observes your expression with a bemused one of his own after you hand it back, lip gloss staining the rim. A far cry from the darkened, sultry stare that followed as you moved from one gyrating body to the next. You wonder how you've never noticed it before. But then again, you yourself have never thought about him in that kind of way until now. 

While momentarily lost in your thoughts, Chan's working on getting the attention of Soonyoung's flirt target to order your favorite drink. But you place a hand on his arm, squeezing the firm muscle beneath your fingertips. 

"I wanna go home."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just feel like leaving."

He shakes his head. "You looked like you were having a good time."

"Ooh… are you jealous?"

"Hah, jealous? No. Concerned that someone did something you didn't like? Yeah."

"There will be," you tug him by the open collar of the flannel he's wearing so you're nose-to-nose, "if he doesn't take me back to his place right now."

His eyebrows raise, eyes widening as they drop down to the pouty curve of your lips. You swear he even peers at your cleavage with the tiniest of squints before finishing what little bit of liquor is left, standing, and pulling you along with him outside.

Walking to his car parked by the sidewalk is truly a breath of fresh air, the chill of the evening breeze and city noises rushing by helps bring Chan back down to earth. No longer on the crazy high fueled by the hypnotic, seductive thrall of the nightclub's booming bass that adds to him being wholly entranced by your teasing allure. 

Now it's just you and him. Simple as usual, getting ready to drive around.

"You want to go to my place?"

"Yeah."

He starts the engine, checking the side mirror to estimate when there will be an available opening to pull out. "Whaddya wanna do, stop somewhere for snacks?"

"Sure. Maybe condoms too."

"I'm sorry, what?" It's a good thing the car's still in park when his foot stomps on the gas pedal out of shock, revving the engine and making you both jump. "Why?"

Chan even goes as far as to steal a glance over his shoulder at the backseat. As if you had miraculously snuck in someone from the club that you were planning to fuck and he didn't know about it. 

There's no one there, of course.

"Why… are we picking up… condoms?" he repeats. "I um, I have a bunch of unopened boxes i-if you need them."

"You do? Good."

"Uh, can you at least let me know how many are used so I don't suddenly run out?"

Your eyebrows raise though he doesn't even dare look at you. "Do you think you'll cum that much?"

"Pardon?! N-no, I only have a surplus because I bought them in bulk!"

"I thought you weren't having sex a lot because you have such a big cock. One that rarely goes inside anyone."

His hands cover his face. "I'm saying it's fine if you want to use them!"

"Gee, thanks. You want me to make condom balloon animals or something?"

One brown eye glares at you between fingers. "… If you're into that."

"I bet extra large ones would make brilliant animal balloons but that's a sad waste when they could go around a dick instead. I mean it can't be easy for you to find ones that don't break. Whatever, at least you have a ton. And as you know I'm on the pill."

He has to know. He has to ask. "Are you confused or is it just me?"

"Clearly, because I don't know why you think I'd be into filling condoms with air and not cock."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but — I mean like there's no way — but are you implying that you want to… you know, with me…?"

"Whaddya mean 'no way'? Fuck yeah, I wanna fuck you! Sorry, was that not clear?" 

Chan chokes on his saliva and has a brief hacking fit. "No?!" 

"Damn, uh… my bad. Sorry, I thought it was super obvious. Simply put, I can't get the thought of you out of my mind or my pussy, so yeah. We should totally bang. Have sex and all that. Only if you want to obviously. No hard feelings if not."

Oh god, yes he does. Since he now knows that you can squirt, let alone with something as small as a little bullet vibrator, all he can think about is what would happen if he teased your cunt with the thick head of his cock. It's been driving him absolutely feral and fueled a rather ugly feeling when he saw Seungcheol all over you earlier. 

But now that he knows you want him? Maybe just as much as he wants you? Explicitly? 

He starts driving in an attempt to help collect himself. You're at ease, able to read him well and know he'll need some time to process and organize his thoughts. So, you wait in silence while he does just that, and when he speaks again his voice is low, laced with utter desire.

"You've been thinking about me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Your pussy has too?"

"Mhm, Channie… she's been crying for you like crazy."

"Fuck," he mutters and grips the steering wheel tightly to avoid swerving into the berm. He rasps out in a desperate beg, "C-can you touch yourself for me? Let me hear how loud she is?"

And you sweetly oblige with a hushed, "Of course," and can't lift your miniskirt up faster than you do now, pushing the drenched thong underneath to the side. Your clit's been buzzing nonstop ever since he whined about his big cock and you got to glimpse the outline of it. And with him now sitting beside you as your thumb rubs at the tiny nub, pointer fingers dipping in and out of your clenching hole, you both let out groans — you at the thrilling sensation and him at the insanely filthy sounds.

Chan steals a moment to take in the sight when he switches lanes, loving the way your tongue lolls past glossy lips that part to release little whimpers of pleasure. It's unlikely you'll squirt right now. But there's still a slick sheen of arousal glistening on your thighs so he holds onto the sick twist of hope that a trace will be left behind. He's pleased and licks his lips but has to swiftly pay attention to the road again, especially when your head rolls to the side, eyelashes pleadingly fluttering at him.

He needs to get home fast. Now.

The car fills with the sloppy noises of you playing with your cunt which grows wetter and wetter by the second. The air is heavy and oozes sex, the compact space growing more humid as you work and rile up your pussy, yourself, and the man beside you. You keep easing up to that delicious edge but never fully dipping over it, making sure to continue growing needier and more wanton until the blurry scenery rushing past the windows half-registers as familiar in your already fucked-out state of mind.

"Wanna get a feel of your cock," you whine out with no shame at how pitiful it sounds. "Gotta know how many fingers to stuff inside to stretch myself out for the real thing."

The way he spits out your name like a curse word makes your gummy walls contract tightly, emitting a moist suctioning sound when you pull your fingers out and bully them back in. 

"No. You have to wait."

"Don't wanna! Been waiting long enough."

"So fuckin' needy," he taunts as if he's not panting heavily with his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "I don't think they'll come even close to opening up that tiny hole of yours effectively for my dick. But size doesn't matter, so whatever. Right, sweetheart?"

You cuss him out jokingly while working knuckle-deep inside your cunt. Humping against your palm and pulling at your nipples with the other hand underneath your top when he rolls to a stop at an empty four-way in the neighborhood. 

He swats your arm out and away, curiously sweeping his own fingers across your damp folds that flinch at the sudden contact but still mourn the devastating loss of being filled before he slaps at them. Chan grins like a total heathen at the way your hips jolt upon impact, growing more and more delirious at the way droplets of your arousal splash out at the action.

"If you cum by rubbing yourself on that seat — no hands — before I pull in the driveway, I'll let you touch me to mentally prep yourself before we get inside. Before I get inside you." His words are enunciated with a smirk that drops after bringing soaked fingers to his lips — eyelids fluttering with a grunt at your taste eagerly licked clean with his tongue. "God, do you know how delicious you are? Need you to sit on my face at some point, wanna drown in that sloppy pussy."

His dirty talk could be enough to finish you off, you belatedly realize. The earlier command to rut your aching clit against the scratchy fabric to soothe it makes you thrillingly feel like a depraved whore. 

"You're a fuckin' perv, Chan," you growl out as if you aren't doing exactly what he asked on instinct and loving how he's talking to you. How good he is at making you feel divine.

"Yeah? But I want something to remember this by."

"Sick," you snarl through gritted teeth like the knowledge of him thinking about this moment every time he gets in his car and looks at the passenger seat isn't getting you off even more. Bonus points if he jerks off to it. You act like it's not the catalyst to you coming undone, blaming it fully on the bump of the asphalt connecting to the concrete driveway hitting your hard nub just right — absolutely defiling his poor car with your arousal. "Sick in the head."

Neither one of you care. 

In fact, Chan's so pleased he ignores the words you both know you don't mean. Grabbing the hand you buried deep within your hole, but then chose to use it to grip at the console while following his command, and guides it to his mouth. Happily repeating the same thing he did to his own, maintaining eye contact as he tongues at your fingertips. Pupils dilating with how addicted he's become to your taste. Growing more and more eager to have it straight from the source in the very near future. 

Then he places your spit-coated fingers where his cock strains against dark jeans. A darker, damp spot on the denim signifies how much precum the tip is leaking, begging to be released. He squeezes the hand sandwiched between his and the hardening length, shallowly thrusting up into your palm so you can completely grope at its mouth-watering, jaw-aching girth. 

"Feel that?" he goads, "that's gonna have to fit inside your tight cunt."

Your eyes nearly cross at the realization. And of course, your pussy forlornly clenches around nothing, dripping out more arousal to add to the already soiled mess beneath you. 

Oh, you cannot wait.

He wasn't lying, positive every single finger stuffing your hole couldn't compare to the size you just felt beneath those very appendages. Tears collect at your lash line, already anticipating the sheer amount of pleasure you know you'll be feeling with a very warm and real dick. And he's not even anywhere inside of you yet!

Chan coos and wipes the tear that escapes to your cheek. Then he gets out of the car and comes around to the other side to help you walk since your legs are weak and shaking — for more than one reason. That's fine because it gives him almost a weird sense of pride and an excuse to grind and grope at you as he pleases while unlocking the front door. Surprisingly, both of you are giggling together as if you're naughty teens again, always up to no good. It feels strangely wholesome, a light sense of relief blooming and filling your entire body.

Until you're on the other side of the door and those feelings morph back into something carnal. More primal. And Chan must feel it too because you swear he growls when pinning you against the wall. 

"You'll let me eat you out, right? 'Course you will." 

Now it's your turn to feel perverse satisfaction, watching as his lip trembles at the very thought of getting denied such a treat. Feeling the man's absolute desperation through the fingertips that dig into your hips and slightly hike up the already ridiculously short skirt you're wearing.

"C'mon bestie, please."

"… You did not bestie-zone me right now."

"I — " Chan hesitates and you fear the reality of the situation has hit him. That he'll back out and leave you a yearning mess like this. But then he leans in close to whisper hotly against your ear, "What, you want me to call you something like baby?"

Your hum of consideration encourages him to continue, palms sliding down the sides of your bare thighs and lowering himself at a pace that matches the syllables of each word leaving his mouth. Keeping eye contact with you the whole time as a mischievous smirk lights up his stupidly handsome face. 

"Darling? Babe? Lovely sweetheart? Or…" His voice gets thicker, more gravelly until he's finally on his knees and peering up at you. "A vixen? Seductress? Little whore? My slut?"

His hands sneak upwards again, pausing when they're hidden under the pleat of your skirt. 

"Still, you'll always be my dear best friend." He acknowledges and for some reason, it fills you with a comforting sense of reassurance.

And then he waits, hoping — praying — to get your permission.

The coy way you lift up the skirt in no way matches the cute grin you flash at him. Biting your pointer finger as you reveal your pretty pussy for Chan, its puffy lips spread by the continually soaked thong stuck between them. His eyes flick almost nervously away from yours to get a look, letting out a strangled moan at the sight. 

Automatically drawn like a bee to honey. His heart thumps anxiously when your fingers bury in his bangs to yank at them, halting him just short of being able to stick his tongue out for a taste that he already misses. He whines, fully surrounded by the heady scent of your arousal and unable to feast. But you have something to tell him first.

"You can't make me cum."

"What? Why? Need to stretch — "

"No. I already spent hours practicing with my thirteen-inch, so it'll be fine. We're doing this so you know what the telltale signs are when I'm about to cum when this," you briefly release his hair so manicured nails can pet the outside of your glistening wet cunt, "is wrapped around your dick." You smile when he moans quietly at the revelation and you tug lightly again at silky strands, eager to hear more before you absolutely break him. "And don't you want to see me squirt?"

"God, yes."

You shove his face between your inner thighs. "Then this'll help, baby boy. So, don't you dare let me cum unless it's on your cock."

Chan really can't protest against what you call him and honestly wouldn't want to because that would mean leaving the delectable meal he's finally being allowed to dine on. Though your thong remains in the way, he uses it to his advantage. Sucking all the wetness out of it with a hearty groan of appreciation, pushing it back between your folds, and running his tongue that put it there in zig-zag motions along the sorry excuse for fabric. Then repeating the same motions on either side of the bare supple pussy lips that clench at every nibble, suck, and brush on them.

It isn't very long until he gets frustrated by its restrictions though, feeling outrageous at how jealous he's getting of a piece of cloth that gets to wrap around your cunt all the time. Like you can read his mind, you pull him off with breathless laughter at his inevitable moan of sadness and mumble words of reassurance that you're doing it for his benefit.

He can't really hear with the rush of adrenaline roaring in his ears but he surely sees how you rip the offending thong away. It tears easily, falling apart at its most sodden point. And finally, your pussy is truly bare all for him and he rushes to dive back in. Slurping and sucking at your drenched hole like a dehydrated man finding an oasis in the desert.

Again, Chan's intentions were to leave you weak with the magic his mouth and tongue could work but you don't really allow him. His neck's cranked at an awkward angle as you continue to grip at his hair and smother his lips and tongue with your cunt, sloppy ruts back and forth causing your clit to catch and bump against his nose. He doesn't mind even if he's ninety-nine percent positive this is how you'd get off on one of your toys — no, he definitely has not imagined that — but he's not complaining.

There's something in the way that you're utterly using him like he's nothing but an object for your ultimate pleasure. It has the blood rushing down to swell up his cock even more. And maybe he's willingly happy to do so. Offering his body for your pleasure, making sure to stiffen his tongue so it will hit part of your clit as you move and grind all over his face. 

It's kinda hot. He also might be enjoying this a little too much.

And just as his eyes roll up for the umpteenth time out of delicious, delirious dizziness, he feels it. 

The buildup must have been when you started humping his chin shamelessly, slamming down harshly enough that he's sure he'll have bruises to show off. Settling more and more of your weight forward to arch your back, breasts heavy as they follow gravity, and your nipples visibly poke through the crop top's thin material. 

Your hips jerk up and away a few times, the subtle wiggle in them certainly has your ass jiggling cutely. He also notes how your "ah" moans turn to "mhms", positive you're biting your lip with closed eyes and a pleased grin. By now the hands tangling in his hair have made their way to the back of his head and Chan knows one thing for sure.

You're on the brink of climaxing.

And as much as he wants you to make more of a mess on his face, he's a little afraid of what you might do — or might not do — so he obediently, but regretfully backs away and sinks down to sit on his heels. Pathetic, the way he has to simply watch like a good boy as your slit flutters above him and you release the death grip hold you had on his poor hair.

Once all of your weight is supported by the wall again, you slide down it to plop on the floor. A sheepish grin on your face as you praise him for doing such a great job, reveling in what a sexy, fucked-out look he's wearing — mussed-up hair, swollen lips, and a shiny mix of sweat and arousal decorating his face as his eyes struggle to refocus while he catches his breath.

He embarrassingly thinks you might kiss him when you lean in. Only to jolt with surprise at your hand slipping into his back pocket and he flinches after you squeeze at his well-shaped ass with a naughty giggle. 

"A souvenir," you murmur in his ear and he feels the spongy ball of your torn thong when he stands like it's a gold coin weighing down his jeans.

"Can't believe you ripped those yourself."

"Can't believe you didn't rip them."

"Didn't wanna ruin them," he admits because he'd honestly feel bad. Though you shoot him a funny look that he doesn't quite understand as he assists your wobbling frame on the walk to the bedroom.

"Dude, you've already ruined so many, what's one more pair?"

"Huh?"

It's amazing how serious you are when you ask, "Don't you remember how wet I've been getting thinking about your dumb cock? Almost ran out of panties to wear."

With that admission, Chan is immediately rushing you down the hallway and has you on his bed at record speed. It's so comical that you have no choice but to once again fall into that giggly headspace like earlier as you help one another strip each other's clothes off.

"God, why are you like this? Such a fucking little tease."

"You love it."

"Hm, yeah," he looks at you with such tenderness, "guess I do."

You verbally agree even as you grab at his wrist before he can throw his boxers to the ground. "Hand 'em over. It's only fair if you have mine," you point out when he raises an eyebrow.

"Someone's full of surprises."

"Well, somebody's loved all of them so I'm sure he'll like this one too."

Though he falls onto his back easily when you push him down, he can't help but raise concern. "I get that you… practiced, but wouldn't a better position be with me on top? You'll like — "

"And I get that you liked being used like a dildo, baby boy." 

You miss the chagrined look that rapidly spreads across Chan's pretty face at the callout. But that's okay because you turn around to throw a leg over and straddle his prone body, staring at your prize of the night — the fattest dick you've been fantasizing about in the flesh.

"Thanks for these, by the way." You send a wink at him over your shoulder, waving the boxers that dangle off your pointer finger. "Need something to bite onto," you add and moan when you deliberately let your tongue meet the salty patch of precum smeared on them before clamping the black cloth between your teeth.

His heavy cock jerks up, already overwhelmed by everything you're doing. His hips follow suit, also lifting once the feeling of your dripping cunt soaks his abs as you sit and press him back against the bed and reach a hand out. He groans, clutching at the blanket when your palm rubs at the sensitive skin. You marvel at how your decently sized fingers fail to fully wrap around the entire girth.

It already weighs a ton laying against the hand you're using and struggling to prop it up. Shining in all its glory from the excess that's leaked and coated it thoroughly. You seem happy to add to it and Chan's eyes widen at the couple of clear globs of arousal that drip out of your cunt, aided by two free fingers spreading your pussy lips and contracting your inner walls to squeeze them out. And then you sink a little lower, kissing the tip of his cock with your clit before rubbing the thick head between your folds.

"You're… you're so w-wet, mhm, fuck!" He's already on the brink of tears and this is just the beginning. And the gasping man might've just let out a sob at the sight of both of your hands shaking, clasped around his dick as you position it at the right angle and slowly ease the tip inside. "God, 'n so soft," he fucking gargles out due to how much he's drooling.

You're no better off. The saliva that's pooling in your mouth at the delightful ache and burn has completely saturated his boxers. They do nothing to muffle your moans that only grow higher in pitch with the few additional inches you attempt to take, a little more each time. But at least you won't grind your teeth together, plus you're buried in the taste and scent of Chan's essence. Even more so as you topple forward, nails digging into his shins.

It's almost humiliating. How you've ended up face-planting into the mattress and your hips take on a mind of their own, humping up and down midair yet still on the top of his cock. Circling and gyrating as they attempt to both run away and plop firmly up and down onto the hard, thick length begging to fully bury into your tight cunt that's slowly widening to accommodate. 

Luckily, it's not like Chan can make fun of or even blame you, focusing everything he can on not thrusting up into your wet heat on his own accord right now out of consideration. The man understands it's a stretch, a painful one at that.

He doesn't mind staying mildly distracted. There's so much to take in. Ogling the way your ass bounces and jiggles, pornographic sound effects of his cock absolutely bullying your pussy as it squelches in and out. Filling the room with nasty noises audio porn wishes it could truly replicate amid both of your pants, moans, groans, and whines.

It feels like forever until his length has finally made its home within your squishy walls that welcome it inside with a multitude of affectionate squeezes. But honestly, that barely lasts because your hips refuse to let up and once the stretch no longer burns as much and instead melts into mind-numbing pleasure, all you can do is ride him into delirium. And Chan fucking loves it, continuing to watch how your ass reverberates with each downward slam accompanied by the sting of ass cheeks slapping against his stomach over and over again.

"S-so slutty f'me, b-best friend actin' like a whore on my dick."

"Ah, mm… cock… your cock! It's makin' me act slutty!"

"Yeah? You like being my slutty best friend, baby?"

You lug your head onto the leg you'd been riddling with love bites and salivating all over after spitting out his ruined boxers, looking tearfully in his direction. Cross-eyed with a goofy smile on your face at how fucked-out you've become as your clit grinds against his squishy balls that tighten, firm, and fill up with each thud of your hips. 

"Mhm… yeah."

"You gonna be my slutty baby from now on?"

"Ohhh, touch me Channie… please!"

"Since y-you asked so nicely." He squeezes at your ass cheek though it's quickly wrenched out of his grasp because you can't stop moving. "But I… I asked you a question." And then his palm flies out, skin meeting skin in a loud crack against your other cheek. As if it's actually a punishment. "My pretty whore's too fucked out to answer, h-huh?"

"Mhmph! More… more!"

A gasp leaves your mouth and impossibly, your hips only speed up before they suddenly halt. Practically screaming at this point with how good your best friend's cock is buried so deeply and fully seated inside as you somehow manage to sit up with inhuman strength. 

Oh, but your darling Channie knows why.

He lazily grins, empty mind now playing all the signs through his head along to the same moments happening in real-time. You have a death grip on his thighs, certain he'd really impale you in a morbid way if you lose your hold as you bounce haphazardly. How nice, he decides to aid you — giving into the urges to thrust up into your suffocating little cunt whenever you rise up so you constantly remain stuffed full every single time.

Your back does its arch thing and he runs a hand down the curve, pushing down ever so gently as he takes over. It's his turn for a slapping assault, his balls returning the favor on your tender clit that pokes and rubs at them, egging on the brutal pace you started in the first place.

"Gonna squeeze the life outta me," and you clench even tighter around him so that even the air in his lungs is sucked out by the squeeze of your cunt. "You wanna murder me with that sweet pussy of yours? Choke the life outta me, sweetheart? Like the well-behaved little whore that you are?"

Chants of "yes, yes, yes" fall in between salacious moans of "mhms" and "fuck Channie, so good" and it fuels Chan into true unleashed feral mode. The addition of the white ring forming at the base of his cock in no way, shape, or form is helping to reign him in at all. He presses appreciative bruises into the skin of your hips, aiding your sore and tired legs with the powerful strength of his arms.

"A creamer too… oh my god, what can't your cunt do baby, fuck — so freakin' perfect."

"All… all for you!"

Chan laughs and it's mean, a petulant frown causing your lips to jut out at his mocking tone. "For me? You gonna be a-all mine from now on? Let me be the only one t-to stretch this sweet hole out?"

Ongoing cries of "yes" mixes and slurs with "yours" but it's enough for him, especially when you manage to moan out with a promise that you're definitely his slutty whore and will only be his forever.

That pleases him, an elated grumble rumbling in his chest. "Gonna fill 'er up real good and you'll swallow me whole baby. Feel me for days, drippin' outta — ah, shit!" 

His voice cracks, the hands assisting your movements haul your hips up and then down, anchoring them firmly against his pelvis. You peer over your shoulder at him in utter dismay at suddenly being empty. His missed cock trembling without your warmth, flopping hot and hard against your stomach. Granting a helpful outside visual of how deep it can drill up into your cunt. But that's kind of useless when you already experienced it first-hand, so all you can do is send Chan a weepy glare.

"S-sorry babe, we just, I should probably… " His eyes dart to the unopened drawer of his nightstand. "Gonna throw a condom on."

You let out a scoff of disbelief and discontent, surly brat behavior poking through. "Doesn't matter, wanna feel you fill me up. 'N then squirt it all out, won't matter anyways."

"That's not how it works."

Chan's grateful the usual post-nut clarity somehow hit before. It's still awful timing and might have been a complete mood killer but you're both so worked up — you in particular — it doesn't seem to matter. Even as he nudges you off while reaching for a package, you back up and try to grind against his cock to change his mind. But you reluctantly give up, especially when he ends up reacting with a harsher hiss more from rolling the latex down the sensitive length than your plump ass rubbing it. 

You're honestly a little offended. 

He hushes and tries to soothe you. Fumbling with the slick mess around your gaping hole and dipping inside occasionally with one hand as he works on the condom. But you know for a fact you've been ruined because you barely feel a thing after your cunt's been stretched out for and filled specifically with his huge cock. 

Now you just wish he'd ultimately finish the job of ruining you. Oh, and maybe continue some more after. And a lot. 

You grimace because you're able to think too much. And then Chan's finally all ready to go and your cheek is suddenly pressed into the rumpled sheets, nipples brushing deliciously against them. You're pushed onto your forearms and he helps widen your knees at a spread angle so your pussy is fully presentable and gapingly accessible. 

"Good thing I'm flexible." 

"Yeah," Chan licks his lips, "just as I'd expect from my sweet slut." 

"You gonna fill this slut up then, Channie or — " 

You're cute off by the squeal at his cock ramming back inside of where it belongs. Meanwhile, he chuckles darkly, running a hand through sweaty bangs as he tries to distribute weight solidly with how he's risen to his knees. Finding little support from the mattress to support the onslaught of powerful thrusts in and out of your pussy and discovers a better method with a tight hold of your hips where his hands instinctively fall. 

"Best way to shut a whore up is to fuck them." He clicks his tongue in disapproval because you're nuzzling face-first into the bed, muffling the sounds that drive him crazy. "Doesn't mean I don't wanna hear you moan f'me, baby."

What he doesn't know is you're trying to find something to bite into that won't end up being your poor tongue. 

To manhandle you as he sees fit, Chan's fingers slip down to splay around where your vocal cords lie. Thumb digging beneath your jawline into the soft fleshy skin of your neck. Teasing you with a not-quite-there chokehold that causes you to pulsate around the cock sliding in and out with little resistance thanks to the help of the slick that pools endlessly out of your core. 

Then he's turning your head to the side to watch your eyelids flutter rapidly. Noticing how your jaw is clenched, teeth practically gnashing at each push into you that now relentlessly strokes that bundle of nerves. Taking pity, he lends a finger. Prying open your mouth and not caring when you bite down on it with a ferocity that could break skin — that's what he offered it for anyways — though it will definitely leave behind bruising indents that'll take days to heal. 

But he wouldn't care if you ended up breaking his bones too. With the way he's driving his dick over and over into you like a madman, he possibly could break something by that alone. The new position benefits the both of you greatly, granting him a better angle to reach deep and you find comfort in the way his body lays against yours. Pressing you down further into the bed, the weight comforting.

Even through the latex, he can feel the little bump of nerves his tip brushes against that's just rough enough to make him shiver. He purposefully aims his pelvis to be able to hit it each time. The lone arm at your hip wraps around your abdomen and he moans at how he can feel the bulge of skin pressed against his forearm from the size of the monster dick within you. 

It drives him feral, punctuating each sharp thrust with a praising hiss of, "Best. fuckin'. pussy. ever!"

And then it's happening. You can literally see the tightly-wound knot unraveling. Can feel as it loosens while your cunt suctions around his cock in a hard, vice-like grip. You cling around him, refusing to let him leave your warmth for a second. Not even daring to let him slide even a bit out. Though he wouldn't even think of it. As the mental ties come undone in your brain, so does your body — plummeting over and free-falling off the cliff of pleasure.

White flashes across your vision as your body writhes and shakes beneath Chan. Overcome by how fucking amazing it feels to be so full with the devastatingly huge dick of the person you care about the most tearing apart your insides. You're sobbing, tears drenching your face and where it lays. 

Chan's praising you through it all, complimenting how good you are for him, how perfect everything about you is, and how only you — his bestest, sluttiest, sweetest friend — could take him so well.

"Fuckin' knew you would be the one," he confesses and presses a kiss against your neck. It's so tender, full of love and gentleness despite how his hips cruelly still haven't let up, and it makes you wail even louder. "Ever since you smiled at me. Now, c'mon sweetheart 'n give it all to me. Show's only just gettin' started."

He's guiding you through the most intense orgasm you've ever had as it spirals from a crashing wave into a soon-to-be gushing waterfall. Yes, you've squirted before. But never with such a delightful buildup like this. And he knows you can take it, knows it's what you want as he coaches himself to hold off from his own finale. You let out a hearty moan, shaking at the overstimulation and feeling him twitch repeatedly inside. Almost as if his dick itself is begging for your release so it can do the same.

Your body listens and obeys, utterly charmed by your best friend's cock. Not like that would change the impending fate bound to happen anyway. Your cunt expels him out with a spray that splashes against his abs and drips down his thighs. Chan swears and grabs his length that bobs in the air upon being freed, fingers holding the condom tightly at the base like a makeshift cock ring. 

Furiously jerking off just a little bit to reach completion and then he's emptying what feels like a life's worth into the poor condom that can barely contain it. Unlike your pussy that would take it all if given the chance. It inflates, ballooning out and filling up with so much cum it's threatening to pop. As if it wasn't working overtime, straining around the sheer size of his cock.

It's so full and heavy, gravity weighing it down to flop against your folds that squirt out a tiny bit more upon contact that has your legs seizing. Your lower body — now growing numb — was somehow still sustained by Chan's insane one-arm strength until he flops onto you. Bringing you both down onto the wet mess on the bed.

"Get off, you're heavy," you grouch though a dumb smile lights up your blissed-out face.

He laughs breathlessly and rolls onto his side, bringing you into his arms and looking at you with stars in his eyes. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent you never want to be without now that you've been fully encompassed by it in such an intimate manner. So you wait, feeling the way your hearts both beat rapidly and he takes a deep breath. Chest expanding as his lungs fill with much-needed air after so much exertion. 

Anticipation brims from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes when Chan finally asks, "Hey, do you still think size doesn't matter?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. Definitely not the question you were expecting.

There's a lively spark still dancing in his tired eyes and you match it with a playful smile. "I'm not really sure, I think you'll have to prove it to me a few more times."

"Suppose there's still a lot of condoms we can't let go to waste."

"Aw, you don't want me to make you some balloon animals?"

"That offer is tempting but…" Sneaky hands tickle the swell below your breasts and you giggle, half-heartedly batting him away. "Not as much as you are."

"And you know… there's still a lot of chances to confirm some things while we test out whose theory is right."

"Confirm what, my dear? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I've already staked my claim on what's mine." It's embarrassing how easily Chan can read you, a know-it-all smirk on his face as he cups your warm cheek oh-so-lovingly. "My slutty bestie's the only one who can take my cock like a champ, there's no way I'm letting you go now."

It's even more embarrassing that your heart and sore hole flutter at crude words that totally shouldn't make you feel like a silly fool in love. But because you are, it only makes you fall harder.

"So, you're mine now too?"

"If that's okay with you."

And of course, it's okay with you, you verbally affirm. Feeling his smile against your own when he leans in to kiss you. You'll confirm later that size really doesn't matter.  After all, you just happen to be lucky that your bestie-now-turned-boyfriend has a huge cock to complement the equally huge amount of love he has stored for you in his heart.

onlyseokmins: June 2023 ©

[godmadeaterribleerror]

No Love Lost Series Masterlist

Read on A03! - Listen to the Playlist!

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Series Summary

Three years ago you were normal, the only demons you had to fight were your own, and you the most you knew of Vought and the Boys were what you saw on TV. But then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being;

1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so.

2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad.

Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask!

Navigation Key

❤️‍🔥 = Smut

🚩 = Additional Warnings

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress 🚩 Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence 🚩 Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back ❤️‍🔥🚩 Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 11 - The Wolves or The Ocean Rocks Chapter 12 - While My Blood's Still Flowing Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun Chapter 15 - I Found A Martyr ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 16 - Let It Flood ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir Chapter 18 - Something In The Static ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 19 - Don't Look Back 🚩 Chapter 20 - Forget to Fall Down Chapter 21 - Some Things You Just Can't Speak About ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 22 - I Stayed In The Darkness With You Chapter 23 - Wherever You're Going ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 24 - You'll Never Be Alone ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 25 - All I Know ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 26 - I’ve Loved Everything About You That Hurts ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 27 - Just A Shot Away 🚩 Chapter 28 - Something That I'm Supposed to Be (11/19) Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You (11/26)

Bonus Footage (Standalone Chapters)

Dying’s Up to Me - A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 Back to Here - Request! They get horny at the dining table, and Butcher takes it personally. Takes place in Chapter 14. It's So Simple - You make Ben do icebreakers. He's a little bitch about it. Takes place in Chapter 14. Just Your Time - You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14. As Much As I Do - Request! Ben finds you dancing, is immediately very normal about it. Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. Calling Your Name - Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. ❤️‍🔥 I Skip My Pride - You share some music with Ben over text. Takes place in Chapter 22. The Only Place That I Call Home - It's team game night, and everyone is sick of you and Ben's shit. Takes place in Chapter 24. ❤️‍🔥 Can't Help Myself - Request! Ben has a breeding kink, and you're incredibly horny, so it works. Takes place in around Chapter 24 and Chapter 25. ❤️‍🔥 Anywhere Else Is Hollow - A halloween special episode! Takes place in Chapter 25. It Was Smiling Down - A Ryan pov Chapter. Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. A Call To Motion - Request! There's a lot of things you're good at. Sex with Ben is one of them. Takes place around Chapter 25 and Chapter 26.❤️‍🔥

[theereina]

The End

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +2.8K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, no smut, heavily dialogue-centered, adultery/infidelity, angst, heartbreak

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

“So, we're still on for dinner right?” Terry asked kissing Athena's cheek. “Of course, I just don't want you to cancel this time,” she said kissing his forehead.

They were in their bed facing each other. This was unfortunately becoming a recurring conversation for them. They would plan to have dinner together, and somehow, he would always have to cancel. Athena had spent so many nights on unplanned solo dates and was tired of it.

She understood Terry's work life, but he had yet to find a balance. “I'm sorry, baby. Forgive me. After all of this, I swear we’re takin’ a break. We can go wherever you want,” he said pulling her closer to him. His arms wrapped tightly around her body. This is what she wanted. This is what she was fighting so hard for.

They had been married six years, and she knew this man like the back of her hand. Athena knew when work got stressful for him. She knew when he was getting sick. She knew when his anxiety was about to flare. She knew everything, so why wouldn't he consider that she would know this, too? The secret he was hiding wasn't work-related. Those late nights weren't for business reports and last-minute contracts, unfortunately.

Athena had known for almost four months now. She kept her mouth shut thinking her husband would tell her, but he didn't. She loved him too much to let this come between them, but this was getting hard. All she wanted was for him to be honest, but now it felt too late.

“Alright, mister. I'm holding you to that,” Athena said snuggling into his chest. She was honestly taking it all in, committing things to memory— his smell, the way his breathing sounded, the patchiness of his beard, the strength of his calloused hands, and the sound of his voice in the morning. This couldn't be Athena's life. There was no way that this was the marriage she prayed so hard for. She wasn't asking for the perfect husband. Her bare minimum was honesty and communication, but Terry wasn't giving her either.

Athena began to doze off in Terry's embrace. The comfort he brought her would be something she would miss—. Why? “Terry, if something was wrong would you tell me?” she said moving to look up at him. “Hmm… What do you mean, baby?” Terry said looking down at her, loosening his embrace. “You’d tell me if you didn't love me anymore?” she asked as her face turned somber and flooded with sadness. “Oh, baby. I'll always love…,” Terry began.

ring ring

And, there it goes— that fucking phone. The one that goes off during every moment they have together. She could never have Terry to herself. He leaned back and picked up the phone. He stared at the screen, looking back at Athena. “Go ahead. I'll just go get ready,” Athena said with tears brimming in her eyes. She threw the covers back and rose from the bed. She knew this was one or two things— work or his other…

Athena walked into their bathroom and began her morning routine. She turned on the shower and stood at the sink. Clenching her fists against the counter, Athena let it out. Months of tears came flooding out. Every emotion had boiled over, and she couldn't take it anymore.

Today was the day. It was already planned out. In the next coming 12 hours, Athena's life would change.

*7 hours later

Terry was in his office waiting for the day to end. He had been on edge all day because of what Athena asked. Did she know? She couldn't know. He had covered his tracks. There was no way she could know.

knock knock

“Yes, come in!” Terry announced, sitting up in his office chair. “Sup, you still going to the party, tonight?” asked Terry's best friend Corbin. “Nah, I promised Athena a date. Can't miss this one,” Terry said twirling a pen between his fingers. “Never stopped you before,” Corbin mumbled under his breath. Terry's eyes shot up to meet Corbin's face. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Terry snapped.

Corbin took a deep breath. “You know exactly what I mean, T. Don't act stupid!” Corbin spat back. “Don't worry about what the fuck I got going on. Remember, we both have situations going on. I ain't the only one,” Terry said standing up from his desk. “You're right, but only one of us is married!” Corbin said squaring his shoulders. “So, fiancé means nothing to you? I wonder how Miranda would feel?” Terry taunted walking around his desk. “Let’s not compare situations. I definitely can't compete with the new add-ons you got,” Corbin said, tapping Terry in the chest. Terry slapped his hand away. Corbin raised his hands and backed away. “Fuck you!” Terry said leaning on the desk. “Whatever!” Corbin said backing out and leaving the office.

As Terry began to sink into his thoughts, his office phone rang. “Terry speaking,” he said. “Mr. Richmond, there is a woman here looking for you. I tried to tell her she needed an appointment, but…,” said Terry's receptionist. “Name?” Terry asked walking back to his office chair. “She said you'll know, and something about a little issue,” his receptionist replied. Terry froze. This was against their agreement. She was never supposed to show up at his home or office. What if Athena was here?

Terry clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders. “Send her in. Hold all calls until further notice,” he said, hanging up the phone.

*3 hours later

Athena was in her car, heading to her parent's home in Georgia. She had been crying the whole ride. She had packed up all of her stuff and was going back home. Her brother was driving behind her in the Uhaul she rented. She couldn't believe that this was her life right now. Athena pulled over into the gas station and pulled up to the pump. She sat in the car, waiting. Waiting for something. Anything.

Someone to wake her up.

Someone to pinch her.

Someone to tell her this wasn't real.

Something.

Athena was startled by her brother knocking on the window. She rolled down the window and looked at her brother. “Sis, you should've gotten someone else to drive,” he said reaching in to wipe her tears. “I'm okay. It gives me something to focus on,” she said dropping her head. “Nah, I'm calling one of my friends. He'll meet us here. He doesn't stay that far away. He'll drive the Uhaul while I drive you. Okay?” he lulled. “I'm okay,” she said. “No, ‘Thena. I'm calling him, and that's final. I don't trust you driving like this,” he said walking away and entering the gas station.

*1 hour later

Terry was rushing to get to the restaurant. Of course, he was late. He had stopped at a local store and picked up two bouquets. One was sunflowers while the other was red roses. He wanted to sweeten things over with Athena. He was aware that he had been fucking up lately.

As he pulled into the restaurant, he searched the parking lot for Athena's car. He couldn't see it anywhere. He circled the parking lot to be sure. He parked near the front and checked his phone before getting out. She hadn't called or texted. “Maybe she took an Uber or Lyft,” he said aloud to himself. He straightened the collar of his shirt and adjusted his tie. He reached over and grabbed the flowers before exiting.

As he approached the restaurant doors, he did one final scan of the parking lot. No Athena. He entered the oyster bar and approached the hostess's desk. “Table for two under Terry,” he said to the middle-aged black woman. “Yes, ouuu… almost missed our grace period. Cutting it kind of close there, darling,” she laughed. “Is the other guest not here? I mean, did someone not check in under the reservation, yet?” Terry asked pulling out his phone. “Uh, no. No one checked in under that reservation, sir,” she replied.

Terry was confused. Where the hell was Athena? She had texted him confirming that she was on the way to the restaurant, so where was she? He followed the woman to a booth in the rear of the restaurant. “Someone will be with you shortly,” she said after seating him. Terry sat down and immediately pulled his phone out again.

He immediately began to text Athena.

Message not delivered

Terry stared at the screen. How? He checked his service and made sure everything was on. He tried again.

Message not delivered

What the fuck was going on? He quickly tried to call Athena. It instantly went to voicemail. He tried again and got the same result. Terry called Miranda, Athena’s best friend and Corbin's fiancé.

Miranda answered, “Yes, Terry?” “Have you talked to to Athena?” he asked shifting in his seat. He was growing worried. Did something happen to her on the way here? “Of course, I did. She is my best friend after all,” she responded snidely. Terry immediately heard the tone of her voice. “Miranda, where is she?” he asked holding the bridge of his nose. “Gone!” Miranda blurted. “What do you mean gone?” Terry said. He was becoming visibly upset. The waiter began to approach the table, but Terry waved her away. “Exactly what the fuck I said,” Miranda snapped. “Miranda, don't fucking play with me right now!” Terry grunted into the phone. “Why don't you go home and check since you don't believe me,” Miranda said hanging up.

Terry pushed his chair back and grabbed the flowers from the table. Terry rushed out of the restaurant. He threw the flowers onto the passenger seat and climbed into his car. He needed to get home immediately.

*45 minutes later

Terry flung the front door of their home open. Athena's car wasn't in the driveway or the garage. This was starting to piss him off. He searched the entire first floor. Hearing what he thought were footsteps, he ran up the stairs and practically kicked open their bedroom door. It wasn't. Athena had left their bedroom window open and the heavy curtains were thudding against the wall. He rushed to the window and slammed it shut.

“Fuck! Athena! Where are you?” he yelled. As he turned around, he noticed a note on the bed. On top of the note was Athena's wedding ring. He sat on the bed prepared to read the note but stopped when he saw that their closet door was open. Athena's side was empty. Scanning the room, he realized that ALL of Athena's things were gone.

Terry pulled out his phone and tried to text and call Athena over and over again. Nothing had changed. He was still getting sent to her voicemail, and his messages were undelivered. Terry's heart sank for the first time that night— Athena had blocked him. He went to her social media accounts to be met with user not found. She had blocked him on everything.

Terry stood up from the bed furious and full of rage. There was no way Athena had just left him. Terry called Corbin, but he sent him to voicemail, too. Immediately, Terry's phone vibrated from a message notification.

Corbin: THEY KNOW!!!

That means Miranda knew and that ATHENA KNEW, TOO!

This couldn't be how everything played out. There was no way. Yes, his shit had gotten sloppy in the last few months, but how? Terry leaned on the bedroom dresser, letting his head fall into his hands.

He knew it was coming he just thought he had more time. More time to figure this shit out.

Terry looked up into the mirror attached to the dresser. He couldn't stand to look at himself. How could he let this happen? He slammed his fists onto the dresser, and the force cracked the glass. Terry looked up to see his reflection in the broken glass. His eyes lingered over himself before he punched the glass. Throwing his arms across the dresser, he sent everything to the floor. Glass began flying everywhere.

Terry threw himself onto the bed. Lying on his back, he could feel the heat coursing through his body. He felt his eyes growing heavy with tears. He looked over on the other side of the bed to see the note still resting there.

He picked it up and unfolded it. Pictures fell out and hit his chest. They were all pictures of him and— Eliza, his mistress. The woman he had been seeing for over two years. Terry flipped through the photos. He realized that the photos had to have been taken over a few months. How had she known this long?

Terry finally realized that Athena was asking questions because she already knew the answers. Terry's heart stopped at the last photo. It was him holding— TJ, him and Eliza’s 6-month-old son. Shit! She knew about the baby, too. That explains why she kept asking him why they were still waiting to start a family. He thought she was nagging, but in reality, she was hurt.

She knew he had a mistress and an outside child. He hadn't meant for this to happen. Eliza was only supposed to be a one-night stand, but it just kept happening. They kept seeing each other because she was friends with Corbin's mistress. They kept ending up at the same parties and clubs. He tried to break it off with her on more than one occasion. Then, something would happen with Athena and he would just go running back. This wasn't Athena's fault, but he felt it wasn't entirely his either— he thought. Athena kept having to travel back and forth to Georgia while her father was going through chemo. She was starting to work more hours. She was always tired. She never had time for him, on the other hand, Eliza was always right there— one call away and easy to access.

Terry held the letter in his hands and began to read.

Dear Terry,

I don't know what to say or how to start this, so here it goes.

To my love, I gave you my all for 9 years. I planned my life to sync with yours— as your wife and best friend. I wanted nothing more than to fulfill all of the promises we made each other throughout this lifetime.

I asked and asked, sometimes I maybe even begged for you to see it. I wanted you to care enough to see through my nagging and realize I was hurting. I was dying on the inside for months. I had to watch you be a lover to someone else while all I wanted was your comfort. I had to watch you be a father while you refused to allow me to even be a mother. You chose to postpone all of my dreams of having a family to work on your career. I let you do that because I loved you. All while you were standing in my face and sleeping in our bed knowing that you had one all along. It just wasn't with me.

Was I the problem? Was I not good enough? There wasn't a thing that you asked that I didn't do. I've been questioning my worth for months trying to see where I went wrong. Chasing you and begging you to love me like you once did. A love I know you're capable of, but I just haven't felt from you in a long time.

My heart was breaking every day with every question. I wanted you to tell me the truth. Be honest and give me hope that maybe this was a simple mistake. A mistake that we could work through together. But mistakes are made once. You were making a choice. A choice to love another woman and become a father outside of us.

With that being said, I can't hold anger in my heart for you we both know that. That’s something I'm not capable of. All I can offer you is forgiveness and peace. Peace to do whatever you want. I'm no longer in your way. Be free. This is the end. Our end.

P.S. After reading this letter, I hope you become a better man for the family you created. He's beautiful, by the way. He has his father’s eyes.

Love always,

Thena

Taglist: @vivaalenaa @persethegawd @simplyzeeka @phomoe @ariiijestertheklown @slutsareteacherstoo @avoidthings @brattyfics

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @5headsupremacist @creartivefairy @nayaesworld @theglamclosetsl @androgynousgaz

@insidefeelingofanadult @blyffe @mymindisneverhere @writingsbytee @revealingco @pocketsizedpanther

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@sageispunk @gwenda-fav @blowmymbackout @megamindsecretlair @helloncrocs

@beenathembo

[velvetreds]

hihihi congrats on 200 that’s so awesome n u deserve it im obsessed with ur work n writing style!! 🫶🏽 could i req 🐙🔥🍕 with suna rintaro :p congrats again!!!!

BAE GUESS WHO GOT IT DONE IN 12-14HRS u really skipped the queue.. i frothed at the mouth the entire time while writing this btw i need him so bad. um yeah. have ur man

shameless — rintarō suna x gn!reader

wc: 1330 (short fic what.) || event

cws: swearing, kissing. that's it methinks. not proofread, may be ooc, suna flirts like a bitch and acts like one too.

you've liked rintarou suna forever. and now, you're lucky — or unlucky — enough to be living with him. damn your brother for being such an angel; suna had needed a place to stay, and of course your brother was the first to offer. now, you often find yourself alone with him, and you can't exactly complain, can you?

"good night," you murmur, getting off the couch. "i'm going to bed now."

you're already in your PJs, ready for bed. your brother isn't home, and suna is still sprawled across most of the couch, eyes glued to the TV. when he hears your words, he instantly loses the resting bitch face, lips curving up into a sly smile.

"'s not a good night unless you're here," he replies. "and you're leaving now, so..."

"have you no shame? flirting with your friend's younger sibling like this?" you cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him — trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

"not really, no," his grin stretches impossibly wider.

"wow." you don't really know what to say, and suna snickers derisively.

what should you be saying? stop flirting with me? carry on flirting with me please i love you? you turn around again, and to your surprise, all the lights are off in the hallway. the light switches are at the other end of the hall, and you are deathly afraid of the dark. you look down helplessly at the book in your hands, then take a deep breath. "suna, can i borrow your phone?"

"what for?"

"um.. the lights are off, and—"

"the switches are right over there," he says, turning to look at you. "you can—"

something must be showing on your face because his eyes widen and he stops talking. "y/n, are you afraid of the dark?"

"no!" you reply too quickly, and he smiles, having gotten his answer. he pats the cushioned spot next to him. "sleep here, i'll get you to your room when i finish this."

you hesitate for a moment. should you?

fuck it. you roll your eyes — just for show — before plopping down beside him again. the force of your fall makes you bounce straight into his side, and your hand shoots out to grab the first thing it can reach — in this case, his shirt. you freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do. when you don't move, suna wraps his arm around your waist and shifts you to his lap, leaning you against his chest like it's the most natural thing in the world. the dark-coloured t-shirt stays bunched up in your hand.

"this okay?" he hums when you don't say anything. you nod against his chest, face aflame as heat spreads across your cheeks. he pulls his knees up to further secure you, right hand wrapped loosely around his left to hold you in place. your breaths are in sync, and as your consciousness slowly slips away and the noise of the TV becomes a comforting hum, you feel suna gently rest his head on top of yours.

"i love you," he whispers into your hair, and he presses his lips to the top of your head. suddenly, you're wide awake, hyper aware of everything around you — the TV, his arms around you, the firmness of his lean yet muscled torso — everything.

as soon as you consciously process his words, your head snaps up — and hits his face.

"ow, fuck," gasps suna, startled. you don't see any blood, but you did notice how loud the sound was, so it must've still been extremely painful. but you also notice how he doesn't even think of himself, turning to you with concern in his eyes. "you okay? bad dream?"

you shake your head, feeling slightly dazed. "you... love me?"

realisation dawns upon his face as he gets up, wincing suddenly. "i'll explain later, i—" he stops speaking, pointing at his mouth, and you nod in understanding.

"i'll help you take care of it," you volunteer. he shakes his head, no. this is ignored as you pull him to the kitchen, heedless of any further refusals. all the time, he is acutely aware of the way his hand feels in yours, and the nervous energy you radiate as you gently press the ice pack against his mouth, lower lip caught between your teeth in concentration. and while you're fixated on his lips, you don't know that he's fixated on yours too.

☆

suna leans back against your headboard, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt distractedly. you clear your throat to get his attention, perched on the other end of your bed. looking up, he raises a brow at you, deadpanning, "what?"

"you love me," you say, uncertainly.

"isn't that what you heard?"

"well, yes, but—"

"then?" he scoffs. "have some faith in yourself, l/n."

you shoot him a half-hearted glare, and he smiles back in a way that's both gentle and extremely attractive, half lidded eyes boring into yours. "if you want to say something, say it."

you open your mouth to speak, but he interrupts you suddenly. "if you're worried about rejecting me or whatever, don't bother. i don't want to force you into anything, okay?"

his voice is flat with no inflections, no way of letting you know how he feels. you shake your head vehemently. "it's not that at all!"

"then?" he cocks a brow, tilting his head to one side quizzically.

"ilikeyoutoo."

"what was that?"

"i like you too," you say again, slower.

"sorry?"

you begin to say it again when you notice the devilish grin on his face; he'd already heard you loud and clear the first time around.

"fuck you," you say, crossing your arms exasperatedly with a huff.

suna snorts. "bet you'd like to, huh?"

the scandalised look on your blushing face is downright hilarious, and suna is laughing too hard notice you advancing on him with a pillow in your hands — or so you think, because as soon as you raise it over your head, he's pulling you down onto him by your waist with a wolfish smile. he cups your face with one large hand, the other splayed across the small of your back. his voice is annoyingly patronising as he speaks, and a complete contrast to the shit-eating grin on his face. "i play volleyball, baby. you can't just sneak up on me like that."

you roll your eyes, annoyed. or you were annoyed, because now you've noticed the lack of proximity between the two of you, and your mind has gone blank. and then he flicks your forehead sharply, bringing you back into reality muttering a string of curses.

"so," you begin.

"so." he repeats acting snide, although the fingers softly tracing patterns onto your back tell another story.

"i don't know," you admit.

"maybe we should kiss," he suggests. he's messing with you, you can tell by the droll twinkle in his eyes, but you decide to bite anyways.

"maybe we should."

his eyebrows lift up a little, almost imperceptibly. "do you want to?"

"if you want to," you confess, "i'm up for it."

for the second time that night, suna shifts you onto his lap again and kisses you again, although this time he likes it much better. he likes the feel of your lips on his, and he likes the way your hands tangle into his hair.

every movement of his oozes devotion; the way he kisses you is slow and fervent. if you were a god, he would be your loyalest worshipper. if you were a garden, he would spend every conscious second tending to its plants. if you loved him, he would give you the most romantic, passionate, flawless love story to ever have existed, happy ending and all.

and because you do love him, actually, you get to experience just that, courtesy of — although unbeknownst to you at that moment, the person you will go on to spend the rest of your life with — rintarou suna.

thanks for reading n following!!

love,

hyena

[sad-drake-lyrics]

what my 65yo father has to say about antis:

let me preface this by saying, i literally wish i had what just happened on video to go viral on TikTok. i was shook by this conversation down to my bones; and if you could see my father - a loud old Italian man with dramatic hand gestures - say what he had to say, i think this shit would blow up. but as i was obviously not filming him while we were eating, i will have to relay to you the story with my words.

so i'm sitting eating dinner at the coffee table with my father while watching TV, as Americans often do instead of eating at the dinner table, and since the news was on he started telling me this story that had been recently mentioned on TV once again from maybe ten years ago (it was in 2014, you can read about it here) where these two 12-year-old girls killed one of their friends as a sacrifice to the Slender Man. yeah, real thing. fucked up.

and so my father told me about how they interviewed one of the killer's mothers, and when questioned about where her daughter's motive could've come from, she said something along the lines of: you know, when i was a kid, i was into Stephen King and horror - and so when my kid was into that kind of stuff, i didn’t think it was a big deal.

so, of course, my response was "yeah, being into that stuff isn’t a big deal at all - it's normal - but being a sociopath and murdering someone is not normal; it's fucked up. but there's nothing wrong with being into horror stories - they're just stories meant to entertain - it doesn't make you a murderer to enjoy Halloween - but it would if you put on a Michael Myers mask and went out and stabbed people." and, of course, like any sane person, my father agreed with me.

then, continuing this line of conversation, i started talking about the concept of how "fiction isn’t reality," and how a frightening amount of people don't understand that; and i literally started telling him about antis - people on the internet who attack and harass others over "problematic" or "inappropriate" fictional interests.

i used well-known pop culture examples like: if you're into Game of Thrones and like Jaime and Cersei together or wanted Jon and Daenerys to end up together (i didn't think he would process the term "shipping," but clearly by the end of this conversation i think i was wrong), that people (antis) will say things like "you should die," and that you "support inc*st in real life," and that "you're disgusting."

i also used the examples of "toxic relationships" in pop culture, like the Joker and Harley Quinn, or Kylo Ren and Rey, and how if you’re into those kinds of fictional relationships that people (antis) will say that you "support toxic relationships," and that you are "glorifying abuse," and that it all "must be what you really want and believe is right or good."

and my fucking 65-year-old father literally goes: "I don’t understand. It’s a TV show. Don't they know it’s fake?"

queue my jaw dropping to the fucking ground because i'm like. YES. THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT PRO-SHIPPERS ARE TRYING TO SAY AND THESE PEOPLE DON'T GET IT.

he was flabbergasted, my pals. the shock in his eyes was incredible to behold.

and, oh boy, that isn't even the best part, guys.

my father then says, "Don’t tell me it’s like that with anime too?"

and i said, "it's worse with anime."

and i fucking swear to you - no joke, on my life and baby Jesus' cradle - again my 65-year-old father looks at me and says, “It’s a fucken cartoon."

... ... ...

... i can't ...

i can't end this post better than that.

[lousypotatoes]

What A Glorious Feeling

This chapter takes place after the pilot but before the first episode of the series.

Reader is a falcon demon, doesn't have a beak, wings drape over her kinda like Valentino's (i want him dead), reader has gray skin, usually wears a black tube top, black and white pinstripe pants, black boots, and has a daisy in her hair. Reader has the eyes and ears of a falcon and is also slightly cannibalistic.  Reader can summon any weapons at will and can move things with her mind, whenever she does this, her eyes glow red. Like Alastor, reader can also summon anything at will. If you had something else in mind for how the reader looks, you are more than welcome to imagine something different. 

I know Alastor is canonically aroace, but obviously, in this story he is not. Also, in this book, nobody knows the Radio Demon's name unless he decides to tell them. Sorry I should of said this earlier.

Song Recommendation:

I Did Something Bad - Taylor Swift

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Present day...

"Ah Dustin," Y/N said, walking over to the man, who was cowering in the corner. "You broke our deal. You know what happens to people who don't keep their word with me, don't you?"

"Please," he begged. "Give me one more month I promise-"

"You said the exact same thing six months ago," she spat angrily, her wings unfolding. 

"I swear-thi-this is the last time," he stuttered. "I just need-"

She summoned red chains, that latched onto Dustin's neck. Tugging the chains over to him, she grabbed his face, digging her claws into his cheeks. He let out a yelp of pain. 

"The deal was that if I killed your pathetic wife, I'd get your soul, and you would get me what I needed from that idiot overlord who thinks he's the shit, just because he's a pimp!" Y/N snarled, digging her claws in harder, drawing blood. "I have been more then generous towards you, and this is how you repay me?"

"I'm trying!" he cried out, tears running down his face. "Please just don't kill me!"

She had a small frown on her face. "I should rip you apart limb by limb," she said, calmly but in a deadly voice. "But I'm not goin' to do that," She removed the chains from his neck and put him down. 

"Thank you so much Assassin," Dustin said, wiping the blood off his cheeks. "I swear I will-"

He never finished his sentence. As fast as lighting, she summoned an axe and chopped his head clean off. 

"Instead, I'll make this is as quick and painless for you," she giggled, licking off the blood from the axe. "I'll have to thank Carmilla for the angelic steel at the next overlord meeting."

Using the axe, Y/N chopped up his limbs and stuffed them in a trash bag she had brought with her. 

"Cannibal town here I come," she smiled once she was done.

"Knock, knock," she said, knocking at the parlor door. 

"Y/N!" Rosie exclaimed upon seeing you. "What are you doing here so soon?" 

"I brought you a little somethin' to snack on," Y/N said, holding up the trash bag. 

"Oh you spoil me so much, my dear," Rosie said, licking her lips. 

"Anything for my closest friend," Y/N said, handing her the trash bag. 

"This is the fifth one this month," Rosie said, opening up the bag. "Sinners know better than to break a deal with you."

"They'll never learn, Rosie," she giggled as she took a seat on the couch. "Did you see the news the other day?"

"The Princess sure does have her hopes up for this hotel," Rosie answered, pouring herself a cup of tea. "Tea, Y/N?"

"No thank you," Y/N answered. "Do you think anyone would actually check in to that hotel?" 

"Who knows at this point," Rosie said, sipping her tea. "But judging by how people reacted, I don't think it's going to work out," 

"Shame," Y/N said. "It's a good idea, if it's actually possible."

"Say Y/N," she said, setting her cup down. "A friend of mine just recently got back into town. He's staying at this hotel," 

"Oh yeah?" Y/N asked curiously. "Who is it?"

"The Radio Demon," she said simply. 

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "He's been gone for seven years," she said. "Why on Earth would he return now? And why would he be stayin' at the Princess's hotel?"

"Satan knows," Rosie replied. "Y'know, you and him would really hit it off."

Y/N's eyebrow rose up. "Sorry my darlin'," she said, lightly chuckling. "The Radio Demon is most certainly not my type."

"You don't even know him," Rosie said, a slight frown on her face. 

"I don't need too," Y/N said curtly. "From what I know, he seems like a self-absorbed prick."

"Oh c'mon," Rosie nudged you. "The both of you have so much in common! You both like whiskey, you both like jazz, you both like killing people-"

"Why all of a sudden are you tryin' to play matchmaker?" Y/N interrupted. "And why The Radio Demon out of people?"

"Because you need to get out there!" Rosie said, smoothing out her dress. "Ever since I've known you, one of the main things you talk about is how in love you were when you were alive. What was his name again?" 

"His name was Alastor," she said, her heart hurting. "I've searched all of Hell Rosie. Either he's up in Heaven, or the Exorcists got to him."

"That's why I want you to meet him," Rosie said, patting Y/N's shoulder. "Please? Do it for little ol' me?" 

"I suppose so," she sighed. "I was already thinkin' about checkin' out the hotel anyway."

"Marvelous!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together "I promise, you won't regret it!"

Landing in front of the hotel, she knocked at the door, feeling nervous, her wings fluttered behind her. 

"I'm coming!" chirped a feminine voice from behind the door. 

Fiddling with the hem of her top, Y/N waited until the person opened up the door. 

 The princess herself opened the door. "Hello! And welcome to the Hazbin Hot-"

Upon seeing your face in the doorway, she immediately slammed the door shut. 

"Vaggie!" Charlie cried out. 

"What is it?" Vaggie asked, coming down the staircase. 

"The Assassin is at the door," Charlie panicked, pointing at the door. "What do we do?" 

"Really? Another fucking overlord?" Vaggie angrily said, walking over to the door. "I'll handle this."

The door opened up a second time. Instead of the princess, a girl with a large X over her eye appeared in the doorway. 

"What the hell do you want?" she asked suspiciously. 

"There's no need to be so hostile," Y/N said, putting up her hands. "I'm here to simply offer up my services."

"We don't need you to kill anyone,"

"Not those kinds of services," she laughed. "I want to help with your hotel."

"Thanks, but we already have an overlord helping us," Vaggie said, eyeing her up and down. 

"The Radio Demon, yes I know," she said, crossing her arms. "I still want to help,"

As Vaggie was about to close the door, Charlie popped up beside her. 

"Wait Vaggie, we could use her help," she said, smiling. "With two overlords helping us, we can get a lot more done!" 

"You have a point," Vaggie grumbled. "But I'm keeping my eye on you," 

Charlie beckoned you to come in. "Thank you, Princess Morningstar," Y/N said, stepping inside.

"Oh please, just call me Charlie," she waved off. "This is Vaggie," she gestured to the girl with the X.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both,"

"Thank you!" Charlie gushed. "Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel-er-"

"Y/N," she said. "My name is Y/N."

"Right! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel Y/N! Would you like a tour?"

"Of course,"

"Why does the bar look like that?" Y/N asked after the tour was over. 

"Someone blew it up a few days ago," Charlie said simply. "Our facility manager fixed it up so it's nothing to worry about!" 

"Oh-uh-" Y/N didn't know was to say. "I'm glad it's all fixed."

"Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed. "I have to introduce you to everyone! C'mon!" Charlie grabbed her arm and dragged her away. 

"This is Nifty, our maid," she said gesturing to the small demon, cleaning the floor. "Nifty, this is Y/N, she'll be staying with us 

Nifty turned around and her eye widened and she smiled in a scary way. 

"Ooooo! I've never seen a bad girl before!" she said menacingly as she crawled up on you. "Do you want to punish some bad boys with me?"

"Just give me the time and place, sweetie," Y/N said, putting Nifty down. Nifty quicky ran off.

"She's mostly harmless," Charlie said nervously. "Just don't let her bite you."

"I'll keep that in mind," she laughed. 

"This is Husk, our bartender," she said gleefully. 

Husk was drinking from a bottle, he nodded at Y/N but didn't say anything. 

"It's nice to meet you, Husk," she said politely. 

Husk recognized her at second glance, almost spitting out his booze, he decided not to say anything about it, though. 

"Oooooo heya Y/N~" said a voice. 

Y/N turned around and grinned. "It's nice to see you again Angel Dust,"

"Ohhh it's nice to see you too baby~" he said seductively. 

"Oh that's wonderful!" Charlie exclaimed, her eyes sparkilng. "You two know each other!"

"Yeah, we met at a party a while back," Y/N explained. "He kept wantin' to look at a sword that I had just got."

"Y'know babycakes," Angel said, walking over to her. "I could show you my sword, if you want~"

"Another time, Angel," Y/N laughed, Charlie laughed awkwardly with her. 

"Well, I think that's it!" Charlie said, clapping her hands together. "I'll show you to your room and if there's anything you need, just-"

"Oh, we have a new guest?  Heavens, why didn't anyone tell me?" said a staticky voice. 

Y/N turned and saw the infamous Radio Demon standing right behind her. Upon closer inspection, there was a look in his eyes that seemed familiar. 

Too familiar. 

Y/N had loved looking into those eyes, it had brought comfort to her. 

"Oh my gosh! How could I forget!" Charlie said. "Y/N is going to be helping us around the hotel just like you!" 

At the mention of her name, something pulled at Alastor's heartstrings. 

"Well, we need all the help we can get, that's for certain," Alastor laughed.

That laugh, Y/N had imagined it every single day when she arrived in Hell.

"Y/N, this is our facility mana-"

"Alastor?"

Her voice, it sounded like an angel. Alastor remembered the first time he heard it. Everything clicked into place for the both of them.

"Y/N?"

Sorry if all the characters are a little ooc. I need to rewatch the show lmao. 

THERES AN ECLIPSE TODAY!!!

stay safe out there you little rascals <33

xoxo, Izzy

[thegnomelord]

Soap and #12 with cismale reader. I was thinking they have mutual feelings for each other but not in a relationship yet, and some obliviousness mixed in for drama lol

Sure mate, though it ended up more drama than oblivious idiots in love lol. Play the game HERE.

Prompt: "What, did you think all those times I kissed you were for shits and giggles?" "Let's be real, you had a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public."

CW:NSFW, Sub Soap, Top male reader, back alley sex, semi-public sex, mild fighting, miscommunication, Soap being a jealous hoe(again)

You and Soap have a . . . thing. You're not quite sure what to call it; You're just comrades, friends, who go out for drinks after every mission and end up messily making out in the back of a bar only to get kicked out when you two inevitably get frisky and near an indecent exposure charge. But it's fine, because it gives you the excuse to go to base and fuck on the bed, or the floor, or the table, or against the wall, or any other semi-flat surface.

But you're just friends. . . or, that's what tell yourself every time your heart pitifully clenches in your chest when Soap smiles, when he laughs and pats your shoulder, when he moans your name so sweetly as you pound into him, when he looks at you as if his world starts and ends with you; because what would a bloke like Soap want with you other than sex? So you try to drown the ache for him by going out with other people, but it's never the same— not in the way they sound, in the way they move, in the way you feel.

Johnny, on the other hand, thinks you're his and his alone.

"I'm telling yea lads," Johnny says as he knocks back a beer, a lovey dovey look in his eyes like he's a lovesick puppy. "Ah've locked him down this time." He grins, and Ghost swears if he has to listen one more time about how big your cock is or how Johnny can still feel you from last time— he'll shoot you both.

"Uhuh," Gaz rolls his eyes, amused at his antics but also happy that he's finally found someone. "Yeah, su-" Something catches Gaz's eyes and he turns his head, the color draining from his face. "-ummmm."

Ghost's eyes quickly flicker over to where he's looking, "Look at that," Ghost gives a rough snort, "Locked your man down so good he's swappin' spit without you."

Soap's immediately sober as a nun, his neck audibly cracking when he swings around to look at you. The sight of you making out with a random girl across the bar has Soap's thoughts turning in his head like rusted cogs, the world almost slowing down to force him to feel all the emotions his brain spits out; Surprise comes first, like being drenched in ice cold water, disgust making his blood feel like tar at the thought of you touching someone else the same way you touch him, hot anger barreling straight through it to make fingers twitch for the trigger of a gun.

But it's the meek hurt that forces his legs to move, striding across the bar like he's on a war path. A rough hand on your shoulder makes you break off the kiss, your world spinning like a kaleidoscope from the booze and sudden force turning you around. Your eyes finally settle on familiar blue ones, but they're cold like the deepest part of the arctic. "Johnny?" You ask.

His name on your lips only makes his scowl deeper, a bruising grip on your arm as he tugs you, "We need tae talk," He spits, glaring at the poor girl you'd been making out with like she's riddled with plague.

You're not given even a second to argue before he's yanking you out the back exit into the alley between the bar and another building. A second later he's roughly slamming you into the brick wall, knocking the breath out of your lungs with a forearm against your throat and ignoring as you choke softly. "Thae fock's wrong wit' yea!" He snarls into your face, more animal than man.

Rapidly depleting oxygen forces your brain to flood your veins with adrenaline and suddenly you're moving, harshly elbowing him in the stomach and ramming him into the stone wall behind him you swear the rock cracks. "Me? What's wrong with you?"

He tries to push against you, your arms scrambling for a solid hold until you end up in a stand still, "What's wrong-" He shoves his face into yours, nearly breaking your nose while hissing like a feral cat, "-is thaet ye're shacking up with some tramp."

"So what!" You demand, a low grunt leaving your lips as you attempt to keep him pinned when he squirms like an eel, "We're just casual-" You force out those words, trying to ignore the stab to the chest your heart gives.

"Casual?" He scoffs and with a swift jerk of his head smashes his skull into yours. You stumble away, black spots dancing in your vision and that's all he needs to grab and switch your positions, pinning you to the wall. "What? D'yea think all those times I kissed you were for shits and giggles?" He demands, a bit of a traitorous hurt making his his voice crack, face pinched in pain.

"Let's be real-" Copper and iron invade your tastebuds, drawing attention to the slow stream of blood trickling from your nose, "-you had a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public."

You feel his body tense, but keep your eyes open as you expect him to punch you, to kick you, to do something to prove what you have is just temporary; pointless bliss.

"Then how'bout ah give yea a clearer message-" He leans in to lick trail of blood on your face before capturing your lips in a kiss that's more teeth than anything else. You wretch your hand free to tangle your fingers in his short hair, bodies fitting together like jigsaw pieces, reciprocating with just as much intensity as you bite his bottom lip until his blood floods your mouths. "Got it through yer thick skull now?" He asks, pulling back just a bit to stare into your eyes.

You don't know what 'it' is, but the kiss and the roughness makes heat burn through your veins, one quick flicker of your eyes confirming he's sporting the same problem in his pants as you are. "Think I'll need more convincing."

Soap yelps when you turn him around, pinning his chest to the cold wall as your hands slide down to his belt. You stall for a second to give him a way out, but he just growls, "Get on with it," So you quickly undo his pants, shoving his jeans and boxers just down beneath the swell of his arse.

"Slut," You chuckle when you catch sight of the black plug nestled between his cheeks, the skin near it still glistening with lube from how messily he'd prepped himself, "Needed me so bad did you?" You ask as you pull the plug out, putting it into your pocket as you push the head of your cock against his fluttering opening.

"'s cause ah love yea, fockin' git." He growls, his words making your brain crash.

"Repeat that," You say, softer, kinder than you usually operate, pressing against him until you're covering his back completely. "Say that again."

He notices your change, the ice in his eyes melting away enough to let him tug your head closer to kiss you, "I love you." The way he says it, like a prayer, like a sweet caress, has your heart melting into a puddle. A dingy back alley shouldn't be the place where you confess your love, but right now it feels like Paris.

"Love you too," You kiss him back and slide into him in one slow stroke, greedily swallowing down his sounds. You let him adjust before setting a hard pace like you know he loves, cock head scraping against his prostate with every thrust. "Really, really love you." You breathe out, watching his eyes lose focus as he lets out little 'ah, ah, ah's every time your hips meet.

"Bonnie, bonnie lad please-" He whines, resting his face against the dirty wall as he moans without shame, forgetting that anyone could walk in on you two and more than likely hear you across the single layer brick wall. "Fock, c'mon, give it to me."

"Yeah, gonna take care of you-" Your hand slides down to rub his cock, squeezing his base every time you bottom out and playing with his head when you draw your hips back so you can plunge back inside him, lust and love lighting up every synapse in your body. "Just say you love me again."

Johnny's eyes close as he falls into a barely comprehensible rambling of 'love you, love you, love you', his body shaking with a building heat in his stomach, precum rapidly lubing the glide of your hand as you fuck him in a harsh pace until with a sharp yell against his shoulder you cum inside him, Johnny following suit as he paints the dirty wall white with his cum.

You feel him collapse against you and have just enough strength left to support you both, though the wall does the brunt of the work. You breathe the same air as you try to get your bearings, both hearts beating in the same speed and rhythm, and Johnny whines when you attempt to shift, hole clenching greedily around you like his body doesn't want you to seperate.

"You know," You say when you've managed to catch your breath, nuzzling into the back of his neck, "There are easier ways to say you love me without biting my head off." You chuckle, as if your heart isn't beating a thousand miles per hour at the knowledge Soap loves you.

He swats at your head, "Oh awa' an bile yer heid." He growls such harsh words before kissing you softly, sharing a silent promise with you.

[katiemccabeswife]

12 Weeks

Matildas x Aussie!Reader || 12 weeks of recovery and you're back on the pitch in your hometown.

12 weeks. After 3 months of recovery, you were back on the pitch and playing for your country. A knee dislocation may not be the worst injury ever, but the torn ligaments that come with it sure do make the recovery longer than it could be.

Whilst recovery is always more a mental game than physical, it's always worth it when you get to be back on the pitch with your national team in front of a sold-out, record-breaking crowd, in your hometown. You originally weren't sure if you were even going to be selected for the squad after missing the Conti Cup Final with Arsenal and the remaining games of the season, but Tony was assured by the physios over in England that you would be fit for the final games in front of an Aussie crowd before the Olympics, so here you were.

Tony was still cautious with your knee, and left you to warm the bench for the Adelaide game but substituted you on for the second half of the game. There was yet to be a goal when you came on, but the atmosphere surrounding the stadium only begged for one to come soon.

China was full of tough competitors and made for a lot of back and forth, sprinkled with some promising chances which only made Clare's goal in the 48th minute all the more sweeter.

The second goal came from a combination of an easy interception from Viney and Raso's speed making for another celebration when the ball hit the back of the net.

Sitting comfortably ahead relaxed the crowd but the team's constant want for more goals never did. After a close call near China's goal, Macca booted the ball up the pitch and met Steph's head who then controlled the touch and dribbled past the loose defenders. A moment of distraction left you unattended and gave you room to bolt for the incoming cross from your captain.

The ever-so-perfect timing of Steph met your foot perfectly leaving you one-on-one with the goalkeeper. A quick fake to one side had her falling the wrong way, leaving the goal wide open for you.

The sound of the crowd was deafening when the net rippled from the force of the ball and you were quick to run with your arms spread wide, cutting through the harsh cold air of the Aussie winter night.

A quick pivot is all it took for your back to meet the ground. A groan left not only your lips but those watching the big screen which was currently zoomed in on your celebration that was ruined by your knee slipping out of place.

"No, no, no" You cried out and were quick to stand back up and shake your leg around.

"Oi, no sit back down, babe," Ellie was the first one to you and forced you back to the ground.

"I'm fine Els, I swear, I promise," The tears that were flowing from your eyes spoke differently, "Just let me get up, I can walk, I swear!" When the medics made their way to you, you tried to push them away and convince them that you were alright. "It doesn't even hurt!" You shouted at them. Embarrassment filled you as your teammates and 76,998 other people watched you cry on the pitch.

Steph was there right next to you in seconds, soothing your hair and whispering gentle words, "It's alright, y/n/n, if nothing really is wrong, you can get back up and play, if not you'll also be ok, yeah? We're all here for you, you'll be alright," She kissed your sweaty head but her comfort was doing little to help. The Olympics were right around the corner, you didn't have another 12 weeks to heal and even if you did, there was no way Tony would choose you over a completely healthy player like Hayley or Caitlin.

You looked up at Steph with dread written all over your face, you knew you had re-dislocated your knee and that you wouldn't be fit for the Olympics but admitting that was going to be a hard pill to swallow. By looking at Steph's face, you knew she knew as well that you weren't going to be able to get up and play the remaining 20 minutes of the game. She took your face between her hands and looked you dead in the eye, "It's ok, chook, you being ok is the main priority right now, try not to worry about anything else, ok?" You nodded solemnly and looked towards the medics who were pushing painfully around your knee.

"I dislocated it again," You spoke softly to the woman looking at your face, gauging your reaction to her prodding. She nodded in agreement before asking if you could walk and with the help of her and Steph you were up on your feet, thanking the crowd surrounding you as they clapped you off.

While you weren't going to be playing the rest of the game, there was no way you were going to miss watching it so you sat down next to Lydia and rested your head on her shoulder as the medic strapped an ice pack around you knee. The tightening of the strap brought another round of tears to your eyes and Lydia rubbed your arm comfortingly with her hand that was slung around your shoulders, "It'll be ok, chick," She spoke, so similarly to Steph.

"Thanks, Lyds," The phrase had been thrown around a lot the past few days but her actions proved just how much she deserved all the thanks she was receiving, not only for being an exceptional footballer but also an exceptional person and friend.

The ball was being passed around aimlessly in the centre of the pitch, giving Tony a moment to step away from the sideline to find you and squat down in front you you, his hand resting on your good knee, "How does it feel?" He asked with a cringe.

You shrugged miserably, "It doesn't hurt as much as the first time, it kind of just aches," You looked down at it and frowned at the apparent swelling already rising.

Tony ruffled your hair lightly as he rose, "You're strong kid, remember we're all here for you, even me," He winked jokingly, "If you ever need someone to call, any one of us will be happy to answer, isn't that right?" He shouted down the bench to Caitlin who nodded obliviously making you and Tony laugh. He pointed at you sternly, "If you ever, ever, need anything, I'm just a phone call away, kid," He patted your shoulder once you had nodded in understanding before walking back to the sideline.

"I'm proud of you chicky," Lydia mumbled to you.

"Thanks, Lyds"

It's been a while!! Sorry for not writing, just haven't really felt like it, and guess what... dislocated my knee for the second time in three months just before the tillies game on monday!! you best believe i still went and hobbled in on my crutches though.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Go Walk

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: "For the record," I mutter under my breath, "if this was Coachella, I wouldn't have ever driven off with a grandpa."

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, age gap w joel (≥10), chaotic mom!reader, petty!joel, baby girl!ellie, married couple fights™, angst?, fluff, slice of life, typos etc.

A/N: @sloanexx ito na. i snapped. indulge. also i havent proofread this so (: indulge in typos <3 I also cross-posted this on my AO3 <3 so yea lol Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace Technical p2 "Editorial"

The silence beyond the tires whirring on asphalt was cut by two words, "do it."

I ignore her.

"Do it."

I turn over my shoulder and stare at Ellie.

"Do it," she repeats as I look front, "it's just us and skeletons."

I roll my eyes, "ok."

"What? There were, like, 10 skeletons outside."

"You managed to count them all?" I cross my arms and look out from my side of the car.

"I did actually."

I lick my lips, eyes flickering to the driver who could not care less about our conversation.

"Do it."

I huff through my nose.

"Do it."

Joel's eyes flicker to the rear view mirror.

"Do it."

I shift in the front seat of the car.

"Do it," Ellie mutters louder, "Do it. Do it."

"Ellie, I swear to go-" I start.

"Do i-"

"Shut up," Joel grumbles

"..."

The tires scrape against the road. Ellie and I tense where Joel relaxes. His elbow goes on the side of the door, he leans his head in one hand while the other stays on the wheel.

I look to the rearview mirror. Ellie is looking at me. She mouths, "do it."

I press my lips and steal a look at Joel. He looks exasperated. I will get into trouble for this. But then again, when is he not exasperated, and when do I never not get into trouble?

Click. Off goes my seat belt.

Ellie's lips part.

Click. The window to my right goes down.

Ellie grins.

Quickly, I fold my knees and push myself up on my seat. I stick out my head and torso, flailing my hands up and out of the window. I shriek with glee. My hair flies back. Wind catches in my mouth. It's exhilarating.

Ellie cheers from the inside.

Rip. I am ripped back in, my shirt fisted in an iron clasp, my eardrums hammered by curses and growls laced with a Southern drawl, my eyes widened even through my squint of discomfort.

"ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE? WHY ARE YOU LETTING YOURSELF GET SUCKERED BY 12-YEAR-OLD?"

"I'M NOT TWEL-"

"It was my idea."

"That's what she wants you to think!"

"Hey!"

"Joel--" I huff.

He pulls away, closes the windows from the main panel, then grips both hands on the steering wheel.

"I was talking to her about going to Coachella," I trail off.

Joel scoffs, shaking his head, then turning back to me to give a gnarly stank eye, "does this fucking look like Coachella to you?"

I turn away from him and lick my teeth, "obviously it doesn't."

"Come on, Joel, she was just feeling sentimental," Ellie says, "it's nice not to be so--"

"Well, she better stop being sentimental real soon or it's going to get us all killed."

"Alright," I pinch my fingers together, "I'm sorry I did it, okay. But I already did it, there's no point in-"

"No!" Joel snaps, turning to me for a second, "you don't get to say that to me after pulling a stunt like that!"

"Joel, it's fine. I won't do it again-"

"No, it's not fine! What if someone heard us and comes-"

"No one's going to foll-"

"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!"

"Ohemgee is that a truck following after-"

"Ellie," Joel growls, "I swear to g-"

"EXACTLY!" Ellie squeals, "NO ONE'S HERE!"

"I'm trying to keep you morons alive and you're purposefully making it harder!" Joel hisses.

I suck in a breath and place my hand on his arm, "Joel. Ok. I know-"

"It's not a big deal!" Ellie crosses her arms and leans back, "we're in the middle of nowhere for miles. You said it yourself."

"Ellie," I scold.

"Well," Joel huffs as he catches sight of our destination, "it will become a big deal once something bad happens, won't it?"

I recoil at his actions and huff. Ellie and I make eye contact, then I roll my eyes. I turn to the window, "for the record," I mutter under my breath, "if this was Coachella, I wouldn't have ever driven off with a grandpa."

Ellie slaps her hands on her mouth.

The tires skid. I shoot forward, held back only by the seatbelt I didn't even realize was put back on me. The engine hums and groans. Joel's knuckles turn white.

I turn to him. He grinds his teeth. My eyes widen as I turn to Ellie. We both chew our lips.

Joel slaps his hands on his lap as he turns to me, "by all means then," he motions, "feel free to walk."

Ellie's jaw slacks as she looks between us.

"What?" my upper lip curls.

Joel unlocks the door from the main control, "you can go scream at a tree and reminisce about Coachella outside the car."

I scoff and make a face of disbelief, "you want me to get out?"

Joel's face hardens. He doesn't respond though.

I trace my bottom lip with my tongue as I nod my head, "okay then."

"No don't lea- why are you getting out!" Ellie cries.

Thump. The door closes.

Skid. The tires grind against the asphalt as Joel drives off and Ellie twists to look at me from the backseat. Her eyes are wide, "YOU'RE ACTUALLY LEAVING HER."

"I gave her a choice," Joel notes bitterly.

"YOU ASKED HER TO LEAVE!" Ellie snaps.

"I said she was free to walk, and she chose to walk!" Joel counters.

Ellie turns back front and tugs at Joel's arm, "STOP DRIVING!"

Joel does not budge nor respond.

"JOEL!"

"She's a big girl," he quips, "all high and mighty with her attitude," he grumbles softly then raises his voice, "it'd do her good to walk back to base."

"You're an asshole!" Ellie says, crossing her arms.

Joel does not respond. His eyes flicker to the rear view mirror. He lets out a breath.

The moment they arrive and Joel parks, Ellie bursts out the door and begins to walk off.

"Hey!" Joel calls as he gets out of the car, "where do you think you're going?"

"To wait for her," she eyes him, "asshole."

"No," Joel marches to her and grabs her arm, "you're not going to walk to he-"

"I'm not going to walk to her!" Ellie snaps, pulling out of Joel's grip, "I'm just going to wait for her by the lamppost!"

Joel's attention darts to the broken, mossy lamppost, then to the barely visible figure, slowly inching forward from a distance. He turns back to Ellie then turns to the car, "fine. Help me put the things inside first."

"I'll do it la-"

"You'll do it now," Joel commands as he, himself, begins to unpack the supplies they managed to get.

Ellie grumbles and begrudgingly follows, "asshole."

By the time I arrive to our base, I smile at Ellie who dashes over to me and gives me a hug.

I can't help but laugh at her as I hug her back, "you're acting like I came back home from war."

"Joel's an asshole for leaving you," Ellie says against our embrace.

We pull away. I brush her baby hair back as she hooks her arm around my waist. I ask, "did you tell him that?"

"I also gave him the finger," Ellie says to me as she does the gesture.

"You shouldn't have done that," I drape my arm on her shoulders as we walk back, "he'll be all sulky about it."

"He deserved it," she retorts, "what if something did happen?"

I shake my head, "Ellie."

"No- I know... but what if-"

"Joel wouldn't have left me if he wasn't sure I'd be fine," I gesture to myself, "and I am. Call him a caring douchebag."

Ellie sighs, "he's so dramatic."

I let out a high pitched sound.

She snorts as she kicks a rock and then turns back to me, "nah, you're so right. You definitely are the dramatic one between the three of us."

"Hey," I raise a brow at her as I crush her into me, "you're the one that complains about doing the dishes."

"Well-"

"As if you weren't the one that eats the most."

"Hey, I'm a growing child!" she pouts, "and I, for one, think that I should only wash the dishes that he use."

I hum, "maybe you should walk then, because you can't drive."

"That's so not the same thing."

I shake my head and narrow my eyes, "it is, actually."

We make it inside the abandoned house we had been staying at and immediately, I look around for Joel.

"He's fixing the car," she begins to mime, "and doing the thing with the tube and the stick and-"

I raise a hand, "I got it."

"I personally think he's making an excuse so that he wouldn't have to talk to you right now," Ellie says as we head to the kitchen.

I smirk at her, "you reckon he'll make me sleep on the floor?"

Ellie laughs, "geez, I hope he doesn't. It's fucking freezing."

We begin to unpack some of the food we got.

"He's be a mega-asshole if he did," she makes a half-amused face.

I scrunch up my nose and nod.

"But if he does, I'll let you sleep with me, even though your a blanket hoarder."

I raise my hands up, "it's not like I can control that."

"You also have an iron grip, so I can't even pull it back on me," she tilts her head.

"Again," I open a can of beans, "I can't control that."

"You also move a lot when you sleep."

"Can't contro-"

"I change my mind," Ellie makes a face, "you should just get on your knees and beg..." she raises a finger, "or whatever it is you do when you're on your knees."

I release a breath.

She raises her hands and pulls her head back, "hey, two consenting adults."

"Okay," I quickly change the subject, "you know, I was thinking of fainting halfway through the walk, but then I figured I'd freeze to death before Joel came for me. Also he'd use it against me if I ever use the fact I used to jog a lot before as a reason to bring me on his 'solo' runs."

Ellie thinks for a moment, "that could work though, the fainting."

I snort, "what, should I faint just as he walks in the room?"

I dramatically throw my head back and place the back of my hand on my forehead, "he'd freak if I did."

Ellie and I giggle.

"If you faint, I'll put your body in the dumpster," Joel says as he walks in, pushing past me to something from the counter, then walks back.

Ellie and I purse our lips tightly as we watch him leave the room.

Once he's gone, Ellie and I begin to giggle again. She mutters, "asshole."

Later that night, after tucking Ellie in and kissing her good night, I went outside where Joel was still working on the car.

I shudder at the cold and wrap my arms around myself, "the jig is up, it's time to go to bed."

"I'm almost done," Joel mutters.

I roll my eyes, spotting the food I gave him, stagnant and cold in the place I put it hours ago, "you said that already."

Joel wipes his hand on the back of his pants then grunts. He circles from the front of the car to the driver's seat and starts the engine.

I breathe in deeply and huff, "you want some help?"

The car starts, then abruptly stops. Joel then closes the door and shoves something in his pocket, "I'm done." He walks to the open hood and bangs it close. He grabs his plate of food and begins eating as he walks past me.

I huff once more as I trail off after him.

"I made some tea," I mutter, "it's probably an piss cold now but-"

"Piss isn't cold," Joel retorts with a mouthfull.

I rub my eye.

We reach the kitchen, and by that time, Joel finished half of his plate. I give him a look as I watch him eat, "fucking hell, Joel, calm down. No one's going to take that from you."

"It tastes shit," he mumbles.

"Yeah," I cross my arms, "it was bearable when it was hot."

Joel shoves some more food in his mouth. I grunt, "and you didn't even wash your hands!" I chastise, walking over to him to push him to the sink.

Joel grunts as he moves to the sink against his will. He chews with full cheeks as he washes his hand in the miracle sink that had water.

He swallows before he mutters, "motor oil poisoning is the least of your problems, babe."

"Oh, yeah," I cock my head to the side as I hand him box of soap, "seems like it's at the top of your list, actually."

Joel finishes washing his hands before he averts his attention back to his food and mutters, "you're at the top of my list."

I watch as he stuffs his face again then walk up to him to pat his shoulder, "consider me flattered, big boy."

Before I could walk off, I am held back by my arm. I turn to Joel. His chewing slows. He releases his hold on me and leans on his palms, "stay."

I turn back to him and wrap my arms around myself.

Joel finishes the last of his food, thankfully, at a slightly slower pace.

I rub my arms as the cold nips at me.

"You want my jacket?"

I shake my head.

Joel adjusts the collar of his jacket, "you sure?"

"What is this, a romcom?"

Joel shrugs, "you tell me, you're the writer."

I lean my hip on the counter as I gesture at him, "this seems more like an apocalypse to me."

"Huh," he finishes the last of his food, "I wouldn't have guessed."

I purse my lips into a soft smile as Joel begins to wash his plate, "a dash of horror... maybe some farce."

The sound of water fills the beat of silence.

"Is Ellie asleep?"

I grunt, "I kissed her goodnight cause you were still brooding."

He doesn't respond. Joel finishes washing his plate. He puts it away and wipes his hands on a towel. He and I look at each other in silence.

Joel puts the towel down then mimics my stance. He leans back on the sink. I rub my arms. He crosses his.

I roll my shoulders back, "so."

"So," he repeats.

"Is this your way of saying you're still mad at me?"

"I'm mad at you?" Joel tilts his head.

"I don't know, are you?"

"Am I?"

"Joel."

"Would I want to stare at you if I were mad at you?"

I knit my brows, "is that what's happening?"

He looks at me.

"You're looking at me cos I'm hot?" I raise my brows and motion, "I haven't showered in days."

"Neither have I."

"Trust me, I can tell."

A moment passes. I cross my arms, "Joel-"

"Fine," he sighs, "I'm still annoyed at what you did."

"Okay. Which one?" I pucker my lips in thought, "the screaming or the old man joke."

"What do you think?" Joel deadpans, crossing his arms.

I walk up toward him and grab my chin in fake thought, "hmmmm, the second one."

I stop when I am directly in front of him and lean close to his face, "I don't actually think you're a grandpa."

He blinks.

I chuckle and reach out to his face. I rub his cheeks with my thumb as I kiss him. For a moment, I can feel him melt against me. I feel it in how he sighs and leans closer. When he doesn't reach out for me, I pull away and huff at his furrowed brows. I will the tension away as I stroke them.

He really wasn't about to let this go.

Joe stands up straight only to lean his forehead against mine, "scream like that again, I'll make you scream then gag you."

With that, he pulls away and walks off. I just stand there.

"Come on," he calls, "I'm stuck with you tonight since Ellie doesn't want you sleeping next to her."

[crljhnn]

Maybe It's Enough

Pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!Reader

Summary: Robin thinks you don't like her back, so she encourages Steve to take you out on a date. You think Robin doesn't like you back, so you agree to let Steve take you out on a date.

No use of y/n; lesbian reader

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: slight hints of / implied homophobia

[also posted on AO3]

The first time you actively realized that you were different was when you were 12.

You were lying on your bedroom floor, surrounded by your friends, looking through a magazine targeted towards young teenage girls.

You vividly remember your friends going on and on, gushing about the male actors and musicians featured in the newest edition, who were striking suggestive poses while smirking directly at the camera. You, on the other hand, only felt weak in the knees if the article displayed their girlfriends or female co-stars as well.

You grew up pretty sheltered, so it wasn't until a few nights later that you found out that women who were attracted to other women existed.

You were sneaking down the stairs to get yourself a bottle of water when you overheard your mother gossiping on the phone about a church friend's daughter, who was spending an awful amount of time with that new girl, Susan. Apparently, there have been rumors that she has been bringing shame upon her family and disgracing the church for quite a while.

Hearing the disgust in your mother's voice awoke a discomfort within you about your own emotions. You found yourself going back and forth between entertaining your suspicions and reassuring yourself that you simply hadn't met the right guy yet (that's at least what your older sister told you when you confided in her).

This maybe, maybe not spiel ended when you met Robin in your shared math class during your freshman year. She was somewhat angsty and awkward, and you were instantly in love. You didn't manage to muster up the courage to speak to her during that school year, though.

In your sophomore year, you were almost sure that Robin was gay. You caught her looking dreamingly at a little too many female classmates, a little too often. Also, from what you heard, she never had a boyfriend or openly expressed interest in any of the boys.

At the end of junior year, you were almost certain that Robin was into you. The staring was now reserved solely for you, and she constantly sat close, but never directly next to you. She also always started that cute nervous ramble when you tried to talk to her, and then always found a way to prematurely end the conversation.

"Sorry, I think I left my water bottle in the cafeteria. Bye!"

When you found out that Robin started working at Scoobs, you were tempted to go and visit her; this way, she was forced to talk to you. You nearly chickened out in the parking lot and had to hype yourself up for nearly half an hour just to be met with Steve "the Hair" Harrington when you got up to the counter.

You took that as a sign not to show up at Scoops again. Plus, now that you thought about it, what were you even supposed to talk about? The ice cream flavor?

That's why you were thankful when she started at the local video store. Movies were definitely something you could talk about for hours.

It wasn't as easy as you thought, though. Every time you came by, she was either busy organizing a section on the complete opposite end of the store or she was in the back. When you tried talking to her, she would always redirect you to Steve.

"I'm kind of busy right now, but I'm sure Steve can help you with whatever movie you are looking for. He is right over there."

Always rushed and always without looking at you.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe Robin actually despised you, and you completely misinterpreted her behavior. She probably thought you were some kind of stalker, keen on disrupting her at work.

---

"I swear she likes you, dingus! She is here all the time." Robin has been trying to convince Steve that you were head over heels in love with him for the last 10 minutes.

He was exasperated, standing in his typical mom stance with one hand on his hip. "She does not! Family Video is like the only video store anywhere close; that's why she comes here a lot."

"Well, she came to Scoops as well, when we were still working there!"

Steve probably doesn't even remember you showing up at their old job, but Robin does. She remembers how pretty you looked, how your outfit complimented your figure, and how your hair perfectly framed your face. She remembers it being a lot more nerve-racking than seeing you in school. This was a new environment, a whole new situation. She couldn't look at you from a desk behind you, hiding behind a book, if you decided to glance in her direction.

Before she was able to properly think about it, she had already headed to the back, the door slamming shut behind her.

"Wow, now I can't deny it anymore! It's not like half of Hawkins has been there at least once, and by your logic, she could be into you as well."

Robin wishes, with every cell in her body, that even the slightest glimmer of truth could lie in this statement. But it's not true. It couldn't be. And she has to remind herself of that. That way, it won't hurt as much when you end up with Steve or some other boy.

"Then why does she only ever talk to you, huh?"

"Because you run to the back as soon as she gets anywhere close to you!"

"And I'm doing both of you a favor. She comes here to talk to you and then gets too nervous to actually pull through with it. That's why she comes up to me."

"I think you are overthinking it."

And Robin definitely is, but at this point, she had already talked herself way too far into it.

"Trust me. I'm a girl. I should know stuff like that better than you."

"Yeah, 'cause you know so well what it's like to crush on a guy?"

"No, but I know what it's like to be a girl with a crush. Just ask her out."

Please don't.

"You sure?"

No

"Yes."

So that's exactly what Steve did.

---

The next time you visit the store, he makes sure to put on his especially charming smile, being right by your side as soon as you enter. He goes the full nine yards. Compliments your eyes, your outfit, carries the movies you picked out to the counter. After he finishes the process of checking them out, he is ready to make his final move. With whatever he has left of the famous Harrington charm, he asks you if you'd like to go out with him this weekend.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm really busy, you know, with school and everything. Sorry."

Rejection.

Steve only takes a second to recover. Even though Robin was sure of your attraction to him, he was still kind of expecting this. Regardless, Steve feels the urge to explain himself.

"No, it's totally fine. Really! I honestly wouldn't even have assumed that you were into me, but Robin was really insistent, so I thought I'd try my luck. No hard feelings."

"Robin told you to ask me out?"

"Yeah, why?"

That was the final nail in the coffin. Of course, she didn't like you. Why else would she try to set you up with her best friend? All the "signs" you saw were probably spun up by your imagination, caused by wishful thinking. Your own feelings must have clouded your judgment. You're embarrassed and sad. Maybe it is stupid and naive to expect to find a girl in a small town like Hawkins who is not only your type and assumably gay but also likes you back.

Maybe you should go on a date with Steve.

He really seemed like a changed man. He was unarguably attractive, even you could admit that. He was kind and, most importantly, interested in you. Maybe that's enough.

Maybe you were also a tiny bit driven by selfishness. Maybe you wanted to make yourself feel a bit better about receiving the confirmation that the girl you had been pining for for years simply wasn't into you.

For a moment, you felt bad for Steve. It would be unfair to lead him on like that, but let's be honest. From what you heard, that guy goes on three dates a week. How likely is it that he would go into this date with the expectation of finding his one true love?

"Oh, no, that's not what I meant. I would actually really like to go out with you. I really am busy, you know, with all the exams coming up."

Lies, there was nothing to study for the next two weeks. The only plan you currently had for this weekend was to cry over Robin.

"But I am free the weekend after, if that works for you?" You played that off nicely, right?

It seemed like you did because Steve's face lit up.

„Great, if you give me your number, I could just call you to talk about the specifics.“

„Yeah sure.“

While you focus on writing down your number on the piece of paper Steve slips you, he turns around to give Robin a thumbs up. Even though she tried to look just as happy as he did, anyone paying even a little attention could have seen that she was not okay. Her face scrunched up in a painful smile. Fortunately for her, Steve was way too distracted by the euphoric feeling of scoring a date to recognize his best friend's torment.

---

"You know, I was skeptical at first because I never felt that romantic vibe with her. She never seemed interested in me in that way. But now I'm so happy I asked her out. Like, she's so effortlessly beautiful and funny, and she is also really smart, you know?"

Yeah, Robin knows. She knew all this about you better than anyone else. Steve didn't even know yet how beautiful, funny, and smart you really are. But Robin had no doubt he was going to find out soon.

And she was going to die.

Okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic, but it will definitely feel like it.

"I could even imagine her being, like, the one, you know. I think what I've been doing wrong is going on dates with women I don't even know or with women who only know me from my "King Steve" days. They all have these weird expectations about how I'm supposed to act. But I got to know her over the last few months. And I know I'm actually able to hold a conversation with her, one that's not about high school."

Robin feels like she is going to throw up. Steve acted like he always did when he was interested in a girl: idealizing her and already imagining their house with a white-picked fence and their six little nuggets. She knew she would get over it eventually, even if you actually ended up together, but your first real crush will always hold a special place, especially your first lesbian crush. And Steve just couldn't shut up.

"Do you have an idea where I could take her? We were talking on the phone last night, and she told me to just come up with something. I really don't want to mess this up right at the beginning by picking the wrong thing."

Robin never wished to be an attractive teenage boy as much as she did at that moment. She wanted late-night phone calls with you, and she wanted the trouble of not knowing where to take you on a date.

She had also thought about going on a date with you for years, so yes, she definitely had an idea.

For a second, she considered not telling Steve to be selfish and not letting him live out the fantasy that had been keeping her company for the last two years. This urge, however, was overpowered by her need to make you happy. That's what she wanted most—for you to be happy and have a good time. So she told Steve all about your favorite music genre and to watch out for any small bands giving concerts somewhat close.

---

Meanwhile, you were still grieving this whole Robin disaster. How the hell did your regular visits to the video store, intending to talk to Robin, score you a date with her best friend?

Yet, you found yourself genuinely looking forward to your plans with Steve. His idea of driving a few towns over where a small band you never heard of, though the flyer suggested that the music would fit your taste to a T, was giving one of their first concerts, which was actually the most fun date you could imagine.

Even if you didn't like him romantically, you would still have a good time. And you thought it was admirable that he would plan something that fits your taste so well. Now that you think about it, you don't remember ever discussing your music taste or your fable for small underground bands with him. You don't know how he knew; perhaps you mentioned it casually, or maybe it was just a lucky guess.

---

Steve turns up at 5 p.m. sharp. He is standing in front of your door, with a bouquet of flowers, in an outfit you know he will stand out in at the rather shady bar the band is playing at.

The one-hour-long drive ends up being surprisingly entertaining, and for the first time in your life, you kind of wish to be straight. You often wished to not be gay, to "be normal," or to fit in, but never before did you specifically wish to be into men. But right now, you do. Because Steve is kind and charming and attentive and funny while also being insanely attractive, and you just wish you could fall for him. Because you know that would be the easiest thing to do if you were into men.

But you are not.

And now you are driving back home, and you are sitting next to Steve in his car while he rants about how positively surprised he was by the band and how they are definitely one of his favorites now, and you just feel bad. He clearly had a good time, and he hinted at his interest in you and a second date multiple times over the evening. You just know that you have to come clean.

After your sister's reaction, you never considered coming out to anyone in Hawkins again, well, except Robin, but definitely not to "King Steve." You honestly don't even know why, but somehow you really want to tell him. Perhaps you're driven by guilt; after all, you had a great time, and the thought of rejecting him with a shitty excuse feels wrong. Moreover, continuing to lead him on would be worse.

Steve turned out to be a decent guy, right? You dearly hope that you are not making a horrible, irreversible mistake by coming out to him.

"I really had a good time tonight."

"Yeah? Me too. I was thinking we could repeat this, whe-"

His enthusiasm about going out with you again made you feel sick.

"Steve"

His face falls when he detects your tone, realizing you are about to reject him.

"Oh."

"Look, I really had a great time, and you are a great guy, but I'm actually not into boys. I'm sorry."

That's it. You put your cards on the table, full vulnerability. There is no way to misunderstand what you just said.

Or so you thought.

"I understand. You want a man, someone who will be able to take care of you. Not some boy who didn't even get into college. I know my future isn't looking the best right now. I'm probably gonna be stuck working in a video store for minimum wage till I retire. But-"

"No, Steve, what? What I was trying to say was that I'm a lesbian. I like girls. I'm sorry for leading you on."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"But why did you agree to go on a date with me then?"

Did you really want to tell him the whole truth? If you told him about your crush, you have no doubt that it would reach the girl of your affection herself, and you really didn't need that. However, being so open about something you hardly ever told anyone, and him not reacting outright badly, kind of made you want to tell him about your feelings for his coworker as well. You already told him your biggest secret; what's one more?

"When you said that Robin told you to ask me out... man, this is so embarrassing to say out loud. I just kind of like her, like really like her, and her encouraging you to date me kind of made it clear that she does not feel the same. And I just thought, I don't know, the rejection kind of stung, and feeling wanted, especially by someone like you, felt kind of nice. I didn't think it would go as well as it did, considering your dating history. Sorry, was that mean? You know what I'm trying to say. But you are great, and now I feel shitty, not just for being indirectly rejected but also for using you as a distraction and ego push. I'm sorry."

You're too scared to look at Steve. Completely focused on looking anywhere but him while your brain keeps listing reasons why you are a horrible person.

At the same time, Steve's thoughts are running a thousand miles per hour. He's disappointed, sure. He likes you and, until a second ago, really hoped to build a relationship with you. Now, however, more present was the goal of setting you up with Robin. This was perfect. All her rants about never finding another gay person in Hawkins he had to listen to, and now he not only found someone who was gay, he found someone who already liked his best friend. Or you found him.

Now the question emerged: What's the best way to go about this? His first instinct was to tell you to just ask Robin out, but by doing that, he was basically outing her, so maybe not the best idea. Additionally, he didn't even know if Robin liked you back. That's it. Before he does anything, he should try to find out if your feelings are reciprocated. Or if Robin is at least interested in getting to know you romantically.

With this plan in mind, he first assures you that he has absolutely no problem with gay people, even if he is a bit clumsy at finding the right words to express it, and then drops you off at home. He is about to have a long night, planning to figure out the best way to unsuspiciously find out if Robin likes you back and how to hype you up in case she isn't sure yet.

---

The next day, he shows up at Family Video, ready to put his plan into action. Robin, however, is dreading to come in today. She doesn't know how she will last a whole day with Steve telling her how perfect the two of you are for each other and how well your date went. She just knows you two had a great time. If she hadn't been certain already, she would have reached the conclusion at the very latest when Steve basically came skipping into work, smiling with giddy excitement.

For the first three hours, Robin is surprisingly successful at dodging Steve's attempts at conversation. However, her luck runs out when he decides that both of them will have an early lunch break since it is a pretty slow day and there is really nothing to do. She can hardly say no to that, at least not without awaking suspicions. So after Steve does a quick food run and picks up some baked goods from a nearby bakery, the two sit down next to each other, each with a fresh pastry in front of them. That's when Steve sees his chance at being your hypeman.

"... and you know, I feel that's something not a lot of people do, like it's rare you find someone like that. And she is also just a great listener, like she does not only listen; she actually hears what you say. You know what I mean?"

This is hell. No, Robin bets hell is a whole lot nicer than this. It has to be. Nothing could be as awful as your best friend going on a ten-minute monologue about how perfect your crush is and what a great time they had on their date.

"So what do you think? You've known her for a while; do you think she's cool?"

"Yeah, she is. I'm glad your date went so well, and I think it's great you found someone. I'm really happy for you. So when are you going out again?"

Wait.

That is not what Steve was trying to achieve. Stop! Abort mission!

"Oh, we are not going out again."

Robin nearly chokes on her croissant. Eyes wide, coughing, she nearly spits out what she didn't manage to force down her throat.

"What do you mean you won't go out again? You literally just went on a ten-minute rant about how great she is!"

"Yeah, she is. But she's not interested in me. She already likes someone else."

Robin doesn't understand how her best friend can be so nonchalant about this. He seems absolutely unfazed, talking to her as if the reality that the most perfect girl does not like him back is the most basic fact, that he has absolutely no negative feelings about. Did he recently become extremely good at acting? There is no way he was able to hide his feelings so well.

"Steve, I am so sorr-"

"No, it's fine. Really, I'm okay. I actually wouldn't be affected at all if she started seeing this person. Like, I'd be really happy for both of them. No negative feelings on my part at all."

Okay, now he was acting weird. And why would you say yes to the date in the first place, if you already had your eyes on someone else? So she asks him about it.

"She believes her crush doesn't like her back, so she thought there was no harm in going on a date with me. But she is definitely not interested in me in the slightest!"

"Well, that's bullshit. Who wouldn't like her? I mean, she is everything! She is smart, pretty, compassionate, and talented. She is the full package. There is no way anyone would say no to her. I thin-"

Steve stops comprehending what she says after that, too occupied with his own thoughts. How could he have been so oblivious? The hiding in the back? The constant redirection to him? Her inability to speak to you? She wasn't giving you the opportunity to talk to him; she was too nervous to talk to you herself. Robin had a big fat crush on you, and it was so obvious now that he was paying attention.

Steve's ecstatic. Now all that was left to do was set you two up.

---

This was easier said than done. For a few days, he tried and tried to come up with a way to get you two together without telling either one about the other's feelings. However, this was nearly impossible with how much you two insisted on avoiding each other, each dealing with their own heartbreak, still believing their feelings weren't reciprocated.

At some point, the frustration became too overwhelming, and he reached the conclusion that he was going to have to out at least one of you to the other. His first thought is to just put you two in a room, drop the bomb, and then leave you to it. Steve decides against this, fearing you would both be too awkward to move forward from this.

He contemplates who could handle the situation better and decides that telling you is probably the right choice. Happy with the prospect of finally freeing himself of this burden, he gives you a quick call, informing you of his need for a conversation, and then makes his way over.

---

"Why did you have to tell me? Why couldn't you tell Robin? Now I have to make the move, and I'm probably gonna embarrass myself soo bad!"

After getting over the shock that Robin reciprocated your feelings (at least to Steve's suspicions), you relatively quickly became frantic, mad that he put you in a position where you had to be the one to act. Why couldn't he tell her? After all, is she his best friend? And he knows that you like her, for sure. Even though he swears to be sure about Robin's feelings as well, he never actually heard her admit it out loud.

"Don't get your panties in a twist. I have the perfect, foolproof plan."

"Ew, don't say that word."

"What? Plan?"

"Shut up. So what's your great plan?"

The relationship between you and Harrington has gotten a lot more casual and familiar since your "date." You never expected it, but you are really glad to call him a close friend now.

"Okay, listen up. You're going to come to Family Video tomorrow, bring some takeout, or better prepare some food yourself, and tell Robin you and I made plans to have lunch together."

"Wait, I thought you had the day off tomorrow?"

"I have. So you are going to be all disappointed, having prepared all that food for nothing. So you will offer to share with her instead. It's the only logical thing. You wouldn't want to waste the food."

"That's the worst plan I've ever heard. That's so lame, Steven!"

"Don't call me Steven. And it's brilliant! You will get a nice romantic date without making it look like you're doing too much."

You're still not convinced, but you don't have a better idea, so you agree.

---

"Hi, Robin!"

"Oh, hi, hello, what's up?" What the fuck? Get yourself together. "What are you doing here?" Robin has been paranoid since Steve voiced his suspicion about her feelings for you. If completely oblivious Steve could see it, could you too?

"Is Steve here? We have plans for lunch." You demonstratively hold up the two lunch boxes you brought.

You spent hours yesterday racking your brain about what to prepare. What would Robin enjoy the most? What can you cook without messing it up, especially if you're this nervous? All while you also considered what you could eat without embarrassing yourself. You don't want to sit there and have half the contents of your burger fall all over your hands. Or get food stuck between your teeth without noticing. And what could you transport over without ruining it in the process? Would the food stay warm for long enough? Or should you pick a meal that is served at room temperature? In the end, you called Steve and cooked the first thing he suggested, following his advice not to overthink it.

"Steve is not scheduled for today."

"Oh."

"That's so typical, this dingus. I'll call him; give me a minute."

"It's fine. Would you maybe like to share? My lunch break will be over till he gets here. I mean, I already cooked and brought the food. If you don't have any other plans, we could share it. Unless you don't want to. That would be fine as well. I don't-"

"I want to."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, nice. Let me just set up."

"Oh, of course, I'll show you the break room. Follow me."

The awkwardness dies quickly. Talking to Robin with the knowledge that she likes you back makes you a lot more relaxed around her. There aren't any weird periods of silence, and you feel a warmth and connection you never felt before.

With that, you finally work up the courage to ask her out. After years of pining, you are really about to do it.

"I wanted to ask you something, and it is totally okay if you say no. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. If you don't want to, we can just forget that I ever asked, so-"

"Just spit it out. Rambling is my thing, and you are not allowed to steal that." Robin tries to lighten the mood and take away from your clear nervousness.

"Would you like to go out with me sometime? Like, on a date."

"But Steve said- WAIT! I am the one you like?"

"Yeah."

"Damn."

"So?"

"I would really like to go out with you."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

[ask-pjo-hoo-toa]

ᴀʀɪsᴛᴏᴛʟᴇ ~ ᴘ. ᴊᴀᴄᴋsᴏɴ

req. none :)

summary. just a fluffy little thing about studying and basketball. you and percy are dating and you are a child of athena! you're trying to help him study...

warnings. use of (y/n), gn!reader, short as hell

eeli0r's notes. just wanna say i dont do smut no exceptions :) also: loosely inspired by that tswizzle lyric from so high school "you know how to ball, i know aristotle"

thursday, december 3

you and percy are hunched over a book, specifically an english textbook on the poetic teachings of aristotle.

you, as a child of athena, are quick to understand the teachings, and you're helping your boyfriend, percy jackson, study them for his test the next week.

"baby, focus," you say to him.

"okaaay," percy says. "fine. but i have a basketball game next week too. and it's in the cold. december, hello?"

you smile at him. "i'll be there to see it, i promise, but you have to focus right now."

percy sighs dramatically. "(y/n), why oh why would you do this to me?"

"because i want you to pass this class, love. you know, i'm a child of athena, i'm pretty much the best person for this."

as you continue to study, pulling your boyfriend back to focus every few minutes, you finally start to get somewhere. he's doing good, answering questions correctly most of the time, and you're glad about it.

when he gets the last part of an especially difficult section correct, you say "love!!! you're so good at this!!!" and kiss him.

percy laughs. "thank youuu," he sing-songs. "aristotle's also thanking you from wherever he is for getting your helpless boyfriend to finally learn his poetic teachings, (n/n)."

you grin. "you're not helpless, m'lord. you are sooo good at this, i swear."

he pulls you into a hug and peppers your face with kisses. "you're better. i love you, (n/n)."

as you keep studying, his hand finds yours on the book and curls around it. he's warm compared to your ice-cold touch.

thursday, december 10

the day of the test. everyone's putting down answers and you're doing well, as a child of athena, so you're more worried about percy.

an hour later, the exam is finished and you hand it in. you see percy, across the room by the door, waiting for you.

"hi love," you greet him. "how'd you do?"

he leans forward and kisses you. "pretty good, i think. thanks to you of course."

"babe, you're the one who retained the information," you say, taking his hand and walking out the classroom.

"right, right, i forgot." he gives you a cheeky grin. "my basketball game is in an hour. i need to go prep. see you there, love!"

you walk to the dorms of your college and kiss goodbye as he disappears into his dorm to get ready.

one hour later, you make your way to the ball court and sit down next to a few other people, an old woman and what looks to be her wife, a little boy sitting next to his mom and dad, and who you were hoping to see---percy on the court, his mom and paul sitting in the level above you, and estelle tugging on your sleeve.

"(y/n)!" estelle says brightly, slightly mispronouncing her name because of her age. "hi!!"

"hi, stelly," you say, ruffling her hair.

as the game starts, your eyes stay on percy, and you and estelle whoop the loudest when he makes a shot. every time, he looks at you and estelle and smiles, because he knows it's you and his sister.

the clock ticks, 20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15...

...14, 13, 12, 11, 10...

...and it's a tie, with five seconds left, percy has the ball and...

the buzzer goes off a fraction of a second after he makes the winning shot.

"WHOOOOOOOO!" you shout at the top of your lungs. "WHOOP PERCY!!!!"

your boyfriend doesn't bother talking to his friends afterward, just runs up to you and hugs you tight.

"that was amazing!" you say as he lets you go. "that was literally amazing!"

he flips his jet-black hair. "of course it was, (n/n), i was playing."

"you are the best player on the team. alright, alright, love, let your sister hug you."

estelle hugs percy and says, "so good! so good!"

percy laughs. "thank you, stelly and (n/n). i guess i'm actually decent at basketball."

"come on, babe, we need to go get ice cream for a reward. you too, stelly, and sally, and paul." you nod to the individuals as you refer to them.

monday, december 14

as the teacher's passing out tests, you can't help but feel incredibly nervous even though you're sure you did well.

A+ 'good job'

you knew it. but how did percy do?

he looks at you from across the room (you sit in the middle-front, he sits in the back) with shining eyes. 'A+,' he mouths.

you do a fist pump to him before your teacher clears his throat. "(y/n)? percy?"

"ah, uhm, sorry," you both say in unison, before dissolving in giggles because, let's be honest, who wouldn't?

[cumulo-stratus]

Communication Issues

(GIF NOT MINE)

Plantonic!BAU team x french!reader

Description: reader is from France and lived there until he was 11/12 and then moved to america and his first language is french. He also has a little bit of an accent. Basically reader is new to the team and it is their first late night back home on the jet with him. And basically they learn that when hes tired he reverts back to his mother tongue.

CW: possible swearing, I can't think of anything else

A/N: I'm thinking of making a series about this, like just funny scenarios related to the reader being French, if y'all have any ideas let me know! Also reader is gonna be loosely based off me when im rly tired cus i get kinda giggly/floppy/goofy. ( also sry it's short)

French, translation

3rd person POV:

after a hard, and long case the team was very ready to go home. They had found a 9 yr old girl and rescued her from a man holding her in his basement to torture her. And even though it took the profilers almost 3 full days with almost no sleep to find her. To say they were tired was understatement. It was almost 2 am when they trudged onto the plane, all tired physically and emotionally. Y/N was the last on the plane and decided to take the couch to get some sleep. Just as he was sitting down Reid plopped down next to him. (Y/N and Reid liked to sit next to each other so they could read together)

“Désolé reid, je veux lire avec toi, mais je suis trop fatigué pour ça” (sorry reid, i wanna read with you but im too tired for that) you said to him, slightly slurring your words. “Huh?” Spencer looked up at you with a small crease between his eyebrows. The switch in language caught the rest the rest of the team off guard as well (evidently by the looks on their faces) you peered at them just as perplexed and asked “Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?” (Whats wrong?).

“Dont worry guys I’ll talk to him” said spencer with a little giggle at his new friends antics. Morgan gave spencer a little knowing look and eyebrow wiggle at his conversation with Y/N, despite having no idea what they were saying. “Mon biche, tu parle français maintenant, pas anglais.” (Darling, you’re speaking french right now, not english) says spencers with a small smile. a look of understanding dawned your features and you said “je suis?! Oh c'est pas grave, Oh, tu n'as besoin que de me comprendre de toute façon.” (I am?! Thats okay, you’re the only one who needs to understand me anyways) you say with a wink ad a giggle. Spencers cheeks went red and emily gave him a questioning look. “Y/N, tu fais quoi?” (y/n, what are you doing?). you just gave him a mischievous look before putting your head on his shoulder and snuggling into him to fall asleep. The rest of the team got bored of making fun of the pair and began their own conversations or trying to sleep. But after a minute or two the team heard and hushed but strict “shhhhh!” coming from their resident genius. “You guys are so loud! hes asleep!” said spencer’s while he gestured vicariously to the sleeping figure drooped over his left side. “hush up pretty boy, your little boyfriend over theres out cold dont worry about it.” said derek with a teasing smile. spencers cheeks turned even more red than before if hat was even possible and started stuttering about the sleep man not being his boyfriend. “okay, okay, hes not your boyfriend,” said derek with his hands up in surrender after spencer kept spluttering on about y/n not being his boyfriend.

(small time skip)

As the plane landed people began packing up their things and getting ready to get off the plane. But y/n and Spencer had moved and when the team looked over they found the two agents passed out on top of each other and snoring lightly.

THE END

[aoioozora]

THIS IS SO AMAZING OMG (talking about the Simon fanfic btw) YOU JUST EARNED A FOLLOWER ❤️❤️ we'd really appreciate it if you did a part 2? 🥹 Take care

Simon.

Part 2

Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost

Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: I was never planning on making this a series but here we go, I guess I'm invested too now >:) thank you for requesting and following! While this series is fluff only, I have a small warning for this part: there's swearing, crude jokes. And possibly incorrect usage of Scottish and English slang. Enjoy :) Photo credit: mus

“It's pishin’ it doon out here.”

Simon looked at his friend and sighed, “English, MacTavish.” 

MacTavish groaned. “It's raining fuckin’ hard.” 

“Then say so.” 

“I did!” 

Simon and his friend, John MacTavish or ‘Johnny’, as he was affectionately called, found themselves standing under the shade of a book café, helmets in hands, watching Simon's bike get drenched in the heavy rain. Neither of them expected a downpour, and were caught without raincoats. And so the two had no choice but to wait it out. 

“It was yer bloody brilliant idea to go on a road trip when I warned ye that it was gonna rain today,” Johnny griped, crossing his arms as he shook the rain water off his helmet. 

Simon didn't say a word. He copied Johnny in getting the water off his helmet, except that he wiped it off with his hand. As he hung his head down to do so, his messy blond hair fell over his eyes, and he shook his head to get it out of the way. He wiped his hands on a handkerchief to dry them, and then pulled his mask down below his nose to inhale a fresh gulp of the cold, wet air. When he had inhaled enough, he pulled the mask back on, and his eyes wandered to his motorcycle, which was surrounded by a foggy haze in the rain. 

His mind wandered to that night he saved a young lady off the dangerous streets. He remembered how he saw her from afar, and without a second thought, sped up to her assailants, half-intent on actually flattening them into crepes. He remembered how his engine pounded as adrenaline charged his blood, as he twisted the accelerator to full throttle, sending the vehicle flying. 

A pretty lady he thought she was. He didn't know why he called her his girlfriend; his brain decided that being a boyfriend was the second most powerful thing a man could be, the first being a husband. No other men would mess with another man's woman, that was for sure, unless he had a death wish. She acted well too, convincingly even. 

He pulled out his phone and turned it around. Nestled beneath the clear casing was a small, clear candy wrapper, the same one that the pretty lady gave him that day. He didn't know why he felt the need to keep it, but did anyway. He definitely wanted something to remind him of her. 

He had been in anguish ever since he dropped her off and rode away; he had completely forgotten to ask for her name. But who does that? They were strangers. What are the odds that two strangers would meet again? 

“I'm heading inside,” Johnny announced, “I want a coffee.”

“Get me some tea.” 

“Fuckin’ Brit.” 

Simon was about to correct Johnny by telling him that Scotland, where he was from, was also part of the British isles, but he bit back, not wanting to risk hearing a rant in exclusively colorful, and totally family friendly Scottish words and phrases. 

“Fine, I'll do it myself.” Simon rolled his eyes and followed Johnny inside the book cafe. 

The two men sat at a table and while Johnny peered into the menu, Simon sank back into the comfortable chair and looked at the yellow bulbs hanging overhead, casting a soft, golden glow on the smooth wooden tables, the floors, and the cutlery. The smell of coffee, cakes, and books filled the air, along with the soft ruffle of pages, clinks of tableware and cups and saucers, and the distinct murmurs of his friend across him as he figured out what coffee he wanted to have. 

A waiter came by to take their orders, and the two were soon left to their own, sitting in unusual silence as they stared out the glass windows at the relentlessly pouring rain. While Johnny hummed a tune to himself, Simon, tired of looking at the downpour, decided to amuse himself with people watching. 

He saw people working at their laptops, some reading and drinking, others chatting in soft murmurs, and staff doing their job. 

His eyes fell on one particular lady who was seated at a table across the cafe, back facing him, busily working on her laptop. He felt his heart stop for a moment. Her silhouette was familiar, particularly her hair; it looked just like her. His heart pounded beneath his ribs. 

He didn't realise how long he looked until Johnny's voice piped, “Wit ye lookin’ at?” which interrupted the momentary buzz of his thoughts. 

Simon turned to his friend, who was looking at him with mingled curiosity and confusion. “Nothing.” he replied, shaking his head and hanging it down slightly to look away, but his eyes immediately darted to the lady, as if she was a strong magnet. 

Johnny wasn't quite convinced, and he followed Simon's line of vision. “A lass,” he observed, smirking. 

Simon glared at his friend, but it only made him chuckle. The two watched as she stood up for a moment and turned around, intent on walking to the shelves to grab a book. That's when Simon saw her face, and again, his heart seized. 

“It's her.”

His breath lodged tight in his lungs and his body visibly stiffened. And the most unfortunate reaction of them all: his partially exposed cheeks had turned pink. His eyes were glued to her, and he was unaware that Johnny was still keenly observing him. 

“Ye ken her?” asked Johnny, his smirk widening. 

“You remember I saved a girl the other day?” He asked back. 

“That's her?” Johnny whipped his head back again to take another gander at the lady. 

She was furiously flipping through the pages of a hardbound book, as if desperately in search of something. Simon rested his elbow on the armrest of the chair and leaned his cheek on his fist; he watched with interest as she hunched over the book like a medieval scholar, and wondered what her occupation was. She went back to her seat, hunched over again, and the two men looked back at each other. 

“Go talk to her,” Johnny challenged.

“No.”

“Keep bein’ a fuckin’ pussy and ye won't get to fuck that pussy, ye ken?” 

Simon snorted at that, but then immediately and quietly hissed “Wheesht!” at Johnny to make him shut up, glancing back at the pretty lady. “Don't be disrespectful,” he added.

Johnny chuckled, ever amused at the fact that his Scottish vernacular was infecting the Englishman. He leaned forward, resting a hand on his knee, continuing to smirk, “Since when did ye care about respect, huh?” 

Simon inhaled sharply, since he was getting increasingly impatient with Johnny and at the fact that he was running out of arguments. It was also a bit hard to argue in a place where you're supposed to be quiet. 

“Just go already. I cannae see ye looking so stupid like this. The worst she can say is ‘fuck off’.” Johnny shrugged. 

Simon shot his friend and unimpressed look, making Johnny snort. “That is the worst thing she can say, you wanker,” he said, now mechanically rising from his chair. 

“Fuck off and get her number, ye gobshite, or else you'll just be wanking to her and not talking.” Johnny shook his head with a smirk and gave his friend a slap on the back as he passed him. Simon returned the gesture with a slap to the back of Johnny's head, particularly in annoyance at the latter part of his sentence. 

While Johnny whined quietly from how hard a slap he had been dealt with, Simon's attention was drawn when he heard her voice again, sounding a little agitated. His head whipped towards her table, and yet again, she was being hit on by some guy, and clearly looked like she was uncomfortably fighting back his unwanted advances. 

Simon glared at the man as he began his march. “If only she had a boyfriend by her side, a guard dog…” he thought to himself as he speedily, yet calmly stepped over to her table. 

He went around some tables and emerged behind the man, towering over him. Before Simon was noticed by her, his hand came down heavily on the man's shoulder, making him flinch. Leaning down, he whispered as the man turned to face him, “What business do you have with my girlfriend?” 

The man was met with Simon's glaring eyes that meant serious business. He froze up immediately. 

“Babe, he was trying to hit on me even though I told him I wasn't interested,” the lady's voice resounded, and a quick glance at her told Simon that her eyes glimmered with recognition. 

The “babe” made his knees weak for a moment, but he shook off the feeling and continued to glare at the man. No more words were needed. He immediately stood up from his seat and strode away, apologising without sincerity. When he was finally earshot, she sighed. 

“You alright, love?” asked Simon with gentleness unusual to him, glancing around again to make sure the man was nowhere in sight. 

“Yeah, I'm fine,” she sighed, also looking in the direction the man left. She looked back at him and smiled brightly, “But what a coincidence. We meet again, Simon.” 

“And I'm mighty chuffed about it.” he thought to himself as he nodded in response. “Funny coincidence, really. My friend and I were just about to leave on a small road trip and the rain,” he shook his head and clicked his tongue as he looked at the windows, “it rained on our parade, I guess.”

The unintentional pun made her giggle. Simon normally had a grip on his emotions, but that damned giggle threw off his train of thought. But regaining himself, he continued, “So we took shelter here, and I saw you. Thought I'd come talk and then I heard that guy trying to make a pass at you.”

She motioned to the chair for him to sit down, which he instantly did; he cursed himself for seeming so eager. 

“You heard?” she asked with emphasis. 

“Yeah?” he nodded, slightly confused as to why she zeroed in on that word in particular. “I was looking elsewhere, and then I heard you.”

She then glanced at her laptop for a moment and then pulled the screen down slightly so he wouldn't see what was on. As she did, she said, “I see. I'm lucky you came just then because I was having a hard time driving him away.”

“I could tell,” he answered slowly. He then decided to change the subject. “You come here often?” 

“Yeah, every day. This place is calm and quiet and the atmosphere helps me work.”

“What's your job?” 

“I'm an author.” 

“An author?” he blinked in surprise. He didn't expect that. “What do you write about?” 

“Fantasy and adventure… With a hint of romance.” She grabbed her tote that was on the table and pulled out a book from it, which she showed him. “This is my first published book.” 

“No kidding?” He took the book in my hand. It was titled ‘Firefly Trails’, embossed in gold. The cover was matte, showing a dark forest trail dotted with glossy fireflies and their greenish yellow light. Below the title was her name, and he read it in his mind slowly, his eyes spending more time taking it in more than anything else on the cover. 

“New York Times Bestseller.” he recited, smirking as he eyed the epithet on the top of the cover, “Don't they slap this on every book?” 

“They do, but this actually did pretty well in New York.”

“So you're famous then?” 

“Kind of?” 

“Tell me your Instagram handle, I'll need to see for myself.” Simon pulled out his phone and looked at her, waiting for her to tell him. 

She did. He immediately typed it out on the search bar and while he did, he rested his elbow on the table, holding his arm upright. His neck was craned upward slightly, and the lady couldn't help but stare at the way his Adam's apple moved as he gulped, and the way the sternocleidomastoid muscle tightened and popped from under his fair skin as he moved his neck. 

Her analytical, authorly eyes scanned him keenly, soaking in all she could make of his facial features; at his icy blond hair, short and styled in an undercut; his long eyelashes, his shapely eyebrows, his slightly pink cheeks under the black mask, the way his brown eyes reflected against the blue light of the phone screen; it was all a sight to behold. He was saying something, but her mind was so lost in trying to mentally string words together to describe the view in front of her in the most superfluous manner possible, in hopes that this information would be used in her future works. 

“Hey, you really are famous. You got quite a tonne of followers.” Simon, who was highly aware of her shameless staring, somehow managed to interrupt her flow of thought. 

She was successfully brought back to Earth from her daydream, and she nodded, now embarrassed to have been caught red-handed. He thankfully made no comment on it, not wanting to make things awkward.

She answered, “I suppose so. But they're not as many as bigger authors. I'm not complaining, though. I'm really happy to have a lot of people liking my work.”

“You're too modest,” he said, and she could see his cheeks rise to his eyes just a wee bit behind his mask, indicative of a smile. He now showed her her Instagram page on his phone. “There, I followed you,” he said, pointing at the grey ‘Following’ button.

“Are you sure? You don't look like the type of person who reads or is interested in author updates.” A slightly teasing smirk tugged the corner of her lips. 

Simon chuckled and shook his head slightly, making his short hair swish a little; she took notice of it. “I'm a voracious reader,” he bragged, lying through his teeth, even using a fancy word to make it more convincing. 

She smiled, clearly not quite convinced, but decided to humor him anyway. “If you are, then that book is a gift for you.” She glanced at the copy resting on his lap. 

“No kidding?” he blinked as he took the book in his hand to gaze at it. “Well, since you're so famous, I think I should get your autograph.” he said, and she could see one of his cheeks raised; an unmistakable smirk. 

“Oh, come on, you're making me blush,” she giggled, but took the book anyway.

"My intentions exactly," he thought as he watched her grab a pen and start writing on the first page. 

His phone buzzed a message in the meantime, and he took the device to have a look. It was Johnny. He glanced at the other end of the cafe at his friend, and found him staring, finishing the last sips of his coffee. 

Johnny MacTavvy: oi yer tea's getting cauld 

Johnny MacTavvy: Rain's stopped too. Let's go 

Simon now looked out the glass windows and the rain had indeed stopped, and a bit of sunlight was peeking through the cloudy skies. He sighed, not wanting to go just yet, but knowing Johnny wouldn't let him tarry any longer, he quickly typed a reply, which Johnny saw immediately. 

Fuckin’ Brit: ok 

By the time Simon kept his phone in his pocket, the lady finished her autograph and handed the book to him. “Enjoy.” She smiled. 

Simon murmured a “Thanks” as he received the book, and then rose from his seat. 

“Leaving already?” she asked, looking a little disappointed. 

“Yeah, my friend's annoying me to finish my tea so we can be on our way. The rain's stopped now, so…”

“Okay,” she nodded slightly, glancing out the windows to confirm for herself. Looking back at him, she smiled again, “Take care then.” 

“You too,” he inhaled. “Make sure you don't get hit on again,” he said, attempting to be casual and funny, but he felt like his attempt turned out to be so stupid. 

She shook her head, scoffing and smiling. “I'll be fine.” 

He was relieved that the attempt landed safely despite the turbulence, and he sighed. “Right then, I'll see you inna bit, love.” 

“See you, Simon.” 

He nodded once at her and then strode back to Johnny, feeling his knees get weaker by the second. He managed to reach his table and practically fell down in his seat. 

“Well?” asked Johnny with a smirk as he leaned forward and eyed the book in Simon's hand. “She gave ye a gift, I see.” 

“She's an author. Her first book.” Simon answered, handing him the book so he could see it. 

“For real?” Johnny took the book and flipped through the pages. The autograph on the first page caught his attention and he read it. His eyes widened slightly and he closed the book, returning it to his friend, who was drowning the lukewarm tea. “He completely forgot, didnae he, this bastard.” Johnny muttered under his breath, smirking. 

“What was that?” asked Simon, setting down the teacup. 

“Nothing. Let's go.” 

The two paid for their drinks and as they stepped out the door, Simon glanced back at her, and saw that she was also looking at him over her shoulder. This time, he felt a bit fluttery in his stomach. She waved at him with another of those pretty smiles and he waved back, already feeling his knees go weak again. 

The two turned away and exited the book cafe. While Johnny wiped the rainwater off the motorcycle, Simon took a moment to see what she had written as an autograph. 

“Dear Simon, thank you for saving me twice. I hope you enjoy the book,” was written, and along with that was her name and signature.

Below that was written in unmistakably bold and clear letters, “Call me,” along with her number. 

Simon felt like he had been struck by lightning. His face turned alarmingly red and hot to the point that he scrambled to pull his hood over to hide himself. “Fuck me…” he mumbled his exclamation as he processed this very clear green light from her. It was unbelievable. 

In the meantime, the lady herself  couldn't believe this whole thing just happened. He happened to be there, came up to her, saved her, and swooped her off her feet the second time. It was an amazing coincidence, a once in a lifetime incident, something straight out of a novel. And being an author, she couldn't let this go. She just had to shoot her shot by slapping her phone number in the autograph and now hope that he would call her.

But if there was one thing that sold her completely, it was the fact that he heard that she was in trouble, and came to her rescue. 

Feeling a flutter in her chest, she looked back at her laptop screen. A Google search result was displayed in bold:

“The name Simon means ‘to hear’.”

End of Part 2.

Part 3

[gravidwithlore]

I didn't forget about Kaz I swear! Life got in the way, but I've finally finished the next update on how our little knocked up revolutionary slut demon is doing! When I first started the lineart, he was actually at 12, but by the time I finished him up we're at a total of 15 demon spawn growing in that belly of his! He's only a few months along, but I'm sure he's going to get MUCH bigger from here.

Remember, the next milestone is a new "uniform" so every like and reblog helps get him a new outfit! Maybe one with a little bit more room for a growing succubus? And to add more babies to that unnaturally fertile womb of his, you can donate to my Ko-fi, or every 10 reblogs also adds another spawn in that belly.

Prologue | Part 1

Once word got around that Kaz was thoroughly knocked up, he could barely take a step without one of the guards pulling him into a closet or just shoving him into a corner to fuck him senseless. Which is exactly what Kazimir wanted. When the revolution's leaders sent him on this mission, they'd made it seem like this operation would be hard. The only thing hard about it was every guards dick when they so much as thought about him.

He did find himself missing the presence of his revolutionary counterpart though. Levi was still in solitary, most likely to try and wring as much information out of him as possible. Kaz hoped he'd be let out to the general population soon. He wanted someone to talk shit about the guards with. The succubus had never encountered such a gullible group of idiots before, so easily swayed and charmed with just a soft moan or a certain arch in his back. Kazimir knew he looked fuckable, but even he thought it was getting a little ridiculous. At this rate, he'd be giving birth to an entire new army to serve his Masters in Hell.

“Holy shit, I think I can feel ‘im get more knocked up by the second.” The guard of the moment, having just cum and already hard and rutting into him again, as they roughly pressed one of their large meaty hands on the fertile swell of Kaz's belly. Kaz snapped out of his blissful haze, as he realized he might have been found out right there in the guards break room, the entire plan ruined.

The guard had noticed as the newest occupant of Kazimir's womb had grown to catch up to its siblings. The plan wouldn't work if he didn't give birth to them all at once after all. Usually Kaz basked in the moment, took pride in his fertile body and each and every little demon growing strong in his womb. But if the guards managed to remember that most human pregnancies don't work that way, he could be in big trouble.

“Fuck. That’s hot.” One of the other guards in the breakroom grunted, already stroking his cock through the tent in his pants. Some of the other guards groaned in agreement. “Now shove off, youve had a go, let my have my turn.”

“Fuck off! You can have your turn when I'm done fucking another baby into him.” The first guard growled defensively.

“Hell no, I'm getting my turn, whether you like it or not!” The second guard argued as he tugged down his pants and pushed at the other guard.

Kaz almost laughed. Here he was, afraid he'd been caught red handed, and these idiots were about to go feral over a chance to add to the unholy brood that would later become their very downfall. His eyelids fluttered and a guttural moan escaped his chest as both guards thrust themselves into his cunt at the same time. Still not as big as any of the demon lords he'd carried broods for in the past, but it still stretched his human-looking form to its limit, in the best possible way.

He hadn't carried a brood of demon spawn nearly this big since he'd first reached maturity as a succubus, when his libido and fertility were still wild, chaotic, and uncontrollable. He'd almost forgotten how amazing it felt. But as the still arguing guards came into him, and he cried out in pleasure as the warm fuzzy glow that always nourished him after each breeding filled his core. As a new pair of twins began to grow in his womb; he couldn't help but think: this might be his biggest brood yet.

Because I made you all wait so long, I'm gonna be generous and add 3 more demon spawn to Kaz's belly, on the house! I wanna see that lad get nice and BIG. Don't forget to reblog if you want to help the mission, and if you have some to spare, you can donate to my Ko-fi. And don't forget to like too! How else are we supposed to see that new uniform? ;)

[cher-rei]

afterglow- pt 2 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold × fem!reader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter (you) is privileged with working alongside the liverpool marketing and public relations team while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

[wc: 2,1k] [part 1] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12]

genre(s): friends?? to lovers, work romance, fluff

warnings: swearing

notes: guys I totally forgot that curtis has a girlfriend help💀 so I'm just gonna remove her completely and in here they're not together... it's for the plot I swear

"what the fuck?!"

"jamie!" your sister's voice echoed through the house to your bedroom that early wednesday morning. it was normal for her to scold at you whenever you swore anywhere near her. which was all the time seeing as the two of you shared an apartment.

you didn't bother apologising as usual though and sat up straight in your bed, your blankets dishevelled and a look of confusion plastered on your face. "no way," you gawked at your phone screen and ran your fingers through your hair to try and comprehend what had just happened.

"there's really no reason to be shouting at 7 in the morning." you brushed your sister's comment off, the older girl taking it as a sign to join you on the edge of your bed to see what had gotten you all riled up.

she let out a heavy sigh as she moved you over so that she could sit with you. "speak woman. I don't have all day."

you took a breath and turned to look at her, eager eyes staring you down for any sort of explanation you could give her. "Okay so basically I just woke up and obviously my first instinct is to check my insta and twitter notifications because I got a bunch."

she gave you a look. "which isn't anything new. probably just a few followers or something."

you pointed your index finger in her direction. "exactly. but then--"

you turned your phone in her direction, your twitter feed showing up. "--I saw that I was being tagged like crazy. only to realise that this whole liverpool pr thing is blowing up."

maya gave you another look. as if you to say 'what did you expect?'. she began to get up from the bed but you quickly caught her wrist and pulled her back down again, urging her to stay for the rest of the story.

"jamie," she sighed. "you have an entire fanbase, of course they're going to go crazy over something like this."

you shook you head. "that's what I thought. but then I decided to go check my instagram notifications because apparently..."

you turned your phone screen to maya, displaying your follower list and lo and behold right at the top, your most recents followers queued up.

"what the fuck?!"

you jumped up at your sister's reaction. "that's what I'm saying!"

jude bellingham was one thing. but the entire liverpool squad?? there was no reason for that to happen at all. you were just some random twitch streamer on the p.r team, nothing more.

was it because I kicked the ball on monday?? it was so because I kicked that ball on monday.

you weren't going back to the training center for a while though. there were too many errands to run and meeting to sit through. and today's meeting at 10 was sure to pile even more projects on your table.

the match on saturday against wolves was going to be a premier league match so a lot of preparation had to be done for the interviews. yesterday's meeting already gave you a headache so today was going to be something for sure.

"is jamie not coming in today as well?" curtis asked no one in particular while his eyes roamed the hallways, yet there was no sight of the girl anywhere.

from beside him, trent quirked an eyebrow and nudged his arm. "you're on a first name basis already huh? you work fast."

curtis scoffed at his comment, recalling mpnday afternoon's events all to clearly after jaimie had left. "hey I'm not the one who stalked all her socials the second she left."

"what?" trent raised his hands in defence. "she looked familiar so I had to check."

"who looked familiar?"

the two jumped up at the sudden question, their glares shot at dominik who had pushed in beside trent who only shook his head, not bothering to brush off dominik's arm that was slung over his shoulders.

"the new p.r girl," he answered and put his phone away.

"jamie?"

trent shot him a weird look and then to curtis who was smiling from ear to ear with an 'I told you so' look. "what so you're all just on a first name basis? how did that even happen?"

the conversation carried on until they got to the field and even during their warm-up session. but it still seemed off to trent who grew more an more confused whenever someone chimed in with an "are you talking about jamie?"

it didn't make sense to him. they barely knew her or had any decent conversations. what difference did asking about where she was from or how many siblings she had make? but either way, the team wondered why trent has such a big issue with it.

"did you guys know that jamie's a twitch streamer?"

"what the hell?" trent groaned in obvious frustration when ibou chimed in while they were doing their laps around the field.

"what? are you just going to call her 'ms carter' for the rest of your life?" ibou asked again with a low chuckle which got a small shrug from trent.

"obviously not. it's just that she's a staff member and has a job to do." he turned his head to look at curtis who seemed fed up either the mini lecture that he was getting, but he felt that it needed to be said.

"she's not here to be your friend or--"

"--I fully agree with you trent. I'm glad some of us have common sense," harvey retorted out of nowhere.

seriously. they didn't even know he was there. the smallest of the group was adorning a look of determination as he jogged alongside his teammates. one that screamed, 'I hate jamie carter.'

ibou scoffed from beside him. "oh shut up. you're just mad because she's taller than you."

the group couldn't hold back their laughter as they watched harvey go quiet, a look of defeat on his face as she shook his head to the side. he'd get her back. one day.

but with trent's issue, everyone's argument was that they were just trying to make her feel comfortable. and he could give them the benefit of the doubt there, he knew how fans tended to react to situations like this and their presence in general was probably a lot to her.

but there was no reason to be involved with her personally. okay so what if he was the first one to follow her on Instagram?? when dominik saw that he was stalking her account his first instinct was to take trent's phone and follow her, just to tease him.

but then everyone followed her so that was kind of pointless.

after a bit more back and forth banter curtis let out a sigh. "but either way, she's friends with jude in a way or something." he gave trent a cheeky smile and the right back couldn't help but roll his eyes, knowing very well where he was leading with this.

"and any friend of jude, is a friend of mine," he finished and put his hand on his chest causing ibou to laugh but oh boy he wasn't finished just yet.

curtis took a moment to clear his throat and looked behind their group to see dominik running along with darwin and cody, laughing about what ever.

"if this is like any movie I've watched, then someone is walking out with more than just a premier league trophy."

that earned him a harsh slap on the arm from ibou but he didn't care and instead ran up in front of trent, now taking the liberty to jog backwards to take him head on. "what do you say? are you going to keep that 'ms carter' thing up until she becomes mrs alexander-arnold"?

"boys!"

everyone immediately halted at the sound of virgil's voice booming from the front with robbo and salah. "am I going to have to chase you to make you run any faster?"

you sat in the meeting room that afternoon with your laptop in front of you and your attention drawn to the front where the projector was with the media teams director, marvin colesmen.

he was a a slender man no older than 40, with blonde hair that was styled to the side. he wore a polo shirt underneath his blazer with a very obnoxious pair of socks as well.

"regarding our performance, we're doing fairly well but there's much room for improvement. but let's all thank clara for the last minute camera replacement last week since the last one broke."

everyone at the table immediately turned to look at someone who you remembered to be shaun. all he did was roll his eyes, and judging by the death glares he was receiving he definitely broke that camera.

mental note: don't break anything. ever.

"ms carter?"

your head snapped to the front at the call of your name, a bubble of anxiety filling your stomach now that you were put on the spot.

"do you have any thoughts on anything I've said?"

thoughts?? I don't have any thoughts??

"uhm..." you sat upright in your chair as you trailed off to formulate a response. "I think that more attention should be drawn to the team's more laid back promotional content."

great answer.

marvin tipped his head to the side at the response in intrigue. "care to elaborate?"

not really.

you licked your lips as you thought. "coming from a supporter, the occasional training video and interview don't really attract attention."

you watched as marvin urged you on with a nod. "and I think we should expand our content to something more entertaining. it'll be more rewarding for them team that way as well, I'm sure they're tired of answering the same questions every other week," a small laugh left your lips but you immediately stopped.

the room was dead silent and the atmosphere was a little too hostile for your liking. it was obvious that everyone was waiting for marvin to either shoot you down mercilessly or agree with you. but the experience was nothing short of terrifying.

the director nodded his head and continued to mutter something to himself before sending you a smile. "I'm giving you a week to come up with entertaining alternatives. if you convince me enough, I'll give you what you need since you'll be with the team from next week onwards unless I need you. you'll be joining them on the trip to molineux saturday morning as well. I'm sure the fans wouldn't mind seeing you in the booth either."

what's that supposed to mean?

when the meeting was finally over you didn't waste a second and rushed to pack your things and get in your car. you needed to hurry if you wanted to miss the rush hour traffic but of course you were wrong and sat in the car for an extra 40 minutes. lovely.

by the time you got back home, you felt as if every bit of energy had be drained from your body. you dropped your keys onto the counter in front of the door and kicked off your shoes.

"jamie?"

you let out a groggy "yeah" and dragged yourself to the kitchen where your sister was finishing up supper. you didn't say much and took your usual seat on one of the barstools and rested your head on your arm.

"so," maya poked your head. "how was work?"

as an answer you gave her a mumbled run down of your day, and by the time you were done the only words she heard were "broken camera".

she let out a hum regardless to show that she was paying attention and continued to stir the pasta in the pan. "well a kid fell down the slide today. I know I'm the teacher but I still laughed."

you couldn't help but cough up a laugh at her sudden confession. you looked up at her with a smile and she slumped her shoulders. "I just hope no one saw."

by the time you had gotten out of the shower. finished your night routine and ate dinner you were surged with a sudden burst of energy and needed to get it out. after a bit of scrolling through your socials and interacting with your followers and a much-needed poll on instagram, you decided to start a twitch stream.

and boy did it lead somewhere.