#also he makes noises but they are neither the noises he makes in the games or the anime idk where tf they got them from

[hilacopter]

guess who decided to show up after 5 months

[eddiesxangel]

Just Peachy | E.M

TJ’s 2K request celebration!

Anonymous asked: Hey i was wondering if i could request a friends to lovers eddie x reader, its romantic and the tension finally breaks, its their first time with each other and the reader absolutely blows his mind sucking and fucking him, shes the best hes ever had and he wasnt expecting it to be THAT good, hes just sprawled out flushed and sweaty like hes seen god 🤭🤭 Im just imagining him trying to get up to pee and his legs give out, he face plants in the hallway, his cheeks just out 🍑 and youre both giggling

wc: 2.9k

Cw: friends to lovers, your and Eddie’s first time together, smut, oral (f + m) , p in v, talks about cuming inside but Eddie is wearing a condom.

Concealing your emotions around Eddie had become increasingly taxing over the past couple of months. Although you've been friends for a little over a year, you couldn't help but notice that something had shifted in your interactions with him.

You felt giddy when you were together. Your face, cheeks, and ears would feel on fire whenever he complimented you. You also found yourself thinking about him first thing in the morning, and when your head hit the pillow, fantasies of you and he would play in your mind until you fell asleep.

The flirting between the two of you was so unbelievably blatant, and any time you innocently did it in front of your friends, they would make gagging noises. You never thought much of it because that’s just how you and Eddie were, that’s how you’ve always been, it was never serious for you, until it was.

It was one particular comment he had made that made it all switch for you. It was late at night, and you and he had been smoking together at his place. He’d told you that “you are the only person in the whole world who makes him feel whole.” You could have kissed him right then and there, and that thought scared you.

Ever since that night, Eddie has always been at the forefront of your mind, especially on the night of that party, when he expressed his feelings for you during a game of truth or dare.

In all honesty, Eddie had been set up by Dustin and Steve. They were tired of hearing him go on and on about you for a year and a half, so they fed Eddie a bunch of alcohol and insisted on playing a game of truth or dare.

Finally, when it was time, Steve asked Eddie, “Who do you like?” He drunkenly but confidently said your name. You hadn’t believed him because he was so drunk, but Nancy reminded you, “Drunken thoughts are sober words.”

When you were both sober the next morning, you marched your way to the trailer to set the record straight. You needed to know if what Eddie said had any slice of truth to it. At first, he refused to even look at you, embarrassed by his actions, but when you confronted him about it, he could only nod his head ‘yes.’

Your stomach erupted with butterflies as he confessed he’d always liked you like that. Like more than a friend. He didn’t want to lose you because you’re one of the most important people in his life.

You didn’t let him finish speaking because your lips were on his. This kiss was everything that you had wanted it to be. It’s the type of kiss you’ve only been dreaming about every night before going to bed.

After one of the best makeout sessions of your life, Eddie insisted he take you out on a proper date before things moved forward because “you deserve the world.” His words, not yours.

Dating Eddie was fun and easy. You were such good friends before, so you were already comfortable with one another, but now you got to steal kisses and hold each other's hands without worry. The only problem was that you’ve been on five dates with Eddie, and neither of you has yet to make a move past steamy makeouts.

It was weird, in a way. He was your friend, and you didn’t want to seem too pushy, and neither did he. You both were too chicken to let one another’s hands roam too far without worrying about the other's reaction.

Eddie didn’t even know if you would want to have sex with him. You said you liked one another more than a friend, but you were you. You are everything to Eddie, and if he fucked this up by moving too quickly, he would never forgive himself. So, he played it safe.

Stolen kisses on cheeks, innocent hand holding—he wouldn’t initiate further than kissing until you wanted, but the problem was that you and he never talked about it, and he was not picking up on your signals.

It was coming to the end of your sixth date with Eddie, and you would be damned if you let the night end with you in your separate beds.

Eddie walked you to your door and went for a kiss goodnight, but you stopped him, “I want you to come inside.” You smiled sheepishly, and Eddie, nothing but your local follower, humbly listened to your request.

“Can I get you a drink? You ask as you guide him to your living room couch.

“Sure, I’ll take whatever you’re having.” Eddie rubs his sweaty hands over his jeans.

You come back a few moments later with two beer bottles in hand.

“Thanks,” Eddie smiles, seemingly more comfortable.

“Eddie, can we talk about something?” You ask nervously as you sit down.

Shit, here it was. You want to go back to just friends.

“S-sure” Eddie swallows the lump in his throat, the confidence suddenly drained out of his body.

“Do you think I’m attractive?”

“What?” This is not where he thought the conversation was going.

“We’ve known each other for so long, and this is our sixth date, and we haven’t… you know…” You look down, embarrassed to say what is on your mind.

“Haven’t what, sweetheart.”

You take a deep sigh, building up your confidence.

“Sex.”

“Oh uh-I”

“It’s ok if you’re not attracted to me-“

“What! No! God no!”

“Then why haven’t you made a move?”

“I didn’t want to scare you away…”

“Scare me away?

“ I’m obsessed with you to the point it’s a bit embarrassing.”

“And I’m not obsessed with you?” You counter back.

“I didn’t think you’d be into me like that…”

“It’s all I think about.”

That was the confirmation that Eddie needed to hear.

“So do you uh,” he ears his throat, “want to umm.”

“Yes,” you nod your head enthusiastically.

Slowly, Eddie leans in to kiss you. It’s soft and gentle until you lean in and press into his lips more.

A low moan leaves Eddie’s throat, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as his hands trail up your upper thigh to your waist, pulling your body closer and closer until you are straddled on top of him.

Finally, he was taking control like you had wanted for so long. You pulled away to catch your breath, pushing Eddie’s brown tendrils out of the way so you could latch your lips onto the side of his neck.

“Mmmm, baby,” he moaned.

Your heart skipped a beat with his words; that was the first time he’d called you that, and you yearned for more.

“God, I want you so bad.” his breath had become heavy as his chest pumped up and down.

“You have me, baby,” you bravely let slip the pet name.

“Fuck” he groaned as the blood rushed down to his stiffening cock.

“How do you want me?” Your confidence was growing with each passing touch.

“Fuuuuuck, you can’t just say shit like that to me, sweetheart.”

“Why not?” You pout playfully.

You could feel his cock against your cunt, and you rolled your hips to test out the waters.

“Oooh! You are a dirty girl.” Eddie grits through his teeth as he stills your hips by gripping onto your ass, and a wave of arousal floods your lace panties. The panties you’ve been saving for each passing date.

“Can I suck your cock?”

“Yes,” Eddie blurts out without a second passing thought.

You slide off the couch, and Eddie shifts forward for you before he undoes his pants while you place a pillow under your knees.

The butterflies in your stomach still haven’t settled as you wait impatiently to see what he looks like. From what you could feel in his lap, he wouldn’t disappoint you.

As Eddie shifts the fabric uncovering his cock, your mouth waters with anticipation. You’re mesmerized by the sight of it, it’s long and thick, and the tip is so pink it’s just begging to be sucked, kissed and licked.

Eddie watches as your face turns into a grin as you bite your lip. You’re entirely giddy as you lean forward to take his hard length in your hand.

A soft “fuck” leaves Eddie’s lips as the tips of your fingers brush the shaft and take it into your gentle fingertips.

“You’re so big,” you purr.

Eddie was about to respond but your mouth is enveloping his cock.

“Oh my god,” he sputters. He cannot believe that this is his life, that he is here with you at this very moment. He never thought his most intimate daydreams would one day come to fruition.

Eddie snapped out of his own head as you sunk down lower and lower until you reached the back of your throat. You tried to breathe through your nose, but it was too much, so you returned to catch your breath.

“Holy shit, baby!”

There he goes, throwing around that word again, which makes you melt for him. All you want is to please him, to make him feel good.

“You like that baby? You like sucking on my cock?”

Fuck, he has a dirty mouth.

A whiny “mmmmmhmmmmm” fills the room and only enhances Eddie’s pleasure.

You feel his hands grip your hair, pushing it out of the way for you. So ever the gentleman.

“Need to see you, pretty girl.” There was no way Eddie was missing the sight of you taking him in your mouth because a bit of hair was in the way.

Eddie was trying everything in his power to not buck up his hips into you and down your throat. You were making it so hard because you were so good at this. Too good…but Eddie couldn’t let his mind wander about how you are so good at head. No, he will allow himself to enjoy this moment. He’s waited 20 months for this moment.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he chanted as your mother slid up and showed the shaft, swirling your tongue on the tip each time before repeating it over and over and over again.

You can’t help but touch yourself as you’re also pleasuring your boyfriend. The way his words were affecting your body was too much to ignore any longer.

“Oh my god, you’re so hot; I need you; I need you now.” he watched as your fingers slipped between your skirt and your ruined panties, and he couldn’t take it anymore. God, he wanted to fuck you so badly.

“Mmmmmm, Eddie, please fuck me.” You remove your mouth and replace it with your hand as you jerk him off.

Your face is dripping with the mix of pre cum and saliva. Your eye makeup was a little smudged from the tears from when you gagged on his cock, but Eddie never thought you looked more beautiful.

“Come here.”

“You going to ride me baby? Show me how much you want me? Or are you going to let me fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Who needs legs anyway” you let out a shaky laugh.

Eddie’s face morphed into a mischievous grin as he threw you over his shoulder and brought you to the bedroom.

He flopped you on your back, and you landed with a giggle that quickly was cut off by a hot kiss.

Before you knew it, you were both finally naked, and Eddie was taking in every inch of you like he was committing your body to memory.

“Perfect,” Eddie whispered before leaning in to kiss you. “Perfect,” he moved down to kiss your neck. “Perfect.” He muttered into your breast, taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth and making you arch up into him. He repeated his actions until he got to your weeping pussy.

“Oh baby, look at you, you’ve been crying for me, haven’t you… You just want so much attention; that’s why you’re so wet for me. Don’t worry. I need you just as badly.” He stuck out his tongue and ran it up your slick slit making you let out a long, drawn-out moan.

“There’s my girl.”

Another wave of arousal washes through you at the term of endearment.

“Holy shit,” you try and catch your breath, but his tongue keeps going.

Eddie fucks your pussy with his tongue so good you can’t believe this is real. He’s eating you like you’re his last meal, and he’s enjoying every last drop.

“Eddie, baby, oh god!” You’re cuming in his tongue before you even comprehend what’s happening to your body.

“Did you just!” He pops up in shock that he was able to make you cum in a few short minutes. In all honesty, he was kinda sad it didn’t last longer. He loved being between your legs. It was his new favourite spot.

A breathy “uh-huh” leaves your chest as you soak in the euphoria.

“Can we…. Do you want to?…. I can—”

“Fuck me. Fuck me now, please. I don’t want to walk tomorrow.” You begged in your fucked-out needy state.

“Keep talking like that baby.”

“I need you so bad; I’ve wanted you to fuck me for so long, please, Eddie.”

You were so long in your begging that by the time you had finished talking g Eddie already had on the condom and was aligning himself with your pussy.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and you answered by pulling him into another long, passionate kiss—one full of wanting and need, one that was much overdue.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Eddie mumbles before he slowly slips himself into you.

The stretch was so good; you had been more than prepared for his cock, so when he entered you, all you felt was pleasure.

“Oh god.” You clawed at his back, biting down on his shoulder, pussy clamping down on him.

“Fuck, your pussy is so tight.” Eddie was already having a hard time fighting off his orgasm as his hips slowly rocked back and forth into you.

“More.” You plead.

Eddie situated himself so he could fuck you like he meant it, to fuck you so good you’re seeing stars.

“Be careful what you wish for, baby.” You had no idea what was coming when it came to sex with Eddie.

He was an animal, a beast, a man untamed.

His hips start getting faster, and his movements are calculated and raw. Each undulation of his hips into you was so delicious you could no longer think. You’re crying out as his cock hits your sweet spot in each thrust. He works his cock into your pussy as it sucks him in each time, taking him in willingly and refusing to let go.

“That’s it, baby, taking my cock so good” he watches as his cock disappears inside of you, gripping onto your soft inner thighs to spread your legs as wide as they can go.

“Look at that baby,” his thumb brushes your swollen clit, “so pretty and puffy for me,” he praises, and your pussy clamps down on him once again.

“Oh, she likes it when I’m nice to her, huh?”

Fuck he needs to stop talking to your pussy, or else you can’t hold on much longer.

“I want to come!”

“Come on, my cock, baby, show me you’re mine.”

That did it for you. Your second orgasm takes over your mind, body and spirit. Your floating on a cloud as Eddie rolls his cock into it and runs your clit so good you’re seeing stars.

Eddie is out of breath, but he still continues chasing after his own orgasm.

“I want you to come,” you mindlessly say, not realizing you're talking.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you full of my cum. Is that what you want?”

“Please! Give it to me, baby,” you pout, and the look on your face sends Eddie over the edge.

Jagged breaths fill the silent room as Eddie collapses on top of you before he rolls over to catch his breath.

“Wow.” Is all you say before giggling.

“Did I rock your world or what.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. It's too bad it took you this long to do it; we could have been doing this for weeks now.”

“Hey, come here,” he drags you into his arms, stealing another kiss.

“I’m going to get a towel.” Eddie sits up on the edge of the bed so he can take off the soiled condom and toss it in the trash.

Not realizing how shaky his legs are, they give out, and he falls forward.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You start laughing.

“God damn, I fucked you good, didn’t I?” he laughs.

“And you said I was the one who couldn’t walk tomorrow.” You shriek in a fit of giggles as Eddie lay on the floor, ass up face down.

“You’re a goddamn succumbs, you know that? Sucked the life right out of me.” He laughs into the floor.

“Your ass is like a fuzzy peach, I want t to bite it.”

“Why don’t you come over?” he says, dragging you into his arms. And have a taste, then.

[gutsby]

Homemade

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Warnings: 18+. Sneaky sex tape fun with dbf!Joel ;-) Unprotected p-in-v. Age gap. Daddy kink. Facefucking. Joel being the world’s worst cameraman. Shower sex. Overstimulation via adjustable shower head. Dirty talk. Screaming ‘daddy’ too loud, and your father shows up.

Translations: In Chile, pico is slang for penis. Joel’s is big.

Part of the Waiting Game series

“If this ever ends up on PornHub, I’ll kill you, Miller.”

Joel knew you meant it, too.

The only reason you’d agreed to make this dumb little ‘home video’ at all was because you were headed back to college tomorrow and wouldn’t see him again until May. Doing long distance was tough, but doing long distance while simultaneously trying to keep a risqué, torrid, and totally-not-age-appropriate love affair with your father’s best friend under wraps was infinitely more difficult. This was the safest way to keep desire alive in the meantime.

Immortalized on a Sony CCD-TR70—because neither one of you trusted iCloud to keep a sex tape secret.

It had also been the only video camera you could find in the closet before your dad had plopped down on the couch just outside your room and announced he would be watching Oppenheimer for the third time. You’d had to scurry off fast before he could invite you to join him.

“I’ll be damned—this thing’s gotta be as old as I am,” Joel mused as he stood at the foot of the bed, camcorder pointed at your semi-nude form.

“I didn’t know they had cameras back in the Stone Age.”

Your smirk didn't flinch, even when Joel flipped you off.

You were lying on your side, head propped up on one hand while the other picked at a few loose strings from the comforter. The lacy, pastel pink bustier holding your tits in place was currently making breathing feel like a chore, and your skin was on fire from the warmth of the room, but you tried not to show it. Joel twisted a dial.

“Alright, now...flash ‘em for daddy,” he grinned as soon as the lens focused in where he wanted: your cleavage.

You rolled your eyes.

“A little closer, please,” you said, patting the space in front of you.

Joel didn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still cradling the camera, he clambered over the bed so fast he nearly tripped and took a nosedive in the headboard. You had to cover your mouth to contain a shriek of laughter—and terror—as his frame barreled into yours.

“JOEL!”

Fortunately, your cameraman was quick to recollect himself, planting a knee on either side of your chest once he’d knocked you onto your back. Then, from above, he angled the grey-black hunk of metal just a foot away:

“Anything you’d like to say to the folks watching at home, ma’am?” Joel inquired, suddenly assuming all the poise and matter-of-fact elocution of a news reporter.

You stuck your tongue out at the camera and blew the wettest, fattest raspberry you could muster in response.

Joel hummed, zoomed in on your lips, and nodded.

“Fascinating,” he said, pretending to make sense of the fart noise you’d just made with your mouth, “Have you ever given thought to maybe...sucking cock on camera?”

The swiftness with which he was able to dodge your kick was remarkable. He swayed the camera just out of reach before you could shove it away and say, ‘Joel, quit being GROSS’ and he promptly replied, ‘Ain’t that the whole point of a sex tape, sweet pea? Bein’ a little bit gross?’ And you playfully tried to kick him again, only this time, he caught your foot and yanked you closer to him. He turned the camcorder back to your face and grinned.

“That’s my little pornstar,” he murmured with affection. Then, zooming in again, this time to find your panty line, “Riiiiight there.”

You knew giving Joel Miller recording privileges for an occasion as momentous as this was a bad idea. At the rate you were going now, you’d be seeing the sunrise through the window before you ever got a glimpse of his dick. You needed to take matters into your own hands.

Literally.

You crawled on all fours to get to Joel across the bed.

The man, kneeling with the camera pointed in your direction, looked up to cock a brow at you.

“Sweetheart, hey, can ya do that one more—”

“Hush,” you muttered, closing in on his crotch. 

Your head was lowered so you could undo the front of his jeans. Because of this, your back was arched, and your ass was pointed up just the slightest bit. For a second, Joel seemed torn between tilting the lens to your lower half or your face, which was inching ever closer to the bulge in his trousers. In time, he landed on the latter.

He swallowed. That sight never got old—and seeing it displayed on the camcorder’s semi-grainy screen only made it that much hotter. Joel shifted on his knees while you worked him out of his boxers, watching the nimble movements of your fingers as you wrestled the fabric.

“Wanna—” Glancing to the side of the bed, “—maybe—”

“Yup.”

Both of you liked it better on the floor: you on your knees in front of Joel, chin tilted up to see his reactions as you sucked him off. You loved to sink between his legs and then see and feel nothing but him, brain going blank the moment his cock filled your mouth. Joel slid a pillow under your knees before widening his stance some.

“Is it on?” Your hand was wrapped firmly around the base of his cock and your lips were hovering an inch from the tip. You resisted the urge to lick the precum off just yet.

“Darlin’, it’s been on ever since you stepped outta the bathroom in that— that—” Joel seemed to be searching for a word when the head of his cock was enveloped in a kiss. You dragged your tongue across the slit of him and collected the hot, salty beads with a muffled moan.

Then you pulled off.

“Teddy,” you said, reminding him of the name for that pretty little tulle and lace getup you currently had on.

“Teddy,” Joel echoed, his mind a million miles away from any lingerie jargon at the moment. He held the camera tighter as you took him back into your mouth and sank deeper on his cock. He struggled to keep it steady.

It was strange, watching Joel and the rounded glass of the lens as you did this dirty thing that was only meant to be shared between you and him. Knowing it would be recorded, saved for future viewing, displayed on some dimly lit screen in Joel’s bedroom maybe one, twice, or more likely than not, several dozen times over the next three months. You wondered how you might look from this new point of view; though, you weren’t so sure you needed to know what sight Joel was made privy to while you sucked and hollowed your cheeks around his cock.

As it turned out, that uncertainty wasn’t meant to last you very long, because Joel flipped the camera’s screen around two seconds later. Some sepia-tinted, pixelated rendition of your face, framed by the date and time and a bright red flashing dot beside the word ‘REC’ were the first to greet you. You flinched back just a little.

“Joel,” you said, almost bashful, “Flip it back.”

Joel just grinned. Then he laced his fingers through your hair and tugged you closer to him, thumb stroking over your scalp, “C’mon, darlin’, don’t ya wanna see how goddamn pretty ya look on your knees for me?”

You didn’t think you looked pretty at all. In fact, you reckoned your features looked something more like an alien utility funnel than a real, human face as you tilted your chin inward and seemed to be nothing but eyes and a hollowed-out expression, but you let Joel guide you back onto him all the same. You heard a low rumble of pleasure take shape in his chest as your lips slid over his shaft. Your gaze remained glued to the screen as you did.

Wet with saliva and a few faint traces of precum, you continued to bob your head up and down. Joel’s groans grew louder, and your drive to take him further and further surged as well. By the time his hand was tightening into a white-knuckled fist in your hair, you’d nearly taken him all the way to the back of your throat, and your nose was no more than an inch from the soft tufts of hair on his belly. Joel let out a shuttering breath.

“Fuck me,” he heaved. You might’ve smiled if your lips weren’t otherwise occupied. Then he clenched his hand even harder and murmured, “Can you— can I, please—”

Again, you didn’t need him to finish the rest of the question to know what he wanted. You moved your head back just slightly to nod, a low, ‘Mhmm’ reverberating down the length of his dick as you gave him permission. Joel swallowed and set the camera aside immediately.

He placed it on the nightstand, perfectly level with your head, to the side. Then he rotated the device just a bit, took one glance at the screen, and shortly returned to where you were watching him with wide, glossy eyes.

“Ready?” he asked. His right hand now joined the left at the back of your head, but not before thumbing a quick touch over your cheek to get a feel for your approval.

You hummed once more. You watched Joel’s hips move forward, hands secure around your scalp all the while, and you felt a gentle nudge at the back of your throat. Then another. You couldn’t help the impulse to gag, but thankfully, it was short-lived. Joel peered down at you, eyes searching yours for any plea to stop or slow down, but he found nothing. He sheathed himself deeper until your lips were brushing the base of his dick. He groaned.

“That’s a good…fuckin’ girl,” he managed, voice strained, “Takin’ my cock so deep.”

He shifted his hips to move an inch or two out, then slid his cock forward again, bumping that spot at the top of your throat. This time, you were better adjusted to take him and felt your muscles expand and contract around him without activating your gag reflex. Your eyes stayed trained on his face while he dragged his cock back again.

“My pretty girl and her—” Joel stabbed back into you, somehow tender in the way he did it, “—pretty fuckin’ mouth…Sweet thing likes gettin’ facefucked, does she?”

With the increased pace of his thrusts and the grip he had on the sides of your head, you couldn’t quite answer, but Joel could tell from the glint in your eye that you loved when he manhandled and fucked your throat like this. Watched the light sear gently behind those irises as you swallowed every inch of his cock, back and forth, and let your brain break down to little more than a happy, mindless mush. Joel was always keen to oblige you on that front—aroused to no end at the sight of all your thoughts being fucked straight out of your head—and within the next few thrusts, his gut was giving a familiar clench. He pulled halfway out of your mouth, paused, felt the pinch again, then withdrew from your lips fully.

“Get on the bed.”

You straightened back up and made it over to the mattress, quickly. Before you could assume the position you’d been hoping to take on all fours, you felt yourself flipped on your back. Joel yanked your hips to the edge of the bed and kneeled down between your legs. Hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and had them shuffled down your thighs and past your ankles in no time at all. Then, when he lowered his lips to your wet, aching core, you pressed a touch to the crown of his head.

“Joel, wait,” you said. All of a sudden your chest felt tight.

In spite of the fact that your airways were open and completely free from any obstruction—namely, Joel’s big ol’ pico—you still found it difficult to inhale. Some murky, amorphous sense of anxiety weighed over your chest.

When your hand didn’t move from his head and instead pushed him further, Joel furrowed his brows, perplexed.

“What’s’a matter, darlin’?”

You shook your head, more to yourself than to him.

“I haven’t…just— haven’t washed down there today…o-or shaved,” you stammered, “Don’t want you to taste it.”

That was largely a lie. You’d bathed, shaved, and prepared for this just fine, but really were more concerned about the novel optics that loomed overhead. Being filmed in such a singularly vulnerable state without knowing how to act. You were fine when the attention was focused on Joel and his pleasure, but something about having your every whimper and moan laid bare before you on film felt daunting. Unnerving, in a way.

Joel frowned while rubbing your thigh. His brow pinched inward again, as if he were considering something.

Then he moved across your body, and your muscles eased with relief at the thought that he’d just let it go and get to fucking you exactly how you wanted. You reached for him, ready to wrap your legs around his waist, when a yelp clawed out of your throat. You found that you didn’t get to touch his chest, or his cheeks, or his big, broad, beefy shoulders, as you were promptly thrown over the latter of the three body parts and lifted when Joel stood up from the bed. He started carrying you across the room, heedless of the startled, ‘What the FUCK, Miller?’ you’d cried the second he took one step.

Hardwood floors transformed to tile before your eyes, and shortly, you realized you were being brought into your bathroom.

You heard the squeak of some metal knob being turned, then a brief sputter, then a spray of water raining down on your shower floor. You were still being held hostage over Joel’s shoulder, try as you might to bite at his lower back or smack his ass in an attempt to break loose.

He set you down a second later, seemingly unfazed.

“Get in.” He nodded toward the shower.

Before you had a chance to respond, he left. You stood back in disbelief—refusing to go into the shower and let Joel have his win—but just as you opened your mouth to call out and tell him as much, his form slipped back in through the door. Naked, now, and wielding that stupid, goddamned camcorder with a devious glint in his eye.

“Will you—” You held out a defensive hand in front of you, cheeks already heating, “—stop with that?!”

Secretly, the corners of your lips were fighting a smile as Joel drew closer with the camera held up to your face.

“There she is, folks,” he announced, as though speaking to a crowd, or else reading off of a script from the world’s most cheesy porno, “My dirty, dirty girl says she needs a shower—don’t ya, sweet pea?”

It sounded so ridiculous and dumb that neither one of you could keep from laughing. Even as you lifted your middle finger in response, Joel grinned and smacked your ass. Steadied the camera out in front, nudged you closer to the shower, and watched you somewhat begrudgingly obey his orders. Once you’d stripped what little remained on your body, you stepped into the tub.

Add to ‘ridiculous and dumb’ just wildly unsexy as well—who the hell needed a soapy interlude to a sex tape?

Joel Miller, apparently. He constricted his grip on the camera and followed you in, tongue already skimming the backs of his teeth in anticipation. You turned away to step under the shower’s stream, and he wasted no time getting a shot of your derrière. You leaned forward and sighed.

The water worked wonders to get your muscles to loosen some, but still, you were nervous. You could clean up now, stall a little longer, maybe even offer to give Joel head again—but what if he really wanted to eat you out on camera? You couldn’t put off the conversation forever.

Or another minute, it seemed.

You let out a shriek when you felt Joel’s fingers sneak up between your thighs. You hardly knew what he was doing, just folding limply when he spun you around to press your back against the shower wall. Your eyes widened to see him descending your body once more.

“I lied,” Joel said, smirk painted clear across his features, “You’re not dirty—I just wanted to eat your pussy in the shower ‘s’all.”

Chivalry was evidently alive and well in Austin, Texas.

No truer words could have been spoken, and yet, you felt wildly uncomfortable the second Joel’s head dipped between your legs and that big, dumb, handsome face started licking stripes up your sensitive core. You cast a glance to the side and saw the camcorder perched on the sink—just through the open slit in the shower curtain, you could see it pointed directly at you.

You shivered and started to push Joel away.

“Can we maybe just—”

“Sweetie?!”

Joel’s lips tore out of your cunt quicker than a sneeze through a screen door. His eyes were wide.

“Y-Yeah, dad?” you squeaked, tone almost fearful.

“Everything okay in here? I heard ya scream,” your dad returned shortly.

You could only imagine the expression of confusion and distress painting his every lineament in that moment. Probably just barely sticking his head through the crack in the door and blinking anxiously through the steam.

Your dad was caring like that.

He just never knew the right times to show up.

No, there were very few times where you would’ve liked to see him less—apart from that one time you’d sucked Joel’s dick under the table at your dad’s birthday dinner. Your heart was thudding a wild, erratic beat in your chest, and you could only imagine how Joel was feeling. Probably seeing visions of a Size 11 boot being shoved up his ass if his friend happened to slide the shower curtain to the side and see him nose-deep in his daughter’s box.

That would be bad. So very, very bad and probably ten times worse than when Tommy had caught you blowing his brother at the aforementioned birthday party. You just couldn’t seem to catch a break these days.

You sucked in a breath and answered anyway.

“I thought I saw a spider.”

“Really?” You could already sense the embittered tinge to your dad’s voice, harking back to the war he’d once declared on all wolf spiders in the home, “Want me to kill it?”

The next thing you heard was two boots thud on the bathroom floor outside the shower, and you could’ve sworn you saw Joel’s whole soul leap from his body. He shot a frantic look around him, spotted a window above, and seemed to wonder for half a second if he might be able to shimmy his 188-pound frame through a space that probably wasn’t big enough to fit a fat raccoon. He slumped his weight against the shower wall and winced.

“No! I— It wasn’t even a spider. Just a…roach.”

Shortly, Joel’s eyes widened even more and met yours, as if to ask, ‘Why the FUCK would you say that?’

“A roach?!” your dad cried simultaneously.

Apparently, you’d forgotten that any derivative of the word ‘cockroach’ was like a sleeper agent activation phrase for middle-aged fathers who wanted to keep their homes free of all household pests. The look on Joel’s haggard, world-weary face communicated as much to you, and for a second, you remembered that he, too, was built the same way as any other semi-old dude you knew.

Just bigger and beefier and…harder below the belt than you would’ve expected most men around his age to be.

You quickly chided yourself for ogling Joel’s dick at a time like this and replied to your father, shrill, “No!”

Then, slightly more composed, “No, no— I already took it out with some hairspray and told it to fuck off to hell.”

An attempt at humor was the last leg you had to stand on. Fortunately, it worked.

Outside the shower, your dad chuckled, and his footsteps started to shuffle off toward the door.

“Ah. Atta girl,” he beamed, ever the advocate for brutal cockroach killings, “If you see another, just holler, okay?”

“Okay.”

You heard the sound of the bathroom door closing, and you almost fell to the floor. Joel probably would’ve been facedown just as well—fear seeping out of his body along with every last ounce of willpower to stand—had he not made a dive for you as soon as your dad had left.

The force of his push sent you straight into the wall, legs forced to wrap around his waist as he buried his face in your neck.

“Thank fuck,” he breathed.

“You’re welcome,” you murmured, swiping the water out of your eyes with a grimace.

Then, just as you were about to request that Joel lower you back down to the floor and out of the shower’s spray, you felt a nudge between your legs. Luckily not a tongue this time—just Joel, or the tip of his leaking cock. The man below you grinned, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a wash of relief. Could it be?

“I’ll still eat you out if y’want,” he started, though speaking with a little less conviction this time around, “But after all that I, uh—kinda jus’ wanna fuck ya stupid.”

Well thank fuck for fake spiders and cockroaches, too; you’d just averted a dreaded tonguefuck, thanks to that detour.

You’d worry about your pornstar moans and on-camera charisma another time—now you could just sit back and let Joel do all the work while he took you against the wall.

Really, there was no need to concern yourself with anything at all from that point forward. Once you’d given Joel the green light, he was sinking you onto his cock with a grunt and making sure you felt nothing but him. His hands found your hips and held you firmly in place as he rutted into you from below, your own fingers latching onto his shoulders for some much-needed support. Both of you knew that you needed to be extra quiet now—seeing how sound seemed to carry in that tight, tiled space—so Joel snagged your lips in his for a kiss.

He was practically panting in your mouth by the time you started meeting his thrusts. His fingertips slid some and must’ve seared ten perfect crescents into the flesh of your ass as he fucked you into the wall.

“Look so pretty like this,” he whispered in between kisses and short, shallow breaths. His cock parted your insides with an excruciating welt of pleasure, and he hardly even seemed to realize it, “Look so damn pretty takin’ cock.”

Then, lips kicking up in a smile when it seemed he’d remembered something, he added, “Can’t wait to play this tape back home and watch us fuck all over again.”

Again. Again. And again. Shit, you could just see it now.

Your eyes traversed the compact shower space once more to find the video camera—still perched, still live, still perfectly implacable and silent atop the sink as it recorded your every grunt, groan, and shuddering moan. You were nearly as curious to know what Joel’s bare ass looked like rutting into you like this as you were to hear yourself getting railed against the shower wall. Maybe you’d beat this fear of secondhand embarrassment after all.

Maybe.

Joel’s teeth snagged your bottom lip and bit it, lightly.

“Every chance I get, you can bet I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout this…sweet pussy while you’re away,” he said, voice low and occasionally punctured by a groan, “Say one more thing f’me and I’ll…cum every time I watch this part.”

The kinks at the corners of his lips were endearing. You would’ve liked to supply them with just about anything they could’ve wanted, so when they leaned into your ear and murmured just what it was they needed to hear, you only hesitated a second.

Or maybe two or three, because, well…it was risky.

Moaning ‘daddy’ out loud at a time like this? It might get Joel off quick, but it might send your real dad running even faster. You weren’t crazy about the thought of anything that might draw the man’s attention again.

Joel seemed a little less risk-averse than you, notwithstanding the window-leaping fear he’d felt when your dad had rushed in before. Leave it to a criminally horny man to have the memory of a goldfish, though.

At present, Joel was blinking and gawking a bit like one, too, waiting for you to enunciate that one magic word.

You couldn’t deny he made a damn cute desperate sex fiend when he wanted to be. And you needed to cum.

You figured you could cut a deal with him just this once.

“Alright,” you mumbled against the top of his stubbled lip, “Make me cum and I’ll say anything you want, Miller.”

You weren’t sure if it was a chuckle or a strangled moan that jumped up in his throat when Joel squeezed your sides tighter. All you knew was that he was lowering you to the floor in the next instant, spinning you around, and walking you forward, swiftly and with purpose, toward the opposite end of the shower. Right where the crack in the curtain made you most visible to the camcorder.

Joel’s hand snaked around your front and gently eased between your legs. Then, pressing his chest to your back and nudging you to bend just slightly at the waist, he tipped your bodies closer to the camera’s line of vision and stilled. From the LED screen, you could see the ghost of a smile crossing his lips as he shifted his head beside your own. Next, they were kissing across your shoulder, your neck, that sensitive spot behind your ear, and finally the shell of it, brown eyes trained on the camera lens as he murmured to you, “Stay real still.”

You didn’t know if you could. But you tried. And you damn near cried when his fingers started working circles over your clit. Your body was raised on tip-toes, and your hand was bracing the wall as Joel fucked you from behind and made a mess of your wet, writhing body. In no more than three or four strokes, your fears of looking or sounding stupid on camera trickled away with all the rest of the silent, sizzling liquids circling the drain below. Your cheek pressed against Joel’s rougher one, and with the push of each new thrust, you came more unraveled.

When Joel’s hand closed over the front of your throat, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t move—couldn’t move, as the man was holding you still in such a taut, rigid grip.

“What do we say when we get fucked this nice, baby?” Joel whispered in your ear, words almost entirely masked by the sounds from the shower. You still heard it, though.

“T-Thank you,” you stuttered, cockdrunk and faint.

“Thank you, what?”

Your eyes were fluttering closed, but you could feel the smug expression just over your shoulder. You clenched around him and felt him snap his hips ahead even harder.

“Thank you, daddy,” you whimpered.

“Say it again.”

“Thank you, daddy!” you whined, still scared to be too loud.

Joel wasn’t scared. His hand ascended the column of your neck to pinch your chin between his fingers, jerking your head to the right.

To the crack in the curtain. To the camera.

You could’ve cried with how fast he was fucking you now. You opened your eyes and cast a pathetic look to the recorder. Joel made sure you maintained that gaze, too.

“Who’s makin’ ya feel this good?” he seethed, shaking your whole frame with the breakneck pace of his hips.

“You, daddy.”

“Who’s fuckin’ this sweet cunt like no one ever has?”

“You, daddy.”

Joel seemed sated and somehow not fully satisfied at all. Like he was pleased to see you falling apart for him like this, but needed to hear more. Feel more.

He withdrew from you, and you nearly collapsed with the absence of his arms holding you straight.

You pressed a shaky palm to the wall and almost moaned for him to get his ass back over here, you weren’t done, when Joel returned in a second. To your relief, his muscly arms found their way around your front once more, and his clock plunged back inside you, too—only this time, you sensed you were missing something else.

Water.

It wasn’t on your back anymore.

It was fanning between your legs.

Blasting the full force of its stream toward your most sensitive parts as Joel held the shower head up between your thighs. You would’ve jumped back and screamed were it not for his hand clamping tight over your mouth before you could, his lips grazing over your ear again.

“Try it one more time.”

You released a hoarse, muffled squeal into his palm when he lifted the stainless steel to your clit and started rolling his hips. The strokes themselves were relatively gentle, but paired with the ruthless spate of the water, your eyes were nearly rolling to the back of your head at the pulse.

You couldn’t breathe, much less speak. Joel hummed almost apologetically into your hair but didn’t seem sorry at all as he lowered his hand back down to your throat and squeezed. He continued rocking his hips into yours.

“You’ve said it dozens of times before—what’s’a matter?”

Joel Miller knew what the fuck was the matter. He just liked to see you desperate, fucked-out, and teetering on the brink of going feral before he let you reach your peak.

“D-D-D—”

Damn, you sounded stupid.

“D-D-Do you wanna cum? Is that it?” Joel said, mocking your struggle to articulate words as he fucked you.

In spite of your normal no-bullshit attitude toward him, you weren’t in quite the right frame of mind to be talking back to him. You just nodded and moaned, movements constricted by the grip of his fingers on your neck.

“Use those big girl words for me, honey. I know ya can.”

Again, you parted your lips and started to speak, but the oscillation of the water, the brush of his cock, the patently deprecating lilt in Joel’s string of praises, made it nearly impossible. You ended up sputtering again,

“D-D-ah-fuuuckfuckfuck.”

“That ain’t the word I’m looking for.”

But, just as you ventured to say it once more, he cut in,

“Here. Lemme help ya find it.”

Before you could blink, Joel was pistoning his hips against your ass like he had before, only this time, he held the shower head stationary between your legs as you seized and nearly fell to the floor with the force of all the pleasure coursing through you. Your body seemed to act of its own accord, head dropping to Joel’s shoulder and stomach giving an alarmingly fitful pinch as an orgasm tore through you. You couldn’t control how it came or where it went—or how your tongue jumped up and cried,

“Daddy!”

Joel nodded, fucking you through each violent spasm with all the composure and aplomb of a seasoned pro. While your eyes cycled back in the throes of delirium, he held firm and didn’t slow his hips—or the shower head.

You probably could’ve torn a hole through a cinder block if you’d happened to have one between your teeth just then. That was how fervid and merciless the aftershocks of your climax were pulsing through you, exacerbated to the nth degree by the continuity of Joel’s movements. You managed to grab the forearm that was holding the metal nozzle and plead a wild, slightly stifled, “JOEL!”

In truth, you didn’t really want him to stop. It felt too good. You could tell that Joel sensed this, too, because in the instant after that, his lips were sponging kisses to your shoulder, cock working steadily between your walls.

“One more, sweet pea.”

“Joel—”

“And say it louder this time.”

Were you in your right mind, you probably would’ve chided him for being so reckless and stupid about it all. How the fuck could he expect you to scream out loud when your dad was lounging right outside of your room? Did he really think the drone of Cillian Murphy’s smooth, American-ized tone would mask your unbridled moans? Honestly, you couldn’t be sure—and more importantly, you couldn’t be stopped to consider for much longer. With one last trembling vibration from the shower head and a thrust from Joel, you were cumming all over again.

Squeezing his arm, sinking into his sturdy frame, clenching over his cock in what felt like a hundred convulsions, and casting caution aside, you screamed:

“DADDY!”

You might’ve blacked out for a second or two.

Even a minute, as it was, because the next intelligible thing that reached your ears was the thunder of footfalls. And the thrum of Joel’s own hammering heart as he yanked you into his chest and stilled frozen inside you.

The door swung open on its hinges so hard it hit the wall.

“What is it, sweetie?!” your dad yelped.

“I—”

“Are you hurt?”

Just fucked raw by your best friend and shaking, Pops.

You sucked in a breath when Joel nudged your head with his nose and slowly pulled the shower curtain closed to move you out of view of the camera. But it was still there.

Your dad was still there.

The shower walls seemed to be closing in on you, but somehow, you managed, “No, dad, I’m fine! Just…coulda sworn I saw another spider in here, but it was nothing.”

“Are you sure?”

Your dad sounded unconvinced, pacing closer. You could’ve screamed, but Joel was likely holding you too tight to make any such sounds possible in that moment. The two of you recoiled, still stuck chest-to-back, away from the edge of the plastic shower liner when a boot thudded just outside the crack between curtain and wall.

You swallowed. Joel squeezed. Neither of you breathed.

“If it’s another roach, I gotta call the extermin—”

“No! No, it wasn’t a roach. I’m just seein’ things, I think.”

That didn’t seem to make your father feel any better, because he didn’t retreat like he had before. A tense moment fell over the compact, fog-infested room, like the man was chewing away at some thought in his head.

Then he sighed.

“Alright.”

Blissful footsteps away from the shower. You smiled.

Unfortunately, the grin was destined to be short-lived, because in the next instant, you heard boots screech to a halt on the tile. Pivoted, then paused where they stood.

Another gut-wrenching dozen seconds passed, and for one short, chilling moment, you could’ve sworn you felt your father’s gaze sear through the curtain and see you.

But he didn’t see you. Or Joel. Or anyone.

Instead, his gaze was fixed someplace else.

Suddenly, his voice rose above all the awful noises of clamor and panic in your brain, and broke out, loudly,

“What’s my camera doin’ in here?”

[allonsybadwolf]

Please buy Tumblr, Sam Reich I'm begging you

oh, the gifs of this segment out of context are gonna be good

[chiscaralight]

men with a black reader who starts wearing a cute stack of waistbeads ! he doesn't notice immediately you get them, but they catch his eyes so quick once you’re pulling off your shirt to change into sleep wear. they look so good sitting directly on your belly like that! they highlight the dip in your waist and the curve out of your hips—he just has to feel them.

and you’re slightly jumping at his cool tipped fingers brushing your exposed skin, single digit hooking the decorated ropes and he pulls into him by your beads. you quietly scold him. you don’t care that he could buy you new ones; these were custom made and your favorites, he has to be careful!

but he’s not. nowhere near actually, because he’s gripping and pulling at them hard as he fucks you back onto his cock. your mind is blanking, fingers gripping the sheets and crying out in pleasure as he slams you onto his base over and over again. his tight hold on your waistbeads has you deep in his grasp; unable to run away from the numbing pleasure. but he’s not satisfied just yet–there’s one more thing he needs to be sure of.

the sound! it’s just as he expected, a beautiful cacophony of plastic hitting plastic mixing the loud noises of skin on skin as you ride him. with each pound, your beads are clack, clack, clacking in unison and it’s making him groan into your against you.

he also just loves the way they feel. when you’re finally done, all fucked out and limp laying on the bed, his hand rubs up and down your side, enjoying the way the beads feel against his palm. it’s also perfect for aftercare, he does it for so long! totally not because he broke one of your loops of beads and is trying to get you to sleep quicker so he can brush the little pieces of evidence of the bed.. totally not.

after that (and a handful of yelling when you realize what happens) he buys you so so many! custom made, any time he sees a bead store, anything he sees online, you end up with such a collection you don’t know what to do! neither of you mind though, it’s much easier to color coordinate with your outfits now, and you’ve both made a little game out of it. if he can guess the colors right before you show him, maybe he can break a couple more later in the day!

CHARACTERS: this is literally toji lmfao, gojo, geto, tartaglia, aventurine, kinich, sukuna, kaeya,arattaki itto, shikanoin heizou, boothill, sampo, wriothesley, jiaoqiu, + your favs!

a/n: can you tell i’m projecting cus i love my waistbeads lmao

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 ˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

Alastor demands you tell him what you’d consider a nice date, which makes a surprisingly lovely time in the library. Dancing leads to… not dancing and a minor rearranging of your guts. And finally, you try to shame Alastor out of Mania and Alastor finds himself having to explain, well, Alastor.

「warnings/promises: Smut, guts➡️rearranged, kinda dub➡️con cuz Alastor still doesn’t listen, but funnily enough neither do you?, lots of interrupting each other, Luci’s hat, you’re down so fucking bad lmao」

🎶 minors DNI 🎵

Angel was live blogging everything you said when you recounted what happened to you after returning to the hotel.

“Wait there’s a character limit, I gotta make a new post.” He was wiping actual tears from his eyes, “Fuck this is funny.”

“Hmmph,” Alastor offered a small noise from his end of the sofa. Neither of you had mentioned or even referenced the sex. There was a strange feeling between you that it didn’t happen so it didn’t need a discussion. But also that it had absolutely happened, as Alastor’s hands found renewed vigor in their search for you when in public and private and your body seemed to respond in kind. You’d still occasionally move his hand off of you, but there was a pulse of electricity every time. When his hand would come to rest on your upper thigh while seated beside each other in the common areas, you let it linger. What harm was it? Heaven wasn’t fucking watching.

Everything aside, the sex had done nothing to dispel his interest. Perhaps you’d only made it worse, for both of you. 

By midweek you found the sling useless, happily tossing it aside and beginning gentle stretches. That was more progress than you'd made in your main task. 

Every morning you woke up beside Alastor, every day you had him in your orbit, every night you fell asleep feet from him.

Had Mania not taken him he would be a prime candidate for showing the virtue of true love. He was already fucking there, a captive audience. But that wasn’t how it worked. Cupid-induced manic love could never be true. Nothing you created was true, really. But atleast with Eros or Agape you could still have added the notion of  true love to the mix. His heart would still be receptive and open to the idea. The way he was now, you could proselytize until you were blue in the face and he’d still think manic love was true love. 

An unintended consequence of living with Alastor was discovering you both had quite a bit in common, as much as that information irked you. He enjoyed horror movies such as ‘Dracula’, you enjoyed horror movies as well, just newer ones. Ones in color. He could cook quite well, something you enjoyed to do. And his taste in music was actually lovely. You had assumed he listened to screams on a 7 hour loop.

Actually, upon closer inspection, Alastor was nothing like you had initially assumed. While he had shown you he was capable of terrifying feats of strength and power, he was also remarkably gentle. Every time you descended the stairs his hand was barely felt as it hovered at your elbow ready to save you. 

Early in the week you fell asleep watching the group play a board game, somehow redemption related, and awoke with his coat laid over your body. When you thanked him, he just smiled and continued enjoying watching Niffty hide the play money.

You were finding yourself more and more wishing the arrow had never fallen. If you’d just met him as you fell, perhaps you would be staring into that portal home. There were definitely worse options around. Even his imposing height had begun to…not bother you, perhaps was the best way to say it.

Or his large hands. There was a safety in the way they rested on your back. Speaking of…

Your throat ran dry when he leaned into you, one of those hands sliding across your thigh,  and asked against your ear, “Ready to go?”

He had to have seen you licking your lips to unstick your teeth. With a nod, he stood and offered a hand to you. 

You both were already out of the elevator and walking to your room when he slowed, coming to stop just in front of you. 

His room, fucking hell. 

“You know, I was thinking,” he wasn’t looking as he spoke to you, which was odd given how often he stared at you. “If you’re going to be here with me from now on-“

You opened your mouth to argue but he put his hand up, “I’d like to know the things you enjoy doing with your romantic interests.” His smile was almost pure, you could tell he was genuinely asking.

“Well I don’t have any so, why would you care?”

“No things you enjoy?”

“No romantic interests.”

His head lolled to the side, “Sometimes I think you say things just to bother me.”

You did.

“I do.”

You thought if you kept being rude maybe you could keep him at an arm’s length. Not get too attached. You’d been kind to people you didn’t like before and eventually you started to like them. This was that. But opposite.

He stared down at you, taking a step closer. You took one back. That smile shifted from pure to sinister, his eyes half lidded. You could almost see the thoughts playing on his face.

“Alastor-,” your back hit the elevator doors. The pounding of your heart when he brought his face to yours drowned out the sounds of the button being pressed. When the doors opened you fell backward with a yelp, but a strong arm caught you by the waist.

“You have twelve floors.” His hand hit the first floor button, “You can share with me your idea of a quality date. Or I can show everyone,” that clawed hand came to your neck, sliding down the evidence of your pounding heart, “how pretty you scream.”

As soon as the doors closed you were pressed against the elevator wall, right leg pulled up and around his waist. “You wouldn’t dare.” You had meant it to sound strong but instead it was half whispered with a shaky voice.

He popped a button off your blouse, “Maybe!” Warm mouth now on your neck, his tongue ran over your pulse, “I wonder if everyone is still in the lobby.”

Over his shoulder you watched the numbers counting down. The hand that cut off the button slid down to your bottoms, slipping under the waistband.

On the 3rd floor the elevator stopped. When the doors opened a demon you didn’t recognize was standing there, eyes wide and mouth open. He didn’t make a move to enter, Alastor looking over his shoulder and sharing what you could only assume was a death glare. The flickering lights were a giveaway to his anger.

His fingers dipped down and cupped your sex, hot palm pressing into your folds. 

The doors closed again and you watched the second floor light up. A finger bent and pressed into you.

A nibble at your ear, “You know I’ll win, regardless.”

He was right. Which was the smaller defeat? Humiliation or just telling the bastard your idea of a nice time?

“Books. Drinks.” You squeaked, the first floor lamp now aglow. His hand pulled away just as the doors opened. 

Expecting him to gloat you were surprised he just hit the 10th floor button. The library. 

He opened the door for you. The library’s main area had two reading chairs bookending a long antique sofa. You took the chair furthest from the door, hearing the door lock.

With a snap, the entire bar with Husk included seemed to fall three inches out of thin air.

“Oh for fucks sake.” Husk looked around, already annoyed, “You coulda just fucking asked for drinks to bring with you. You know cups are portable, right?”

It was nice, actually. Husk poured, you both read. There was an unnecessary fireplace crackling behind you. Cozy. And it got cozier and warmer the more you drank. Your shields softened as the glasses emptied. 

Your book was good, but as you felt the alcohol hit you were reminded of the last time you’d gotten a little past tipsy. Sneakily, but not at all, your eyes wandered over to Alastor.

His legs were crossed, but you could remember looking down and seeing them spread open beneath you. Open. Did many people see him like you had? Had his talk about a disinterest in sex actually been a trick to intrigue you? It hadn’t worked, you genuinely didn’t care what his preferences were. If anything it made you less likely to make a pass.

Your eyes wandered down his slender neck to his wide shoulders. Less than a week ago your arms were resting there. Further down, you remembered that soft bit of fur at the base of his cock, a small trail from his belly button. 

Husk watched your face turn pink, “You good?” Your head whipped around, looking confused. “You’re getting red.”

Oh. I was just thinking about my pussy drowning in Alastor’s cum.

No, obviously not!

Alastor’s eyes left his book and found yours. They were so red; his eyes, not your cheeks. No one in heaven had such wicked an appearance. When you didn’t reply, busy staring back at Alastor, Husk groaned, “Aah fuck.”

“What are you reading?” You asked, clearly able to see the book title from where you sat. 

Alastor held it up, “Oliver Twist.”

“Never read it.”

You had read it.

Setting your book down, you tried to walk as straight as a line as you could to him. You took the book from his hands and sat down on his lap, back against his chest, before picking it up again. “What page are we on?”

“You can leave, Husker.” Alastor didn’t even look at Husk when he said it, eyes still on your face.

When the door closed and Alastor could lock it with a snap, he uncrossed his legs. “Would you like to start over dear? From the beginning.”

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Can we?” You leaned your head onto his shoulder. When had he become so comfortable…?

“We can.” The book was set aside, his left hand pulling your chin up, “I think we skipped a few chapters before.”

You opened your mouth, “I don’t like kissing.” 

“You will.” 

The front part of your brain dissolved, you were sure of it. Your decision making abilities were entirely eradicated as his lips pressed into yours. Fuck, maybe even your basic motor skills had been fried, his tongue swiping across your mouth before you just—opened. Your hips ground down into his lap, and you felt his smile widen against your lips.

“Stop smiling. I just like warm bodies.” You reached for the book and opened it to the first page, “and you’re so fucking warm.”

He began to read, but between the rumble of his chest, his voice in your ear, and the heat of his body, you fell asleep.

No matter. Alastor just hummed. With a summoning of his shadow you both sank into your shared bed, where he continued reading with you against his chest.

You dreamt about home. About red eyes and warmth.

Was it so bad, being in hell? Sure you had a fucking deer demon as guard dog but it seemed his mania was … not so terrible. Honestly he seemed relatively normal now. He would wander off for significant lengths of time, even leaving in the mornings while you were still lazing about. A kiss to your hand was the indicator he would be popping off somewhere.

Alastor still wouldn’t let Lucifer alone with you, but otherwise everything was okay. You’d even come to enjoy certain aspects of his possessiveness. That ever present hand, for example. Even when it wasn’t on you, you could still almost feel it. It had become second nature now.

The week was actually peaceful. Your pain was entirely gone, you could move about freely. Despite that Alastor still would press up behind you and offer to help dress you. An offer you declined, but every time he asked you paused longer and longer before saying no.

Alastor was happy to find you in the library toward the end of the week, you having wandered off when he was called away. He summoned a confused but pissed off Husk again, who was midway through making someone else’s drink. He set it aside, pouring Alastor his whiskey. You decided against drinking, you knew you always made poor decisions. Like sleeping. 

Delighted by the impressive collection you found a non-fiction and settled into the same large chair.

“Reading is a virtue.” He said to himself yet out-loud, taking a seat and setting the radio on from across the room. Etta James. ‘Somethings got a hold of me.’

“A little past your time, isn’t it?” You smiled, you liked songs about love. Not because of who you were, you just liked the idea of someone so enamored they have to make art.

He laughed, “Nosey little bird, have you been asking about me?”

Well shit. You had forgotten to play dumb. The past couple weeks you had casually inquired about Alastor from the other staff members. A modest collection of facts to help you better understand the man. A quick recovery. “Know your enemy!” 

He cackled, “Sun Tzu! What does Cupid need ‘The Art of War’ for?!”

What, did he expect you to only read romance novels and Roman mythos? “You can’t make a shadow without light. In fact,” you put the book down, “The Greeks thought Cupid was a child of War and Beauty.”

Okay well, Greek mythos is a little different than their Roman counterpart’s. So. There.

Alastor watched you leaning over the arm of the chair, no sign of pain as you did so. Your injury must have mended well. “Do you have parents?” He asked, genuinely wondering how your kind were created. 

“No, we're just… made. And then sent off on assignments.”

“You must be terribly busy, just one person for all of earth.” If Alastor could pull some limbs and find out more from anyone but you, he would, but unfortunately no one but Vaggie would know anything about you and he had a feeling her time in heaven was never spent thinking about love. 

“Oh, actually not so much! When I’m with humans I can travel around without worrying about the concept of time at all. But it takes a toll.” Or so you were told. There were never two Cupids at one time so you couldn’t really ask your predecessors. Alastor’s brows rose, unsure how exactly a Cupid could be taxed if they didn’t feel pain and couldn’t be hurt. “Every trip to Earth weakens us. Until our bodies just, I guess, give out.” A smile crept across your face, unsure what expression you were supposed to be making.

“Is it just Earth? Or,” he lowered the radio volume with just a glance, “Every time you leave heaven?” It would take a great effort to not notice the weight suddenly blanketing the library. Silence was heavy with what he was really asking you. Would remaining here kill you?

It was a great question. Wow he’s really good at this. It almost seemed like he gave a shit. No one had ever asked you about your creation, about your work. It was nice. Even from him. Maybe especially from him.

You had never been to hell, so you couldn’t be sure, but, “I think it’s a human-world time-thing. But I guess we’ll find out!” Another misplaced smile before you awkwardly leaned back and picked up the book.

While you hadn’t noticed the slip up you had made, Alastor had. “I suppose we will.” 

You would find out, because you wouldn’t be returning to heaven. He was glad you, even if unconsciously, understood that. And perhaps you could live forever if you never returned to earth.

When the song ended, you offered one of your own. 

Alastor was pleasantly surprised to hear you request Nat King Cole’s ‘It’s almost like being in love’.

Standing, he offered you his hand for a dance. “Ugh I hate this cheesy shit.” You said it but stood anyway, putting your hands in his.

Alastor laughed, swaying side to side, “Not a fan of romance? Has Cupid never been in love?”

Those were two seperate things. How could you explain? “Drug dealers number one rule. Never get high off your own supply. That would be—.”

Lonely. Pathetic.

“A bad idea.” His cheek rested on your head. It was a shockingly tender act. “Can you understand? Why would I want something I made. What’s special about that?” 

“And what of true love? It isn’t made by you, yes?” Asked into your hair.

“Yeah but when will I ever find the time to make a connection worthwhile. Winners and Angels are gluttons for choice, I am obviously built for a fun time not a long time.” Which you were…fine with. Yeah. I mean, what choice did you have? “And I don’t want to force it…so…” you trailed off. The rest didn’t matter.

He nodded, suppressing another laugh.  “I see. Well, allow me to give you something you inspired, how about that? Not made. Would you say no, my muse?”

Inspired? Like a song? “Ha, what have I inspired in you, heathen.”

Alastor stopped dancing, his hand pulling your face up for a kiss which took you by surprise.

“Seriousl-,” Husk mercifully disappeared in a flash of neon green.

You couldn’t remember exactly how it happened, much like many of the moments you surrendered to Alastor. It was so fast and he was so strong, his hands large and confident in how they moved you. Before you knew it you were bent over the sofa’s arm getting fucked so hard your leg was shaking and your stomach nauseous.

This was much better than songs or art or whatever you inspired in others. You were gasping with every breath, the action somehow heightening the sensations. The little huffs and groans your body was pulling from him had your heart racing.

His cock was smashing your womb into your guts, the entire organ suddenly feeling like a new pleasure spot. Every jolt to your cervix made a novel kind of bliss pool in your stomach. 

You cried, head empty as he completely left your heat before bottoming out again, “Stop, Alastor. Stop.” A strained moan, hands gripping the wooden sofa arm, “stop, stop, fuuuuck.”

He was pulling out too far and too fast, hitting back too hard and too deep. Your cunt felt swollen around him, your entrance so soft and wet he didn’t need precision to sink back in.

“Does it hurt?” He said quickly on the down beat of his thrust.

“Nngh no.”

“Theeen, no.”

Alastor pulled you up by your chin, back bending as he titled your mouth to his. Despite your mouth hanging open with your tongue out as salacious as you’d ever been,  you told him, “I really don’t kiss during sex.” 

The look in his downcast eyes sent a shiver along your spine, a power there you couldn’t push against, “You do now, my dear.”

When in hell, you supposed. You didn’t even try to argue, accepting his tongue wrapping around yours and exploring your mouth while his dick churned up your insides. Full from top to bottom. Full of Alastor. Safe. Wanted. Needed. 

You pulled away when there was an overwhelming bone-deep sensation spilling through your hips and down your thighs. The muscles felt weak there, and you had an urge to runaway from it but Alastor held you still. 

A scream of ecstasy as both legs shook violently, you finally got your hands free orgasm but to your shock it didn’t stop. As it appeared to wane, it just started mounting again. By the third roll, Alastor came with a push so deep your chest fell over the arm of the sofa. If not for the hands bruising your hips, you would have fallen off entirely.

The ache in your stomach began immediately, you’d have thought someone had been punching you in the gut. Well, more literally than they had been. When you groaned and complained to Alastor about what he had done, he pulled you up by your waist.

You were drawn into him, back to his chest again with your body between those long legs. His hands came to your stomach. Alastor massaged deep circles into your abdomen. 

“Does that help?” His high voice lowered, husky and kind into your ear. You nodded, the pressure relieved the discomfort. 

You wondered if he was used to taller demons than your shorter heavenly form, or perhaps he wasn’t used to anyone at all. Maybe sinners had more room than you did. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. Believe it or not,” probably not, “I’m never trying to hurt you.”

Was it terrible you actually did believe him? Yes he was a serial killer, and considered one of the most cruel overlords in recent memory. But he was always gentle when his hands were on you. Flits of memories of him washing your feet came back to you. 

“I know perhaps,” his hands kept moving, your back already stuck to his with well earned sweat, “I have at times been easily incensed.”

You nodded quickly.

“But, It’s just,” you heard him swallow hard, “ah I absolutely hate this,” He whispered it to himself. “I’m just scared you’ll leave before I’ve managed to convince you how much happier I can make you here.”

It’s not that it was funny, necessarily, but the very idea hell could be happier than Heaven was laughable. It was Heaven. It was made to be happy.  It existed purely to please. 

The smile faded from your face. Well, for the winners. It was made to please the winners. It wasn’t made for you, but you still got much enjoyment. You had…sex. Great sex. Not held aloft in a radio tower great, but…You always came. Everyone did. Wasn’t that the point of it?

Wasn’t that the point?

What was the point?

 A warm and lonely bed is better than an empty one alone. So.

Well, your bed was always warm and never lonely in hell now that you’d been “moved”.

You had… Hobbies. You liked swimming. 

Okay well the hotel had a pool. And yes, if you weren’t running off to earth on command you’d have more energy for hobbies.

What were you thinking about this for again?

You gathered the scraps of your relevant thoughts, “Happiness isn’t being confined to a hotel, Alastor.”

“As soon as you show me you won’t leave me, I won’t care where you go. As long as you’re safe.” One of his hands left your stomach to stroke your cheek, “I’m just waiting for you to realize what I already know.”

If Alastor were to ease his grip on you, could you enjoy yourself? Well, more than you did. But it was more than that, you had to admit you hated the idea of losing, of just running away. “I don’t like giving up.” 

His laugh was quiet but it rocked you as his chest moved. “Darling they threw you to hell and told you you’re not allowed to leave unless you do homework. Giving up what? Being a servant to heaven?”

If he had said it a couple weeks prior, you would have left the room indignant. But now, settled against his hot skin and being so softly touched, it sounded like tough love.

“I don’t belong here though.” You were talking to yourself. So many excuses.

His arms wrapped around your chest to hug you into him, “You belong wherever I am.” His cheek pressed against yours, “I won’t let you go.”

A threat. A threat you leaned into and warmed yourself with. A threat a quiet part of you hoped he kept his word on.

You were getting too comfortable. Every morning you woke up to Alastor curled into your body, holding you tightly to him and you found yourself smiling before your consciousness clicked on. At some point in the last week he grabbed your chin and kissed you good night and suddenly every time he left your side you allowed a kiss to your cheek before he parted. What was worse was how you’d talk in bed about your recent reads and what happened the few hours you weren’t with each other. 

The thing that made you realize you were getting honestly too deep was when you went to go to bed early and actually took the elevator past your floor, walked all the way to his station and told him good night. You’d made it to his chair and were leaning down for your kiss when your face fell flat. 

He asked what was wrong but you shook your head. A poorly faked smile offered to him.

You sat in your bed. His bed. Your bed?

You sat in bed and wondered how to press forward. Two months, nearly, you’d been in hell. At this rate surely heaven had made a replacement. If you could make it back quickly you could still keep your place.

A decision was made, you’d never confronted Alastor head on. You had misunderstood his illusion of you. But maybe if you just forced it into his thick skull he’d been controlled and puppeted by an arrow, not his free will, he would abandon it to save his pride. 

Knees to your chest, why were you crying again? Did you want to go home?

No, you wanted to curl into his stupid fucking lap and listen to him hum his stupid old, forgotten songs. You wanted to dance while Husk groaned and rolled his eyes. You wanted to feel loved.

But you weren’t made to want things. And Alastor didn’t love you.

Okay, one more night to enjoy yourself before you pissed him off so much he kicked you out of his bed. Or took such a turn into obsession he never let you leave the room again, allowing you to shirk responsibility for not returning to heaven.

When you turned the handle there was resistance, the door pushing in. 

“Alastor? Done already?” He’d seemed busy earlier.

He closed the door and locked it. Oh. A blush. The sound of a locking door had come to mean certain things to you.

“You seemed bothered.” His thumb wiped where your tears had already dried, “What ever is the problem? Did someone upset you? Some neck I should wring?” You shook your head no. His other hand came to join in  holding your face, those goddamned red eyes melting you to nothing, “Some limbs I should snap?” He took a step toward you and you took two back, hands holding his wrists. Another no. “Or some cheeks I should kiss?”

Stop crying.

An eager nod. “Don’t cry, my love.” Soft lips catching your tears, thin fingers wiping them away. He kept walking forward and you kept walking back until your legs hit the bed. 

One more night, just in case. In case he forfeits the mania.

You kissed his neck, startling him. “Rare form. Did you need some more intimate attention, darling?” You tried to avoid initiating, never knowing what he wanted or when, never wanting to enjoy his touch too much. “I could indulge you.”

What you wanted was to be reduced so thoroughly to just a physical creature by way of pleasure that your mind disconnected from your brain. Fucked dumb, as people said. Alastor wouldn’t know what that meant but you were confident he’d enjoy sussing out the finer details of the meaning if it meant your full surrender.

You bit down on his neck, getting you pushed onto the bed in return. “I need overindulgence. I don’t wanna feel anything tonight but you.” You should practice your manners, for heaven's sake. “Please.”

There it was again. That look that turned your bones to jelly and your brain to cotton; that downcast half lidded stare as he towered over you that promised to devour you whole. His hand pulled at his bow tie and loosened his collar, knees on the bed as his legs spread you open at the thighs.

 “Good girl.”

No punishment or inspiration, just that mental numbness that turned off all your worries. We’re you making stupid faces? We’re your sounds embarrassing? Didn’t matter. You didn’t care. You clung to his body like you’d fall apart without his skin on yours. Because you would, in some fashion. 

Every gap between your bodies felt like room for doubt. So you filled them with flesh and sighs and moans. 

With his height difference you were smothered by him when in traditional heaven-approved missionary, but you liked lying on top. Your head only made it to his chest when your hips were positioned above his cock. You could go slack and let him move you on and off himself. You had been lying when you said you preferred to not move or make noise, but you’d learned he got harder and more feral when you let him manipulate your body any way he pleased. 

He smelled like sweat and leather, probably from the chairs in the lobby. No one sweats in heaven, this seemed like a mistake now. You’d have to be sure to not wash your clothes after you left hell, or else you’d forget his scent.

After finishing, he was surprised to find you still clinging to his torso, arms under his armpits and hooked onto his shoulders. He offered to pull out and let you lie down but you just held on tighter in response. He glanced around the room, soft light and softer music on the radio. Your quiver and bow rested against the armoire, practically dusty. He asked if you were alright, a hand coming to your back with large claws gently scratching.

“Yeah I will be.” you lifted your head, waiting.

Both of his eyebrows rose, unsure what you were waiting on.

Complete surrender. “Good night kiss.” You had to stretch to meet his lips before settling back into his chest, “okay bore me to sleep with your day, sinner.” He gladly did, you falling asleep yet again to the sound of his slow heartbeat and the rumble of his words.

You awoke nauseous, already knowing your day was going to fucking suck and it’d be your own fault. The idea of approaching Alastor and initiating the conversation felt impossible, your feet became stone when you thought of it.

The coward’s option. Wait for time alone and then pace the library until he came to find you.

After an hour or so he did, smile brightening as he entered. “Should I summon the bar?”

You shook your head no, struggling to speak. He sat in his chair, book still on the small side table.

Heart pounding, you considered doing this another day or week or maybe year but knew you’d already lost so much time. “Alastor, I need to talk to you about my task.”

He snapped the book shut, eyes not leaving his hands. “Oh?”

“I need to leave the hotel or at least need serious time alone with someone. I need to change someone’s heart on true love. I can’t go home—,” you were cut off, Alastor standing quickly.

“Home?”

“Alastor.” You stood your ground even as his spine stretched and antlers widened.

“Your home is wherever I am.” A pained smile now, something akin to hurt in his eyes that did damage to you too. “Ah. So last night— and people say I’m cruel.”

“I’m not supposed to be here!”

A snap, his anger and desperation eclipsing his pain, “Why don’t you ever listen-,”

Your turn to cut him off, “Because you’re under a spell! You act so fucking tough like you’re in control all the time. But you’re not! It’s just the effect of the arrow.”

He laughed, but you kept going, “Don’t act like you’re sooo strong you can fight the effects of my shot. You don’t fucking love me. Not really, not naturally. It was an accident. You’re just— it’s been made by me. I don’t want it. I want something real and true.”

“My feelings are true, just let me speak. I can make you understand if you’d just listen to me.” Pupils like pins, teeth somehow sharper.

“Alastor you can’t have true love. Nothing triggered by my arrows can ever be true.”

Another ring of laughter, “Tell me then how your true love is different than mine, Oh Wise Cupid.”

You huffed, “Don’t talk down to me, radio demon. True love means caring deeply for someone else that occupies your heart and mind-,” he opened his mouth, looking around the room for where you found the audacity but you snapped twice to get his attention back, “not just that! You put them first without fear because if they truly love you they would never take advantage of that. It’s trusting them with the most fragile parts of yourself. It's a best friend. Someone who makes you feel like a better version of you, makes you want to always be improving yourself.”

Alastor was still smug, staring at you from his unnervingly demonic height, “Lovely! Last question, expert, is true love ever one sided?”

You thought for a beat, “It can be.”

He hummed, body swiftly resuming his smaller but, again, still too tall scale, antlers remaining fierce as his sinister smile dropped to just a small upward turn of his lips. “I see. You’ve truly enlightened me. I believe you.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on you.

You rolled your eyes and licked your lips to go off when a portal opened beside you.

Heaven was just beyond the shining circle.

You looked from Alastor to the circular doorway, taking small steps towards it. Your hand pressed through, confusion wiping your own smugness off your face.

Alastor began a mocking slow clap. “I’ve been convinced. Happy now? Task complete.”

“But- the love Mania causes…It clouds the mind, you can’t even process the idea of true love properly.” You searched the floor for some clarity.

His hands stopped, eyebrows meeting his bangs as a laugh that started typically but quickly morphed into maniacal filled the room. You just kept pushing your hand in and out of the portal. Alastor finally quieted, antlers fully drawn back into little prongs. He stared at you. A shiver as his smile reached his ears. That look again. You took a deep breath, ready to be eaten.

“Your little arrow didn’t pierce me, you glorious fool. It literally fell into my pocket. I was never under the effects of your magic. I said that many times.” He straightened out his suit jacket,  “Very plainly, might I add. You just never listened to me. So sure you knew better than I did.”

You sputtered, too many thoughts trying to express themselves, “Why did you act like that then?!”

“Because I wanted you. Something something first sight, as I recall the adage goes.” He crossed his arms and looked at his claws, “Perhaps my love happens to be manic by default. I am a murderous overlord, darling.”

All the energy left your body, shoulders relaxing. “Oh.” 

“So, here I am,” he opened his arms, “trusting you to not hurt me any further today. Does that fall into your narrow view of true love?”

A good question. You shifted your weight onto your other foot, looking back at heaven. You could see the shining gates.

He sighed and brought his arms down, “I can’t promise how long I’ll let you stand there and look at anything other than me.”

A warning.

A deep breath, another shift onto your other foot again as you shook the anxiety out of your hands before finally making eye contact with him, “Well, eldritch horror, prove it.”

You heard the door lock from across the room. 

You decided heaven could wait. It took about two days before they seemed to notice you hadn’t entered the portal, which closed on its own some time between Alastor pushing you onto the floor and you begging him for more. Luckily St. Peter wasn’t privy to your escapades.

It was a fact Sera was aware you had completed your task, because a knock came to the library door on that second day after you did so. Entering without waiting for a reply, which was brave, Lucifer and his hat popped into the room.

“Heeeey giiiirl. I got a message from heaven asking what’s the hold up, worried you were incapacitated.”

From your seat in Alastor’s lap you lowered your book, “How nice of them to suddenly care about my well-being.” You brought the book back up, “Little late.”

He nodded, “Uh huh, uh huh. Yeah I can understand that. Sooo,” his fingers tapped the door, “What should I reply with?”

Alastor turned the page and hummed a reply, “Finders Keepers.”

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

@sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi Bunny,

I've been following your page for awhile and was wondering if I could order some John Price Lemon slices and beer brownies on the house??

I adore your stories and writing style, and you are in fact someone's girlfriends favorite author 😌

Hope your day is wonderful n thank you ♥︎

bakery menu!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i know i've been horribly lacking at call of duty bakery fics! but with call of duty i'll get an idea in my head that is seperate than the bakery fics. i still deeply love my boys (and esp john price), so i'll try to be more on top of the call of duty fics because so many of you have been so sweet with your prompts <3 (also john price would totally love beer brownies just as a dessert, lol)

lemon slice: "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." + beer brownies: "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog." + on the house (matcha latte: collars/bondage)

cw: smut/pwp, dom!price, sub!reader, dirty talk/degrading language, age gap (20s/40s), wife!reader, wife/domestic kink, carpet sex, oral sex, pet names (puppy, baby girl)

price liked being the man of the house. while most times your relationship was an equal affair. price admired you like flowers did the sun. he'd never hurt his baby girl, even with the age gap that would make some gawk at. a man in his near fifties with a woman who was just out of university. plus, he made her a stay-at-home wife within three months of dating?

there had to be something else going on. even your parents were a little shocked at the news. but neither of you cared, you were happy. and since your parents wouldn't let you move in with such an older man, the only thing to do was to get married. and now every night price got to be the man of the house and have his lovely girl serve him.

after dinner was served you were on your knees in front of him while he watched television. it was hard for him to focus on the game while your nose was nestled against his dark pubic hair. his grip on the can of beer was tight, any tighter and he'd crush the thing in his palm.

he was so much bigger than you, stronger than you. there was a weight to him that could leave you pinned under him. he was so strong and masculine that you couldn't help yourself but be enthralled by him. you continued to pleasure him orally, but occasionally you made small noises which was accompanied by your thighs rubbing together.

"i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making." he said as he took you by the head of the head and made you look at him. you panted heavily and looked at him with a lustful expression across your features. poor little wifey got too excited.

price chuckled and patted your cheek a roughly, "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog." he laughed a little, "maybe i should get the collar out, since you like being my puppy so badly." you whined in response and price pulled away to tuck himself back in his jeans. when he got up, he looked down at you and said, "you stay put, i don't need you getting in trouble, baby girl." then left for the bedroom.

you waited patiently and felt heat curl in your gut. you liked price like this, domineering. when he used his age, height, size against you. when he made you feel small in the best ways. when he returned you could see the green collar in his hands.

it wasn't a neon green, but rather a rich forest green. you swallowed and shifted a little in your spot. when he sat down on the couch with a 'huff' he patted his thigh so you'd climb onto his lap. you did without question and he placed the pretty collar around your neck. then his hand was on your bare thigh, he got to see you naked up close. after dinner you stripped down to give your husband dessert.

"pretty little thing." he said, his voice hot. you squirmed a little at his hands on you. on between your legs and the other supporting your back. he made a vow to love and protect you. even when you panted heavily from his touches.

his calloused fingertips grazed across your wet cunt and he dipped his head against your neck where he laid kisses across the heated skin.

"john."

"i got ya, sweetheart. my little pet." he teased your clit a little and you shuddered. he pulled you closer to him and teased your clit a little more before he said, "get on your hands and knees, beautiful. your mouth isn't enough tonight."

you scurried off, you were naked save for the ankle socks with little bows on them and the pretty green collar. you got onto the carpet and rested your face against your arms with your hips raised. price took one last swig of his beer before he got up and rubbed himself through his jeans. you looked at your husband, coyly, "like this?"

"i've trained you so well." he said as got down on the carpet. while a this age, it was hard to do it on the floor. but, he knew it was either that or up against the couch. the latter would only cause more pain in price's bad knee.

"thank you." you blushed, heat rose in your cheeks as you felt his pointer and middle finger touch your achy cunt again. your back arched. then you heard the clatter of his belt being fully taken off.

"this is how a wife should greet her husband every night. give him a fully belly and you walk away with a full cunt. ya like when i make a mess of her, don't ya?" he watched your back arch from his words. he got his cock out of his jeans and rubbed the slick head up against your pussy, "been missin' her. had to finish myself off in the washroom at work because i was thinkin' about it."

price hated to admit it, but he loved the differences between you two. he kept his pretty wife happy at home, and maybe soon you'd have some company with a pet or a baby. price wasn't getting any younger, about time he used the last of his swimmers for something good.

he pushed his cock into you with ease and watched your tense up. it was really hot. in his honest opinion, you looked beyond beautiful. he was glad he got a ring on you as soon as he did because if anyone else tried to get their hands on you. that would be a problem. you whimpered and clawed into the cream carpet.

you knew your knees were going to be raw by the time your husband was done with you. but, you'd happily accept it regardless.

his pace was steady, on the faster side but every thrust had a force that made your toes curled. you loved your big, hairy husband. you adored how he made you feel, how he could easily move and twist you to his liking. he was dominant and strong, he never wanted his wife to worry.

"that's a good girl, my good little puppy. hearin' your little noises right now." he groaned, "you're a beautiful little thing. you know exactly how to get me goin'. lettin' my fuck you until you see stars." his pace picked up and you gasped into the floor.

"john." you arched your back. your body craved your husband. more than most else. you were never a party girl, but even if you were, your drug of choice would be having your husband, the cervix bully, make you cum time and time again.

it was slightly price's fault why you never went to parties. when he was home from deployment, he wanted to savour every moment with you. hard to go out with friends on a friday when price had you in a full nelson on his bed with his cock hitting just the right places. price didn't need boys sniffing around what was his. not that you'd give them the time of day. he held onto your hips tightly and pushed you further into the carpet as his cock dragged against your softest areas.

he said, "so pretty under me. you take me so well." you could feel your heartbeat in the back of your head as he continued to push up right against you. the feeling was erotic, as were the sounds of your sweet moans, "pretty in your collar. maybe i should've just gotten you a collar instead of a ring. a nice leash as well to make sure that you didn't go runnin' off. be a proper pup for me." he groaned as he continued to fuck you.

his motor mouth made heat wash over you. it was hot in a way that made you want to cry out for more. poor mrs. price, must be such a shame to get fucked into a state of bliss by your domineering, stronger husband.

it wasn't long before you could feel the sparks in your brain as you panted heavily against the carpet. your knees were rubbed raw as were your forearms. thankfully not carpet burn on your face (this time). you panted heavily before you let out a sweet noise, your attempt to tell your lover you were cumming. your cunt tightened around his cock, which only spurred your husband to move faster.

"that's it, that's my baby girl." he groaned as he rammed his cock as fast as he could. he could hear your soft, post-orgasm moans. your back arched a little more before they dropped. which meant price had to hold onto them to get at the right angle of your pussy, "my good little wife."

a few more heavy thrusts and price finished inside of you. trusting you to keep the boys safe.he gripped onto your hips and really pushed into you as he tensed up. he then relaxed and felt his heart hammering in his chest as he slowly pulled out.

a string of cum connected his cock to your pussy. really a match made in heavy. he licked his lips before he slowly got up with a bit of help from the coffee table. he wasn't the spry young man that he used to be. but you loved that about him, your burly old man.

not that you'd say that to him.

your hips dropped as you laid on the floor for a moment. achy and feeling euphoric at the same time. it was cute in price's eyes, after he got his cock back into his jeans once more. he picked up his wife and held you in his arms. he kissed your heated cheeks while you wrapped a leg around his waist for support.

"i got ya, baby girl. now let's get the wife to bed before i get hungry again." he knew you were on another planet right now. you held onto your husband tightly until he tucked you naked into bed, with the covers pulled up to your chin.

"what about the dinner dishes?" you asked.

price patted your cheek, "don't worry about them, beautiful. i can handle them." then let you rest with the familiar collar around your throat. <3

[darkeunology]

♡ Dirty Little Secret ♡

Word Count: 2830

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Derek Morgan x Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only, oral (M receiving), public sex, mentions of sexual acts

Summary: Derek has an idea of something you can do on the jet while everyone is asleep, except Spencer wakes up.

This is my first entry for the CM kink bingo 2024, this is a fic I had originally posted on an old account of mine, just in case anyone thinks it's familiar, it has been rewritten today since I wanted to rewrite my old fics and make them all better, I thought this one would fit perfectly with three prompts on my bingo card so I decided to rewrite it now. Updated bingo card here

Prompts used: Friends with benefits, Caught in the act, Oral

CM Kink Bingo Masterlist

The jet was quiet, a far difference from how the jet was on the way to Texas, with everyone talking about the case before you arrived; now that the case was solved and the unsub in cuffs, the jet ride back was silent, only the noise of people breathing quietly as they caught up on the sleep that they had been desperately lacking the past few days. Well, everyone except you and Derek. The two of you were sitting together on the sofa, your head resting on his shoulder as his arm was wrapped tightly around yours, his thumb stroking the bare skin of your shoulder, his lips every so often moving to place a chaste kiss on your head. 

 The two of you weren’t dating, it had never really been a discussion of the two of you actually becoming official, even if sometimes that was what you wanted, however, right now, the two of you were simply friends with benefits, whenever one of you would need some form of stress relief, the other was willing to help - initially it started out innocent, just going to each other’s places to watch movies or play some video games, but it slowly started turning sexual. Starting with making out with Derek on his couch after one particularly tough case, to Derek pounding into you, begging him to let you cum after another tough case. You weren’t exclusive, Derek had told you a number of times that you were more than welcome to find someone else and end this arrangement whenever you wanted, and you told him the same, but neither of you found yourselves wanting to pursue anything different; you were addicted to each other, addicted to the little sighs, the touches, the kisses, the moans, everything about each other. Both of you swore to the rest of the team that there was nothing going on between the two of you, you were simply good friends; the team never believed you both. They would see the way you would both look at each other, the hugs that would sometimes last a beat too long for most friends, the way that your hands would linger on each other, the signs were subtle, but they were there. 

-

Derek and you were simply just whispering amongst yourselves, talking about everything and anything you could think of, just trying to keep your minds occupied, neither of you really able to sleep after the many days of this case. Derek quickly looked around the jet, checking to see if everyone truly was asleep, his gaze finishing once he’d checked that Spencer, who was sitting opposite the two of you at the tabled seats, was also asleep, the realisation made the man smirk at you. He moved slightly so that his lips were now at your cheek, placing sweet kisses there, you moved to give him better access, “You know something I’ve wanted to try with you for a while now?” He asked, a teasing tone clear in his voice as his lips trailed down to your jaw,

You hummed lightly, prompting Derek to keep talking, you gasped at Derek’s lips now right by your ear, whispering seductively, “I’ve always wanted you to give me a blowjob whilst everyone’s asleep around us.” his teeth grazed your earlobe, forcing a shiver out of you, 

“Fuck.” you mumbled, not meaning for Derek to hear the desperation in your voice, but he did. 

“You like the idea of someone waking up to see your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock, don’t you sweetheart?” he asked, the amusement clear in his voice as one of his hands moved down to your thigh, squeezing it harshly, he loved the way you were squirming under his touch. His cock hardened in his jeans at the thought of you on your knees for him. Derek noticed you hadn’t answered him, he moved his hand to your throat, squeezing at the sides lightly, just enough to hitch your breathing, a small whimper spilling past your lips, “Answer me honey.” he demanded, his voice still quiet to not wake anyone. 

Shakily, you nodded your head, arousal pooling in your belly at the thought, “Yes, yes I want that.” you stumbled, causing Derek to take his hand away from your throat, moving it to the back of the couch, sitting with his arms spread out, waiting for you to start. 

“Good girl.” He smirked, knowing what those two words always did to you, his body slouched down in the seat slightly, his legs opening wider. He raised an eyebrow at the fact you hadn’t yet moved, “You know what to do honey.” he spoke cockily, watching with hunger in his eyes as you slid off the sofa, taking your place on your knees in front of him, your body fitting between his legs perfectly, almost as if you were made to be down here. Your hands reached out to his zipper, eagerly pulling it down, Derek helped you get his jeans and boxers off enough so that you could release his hardening cock. Instinctively, you clenched your thighs together. No matter how many times you’d seen Derek’s cock, it always amazed you every time, he was the perfect size to fill you perfectly. 

His cock was begging for attention, so you started with just your hands, gripping his cock in one hand, you slowly started moving your hand up and down, twisting your wrist slightly as you did so, going slow enough to just tease him, “Don’t tease.” he muttered out, his eyes looking down at you, a warning look in them. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you leaned forwards, licking a strip up his cock before circling his head, collecting his pre-cum on the tip of your tongue, he groaned lightly, his head falling back on the couch as you wrapped your lips around him fully, your head sinking down as far as you could without gagging, knowing that you needed to be quiet. 

Derek moved his hands to your head without looking back down at you, beginning to thrust his hips ever so slightly, also being cautious of going too deep since he didn’t want you to wake everyone up with your gagging. He threw his head forwards as you began hollowing out your cheeks, your mouth working faster. Instead of looking down at you, his eyes met Spencer, who was now awake, his eyes trained on watching you on the floor, watching the way you were taking Derek’s cock perfectly. 

He hadn’t woken up immediately, but Spencer tended to be quite a light sleeper, so when he heard the mumbles of you and Derek talking he started waking up, turning his head slightly and having to take a double look to believe what he was seeing in front of him. If he was being honest with himself, he’d always had a crush on you, pretty much from the moment you’d joined the BAU, he’d thought your intelligence and charisma was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He never had the courage to try anything with you or let you know how he felt about you, and when the rumours started about you and Derek being just a bit too close, he gave up, hoping that it wasn’t true, but from what he was watching now, he couldn’t deny it anymore. He deflated slightly, knowing that he now didn’t stand a chance with you when you were Derek’s, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you, he knew he probably should before Derek could catch him staring, but he was transfixed on you, his cock stirring slightly in his jeans, imagining that you were on your knees for him instead of for Derek. 

“You’re doing so well for me babygirl. Taking my cock so well.” Derek spoke, only slightly louder than last time, just loud enough that he knew Spencer would be able to hear him - which he did. His eyes snapped up to Derek’s which were looking directly at him. Spencer thought he’d be angry, but the only expression in Derek’s eyes were lust and amusement as he sent a wink in Spencer’s direction, that, in Spencer’s eyes, was permission enough that he could keep watching, his hands gripping his thighs tightly, teasing himself as he watched your head bob up and down on Derek’s cock. 

Spencer resisted the urge to touch himself, not wanting to do with Derek watching, embarrassed enough that he’d been caught watching you and was hard from watching. His eyes constantly flicked between you on the floor and watching Derek and the way he would moan quietly, the way Derek would look down at you with so much love and lust in his eyes as you worked. Derek was doing the same, looking down between you and looking back at Spencer, watching as the young genius was so pent up from watching. 

Derek smirked to himself as a thought formed in his mind, thrusting his hips up quicker, his grip in your hair tightened, pushing you on his cock quicker “Go on baby, I’m so close. You’re doing such a good job for me.” he groaned quietly. You hummed around his cock, pushing him over the edge. His hips stuttered as he came into your mouth, his cock twitching, he kept thrusting his hips slowly, drawing out his orgasm. You moaned around his cock as his cum filled your mouth, swallowing it as you pulled your mouth off his cock, using your thumb to collect what had spilled out your mouth, chuckling as Derek groaned above you. 

You sat back on your heels, your breathing slightly ragged, you looked up at Derek who was smirking again, you being still blissfully unaware of the second set of eyes plastered on you. “You’re such a good girl for me.” Derek praised you, leaning forwards to catch your lips with his, kissing you fervently, his tongue pushing into your mouth, claiming you as his in front of Spencer. He pulled away after leaving another short, chaste kiss to your lips, quickly looking around the rest of the jet to ensure you hadn’t woken anyone else up, which thankfully, you hadn’t. His eyes ran back over to Spencer for a split second before looking back down to you, his eyes full of mischief. “Why don’t you go and give pretty boy over there the same treatment.” he spoke, nodding towards where Spencer was sitting across from you. 

Eyes widening, you whipped your head round, watching as Spencer’s face turned red after being called out by Derek, he looked away from you. You didn’t need to be told twice by Derek as you stood from the floor, your steps wobbly for a second after being on the floor for so long, Derek quickly tapped your backside, urging you to move quicker. You took the few steps over to where Spencer was sitting, kneeling down in the seat next to him, one hand going to the curls on his head, running your hand through them lightly, “Do you want me to help you relax, Spence?” you asked, not doing anything until Spencer told you that you could.   

Spencer whimpered slightly, giving a feeble nod as his eyes moved back to you, one hand coming to your waist, leaving a feather-like touch there, almost like he was scared that you would disappear if he touched you too hard, “I need to hear you, Spence.” you told him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Please.” he whispered, nodding again, more confidently this time. 

“Okay then, pretty.” you spoke, using your hand to turn his face, allowing you to place your lips on his, sharing a slow, almost tentative kiss. You pulled away first after a moment, chuckling lightly as Spencer followed your lips. Giving him another chaste, quick kiss, you moved onto your knees, slipping down onto the floor, your body concealed by the table above you. You placed your body in between his legs, your hands running up his thighs causing him to shiver slightly, your hand hit his clothes erection, pressing down slightly causing Spencer to whimper again. 

You looked up at Spencer as you started pulling his jeans down, “Lift your hips for a second honey.” you spoke lightly, moving his jeans and boxers down as he lifted his hips to help you. The size of his cock happily surprised you, he wasn’t as big as Derek was, but he was still well endowed, enough to have you rubbing your thighs together again, your own arousal tortuous to you. Spencer didn’t need to get any harder, he was already hard enough just from watching you with Derek, you pumped your hand around his cock only a few times before licking a stripe from the bottom to the top, collecting his pre-cum on the tip of your tongue, the exact same way you did with Derek. You wasted no time with sheathing him inside of your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat instantly. You bobbed your head up and down, slowly to begin with, until you had Spence begging above you. 

Spencer was a lot louder than Derek had been, his moans and whimpers almost too loud. Derek had sorted himself out and moved over to sit next to Spencer, placing his thumb in his mouth, giving him something to suck on to keep him from waking the rest of the team up. Derek didn’t really fancy having to explain this to everyone. “You need to be quiet pretty boy. You don’t want everyone to wake up do you?” he asked. Spencer nodded his head, moaning a bit quieter around Derek’s thumb, which he kept inside his mouth, “Good boy” Derek mumbled, his lips going to Spencer’s neck, biting and sucking to leave a mark that Spencer would cover with a scarf when getting off the jet.  Derek moved away from his neck for a moment to look down at you, “Don’t tease him honey, I think he deserves a treat, don’t you?” he asked you. 

Humming around Spencer’s cock in affirmation, you started moving your head quicker, taking Spencer’s cock almost all the way down. One of Spencer’s hands was fisted in your hair, helping bob your head up and down, the other was on Derek’s thigh, squeezing tightly. You knew Spencer was close as his cock started twitching in your mouth, his body being pent up for too long watching you earlier. 

Derek could tell that Spencer was close too as his moans started getting too loud again. Spencer looked towards Derek, lust taking over his eyes as he whimpered around Derek’s thumb, his eyes flicking down to Derek’s lips. Derek quickly took his thumb out of Spencer’s mouth, replacing it with his lips, kissing him aggressively, allowing Spencer’s moans to be swallowed by his mouth, muffling him enough as he came into your mouth, his lips struggling to be able to kiss Derek back, the kiss was all teeth and tongue, but it was able to keep Spencer quiet, he was under the control of the both of you, he would do anything either of you asked him to do. You hummed as Spencer’s hips stopped thrusting, your mouth moving off of him,looking up at Spencer and Derek who were still kissing, Spencer now able to kiss him back a lot better, tucking Spencer away, you made your presence known under the table again causing the men to break away from each other.

“C’mere honey.” Derek murmured, his hand reaching down to help you get up from under the table, you groaned slightly as your knees cracked as you stood. Carefully you draped yourself over Derek’s legs, your legs resting on Spencer’s, his hands coming to grip your thighs, keeping you planted on him, Derek’s coming to wrap around your waist, holding you close to him. 

“If Spence is up for it,” Derek started, looking towards Spencer for a second before moving his attention back to you, “We’ll take him home with us and give you a little reward for being so good for us.” he finished. You looked towards Spencer waiting for his reaction first, 

“God yes.” he chuckled, his mind running wild with what was going to happen once the three of you got off the jet. 

“I’m in.” you spoke after Spencer, giving Derek a quick kiss on the lips. 

The team didn’t question when they woke up to the sight of you draped over Derek with your legs on Spencer, they figured you three had stayed up talking and you decided to get comfy. They did question, however, when the three of you were the first off the jet, almost rushing off, and they definitely questioned when they saw a blatant hickey on Spencer’s neck that certainly wasn’t there when they first got on the jet.

[shouyuus]

colorimetery

kuroo; 1,843 words; fluff, lapslock, no "y/n", abuse of extended metaphors, none of this makes sense, kenma is the most in-touch person in this entire fic and that should tell you something, awk!kuroo, whipped!kuroo

summary: in which kuroo is down bad for you and nothing much else happens

a/n: @seiwas this is for u! u asked for kuroo and i humbly deliver :) hope u liked it bby; fun fact, a lot of these colors are pulled from the gamblin oil paints website bc i love their paints and also i love the thought that a lot of pigments were poisonous way back when and ppl were just... casually poisoning themselves while making their art; there's a metaphor in there somewhere... but i'll leave that up to interpretation lol

─── 鉄朗 THERE ARE COLORS he doesn’t know the names for, just like there are birds who will sing songs that no human will ever understand, but somewhere between the viridian of a sun-lit forest and the minor trill of a mockingbird’s call, he finds the shape of you.

and he doesn’t remember exactly when he’d started feeling like this, only that he’d woken up one day to a pastel sky, heard the tell-tale blip of a message from you, and felt his entire body flush vermillion, hard enough to poison.

c’mon, bedhead. time for school.

he grins down at the message, his lips pulling wide, his fingers still blunted by his honeyed dreams (how many of you? don’t ask him — he’s long since lost count) as he types out a reply.

be there in three.

he stumbles out of bed in the raw sienna sunrise, pulling on his uniform pants, shoving the hems of his un-ironed white shirt into the waistband before dashing out the door. he finds you haloed in liquid gold, standing on his doorstep, flicking through your phone before you notice him and your face breaks into an earth-rending smile.

kuroo feels dizzy, punchdrunk, a sake-shot of fire sizzling down his front till it pools in the base of his belly as he pulls on his shoes and tries to hide behind a well-timed cough.

“c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” he brushes passed you, but not before reaching out to ruffle at your hair, savoring in the midnight-soft of your tresses as it slips through his fingers.

you bicker the entire way to school, picking up kenma somewhere along the way. he casts you both a tired, reproachful look before slouching off ahead of you, content to resume whatever game he’s currently hyperfixating on while you and kuroo snipe at each other a few steps behind him.

“you could just ask her out,” kenma says during free period, his eyes never leaving his phone screen as he mashes at the attack button, watching the health bar of the boss monster dwindle even as kuroo makes an indignant sort of choking noise.

“w-what? she’s just — she’s just a friend.”

but at the scathing look kenma darts his way, kuroo finally relents.

“i — we’ve been friends for so long i just… i don’t wanna fuck it up, y’know?” he cards a hand through his already mussed up hair, eliciting a string of giggles from a cluster of girls sitting behind them, heads bent in towards one another, their long hair swishing like willow branches in a mid-autumn breeze; but neither of them take notice.

kenma heaves a world-weary sigh, grimacing as a large WIN!! image flashes across the face of his phone and he slumps back to frown at kuroo.

“i feel like you’ve built up enough affection points to unlock whatever good ending she’s got for you by now, so,” he pins kuroo with a pointed look, “i don’t think she’s gonna say no.”

kuroo can only blink, his mind churning around this strange yet apt analogy.

“aw man, you’re the best, y’know that?” he laughs, reaching over to catch kenma in a headlock, digging his knuckles into the crown of kenma’s head even as he struggles fruitlessly to get free.

it is in the cadium orange glow of sunset, after your art class and his volleyball practice, that kuroo finally works up the courage —

“hey uh — can i ask you something?”

you hike an eyebrow, a dangerous grin sharpening the shape of your lips.

“didn’t you just?”

kuroo lets out a frustrated sigh, “fuck you, you know what i meant.”

you laugh, the timber of it ringing through him like church bells on a sunday morning, and suddenly, he wonders if this feeling might be what inspired the ancients to worship at the feet of so much divinity — just this, the giddiness and anticipation, the knowledge and uncertainty. this, the insurmountable weight of something (call it love or infatuation, he doesn’t care) pressing down on his chest hard enough to rob him of every last breath.

he think that perhaps this is all anyone’s ever needed to start believing in magic.

“okay, okay,” you say, stifling a grin behind pink-pursed lips, “what did you wanna ask?”

“go out with me,” kuroo blurts out, well before he can stop himself. and he almost wants to sink into the earth with the way his entire body goes hot, the aftermath of a tectonic shift, the pluming heat of a volcanic hiccup.

you stare up at him, your expression curiously blank as he watches you, desperate for any sign of your answer, the most minuscule tells of how you might be feeling.

finally, you cock your head and ask, “was… there a question in there somewhere?”

kuroo almost swears*. almost*.

“fuck — fine! i meant — will you —”

“yes.”

“— it’s just i’ve — wait, what?” kuroo freezes, staring down at you with slack-jawed disbelief, blinking as if he doesn’t quite understand what you’re saying.

you allow yourself a smile, and kuroo feels his insides melt to something very much like molten marshmallows.

you let out a sigh that sounds remarkably like kenma’s — exasperated and amused in equal measure — before glancing back up at him with a bashful smile.

internally, kuroo wonders if this is what being “k.o-ed” feels like and he resolves to be just a bit more merciful to all of videogame opponents.

“i said yes, you big volleyball-obsessed oaf —”

“oh,” kuroo says, still not quite sure what he’s supposed to do from here.

you roll your eyes and turn back towards the sidewalk, taking a few steps before twisting your head to look at him.

“aren’t you gonna walk me home?”

kuroo nearly trips in his eagerness to level himself with you, but once he does, he straightens his shoulders and puffs out his chest.

“so —” he says, in a stab at his usual carefree bravado, “do i get to call you my girlfriend now?”

you shrug, “sure, if you want to.”

kuroo deflates ever so slightly, “what? you don’t want me to?”

you slant him a look that makes his knees turn to jelly.

“yeah, i do. but that won’t matter if you don’t, right?”

“i — i do!”

“so then…”

you turn your back on him again, though he’s sure this time he catches it — the dash of sweet magenta, swept across your lips like a kiss, or a promise.

or, the thought licks up the back of his throat, tantalizing — the promise of a kiss.

“oi.” he jogs to catch up with you, reaching out to sling an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in to press his lips into the thick of your hair, breathing you in, losing himself in the familiar smell of your shampoo — green tea and apples, or something of the sort.

you laugh, and he basks in the sound.

by the time he walks you home, the street is gilded in goldenrod yellow, your shadows stretching long beneath you, the slant-wise light painting everything in an ethereal glow.

“well,” kuroo says, shoving his hands into his pockets, if only to keep them from fidgeting, because guys like him don’t get nervous. at least, not like this.

“well,” you echo, letting your voice linger over the ‘l’, letting it twist around your tongue, the sound lulling at the top of your palette till kuroo feels his stomach catch.

“see you tomorrow?” he asks, cursing himself internally for sounding so uncertain. since when has he been so uncertain?

your lips twist into a tease, just a fish-tail flicker, and kuroo knows he’s done for.

“do you wanna stay for dinner?” you ask, just as he opens his mouth.

“unless you don’t —” his voice jerks into an abortive breath.

somewhere behind him, a raven fluffs out it’s feathers on the low-cut wall that separates your house from the rest of the street. a single black feathers flutters to the ground, dark as an oil spill.

“unless i don’t what?” you ask.

kuroo swallows around his thundering heartbeat, feeling the last dregs of sunlight seep from the far horizon.

“i was gonna say… unless you — you didn’t wanna say goodbye,” he admits, his eyes flicking away from your face if only to give himself a momentary reprieve from the intensity of your gaze.

you purse your lips, shrugging up a shoulder, a single lock of hair slipping from its place behind your ear.

“i never do. c’mon — or else they’ll start eating without us.”

kuroo is speechless as he watches you make your way up the shallow steps to your door, glancing over your shoulder towards him. he doesn’t know how many times he’s stayed over for dinner, how many times he’d lingered in the perfumed warmth of your room while you showered, flipping absently through the latest volume of jump, how many times you’d fallen asleep with your damp hair slowly soaking into his school uniform.

he couldn’t count them all if he wanted to. and he doesn’t really want to.

he takes a breath and takes the front path two steps at a time, leaping up the staircase with a smirk as he skims his palm along the top of your head. you make a sound like an annoyed hamster and kuroo allows himself a laugh that bubbles up and up and up till it’s spilling over, till he pushes open your front door and is greeted with the familiar sandalwood radiance of your front hallway, the light pooling around his ankles as he toes off his shoes.

“hey,” you say, and he turns around, only to find you leaning up on tip toe to brush your lips against his.

he freezes, but you’re pulling back already, shrugging off your coat, shouldering off your school bag and shouting down the hallway to ask what’s for dinner, and to say that kuroo’s here.

kuroo finds himself caught in the sharp cerulean blue of your laughter like the rain-washed sky, the smoke-ridden darkness in the shades of your eyes, he turns to see you blushing, even as you motion for him to follow you into the dining room. he does, only tripping over himself once (though he’s been feeling wobbly since this afternoon, when he’d resolved to ask you out in the first place).

and he tells himself that, yes, there will always be colors he doesn’t know the names of, bird songs he will never be able to understand. but colors, he can learn. and as for the birds — well, he figures that they’re all probably singing about falling in love anyway.

TAGLIST: @yaoduriaa @ominouslywritinginmyhead @naomihatake @cheesypuffkins87 @crispynutella @dira333 @stunies @phroggii @fennecnco @encrytpta @simpingdailyforthem @ryescapades -- join the taglist!

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐨 '𝐒𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧?' ♡

[Synopsis】 : Coming back from a house party, you and Woo couldn't seem to keep your hands off one another. Everything was happening so fast. You two didn't even make it to the bedroom.

『Word count』 :  1.18k

-> Genre: Smut Without Plot

Pairing: Boyfriend!Wooyoung x F.Reader

[Warnings] : Unprotected sex. PIV. Pet name. Oral. Dirty talk. Drunk sex. Mention of weed/smoking. Wooyoung his so pussy drunk and reader is very cock drunk. They are both crazy. I wrote this around 3 a.m., so it's honestly all over the place. But given this is drunk/high sex, i feel like it fits ahha.

Thank you, @8teez-woo , for this request. They requested a Woyoung fic inspired by 'Slow Down' by Chase Atlantic. I hope this is to your liking, my dear. ♡♡♡

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Maybe taking that last shot wasn't the best idea, and maybe playing some horny ass card game with your friends while smoking was also not your best move, but you could care at this moment. All you could care about was Wooyoung's lips kissing down your neck, suckling on your collarbone to create perfect purple marks over your perfect skin.

Wooyoung swears he could just come now in his pants, by the sheer noises you were making. The way your legs were wrapped around his waist as he ground his erect bulge against you while your fingers gripped the edge of the hallway table. Everything was so desperate and hot. Your minds were cloudy and your head, spinning. All you could taste on his lips was beer and hints of vodka and soju while he tasted the sweet Malibu and coke on your tongue. Your shirt was forgotten somewhere down the hall while he started to rip, not pull, tug, or shift, literally rip your shorts and panties off.

He promised himself he'd buy you new pairs, but all he needed right now was his head in between your legs, or better yet his cock. honestly, he didn't care at the moment. all he wanted was you. no matter what. "Fuck, you're so wet." Was the first words spoken since you and Wooyoung had gotten home from the house party San was throwing. Things got a little out of hand from there. You barely made it through the front door when you were both pushing yourself towards one another.

"Wet for you…" You moaned as his lips smashed back onto yours, picking you up he tumbled into the bedroom but he didn't make it to the bed, no, he fell with you tightly into his grasp onto the very soft floor rug you recently purchased.

Neither of you cared where you were, though, as his hips humped against yours, making a wet patch form from your slick on his jeans. Everything was so loud yet quiet, and that bottle of whiskey you both downed was starting to come into effect. Your body's senses were heightened. Your sense of smell, your hearing. Everything was making you dizzy in the best way possible.

"Woo, please, just…hnng..fuck." Your fingers tried to tug at your boyfriend's pants, but he suddenly sat up, leaning over towards the bed, reaching for something.

"Wait, baby, slow down." He chuckled at your eagerness, but you brushed off his words. Sitting up to unbuckle his pants, tugging them down his thighs enough so that you could get his cock free. You wrapped your hand around his shaft while he still tried to reach for god knows what on the bed. But his movements suddenly came to a screeching hault when he felt your mouth wrap around his angrily hard tip.

"Oh fuck…" his free hand lifted his shirt slightly so he could get a view of you sucking him off like your life depended on it. "You're gonna suck the life outta me doll."

You just giggled around his cock from his stupid remark, pumping him at a pace that got him so hot he felt like he was gonna nut within seconds. He couldn't handle it anymore, gripping your hair tightly, making you pull off him with a loud audible pop. "Please, Doll." His fingers tangled in your hair as he gave you a long drawn-out kiss, tasting himself on your tongue, before pulling away to say; "If you kept going, I would have came down that pretty throat of yours. And I'd rather fuck you first."

"Okay, Youngie." You gave him a big grin. The alcohol had made you become a gigging mess, laying down on the rug, waiting for him to give you another order. But he finally could grab the pillow he was trying to reach prior. He leans down, giving you another quick kiss while putting the pillow under your head before suddenly grabbing your hips, and rotating you in one swift motion.

"What, you wanna fuck me like I'm famous youngie?" You wiggled your ass in his view, letting him give it a loud sharp slap making your words catch in your horse throat.

"No…" he rubbed your red asscheek, "I'm gonna fuck you like it's my last day on earth."

You groaned into the pillow feeling the harsh burn of his cock sliding into you without prep. Your mind wonders why you never had drunk sex before. Wooyoung was talkative during sex normally, but this… this was different. There was no filter between you two. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just raw emotion.

"FUCK WOOYOUNG!." His hips snapped into you, making you take all his length in one motion. Your screams were buried in the pillow. You were too loud for your apartment. And your neighbours would probably call the cops for a noise complaint any second now. "Fuck fuck fuck, woo, please, hnngg.. shhhiitt.."

His fingers dug into your hips, leaving crescent moon shapes from his nails. There would surely be bruises by the morning, along with bright red marks on your ass from how hard Wooyoung was slamming his pelvis against you. "Fuck baby, you are so tight. Squeezing me so well. Oh my god, I'm gonna come."

He sped up, losing himself from the feeling of your tight, gummy walls. Your throat was burning from your yelps and screams. Wooyoung's high-pitched moans harmonised with you, making a song only you and he could make. "W-w-woo-ooyoung!! What‐fuck…what happened to going s-sloww."

Wooyoung snaked one of his hands under you, pressing his fingers against your clit rubbing at the perfect pace to tip you over the edge. "I lied."

You squirted, coming around Wooyoung's hard cock, making a mess on the carpet and Youngie's thighs. He pulled out of you, needed to catch his breath for a moment. Edging himself. You sit up, pushing him down against the end of the bed, hooking your leg over his delicious thighs, before sinking down on his cock. You gasped at the sensitivity but inched deeper nonetheless. Wooyoung slammed his head back against the bed, feeling himself so close to nutting just from the feeling of your tight soaked cunt around him. "Fuck doll, I'm gonna come. Cream inside your cunt."

"Oh god." You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling yourself climax again. He planted his feet on the ground, fucking upwards into you, spilling ropes of come deep inside your abused pussy. You bit down on his shoulder, silencing yourself from screaming any louder while Wooyoung freely moaned with his head tilted towards the roof. You were definitely going to get a noise complaint from this.

—♡

[into-the-grey]

~Cheerleader~

Noah Sebastian x F!Reader

So I got the idea for this one after seeing the clip of Noah singing Cheerleader on a stream. I couldn't resist the idea, I have no idea if it's been done, but here we are.

Warnings: Smut, P in V (PLS wrap it up), Oral (both kinds), handjob, fingering, a couple lil spanks, some dirty talk, some embarrassment, kitchen sex, costumes, chores, Fall Guys, and amazon two hour delivery.

WC: 4.9k

Fic Masterlist

Taglist: @anything-more-than-human @blend-in-with-the-madness

Noah had been streaming for about an hour, and clearly he was in a good mood. Despite his cries of anguish and frustration, he was having a good time playing Fall Guys. The game was a pain in the ass, and a lot more difficult than people gave it credit for, but it was an easy game to stream and it was fun.

While Noah prattled away to his chat audience, Reed made herself busy around the house. She had been doing chores for most of the morning, finally getting through their seemingly never-ending laundry pile. Noah didn't know it, but Reed had his stream playing on her phone while she listened through her earbuds. His good mood was infectious, and it was great white noise while she cleaned the house.

Reed also enjoyed the music he played while he gamed. Noah had an eclectic taste in music, something Reed had always loved about him. His playlist today matched his upbeat demeanour, making her smile as he hummed along to the tunes.

As she folded the last of his pants, Reed picked up the now full basket of washing, heading back upstairs to deliver the clothes. Noah had a smile in his voice as he spoke, chuckling about something someone had said in the chat.

As Reed walked up the stairs, Noah began to sing along to his music. His sweet voice echoed down the hallway, just audible through her earbuds as she got closer to the room.

She paused, turning down the volume on her phone and standing outside. She giggled to herself while she watched him through the crack in his door. Only just able to see past his green-screen, she saw Noah dancing in his seat, bopping along to the chipper song while he sang.

'Oh, I think that I found myself a cheerleader, she is always right there when I need her...'

Reed smirked, quietly entering the room and placing the basket on the bed. She was hidden behind his green-screen, and Noah hadn't noticed her. He was too busy telling the chat how he hadn't been paying attention to the game.

Reed picked up a pair of rolled socks from the top of the basket, mischievously tossing them over the green screen panel and watching them fall on Noah's shoulder, rolling into his lap.

'Hey!' He called out, turning in his chair. He peered around the panel, seeing Reed standing with a cheeky smile.

'What?' She asked sweetly.

'Don't be throwing shit at me, I'm trying to win here!' He told her with a laugh.

'Oh, I'm sorry, should I crack out the Pom Pom's and a miniskirt? Maybe do the splits?' She shot back with a matching smile.

Noah's eyes widened, his hand covering his microphone, the game quickly forgotten. His fingers wrapped around the top of it like it was a toy, forgetting about the mute button while he tried to muffle the sounds of his curiosity.

'You have a cheerleader outfit?' He asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

'I have Amazon prime and free two hour delivery,' Reed said with a shrug. Noah knew the glint in her eye meant trouble, but it was trouble that he absolutely wanted to get into.

'Do it, I dare you.'

'Cute that you think I won't,' Reed laughed. 'But how about we make this interesting?'

'Oh no...'

Reed sauntered over, bending to meet his eye while he kept his hand over the microphone, his other hand hovering in front of his face, his fingers closed around nothing. Neither of them cared that the camera could see this exchange. If anything, Reed wanted the viewers to see, knowing they would keep bringing it up and driving him nuts throughout the stream.

Lowering her voice, Reed spoke in a hushed tone, practically purring. 'I'll make you a deal, if you win a game of Fall Guys, I'll wear a cheerleader outfit for the rest of the day. I'll even order one right now, just so it's ready if you win.'

Noah stared into her eyes, unable to find a hint of a bluff. His mouth opened and closed a few times, dumbstruck.

'Think you can do it?' She said, smirking, her face nearing his.

'I think this is about to be the longest stream of my life...' he breathed, 'I'm not quitting til I win. Go and order the outfit.'

'Good luck,' Reed said, leaving him with a quick peck on the lips.

As she left the room, she pulled her phone from her pocket, turning up the volume on his stream. With the delay, she caught the muffled sounds of Noah telling her to order the outfit. The chat was in a fit, trying to decipher the conversation.

Reed watched as her own face disappeared from the screen, grinning as Noah's cheeks flushed red.

'Uhm, okay, new plan, this stream ends when I win. Settle in y'all, we might be here a while.'

Laughing softly to herself, Reed quickly opened Amazon, rush-ordering a skimpy cheerleader costume. She made her way back down to the lounge, continuing with her pottering while she waited for the delivery and listening to Noah's renewed need for victory.

***

The costume arrived early, turning up an hour after Reed ordered it. As soon as she opened the small box, she sent a picture of the costume in its packaging to Noah, adding a silly cheer chant for good measure.

'Let's go No-ah, Let's go! x'

Switching to twitch, she perched herself on the end of the kitchen bench, watching him as he picked up his phone.

His eyes skimmed over the message, a smile blooming on his lips as he chuckled.

'I'm getting messages from my cheerleader,' he told the chat. 'I think she's watching the stream.'

Grinning, Reed switched apps, sending him another text message.

'I can motivate you in other ways too...'

Skimming through her photo album, she found a picture she had been saving for this exact kind of moment. A picture she had snapped after a shower, only her arm covering her top half, her bottom half obscured by steam.

Sending it to Noah, she swiped back to twitch and waited. She heard his phone buzz on the desk, and his eyes flitted to the screen. Quickly, he opened the message. His eyes practically bulged out of his head as he rushed to lock the phone and cleared his throat.

'Alright chat, after this round we're gonna take a quick break, I need a refill,' he said, holding up his glass and trying to regain his composure. He glared down the barrel of the camera, and Reed knew that look was meant for her.

Giggling softly to herself, she grabbed the costume and hopped off the bench, strolling down to his room. She quietly entered, hiding behind the green screen again as she made her way onto the bed. Silently, she took her earbuds out, putting them into their case. She placed the case and the costume in the laundry basket, moving the basket to the floor before crawling onto the bed and laying on her stomach, watching him play.

It didn't take long for the round to be over. Maybe ten minutes. As his little bean character returned to the matchmaking lobby, Noah told his viewers that he would be back. He muted his microphone and switched the display to a waiting screen before he turned in his chair, jumping as he spotted Reed smiling at him from the bed.

'Are you trying to kill me?' He asked, gesturing to his phone with a bewildered smile.

'I might be,' she said, her voice honey-sweet as she batted her eyelashes at him. Reed sat up, stepping over the laundry basket and standing in front of him. 'What can I say? It's fun to watch you squirm...'

Noah stood, taking his headphones off and leaving them on the chair before grabbing Reed's hips.

'You are going to drive me insane, woman.'

'That's the goal,' she told him, grinning as one hand slipped between them and cautiously caressed the front of his sweatpants. She could feel him stiffening in her hand, smirking as he groaned at her touch.

'Baby... that's not fair...' he breathed, nosing into her hair. The sweet floral scent of her perfume filled his senses, making him melt into her.

'Who said anything about fair, lover?'

'God, I hate you,' Noah groaned, running his hands up her sides, her shirt lifting with his fingers, and rolling his hips to grind himself against her palm.

'Do you?' She murmured. Her teasing tone was heaven, and he wanted more.

'No, not in the slightest,' he sighed, nipping at her neck.

'Good, because otherwise I'd have to take my costume and find some other poor twitch streamer to harass.'

'Don't you dare,' he snarled, his hands tightening on her waist, pulling her tightly to his chest. His lips trailed lightly over her skin, leaving soft kisses as he made his way from her neck to her lips.

'I love you too, baby,' Reed chuckled as he captured her lips with his.

One of his hands shifted, raising to caress her breast under her shirt, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he chased her tongue. Reed slipped her hand into his boxers, wrapping her fingers around his length and stroking him.

'Fuck, Reed, I'm still streaming,' he breathed against her lips.

'They can't see us.'

'I can't take too long,'

'So don't.'

A soft moan left his throat as Reed quickened her strokes, precum leaking down his shaft and smearing under her fingers. She kissed him as he grunted, his hips rutting into her hand as she found the perfect rhythm to undo him.

'Good boy,' she whispered, 'are you close, baby? Are you gonna come for me?'

A sinful gasp fell from his lips, his fingers tightening on her arms as he leaned into her. His teeth grazed the skin of her neck as he mumbled obscenities, his climax twisting in his gut.

'Fuck,' he whispered, his hot breath tickling her neck as she smirked, feeling him twitching under her fingers.

'I know what you need,' she said, her teasing tone driving him further to the edge. Reed sank to her knees, Noah's hands on her shoulders as he steadied himself. Her lips locked around his tip, her tongue tracing the bottom of his length as she hollowed her cheeks and took him into her mouth.

'Oh god, baby, right there,' Noah groaned, bucking his hips. Reed hummed a soft laugh, the vibrations sending shockwaves through his body.

His fingers tightened on her shoulders, his head tipped back and his eyes screwed shut. Finally, his release hit him, emptying himself down her throat. Reed let his cock slip from her lips, swallowing quickly.

'Good?' She asked, batting her eyelashes.

'Very good,' Noah confirmed, his cheeks red as he breathed heavily. 'But now I really need that drink.'

Reed chuckled, rising to her feet in front of him. 'You clean yourself up, I'll handle the drink. You still have a game to win.'

'Oh, you suck,' Noah said teasingly.

Wiping her thumb over her bottom lip, Reed laughed. 'You liked it, though.'

With a smirk, he kissed her quickly before adjusting his pants.

'I swear, I'll win this game if it's the last thing I do,' he told her. 'You suck, but I love you.'

'Love you too, baby.'

***

Hours passed, the sun dipped low in the sky, and Noah was losing his mind. He had come so close to winning so many times. Every time, he fell just short.

Reed had even offered to call off the challenge, but he was determined. Boys and their games...

Reed continued to keep herself busy until she had nothing left to do but cook dinner. With the way the game was going, she figured Noah wasn't leaving the bedroom anytime soon, so she cooked and brought dinner up to him.

The pair sat and ate, talking to the chat. She saw a few people speculating about Noah's drive to win. Normally, he'd quit after a few failed rounds, but he'd been at this for six hours now.

While Noah picked at his stir-fry, he hummed the tune of cheerleader again. Reed couldn't help but giggle, eyeing the laundry basket.

'Baby, you know you can try again another day, right?'

'Nope. You issued a challenge, and I don't lose.'

'I dunno, seems like you've been losing all day...'

Noah raised his eyebrows, his mouth dropping open as he stared at her. 'You did not just say that to me.'

'And what if I did?'

'Alright! You do it then!' He cried, a laugh in his voice as he offered her the controller.

The chat sped up, watching the exchange.

'If they want me to, I will. It's your stream,' she reminded him with a shrug, pushing a piece of chicken around in her bowl.

As the chat caught up with their conversation, floods of 'yes!' And 'do it!' Filled the stream. Chuckling nervously, Reed speared the chicken, eating it quickly and putting the bowl on Noah's desk.

'Alright, let's go.'

Noah shot her a smug look as she took the controller. Settling into a comfortable position, Reed watched the screen.

She passed the first two rounds with ease, the third round was a little more difficult, and the fourth round she was the last person to qualify.

'You're shitting me,' Noah said, watching in disbelief as she navigated Fall Mountain.

'Baby, I was hyper fixated on this game, remember? I know the strategies,' Reed told him, beaming as she made her way through the obstacles.

As she neared the top, the crown began to drift down, and another bean threw themselves at it.

'NO!' Noah yelled, panicking for Reed.

'Shit! No- wait he missed!' She cried, running for the crown.

The little guy on screen launched for the crown, and suddenly everything froze. Fanfare erupted as the golden victory banner appeared on screen.

'Ha! That doesn't count as you winning, by the way,' Reed laughed, handing the controller back to Noah as the chat filled with laughter and screams of triumph.

'God damn it,' he groaned, 'still, you did good, baby.'

'Exactly, now go forth and do as I did,' she teased.

Feigning offence, Noah raised his middle finger, flipping her off playfully. 'Now I'm super determined.'

'And I'm gonna sit here and watch,' she told him, returning his gesture. 'Maybe you just need your cheerleader.'

'Maybe...'

***

The end was in sight. The timer ticked down, and Noah's little guy had the tail. Only seconds stood between him and victory, but five other people were chasing him and they were closing in.

'Come on, motherfucker, run!' Noah growled, trying his hardest to outrun the horde of colourful beans.

'Ten seconds,' Reed said, leaning forward in her seat. She was just as invested now, wanting to see Noah win.

As he tried to leap from the centre ring onto a platform, he missed the jump, falling down.

'No! No, shit!' Noah yelled, spamming his buttons to get back up. The crowd closed in on him, and he struggled against them. There was no way he was getting out of this one...

'No! Someone's got my tail!' He cried as the 'tail lost' message popped up. The horde was stuck, all piled on top of each other. He began to spam the grab button, hoping for the best.

'Three... two... one...' Reed counted down.

'Fuck!'

As he was about to slam the controller down, the golden banner appeared on the screen.

'What!?' They cried in unison.

Noah's little guy appeared on a podium, a crown dropping onto his head.

'I finally won! I'm free!' He shouted, laughing as he leaned back in his chair.

'You did it!' Reed grinned.

Noah began to bid goodbye to his chat, ending the stream and turning off the Xbox.

'I need to get out of this chair, holy shit,' he told his viewers. 'And I think that my cheerleader might kill me if I don't at least come and help with the dishes.'

'You would be correct, sir.'

Reed waved goodbye to the chat as Noah ended the stream. The moment they were no longer being watched, Noah swung his chair to face her.

'You owe me an evening in a costume, and I think you owe me tomorrow in the costume as well,' he told her.

'Tonight, yes, tomorrow, we'll talk.'

Standing and stretching, Noah groaned.

'You change, I'll take this downstairs,' he said, picking up the bowls from their dinner.

'God, you're so bossy,' Reed teased, standing up and kissing him quickly. Noah grinned as he left the room, leaving her to change.

The costume was tight, and very short. The top was more of a crop top than an actual tank, but it was only a Halloween costume; she was lucky it was more than a bikini top. The skirt lacked any built in shorts, and the fabric felt lighter than it should have. But, the ensemble was surprisingly comfortable, and definitely sexy.

Trotting downstairs, she debated jumping into the kitchen with a cheesy cheer chant, but none sprang to mind.

Instead, she waltzed in, the pleats of the skirt swishing with her hips, and stood in front of him.

'One cheerleading outfit,' she announced, 'you earned it, fair and square.'

Noah grinned, looking her over. The fabric barely covered her ass, and the top had a much lower cut than a real cheer costume, showing a considerable amount of cleavage.

He stepped closer to her, his large hands tracing over her bare midriff.

'Can you wear this every time I win on stream?' He asked, 'after I'm offline, of course.'

'What, you don't want people to see your personal cheerleader?'

'Oh god no, this is for my eyes only,' he told her, a hint of possessiveness in his tone.

Reed chuckled, rolling up onto her toes and pressing a kiss to his lips before rolling her eyes at him. 'If you're so sure about it...'

His hand traced down her body, slipping underneath her skirt and gliding up between her thighs.

'You know, I've always thought your eyes were so pretty,' he mused, his fingers grazing over her drenched panties, 'but I think they're prettier when I make them roll back.'

'Noah!' She admonished, taking a step back from him as she chuckled. He knew she loved a game of cat and mouse, but he'd been tortured enough.

'Say it again, baby,' he purred, pulling her back to him and dragging her panties out of the way. He drew a long stripe through her folds, gathering her arousal and using it to glide in circles around her swollen clitoris.

The sigh that followed was heaven to him, and she gripped hard at his biceps, her body melting into his as she whimpered his name.

'You tortured me all day. You can't seriously think I haven't been planning how to get mine?'

His middle and ring finger sunk into her drenched pussy, earning another beautiful gasp from her. He searched inside of her, curling his fingers against the soft, spongy place deep in her core.

'Oh god, Noah,' she gasped, her cheeks turning pink. 'Baby, the windows,' she managed to stammer.

'So the neighbours might get a show,' he shrugged, smirking as she squirmed on her toes. Her muscles clenched around his fingers while she moaned, her sounds filling the kitchen. He nosed into her hair, nipping lightly at her neck and grinning against her skin as her hands splayed out on the benchtop behind her.

'Oh shit.' Her cheeks flushed, her eyes closing and her head falling back, granting him access to her throat, his free hand wrapping around her neck and pinning her in place. Her chest heaved as she breathed deeply, letting her legs spread further.

'Good girl,' he breathed, his voice low in her ear. Reed practically melted at the sound, her hips bucking against his hand as his thumb swirled over her swollen clitoris. 'All this, just for me?'

She nodded, sighing again as his teeth raked over her throat. Inch by inch, Noah kissed his way up her neck, stopping at her lips and taking her lower lip between his teeth. Her groan had him straining against his pants, eager to sink into her. He'd been craving it all day, but he wanted to rev her up first.

Swiftly, his fingers disappeared from her pussy and his hand left her throat. He presented his fingers to her, her slick glistening on them.

'Open,' he told her, locking eyes with her. She did as he asked, opening her mouth and letting her tongue hang out. Noah let her take his fingers into her mouth, sucking the juices from his fingers the same way she had with his cock earlier in the day. Her soft tongue ran under his knuckles, sending a wave of tingles down Noah's spine.

'Good,' he praised as she gave him his hand back. He stepped closer, reaching down and wrapping his hands around her thighs. In a fluid motion, he lifted her to sit on the bench, crashing his lips against hers. 

Agonisingly slowly, he trailed his lips down her body. She whined as he lifted the top of the costume, sucking her pert nipple into his mouth. With his other hand he slid her panties off, tugging them free from under her ass and letting them drop onto the floor. 

Reed tangled her fingers into his hair, moaning softly as his tongue explored her skin and desperate for him to reach her pussy. Noah noticed her gentle shoves, looking up and grinning at her.

'Do you want something?' he asked, freeing her nipple.

'Noah-'

'Ask nicely, baby,' he teased, taking her nipple into the crook of his thumb and forefinger, pinching it.

'God,' she gasped, 'come on, baby, you know what I want.' 

Noah nodded as he pushed her down on the bench. 'I have no idea what you're talking about,' he said coyly, 'you're going to have to use your words.'

Rolling her eyes, Reed shot a glare at him. Noah raised his eyebrows, staring her down.

'You want to be a brat, huh?' he said, tilting his head and running his right hand down her leg. His hand wrapped around her ankle, lifting it and placing her heel on the edge of the bench, her right leg naturally copying the movement of her left.

'What are you gonna do about it?' she smirked, letting her knees fall open so the skirt danced at the top of her thighs.

Noah huffed a laugh, his arm crossing his body in a flash and snaring her left ankle in his left hand. He lifted her leg quickly, her knee tucking into her chest, and brought his free hand across her ass cheek in a smooth smack. Reed gasped at the sting, her pussy clenching against nothing.

'You want to try again? Use your words, sweetheart.'

'Fucking hell,' she gasped, earning another smack across her reddening ass cheek. Noah smirked at her, rubbing his hand over the inflamed skin.

'Not those ones, they're for later.'

Reed bit her lip as her caressed her, the sting easing under his cool touch. 'Please, baby, taste me.'

'Good job,' he chuckled, easing her leg down and kissing the inside of her thigh. 'Was that so hard?'

'No.' 

Noah could hear the giggle in her voice, smiling as he kissed his way under the skirt and parted her folds with his tongue. The moment he touched his toungue to her swollen nib, her back arched.

'You really wanted it, didn't you?'

'Mhmm,' she hummed, her fingers twisting into his hair again as he returned to his favourite dessert. Writing the filthiest poems with his tongue, he listened to her sounds, feeling her body convulsing beneath him. Every now and then she would breathe his name, or let out a whine.

He slid his fingers back into her waiting pussy, grinning aginst her as she squeaked and groaned. He glanced up, seeing her teeth clamped down on her lower lip.

'You don't need to hold it back, baby, I'm only just getting started,' he told her. 'Go on, let it come...'

Returning his tongue to her clit, her legs clamped over his ears. With his free hand, he gripped her thigh, holding it to his head and devouring her. Her moans were muffled, but after a moment her orgasm began to drip down his fingers while she squirmed against him.

After a moment, she tugged at his hair, begging for a moment to breathe. He smirked as he stood, slipping his fingers out of her and tasting her orgasm.

'You good, baby?' he asked, leaning over her and caging her against the bench, his face hovering above hers. She nodded, her chest heaving.

'So good,' she panted. 'So, so good.'

'Good,' he laughed, kissing her gently. 'Because I meant it, I'm not done.'

She grinned up at him, running her fingers across his cheek lazily. 'I'm so screwed, aren't I?' she asked.

Noah laughed, taking her hand from his cheek and kissing her palm. 

'Abso-fucking-lutely.'

'Oh shit.'

It took him no time at all to free his cock and position it against her waiting entrance. He pushed it lightly, teasing her as the tip begged to slide in, wet with precum.

'Deep breath, baby girl,' he said, tilting his head and smirking down at her.

Reed complied, her lungs filling, and as she breathed out, Noah began to sink into her. Their sighs filled the room as he inched his way in, feeling her stretching to let him in. 

'Oh god,' she moaned, her fingers finding the edge of the bench and clamping down around it.

'God you feel so good,' he said, his eyes closing for a moment and savouring the sensation of her around him. 'Sit up,' he commanded. Reed reached for him, easing herself up and wrapping an arm around the back of his neck to steady herself.

'Fucking hell, Noah.'

'I told you that you'd need those words later,' he grinned sinfully. Her pussy flexed on his cock as he spoke, reminding him of her proclivity for dirty talk. 

Reed grinned, craning her neck to press a kiss to his lips again. Slowly Noah began to roll his hips, drawing himself out and plunging back into her. His hand snaked up her spine, holding her up while his strokes searched for that spongy spot.

'Fuck I love you,' he breathed, raking his teeth over her neck again. 

'I love you,' she told him in return, her jaw falling slack while her body revolted against her, the high racing on already.

Noah grunted while he rutted up into her, his own high chasing hers. She had teased him so much that he was left desperate for another released. She knew how to wind him up, and she'd done a phenomenal job of it all day.

'Come for me, baby girl,' he said, grabbing at her jaw and thumbing over her lower lip. 'Come with me, all over me, I wanna hear you.'

Reed groaned, the smouldering in her pussy becoming a blaze at his words, her orgasm filling her body and her eyes rolling back. Her cries grew louder as the high intensified, Noah's determined thrusts only adding to the pleasure that made her head spin.

Her sounds drove him to the edge, falling over it close behind her. His thrusts began to falter, burying deep into her pussy and staying there while thick ropes spilled out of him. He pulled her into a deep kiss while they came down from their highs, his knees shaking while he leaned against her.

'God I love you,' he breathed, resting his forehead against hers.

'How much do you love me?' She chuckled, her eyes flitting away from his face for a moment.

'I just spent all day getting edged and playing an absolutely bullshit god-damn video game to win you, is that enough?' he asked, laughing and thumbing over her flushed cheeks.

'Maybe, but do you love me enough to apologise to the neighbours?' Reed said, looking to the window again.

Noah paused, following her gaze and seeing the next-door neighbours standing on their second floor balcony. The man's eyes were wide, and his wife's jaw hung open.

'Oh shit.' Noah slipped out of Reed swiftly, adjusting himself in his pants and rushing to close the curtains. His face burned red as he turned to face Reed, his back against the wall. 'When I said the neighbours might get a show, I didn't mean it!' he laughed. 

Reed crossed her legs, cackling at Noah while her own face turned bright red.

'You owe them a gift basket, and we have to move.'

Noah nodded, a sheepish grin on his face.

'Yup. You start looking for houses, I'll see if there's a "sorry we traumatised you with accidental exhibitionism" gift basket.'

'Deal.'

[solarmorrigan]

(a silly little continuation of this post)

No. Hopper takes it back. The worst part is that Eddie actually seems to be good for Steve

It would be one thing if they were terrible together – if they argued and clashed like the opposites they seem to be, left each other in a foul mood or said nasty things to each other (things that would maybe see Steve complaining to Hopper, that would maybe let Hopper go tell Eddie to leave Steve—and by extension, Hopper—alone. Y'know, in a world where Steve would open up to literally anyone about that sort of thing). But they don't. In fact, Steve seems happier than Hopper's probably ever seen him

He's remembering to eat more

It’s not that Steve starves himself, it’s just that he doesn’t seem to remember that he needs to take breaks and have something to eat. But if you put food in front of him, he’ll eat it, and Eddie has apparently put himself in charge of putting food in front of Steve. He keeps packets of trail mix and candy bars and even fruit in his bag or the pockets of his jacket and passes them off to Steve whenever he seems to think it’s necessary

(And yes, Hopper has, unfortunately, noticed that the fruit is most often bananas. “Your favorite,” Eddie had said once, pressing one into Steve’s hand with a smirk that had made Steve roll his eyes, but he had still stood there and eaten it in front of Eddie, and Hopper wishes he could bleach that entire exchange from his mind)

Eddie gets Steve to loosen up in ways he almost never does anymore. Gets him to laugh

They both come in from the cold one afternoon, Eddie without a pair of gloves in sight (it’s freezing, and the idiot is going to lose his fingers, and Hopper catches himself wondering for a moment if he has an old pair of gloves he can throw at the kid) and he proceeds to sneak up on Steve and shove his hands right up Steve’s shirt. Steve makes a noise so high-pitched his voice cracks and reflexively elbows Eddie in the stomach. Eddie doubles over, wheezing out a faint “Son of a bitch,” but then he’s laughing. And then Steve is laughing, turning around to tell Eddie, “You’re such an asshole,” and then they’re both laughing again. (Christ, they’re both idiots)

Steve is always a little on edge around the kids. Always watching, even if he isn't obvious about it. Always ready to step in, even if he rarely needs to

But Eddie seems to take some of that weight off of him – does it pretty well, Hopper will begrudgingly admit. The kids think Eddie is cool (for some reason) and they listen to him when he orders them around like they're pawns in that weird little game they all like to play. And as much as Eddie seems to like encouraging chaos, he also knows when to nip it in the bud – like when Dustin and Mike get into some kind of argument that's about to escalate into a shouting match, and Eddie walks by in time to smack them both in the back of the head and tell them to pipe down, before Steve (or Hopper, for that matter; neither of them are great fans of shouting these days) can move a muscle

It’s during one of the kids’ movie nights, though, that Hopper realizes he’s well and truly stuck with Eddie Munson

Hopper doesn't usually participate in movie nights. Yes, the Hopper-Byers house is always open to any of the kids (younger or older), yes their living room is big enough to squeeze most of them in around the TV, but Hopper tends to leave them to it and sit with the actual adults (meaning Joyce. Sometimes Murray). But El had grabbed his hand and pointed big brown eyes up at him and asked him to stay and watch, so he had. Like after everything that's happened, he's not gonna spend all the time with her that he can? Even if it means shooing at least two teenagers out of his recliner? (Actually, especially when it means shooing teenagers out of his recliner)

Halfway through the movie, Hopper spots some movement on the far end of the couch and glances over to see Steve leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and the heels of his palms pressed into his eyes. One of those bad headaches, Hopper would guess. And then Eddie is leaning forward, too, rubbing a hand over Steve's back and leaning close to say something to him softly enough that it doesn't carry over the sound of the movie

Steve immediately shakes his head and sits back. Eddie purses his lips, seems conflicted, and then turns so he's got his back pressed to the corner of the couch. He tugs at Steve's arm until Steve relents and leans back against him, and with a surprisingly economic amount of shuffling, Eddie's got Steve cradled up against his chest (which only looks a little funny, considering Steve is actually a bit broader than Eddie), one arm wrapped around his waist and one hand covering Steve's eyes, blocking out all the light

It's an immensely vulnerable position, but Steve just fucking melts back against Eddie, the tense lines that are almost always present in his body when he's got a bad headache disappearing over the second half of the movie, until he seems to have fallen asleep by the credits. And Eddie—chronic fidgeter, who can't fucking hold still to save his life—just sits there the whole time, placid as can be, letting Steve sleep

It's terrible

It's goddamn intimacy and trust and the kind of care that Steve bristles at from almost anyone else, and Eddie goddamn Munson gets away with it, and he's really goddamn good to Steve

And Hopper has no choice but to continue putting up with him

(But it could be worse, he guesses. Could be a lot worse)

[the-entitie]

Why didn't you say anything?

Poly TF 141 x sex-demon reader (male intended but has depictions of fem):

A|n: Based on this writer's amazing work and this artist's au. And now this is very long.... I can't just write porn can I? Of well.

Prt:2 is done <3 》》》》》

Be warned I use more Catholic or deamon depiction of our succubus(male) reader, so please expect some body horror esk depictions. Also, the 141 are all in a polycule in this story.

CW: NSFW halfway through after the line break, sex addiction or dependence depicted for reader, threats to health, kind of eating disorder esk, talk of threats/acts of noncon and dubcon to reader (not focused on), polyamory, some talk of religion, why is this so long? And angst??? Ok....

Thinking about being a demon who became the 141's spy. The blood of the damned that ran through you, making you that much more dangerous and that much better at your job.

You fell under the deadly sin of lust, but it's been so many decades that you can't quite remember how you came to be. Maybe reincarnation, maybe you were summoned. It doesn't matter anymore, but it still hindered your intake into the military. You were practically a veteran by the time Price picks you up and drags you into his team.

None of the 141 had ever worked with anyone demonic for an extended amount of time. There had been the call ins and times when they picked up failed missions, but none of them ever really worked with a demon.

Ghost, as a wraith, was the closest any of them had gotten to working with anyone similar to you.

You started out as someone they called to scope out information before a particularly threatening mission. You were just the help, the one they called when they needed a spy. Until they leaned about how every other task force would drop you within a month of calling you thiers.

Price had worried that it was something to do with you or your attitude towards teamwork when he had taken you in, made you one of his men.

That was before he noticed this kind of cycle you would go through. Just when a mission would start, you would pull back. You would separate from everyone, not cold turkey, yet you just wouldn't be present. The training room was one person short, or their would be one less person here on the quieter afternoons he didn't even know this team had.

It was after the missions that you would be more than present again.

You were there again when Soap wanted to run his lycanthopic body to exhaustion just so he could feel just a little more human with the pains it brought. When he was hyper, feeling like he needed to move, you were there to shove him. Drag him into a game of tag or chase or anything to help him move. Soap has never been good at sitting still.

When Gaz needed to be called from the purch he picked to preen his damp or irritated feathers on that was away from the busy noise of the base. Or when his Avian blood told him to take to the sky, you were happy to be taken for a flight or watch him loop around, watch him stretch his wings, across the star splattered skies.

And there you were outside with the nocturnal Ghost, saying you didn't need the sleep most nights and got bored. Even when his form would flicker, tendrils of shadows lashing around his open skin, something that made most run. You stayed with him, hummed a tune you can't remember the origin of, in a language probably only those as old as you would remember.

When Price was struck with phantom pain, when he would feel this pang on his wing only to realize it was from the one that didn't exist anymore. You were there with him. Happy to share a cigar with the smoke that smoldered was neither from his drag nor you. There to sit and fill in paperwork long into the night shift, to just exist around Price when the team was still settling in, or licking wounds.

In the more common areas where Soap would annoy Gaz into another game of cards. You were there to keep the peace.

It had taken Price longer than he was willing to admit to know what was going on. It wasn't some manipulative, carrot and stick, trick no. And it almost seemed like you hadn't consciously been doing it. Before it clicked.

You were a demon, a succubus, to be specific. You fed off of the emotion or the intent of sex.

And you only got that when you needed to get someone to talk. You only lean into it when it's needed for a mission.

He honestly felt stupid, like a leader that failed, but he was quick to right that failure. It wasn't like this team didn't run off and blow off steam together or that they left soap to struggle through his heat alone, nor did they leave Gaz to sit and brood alone. None of that.

And if you were a part of his team, this team, then you can't be starved. Can't be left to weaken, to crave, no. Price wouldn't stand it.

So he talked to the team. Told them his theory, his plan to fix it, and when the team had gotten over the hurt of leaving you alone and weak. They jumped at the opportunity.

Starting small.

Being more openly affectionate around you, never quiet reaching out but still letting the emotions linger.

Those play fights that Ghost would tap out of suddenly just kept going, and those thick visceral emotions none could quiet place the origin of; would hang so heavy in the air you could practically catch it between your teeth.

Those days Gaz would pull back, preen his wings alone; became fewer and far between. Now, the nearest team mate had a lap full of fluffled up wings and pleading eyes. And could Gaz use those honey coated eyes of his to glance up through his lashes and beg.

The quiet chuckles and this ever so pleased emotion would wind around Price's incisors, a satisfied thrill of the dragon flooding a palpable semblance of the satisfied job.

Price started talking about to the team, and they started trying to be more connected, more present, with you so you could have that nourishment. And if that meant that private room doors were left ever so lightly ajar during late nights spent with each other. No one mentioned it.

Soap was the first to notice the actual change.

Your eyes would flicker, puplis vibrating softly before it was shut down, and you would disappear. Or you would actually pull back. He was also the first to tell Price. And thier leader waisted no time.

"You good there, lutenent?" His voice calls softly into your quarters.

"All good Cap."

"Not so sure about that one soldier." Price presses on, taking a step further in to push the door more closed, "You don't play well with this team?"

"No, I have no qualms with any of you. Sorry if it seemed so."

"Ya do always talk so proper like you know?"

"Apologies, old habits."

Price steps closer, easily taking the space offered my your open thighs. Letting that simmering feeling flush his skin.

"Maybe we should start making new ones. What do you say, Sugar?"

His hand hovered just over your throat, careful to keep you feel safe. Price of all people knows what a demon can do when cornered, and it wasn't like he wanted you to feel put off.

He sees what Soap saw, just as his palm cups the edge of your jaw, your pupils flicker. Body dropping almost leaning agaisnt him.

"Why didn't you say something, Suguar?"

"Not of my use in this team."

"You don't need to be useful to eat." He sounded almost angry, calming all the more when you do lean into him, "you never need to earn a meal. Just ask. We all want to help."

That night, he let you ride him.

Laid back against your bed, held your weight by your thighs, and let you set the pace. Even if he was so hard it hurt, or if your dark lion-esk tail would flick across the sensitive inside of his thigh. Or when he's come twice and is practically drooling before he notice just how much more like your kin you look.

He doesn't stop you from flicking a forked tongue over the overwhelmed tears, he only noticed the change at the hitch of your breath when Price tangles his scared hands in your hair. Accidently tracing the curving rams horns that has twisted around your more pointed ears.

Singing your praise, even as you tried and failed to explain that you don't matter in this, just his pleasure.

He shut that down real quick.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Oh my golly I just thought of this neow hear me out. So it’s obvious that Alastor doesn’t care about others personally space but he cares about his own, so what if reader hates hates HATES being touched and they keep to their own space well what if Alastor always gets to close to them literally face touching face. Reader tries to lick his face yes at first he is disgusted but then later on it’s becomes a game between the two. Now one day Alastor is yet again in readers personal bubble and reader as a warning tries to lick/bite him again but what is Alastor just grabs their face, turns it to the side, an licks a long strip across their face… reader sits there then is fuming!!!! Then it turns into a casing game. (For the sake of the story let’s say reader also has shadow powers somehow) ANYWAYS I thought is was a little funny but if you find it totally weird please ignore LOVE YOUR WORK BY THE WAY💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖❤️❤️❤️

It's so DISGUSTING I LOVE IT ❤️ Like nasty little kids so fucking hilarious

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: SPIT, NASTY

Description: 👆⬆️

Alastor may have started this but you're going to finish it

From the moment you guys wake up then you both are on edge, knowing it's gonna be 👅 on sight when you see each other

Alastor hates losing so he's ready to put up one hell of a fight, using every dirty trick he can think of

But he's pushed your personal boundaries too many times for you to let it go now, you're in it to win it

You both are so equally disgusted but childishly stubborn about it, neither willing to submit

Sometimes someone will enter a room just to see two racing shadows and hear wet licking noises

"You BASTARD that's DISGUSTING!! Your mouth smells like blood!"

"Really dear, you should see someone about your excess saliva problem. I'm surprised you haven't drowned."

Okay I'm just gonna close this door-

It's to the point where the others in the hotel are scrambling to get away from you guys in fear of getting drawn into your weird little game

Except Niffty of course

She lets herself in on the game

But she doesn't get that it's just between you and Alastor and ends up terrorizing the others

Charlie and Angel just put up with it, Niffty is too cute to stay mad at~ Yes she is~

Vaggie and Husk have had ENOUGH

Not everyone banding together to finally put an end to the licking war between you and Alastor

NOT YOU AND ALASTOR MAKING A TRUCE TO TAKE THE OTHERS OUT OF THE GAME

You and Alastor refusing to look each other in the eyes after picking all that fur out of your teeth and him coughing up a hairball

Fucking Husk and Angel Dust

Honestly this probably lasts a full month before it's out of your systems and you two have come to an understanding

He'll be more mindful of your personal space and you'll NEVER put your tongue on him again

I hope this makes you laugh!! I thought it was a pretty funny idea

[softonshanks]

Real man

Word count: 2100 Characters: Shanks x female reader Plot: Everybody always had the time of their life on the Red Force at night, but Y/N tonight seems sad, even if she usually dances all night. The crew is concerned about her behavior and Shanks tries to investigate: he finds out that she is heartbroken because her boyfriend left her. He tries to console her: one day the right man, a real man, will come and love her as she deserves. But what if he's that man?

Author’s note: Honestly? I’m in love with how this turned out, but I am mortified about the length. Words just kept flowing out of my fingers and I couldn’t stop. I hope you enjoy this as much I enjoyed writing it, even if it’s a bit sad. Also, there are references to a bit of age gap (imagine late twenties – early forties), I hope no one will be concerned or offended. Let me know if you like it and as always, english is not my first language, so I apologise if something is wrong. 

The deck of the Red Force was alive with music, laughter, and the clink of tankards filled to the brim with rum. The crew swayed and stumbled in time to the music, their voices raised in raucous cheer. It was a scene Shanks had orchestrated countless times before—a night of celebration, letting loose under the stars, sailing with nothing but freedom on the horizon. But tonight felt different. Y/N sat apart from the crowd, her back against one of the ship’s sturdy masts, knees pulled up to her chest. Her gaze drifted over the crew as they danced and shouted, lost in their revelry, but her heart wasn’t in it. She clenched her tankard in both hands, staring into the dark liquid inside it as if it might hold some answers, something to make her feel better and fill the hollow ache inside her.

But it didn’t.

“Oi, Y/N!” Yasopp called from the center of the party, swaying slightly with a grin on his face. “Where are you hiding? You’re the true queen of parties!”

Shanks was beside him, his arm slung lazily over the sniper’s shoulder, his laughter booming across the deck. “She’s probably nursing that drink,” Shanks called out, his voice teasing. “Last time she got lucky, but deep down she knows she can’t outdrink me!”

“Still can’t accept that you are not the best drinker on the ship, eh Shanks?,” Benn teased him, as he took a long drag out of his cigarette.

That had been the game—Y/N and Shanks facing off in drinking contests, him always so sure that he’d win, and her always proving him wrong. Despite her small frame, she had a resilience, a fire inside her that burned bright enough to match his. But tonight, that fire was dim. Y/N forced a weak smile and raised her tankard half-heartedly in their direction, but she didn’t get up. Yasopp caught the look in her eyes, his grin fading slightly, and nudged Shanks in the ribs.

“Something’s off,” Yasopp muttered, lowering his voice. Shanks watched her more closely now: the tension in her shoulders, the way her gaze kept drifting out to the horizon instead of to the party. He’d noticed it earlier, how she had been quieter, distant, her usual sharp retorts and bright laughter absent from the night, but he thought it was just a moment, a sudden tiredness that had momentarily slowed down her tireless spirit.

He crossed the deck, his noisy flipflops on the wood, stopping just in front of her. She looked up, eyes glassy with unshed tears, and tried to smile again, but it faltered. 

“Mind if I join you?” Shanks asked, his voice softer now.

Y/N shrugged, scooting over to make room. He sat beside her, his larger frame casting a long shadow over her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the noise of the party feeling oddly distant despite being just a few feet away. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “You should be out there,” he said, nodding toward the party. “Dancing. Drinking. Outdrinking Yasopp and me of course, even though I’ll never admit it.”

Y/N managed a small smile but didn’t turn to face him. “Not tonight, Captain.”

Shanks frowned. He wasn’t used to this side of her. Y/N was always the one pulling others out of their funks, the one who lit up a room with a laugh that could make even the most serious men crack a smile. He hated seeing her like this—quiet, withdrawn, a far cry from the lively woman he had grown to care about far more than he should have. Shanks tipped his head back, looking at the stars, then glanced sideways at her. “So,” he began, keeping his tone light, “you planning on moping all night, or are you gonna tell me what’s got you looking like Benn stealing your last glass of rum that time?”

She let out a short, humorless laugh and shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing if it’s making you sit out a party,” Shanks said, nudging her with his shoulder. “Come on, spit it out.”

Y/N bit her lip, her fingers tightening around the tankard. For a moment, she hesitated, unsure if she wanted to let the words spill out. But Shanks was patient, his presence warm and steady beside her, and finally, she sighed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Jim broke up with me,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible above the wind.

Shanks raised an eyebrow. “That idiot? I should’ve thrown him overboard the first time I saw him”. He tried to keep his usual calm tone, but his voice was hardening despite his attempt to stay calm.

Despite herself, Y/N let out a small laugh. “He was… charming. At first.”

“Charm doesn’t make up for being an asshole,” Shanks said bluntly. He paused, his tone shifting into something more serious. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

Y/N hesitated, then sighed again, looking down at her hands. “He said I wasn’t enough for him. Said I was too… childish. That I didn’t know what it meant to be in a real relationship, not serious enough for true commitment. Said I wasn’t worth the trouble.”

Shanks’ face darkened, a rare flash of anger crossing his features. “He doesn’t know a thing about you. You’re better off without him.”

“That's perfect, 'cause he dumped me,” she said, her voice cracking just slightly at the end.

Shanks knew Y/N had been seeing this guy, a merchant, if he remembered correctly – in one of the port towns of the Island they were staying. Tall, good-looking in that clean-cut, boring sort of way. He had never liked him, though he hadn’t said anything to Y/N about it. He watched her leave the ship when they had free time, saying she was going to see him. For two months straight, he always greeted her with a smile, but his feeling were a different story. She’s young, he used to tell himself. She’s just like you when you were younger, she should be having fun. You are just her old captain. Let her be.

Now, knowing what had happened, he felt a surge of anger. He wished he had told her sooner that he knew that guy was no good for her. But the inability to tell if his instinct were right as usual, or if this time jealousy had won him over, forced him to stay silent. Shanks felt a hot burst of fury in his chest. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep it from showing, but it was there—sharp and sudden. 

“That idiot doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about,” Shanks said, his voice rougher than he intended. “He’s blind if he can’t see how lucky he was to be near someone who is joufyll like you. If he can’t handle you living your life on your own terms, then he’s not worth the salt in his veins”.

Y/N’s lip trembled, and she looked away quickly, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I know, I just… it just feels like… like maybe there’s something wrong with me. My parents used to tell me too, you know” she said, making the alcohol in her glass dangerously move. “You’re too loud,” she tried to emulate the disappointed tone of her mother’s voice, after having chugged all she had in her glass. “You can’t take life seriously,” she repeated once again, feeling her mother’s stare on her. Y/N took the half empty bottle of rum Shanks had in his hands, pouring the dark liquor in her tankard once again.

Shanks felt a pang in his chest, seeing her like this. She was always the one laughing, teasing, strong in a way that made the world seem lighter just by being in it. Seeing her doubt herself—seeing her hurt like this—made him want to punch something, or better yet, find that merchant and make him regret ever crossing her path.

He wanted to maker her feel better again, so Shanks tried for levity, leaning back on his elbows with a sigh. “Sounds like you dodged a cannonball to me you know,” he said, his voice dipping into that easy, familiar drawl. “Can you imagine? Spending your life with a man like that? He’d probably make you wear fancy dresses and drink tea at noon. You'd be already asleep at this hour”.

Y/N let out a snort of laughter, despite herself, but it quickly turned into a quiet sob. She pressed her hands to her face, shoulders shaking, and Shanks’ heart twisted in his chest. He hated seeing her like this—so small, so vulnerable. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch light but firm. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentle now, the teasing gone. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have joked about it. You know me, I can’t take life seriously either,” tried to joke once more.

She shook her head, lowering her hands from her face, smiling to him through tears. “No, it’s not that, I’m fine”, she explained, watching the look of concern growing on Shank’s face. “Seriously, I’m fine. I knew it wasn’t going to last, I just…” she stayed silent for a second, trying to gather the right words. She tried to catch breath, trying not to hate herself more than she was already doing. First, the thing with that idiot, now this: crying in front of her Captain, looking so weak and so…so ugly, with her eyes red, the snot coming out of her nose, the puffy face. She started slowing down her breath, but this was just too much so she let another deep sob escape her.  

Shanks’ hand lingered on her shoulder for a moment longer, then slid down her arm until their fingers brushed. He hesitated, torn between the urge to comfort her and the gnawing uncertainty that had been eating at him for weeks—his feelings for her, the tension between them that he had tried to ignore. Shanks felt a knot tighten in his chest. Of course, that dumbass wasn’t worth it. The man was a fool for leaving her, for not seeing what Shanks had seen in her all along. But how could he say that? How could he tell her what was really on his mind?

He didn’t trust himself to speak, so instead, he took her by the arm, leading her away from the noise and the crowd, past the cabins and down the stairs toward a quiet corner of the ship where they wouldn’t be disturbed. She followed without protest, though her mind was racing. She had never seen Shanks so serious, so intent on something.

Y/N sat down the last step, Shanks let go of her arm and ran a hand through his red hair, exhaling sharply. He leaned against the wall, staring at the ground, his brow furrowed as if he was struggling with something inside of him. She was young and despite her fierce independence, there was a fragility to her that he didn’t want to break. He knew the kind of life he lived wasn’t fair to someone like Y/N—someone who chose this life, but indeed deserved stability, safety, a love that didn’t come with a price. 

He took a deep breath, his gaze searching hers. “Y/N,” he began, his voice rougher than he intended, “you deserve better than some fool who can’t see how amazing you are. You’re strong, you’re smart, and you’ve got a fire in you that no man should ever try to snuff out. You will hurt tonight, but tomorrow you will be fine, and it’s okay. But trust me, please, you don’t have to change for anyone,” the words come quick, like a cascade out of his mouth. 

Then, he placed his arm around her shoulders, keeping her close to him. His chin resting upon her head, her face buried in his chest. Y/N breathing slowed down, finding comfort and warmth in Shanks’ arm. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable, and he felt something break inside him as she quietly whispered something that made him freeze. “I hope I will meet someone as kind as you”. She absent-mindedly let it slip, her brain incapable of being as sharp as it usually was. Between all the emotions she was feeling, all the sadness bottled up inside trying to come out, she wan’t as attentive as always. Shanks couldn’t keep this up—this careful distance he had been maintaining, this charade of just being her captain and friend. Not when she looked at him like that. But he had to. 

“Why does it hurt so much?,” she asked, loosening her grip.

“Because that’s what we do: we feel things,” he told her, feeling uncomfortable as she started slipping away.

“Tell me that it does get better,” she begged him, wiping a tear off her face, in the vain act of regaining some dignity. “Tell me that when you grow up you will feel like you know it, like you have it all figured it out”.

He feels a soft smile coming through his face. 

“No, it does’t”, he realveas passing his now-sadly-free-hand in his red hair. “It’s just a fucking mess, but trust me, it’s beautiful. It won’t be better, but it will be worth it”. 

Shanks starts to move slowly towards the door, about to go out, in desperate need of air or, even better, another drink. He needed to go away, before he’d say – or worst, he’d do – something stupid. Y/N stayed there, smiling and thinking about his answer. As soon as she notices his movements, watching him as he tries to leave, she feels a new wave of sadness hitting her.

“Come back?,” she asks with a wishper, hoping it will be loud enough for him to her her. He turns around, smiling at her softly once again. She signs him to come closer, but he reassures her. “I’ll be here in a few seconds, I am just going to grab something to drink for both of us, alright?,” he asks her, incapable of controlling the tenderness in his voice. She nods and sits on the ground, waiting for him. “Shanks,” she calls again as he takes a step back, once again. “Can you steal a cigarette from Benn for me?” asked, still her voice shaky. He let out a soft laugh, raising his thumbs at her.

Shanks stepped out of the cabin and closed the door softly behind him, taking a deep breath. The weight of the air felt lighter out here, away from Y/N’s sorrowful gaze, but the ache in his chest didn’t lessen. He ran a hand through his messy red hair, shaking off the vulnerability that had started creeping in while he comforted her. Who would have thought this was were this night was going: he thought that he could just get drunk and have with her and the crew what they usually do but no, that idiot had to break her heart and now there she is, crying and aching, while he tempts to console her, carefully trying to not let his feeling take the best of him.

"Alcohol. Need some alcohol," he muttered to himself as he came on the deck again, the clamor of voices suddenly filling the air.

“Oi, Captain!” Lucky Roux called out from where the crew had gathered. His cheerful face was now lined with concern, and the others around him were equally somber. “How’s Y/N doing? Is she alright?”

“Yeah, we saw you and her heading under the deck before,” Yasopp chimed in, leaning against the railing, arms crossed. “What’s going on with her? I told you something was off tonight”.

Shanks sighed, stopping in his tracks. He could feel the weight of his crew’s eyes on him. His men were like family, and they cared about Y/N just as much as he did. Keeping things from them wasn’t really an option. Still, this wasn’t something he wanted to dive into.

“She’s... well, it’s about that boy she’s been seeing,” Shanks said reluctantly, scratching the back of his neck. “Broke things off. Hurt her pretty bad.” The crew’s reactions were immediate. Yasopp let out a low whistle, “That bastard,” Roux cursed under his breath.

They were all pissed, Y/N wasn’t just someone on the ship, she was like their little sister, and her pain was their pain. It had been a year now since she joined their crew. Since that moment, they all felt like the fun and laughter, the alcohol and the joy, had doubled – she worked some trick on them, making them feel as if they were all back in their late twenties. 

Roux clenched his fists. “We should teach him a lesson. No one messes with our crew, especially not Y/N.” Shanks held up a hand, his tone even but firm. “No need for that. It’s over. And she needs time, not more trouble,” explained, as Y/N’s heartbreak had become the crew’s problem now, too.

As the others turned to leave, Benn Beckman approached, leaning casually against the doorway, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. His eyes were sharp, more knowing than most.

"Shanks," Benn called softly, making sure no one else could overhear. 

“Oh you were just the one I was looking for, I need a cig,” Benn raised his eyebrow confused, as Shankes added also his matches in his request. 

“It’s for her,” he explained. Benn gave him what he needed, shaking his head with a soft smile, thinking about the first time Y/N confessed him she didn’t smoke, she was just endlessly smoking her last cigarette.

Shanks and Benn had been friends for so long that words weren’t always necessary—but when they were spoken, they were always heavy. He stopped and met Benn's gaze. "What are you going to do about it?"

Shanks knew exactly what Benn was asking. He wasn’t talking about getting Y/N this cigarette or offering her some comfort. He was asking about the truth Shanks had kept buried for so long. The truth about how he felt about her. 

Shanks' smile faltered for a moment, a rare crack in his usually carefree demeanor. He shifted his weight, feeling the familiar flutter in his chest whenever he thought about Y/N as something more than just a crewmate. He rubbed his thumb along the rim of his glass, his tone softer now. “Nothing she needs right now,” he replied, looking off into the distance as if that might provide some clarity. “She’s hurt, Benn. She doesn’t need more complications”. Benn’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t press further. He understood Shanks better than anyone, even when the red-haired captain didn’t fully understand himself.

Shanks sighed, feeling the weight of Benn’s words but knowing there wasn’t an easy answer. “She’s hurting now,” he continued, “The only thing I care is to make her feel alright as soon as I can”.

“And what about you?” Benn asked, his voice a low murmur, almost swallowed by the sound of the waves against the ship. “When will you be alright?”

Shanks didn’t respond immediately, his gaze lingering on the closed cabin door where Y/N waited for him. “She’ll be alright,” he repeated, turing away to head back to Y/N with a bottle of rum in hand, the truth hung heavy in the air between them, unspoken but undeniable. Benn watched him go, the cigarette still burning between his fingers, his eyes knowing and weary. He knew Shanks could lie to the crew, and maybe even to Y/N. But lying to himself? That was another battle entirely.

She’ll be alright and it will be worth it, Shanks repeated himself, softly smiling. When he returned, Y/N looked up at him with those same tear-streaked eyes. And for a brief moment, as he sat down next to her and handed her the cig, he wished that for just once, he could tell her everything. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not when she was already broken. So instead, he smiled, taking a long swig from the bottle, and mentally vowed to stay by her side. Even if it meant keeping his feelings locked away, just a little while longer.

She lit the cigarette taking a long drag, Shanks watching her with a bit of amusement.

“Remember that I’m letting you smoke under the deck just because this is an emergency,” he tried to lighten the mood once again, while taking another sip. She nodded, puffing out the smoke, “so, when are the rest of the guys going to kick Jim’s ass?,” she casually asked. Shanks turned to her, “I heard what they were saying on the deck, they’re not exactly quiet you know,” she explained, “Remind me to say thanks to Roux for wanting to step up for me and defend my honor,” she laughed, while grabbing the bottle and pouring her some.

“You’re smiling a bit,” Shanks noted relieved. “Are you feeling a bit better?” Y/N nodded. 

“Knew that drinking would have helped you,” he joked.

“Maybe it’s the drink,” she repeated. “Or the cigarette,” she took another drag while Shanks drank a bit more. “Or the fact that whenever I am around you, I can help but laugh,” she added smiling once again, Shanks’ heart skipping a bit for what she had just said. 

“Thank you, I will never thank you enough for this,” she turned to face him, moving towards him, resting – with no warning – her head on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry I kinda ruined the party’s mood tonight,” she continued, finding comfort once again in the cigarette. 

“Well, you can’t always be the life of the party, can you?,” Shanks joked, incapable of stopping himself to enjoy the closeness they were sharing. Before she could speak once again he signed her to be quiet, “I want that to be very clear: you haven’t ruined anything. You felt hurt, it happens. I hope you know that it’s not your fault”, she nodded.

“I truly mean it, Y/N. He was not worth your time or your energy. I think you have shed more tears for him than he deserved. I don’t want to see you cry again,” he said, caressing her puffy cheek with his thumb, “unless if it’s about Benn stealing you last drink again”, he tried to make her smile again. The feeling of her soft skin under his calloused fingers reminded him once again the truth he was trying to avoid: she was a fragile thing, he need to be careful with her.

“You will find a true man who will take care of you,” he added while he stood up to set some distance between them. 

“Can you hug me again before you go?”. Shanks froze, her words hanging in the air. He hadn’t planned on leaving just yet, but her request for another hug—it was the way she said it, the vulnerability in her voice—it almost unraveled him. Turning back to her, he hesitated only for a moment before sitting back down, opening his arm. She nestled into his chest, her small frame fitting perfectly against him. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

“I ruined your shirt,” she said noticed the stain she caused with her cries.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked, looking her in those big eyes, still a bit red for the emotional turmoil of the night. She nodded.

“Then it’s fine,” he answered nodding his head in disbelief, as if he could care about a damn shirt. 

“Was it worth it?”, she asked suddenly, her tone quiet yet meaningful. Shanks froze for a moment, taken aback. She had repeated his own words from earlier, the ones he had spoken to try and reassure her. Shanks felt his breath hitch slightly. He gently pulled away, giving her a bit of space, though he kept her hand close, his fingers barely brushing against hers, reluctant to lose contact. The look on her soft face was sending his mind into shambles, and suddenly, the air between them felt impossibly thick, each breath heavy with everything left unsaid. His lips parted as if to say something, but the words seemed to falter on the tip of her tongue. Shanks’ heart pounded in his chest, louder than anything else, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her—how her eyes still held that same vulnerability, but there was something else now. Something more. 

“You are always worth it,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. She blinked up at him, her expression softening as she leaned in just a little closer. “I’m glad,” she whispered, her gaze flickering to his lips for the briefest of moments. It was enough for him to notice, to feel that pull again—the one that told him he was dangerously close to crossing a line. But it didn’t feel dangerous anymore. It felt right. Tell her. Don’t tell her, let her rest, you will grow over it. Tell her, it will be worth it.

“I—” Shanks swallowed hard, standing up while feeling his throat tighten. “I’ve wanted to say this for a while now, but I wasn’t sure if I should. You’re younger than me, and I know… I know I’m not what people would call a “good man”. But I—”

Before he could finish, she stood up as well, almost facing him. “Shanks,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Don’t”. He froze, his breath catching in his throat, his heart pounding so loud he was sure she could hear it. He knew it: he shouldn’t have let his emotions get the best of him. He should have at least waited until all of this was months behind her. But then she leaned in, closing the distance between them, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that was soft, but filled with a quiet kind of desperation. He didn’t move at first, too stunned by the feel of her against him, until something inside him snapped and he kissed her back, his hand sliding into her soft hair as he pulled her closer. It wasn’t a kiss of passion—it was something gentler, more intimate, the beginning of something that had been waiting for a long time to surface. When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless, Shanks rested his forehead against hers, his heart still racing in his chest.

“I’ll show you,” the words urged to come out of his body, he needed to get this out of his chest. “I’ll show you how you what a real man does when he’s lucky enough to be with a woman like you. Tell me you’ll let me and I will do it”. Please let me.

Y/N smiled, her eyes bright with something that looked like hope, and she kissed him again, a soft peck on the lips, while her hand rested on the side of his face. Their foreheads remained pressed together, breaths mingling as they stood in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Y/N’s fingers lightly traced the side of his face, her touch gentle and reverent, like she was afraid to break the delicate spell between them. Her smile wavered slightly, not from doubt but from the overwhelming emotion of it all—the love she had kept hidden for so long, now finally set free.

"Shanks," she whispered, her voice so soft it was almost lost in the small space between them. "I don't need you to show me anything I haven’t seen already". Shanks closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words settle in his chest. When he opened them again, he looked at her with all the certainty he had in the world. His thumb brushed across her cheek.

“I know this wasn’t the best timing” he whispered back, his voice low and rough with emotion. “But I had to take it off my chest, Y/N”.

Her hand lingered against his skin, her heart thudding in her chest as she searched his face for any sign of hesitation—but there was none. There was only love, plain and simple. It was so clear now, as if it had always been there, waiting for them to recognize it. She caressed his scar, making him shiver due to her gentle touch. He wasn’t used to this. 

For a long moment, neither of them moved, the air between them thick with everything unspoken. And then, in a quiet voice that seemed to crack with vulnerability, Y/N whispered, “I don’t want you to think that I am doing this out of sadness. I’ve always thought this. You. Us – something more than the strong bond we shared before, but I felt so dumb and inappropriate, how was I supposed to—”

Shanks tilted her chin up gently, his gaze unwavering as he leaned in closer, their lips just a breath apart. “It doesn’t matter now,” he murmured. He kissed her again, once again with a slow tenderness that made her melt into him, her body soft against his. His hand slid up to the back of her neck, his fingers gripping slightly as if he was holding on for dear life, afraid that if he let go, she would disappear. But she didn’t, she held him close, her hand still on his cheek, pulling him tighter against her. When they finally broke apart again, Shanks leaned back just enough to look into her eyes, his own filled with an intensity that made Y/N’s breath hitch in her throat. “I meant what I said,” he told her, his voice low but steady. “I want to take care of you. Not because you need it—but because I’ve waited so long before finding someone to love you like you should be loved,” he softly spoke, feeling finally lighter. The weight he was carrieng from six months until now was driving him mad but now, since they kissed, he felt as if he’d been on land for too long and he just saw the ocean again.

“I know we don’t have an easy life, but I told you, I will give you all the love I have in me. But I need you to know if you’re 100% sure about this,” he explained.

“I am,” she smiled. “I know I’ll never find someone who’ll beat my drinking skills,” she joked, her wide wide smile found again, “but I need someone who can keep up, or at least tries to,” concluded with a small laugh. Shanks laughed with her, the thing that made him happy the most is that he finally recognised her Y/N, the sadness seemed to have passed, just like a storm. 

“I will beat your ass tomorrow night, you know that”, he said, hugging her once more.

“I look forward to”.

[operationandre]

andre loves pulling cal’s hair.

it started one time when they were wrestling on andre’s bed. neither of the boys remember how it started, but they ended up with cal straddling andre’s hips and trying to pin him down.

andre got one of his hands free and wanted to flip them over so he could win whatever game they were playing. he knew that pulling at cal’s shoulders was a bad idea; he’d dislocated those so many times in the past that they’d pop out of place with any hard touch. andre couldn’t lift his hips up; cal made sure of that. cal’s legs were pinned at andre’s sides, making him completely immobile.

so andre did the only thing he could think of: yank cal’s hair.

cal immediately lost focus, and andre was able to flip him onto his back. quickly, cal began talking.

“andre, get off. stop, please. i don’t want to do this anymore.”

andre hopped off immediately. he worried that he had pulled out a tuft of blond hair or jerked cal’s neck roughly, but cal insisted that wasn’t the case. andre just accepted it, still feeling guilty in his heart.

they didn’t talk about it anymore after that. well, they didn’t until a couple weeks later when they were making out in cal’s room. cal was being all squirmy and constantly moving around. he avoided eye contact with andre; it made him feel a little too hot.

andre didn’t like that, though. he wanted, needed cal to look at him. he pulled softly at the hair on the nape of cal’s neck, pushing his head up. a soft noise escaped from cal’s throat and his hips jerked forward.

for a moment, andre was surprised, but he soon remembered that one day when they were wrestling and how cal immediately asked to stop after getting his hair pulled. he wasn’t uncomfortable. he was turned on.

now, he yanks at cal’s hair all the time, mostly in bed but also randomly throughout the day. there’s a sense of dominance in the action that andre enjoys, and it’s only made better by the reaction he gets out of cal.