#and let the music just let the music just and this one unwraps a candy and this takes her coat AND IT TAKES HER TEN MINUTES TO TAKE HER

[fear-is-truth]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 — nicholas alexander chavez.

summary — 80’s au. nicholas alexander chavez is popular, rich, spoiled and… annoyingly hot. / wc: 1.7k

tags — f! reader. nothing explicit unfortunately

“You’re late,” Nicholas drawled, idly adjusting the Rolex on his wrist. He sat sprawled in his family’s oversized leather chair as if he owned the goddamn town—and in truth, he pretty much did. A big chunk of it, anyway. Draped in designer clothes, a pastel sweater tied around his neck, he gave you one of his signature smirk. You rolled your eyes and dropped your keys on the side table. “Relax, I had to wait for Cooper to show up,” you replied, nodding toward your best friend, lounged on the couch across from you. “He was running late.”

Cooper waved a hand lazily, one leg draped over the other as he lounged comfortably on the couch. “Blame the photographer for keeping me late,” he said, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair. He didn’t model for the paycheck—it was more of a hobby. The Koch family was just as loaded as the Chavez family. Nicholas let out a low whistle. “Maybe he was just hoping to get some?”

Cooper carefully selected out a piece of hard peppermint candy from the glass bowl and with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the candy at Nicholas, nailing him on the shoulder.

“Ow! What the fuck?” He yelped, rubbing the spot with exaggerated drama. Cooper just lowered his shades again, lips curling into a smirk. You leaned against the armrest, casting a glance at Nic, who hadn’t taken his eyes off you the whole time. He was always like this, soaking in attention like he was born to it. Girls practically fell at his feet wherever he went, but for some reason, he spent more time around you and Cooper than anyone else. Maybe it was because you weren’t interested in feeding his ego.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“So, what’s the plan?” Nicholas asked, unwrapping the piece of candy and popping it into his mouth. “How about we throw a pool party?”

You exchanged a glance with Cooper, who raised an eyebrow. The “pool parties” usually meant a crowd, loud music, and a bunch of people you could barely tolerate.

“Isn’t it kind of late for that?” you hinted, half-hoping he’d change his mind. Nic shrugged, “that’s the point.”

•••

The pool glittered under the soft yellow glow of string lights, and the evening was warm, the kind of perfect summer evening that made it hard to believe anything could go wrong. The air was filled with music, and a few groups of people were already mingling, laughing, and lounging by the poolside.

You stood off to the side, trying not to scowl as you watched Nicholas laughing with a few of the girls who had already gravitated toward him like moths to a flame. Your stomach twisted a little, watching them throw themselves at him, one of them resting a hand on his arm as she laughed at something he said. Nicholas, of course, ate it all up, flashing that blinding white smile that had made him the heartthrob of the town. It was stupid to feel jealous. It wasn’t like you had a claim on him. He was the kind of guy everyone wanted—hot, rich, athletic—practically born to be the centre of attention. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch as they tossed their hair, squeezed their boobs together, leaning in a little too close.

Part of you wished he’d notice you instead.

“Here,” a cold sensation jolted you out of your thoughts. Cooper pressed a chilled can of Cola against your cheek, his lips quirking into a small smile as you jumped.

“Hey!” you protested, swatting at his hand but unable to stop the smile that crept onto your face.

“You looked like you needed it,” he explained, the can still lingering near your face. “Before you set something on fire with that glare of yours.”

“Gee, thanks.” you muttered, wiping the condensation off your cheek, but the smile stayed. “and for your information, I wasn’t glaring.”

“Sure,” Cooper replied, popping open the can and offering the can to you. “If by ‘wasn’t glaring’ you mean staring daggers at those girls who won’t leave Nic alone.”

You sighed as you took a sip, your gaze drifting back to the scene. Nicholas looked like he was having the time of his life, head thrown back in laughter at something one of the girls said. He was always like this—playing up his charisma and humour, making everyone feel like they were the only person in the room, even when he was surrounded by half the town’s prettiest, snobbiest chicks.

“He enjoys the attention, you know,” Cooper said, his voice softer now, more serious. “But it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you mumbled, staring down at the Coke in your hands. The cold can had warmed up a little from the heat of your skin, much like the warmth creeping up your chest from the jealousy. You didn’t want to feel this way. You weren’t even sure when it had started—this weird tension whenever Nicholas was around, the way your heart did a stupid flip whenever he so much as looked at you. He was Nic. Your obnoxious best friend. And yet… it was hard to watch other people throw themselves at him, especially when he seemed to thrive off it.

Cooper glanced back at them, then back at you, shaking his head slightly. “Look, Nic’s… complicated. Okay fine, he can be of a dick sometimes. But when it comes down to it, who’s he spending most of his time with? Not them.” He jerked his head toward the pool, where the girls were practically circling around Nicholas like a bunch of hungry sharks. “You.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mumbled, watching as Nic cannonballed into the pool, causing a water to splash everywhere. He resurfaced with a grin, his hair slicked back, shaking his hair like a wet dog. The girls were in hysterics, of course. Like it was the most hilarious thing in the world. But even as he laughed, his eyes scanned the patio, searching the crowd. And when he spotted you, his grin softened, the playful, cocky expression slipping into something more genuine. He raised a hand, waved at you.

“You’re not still jealous, are you?” Cooper nudged your arm. “No,” you lied, trying to sound casual. But the way your chest tightened told a different story. “It’s just… whatever. I don’t care.”

“Sure, you don’t.” He gave you an “i-know-you-know” smile before heading off to join another group of friends, leaving you standing by the pool. Nicholas swam up to where you were standing and rested his arms on the edge, looking up at you with that infuriatingly charming smirk. Water dripped down his face and chest, tan skin catching the yellow garden lights.

“Having fun?” As if the prick hadn’t just been flirting with half the girls at the party a moment ago.“Sure. Looks like you’re having a great time.” Nicholas chuckled, lowering his voice. “If by ‘great,’ you mean having a bunch of people talk at me while I think about how bored I am, then yeah.”

“Right,” you said, not fully believing him. “Looked like you were really bored.” “Is someone jealous?” Your heart jumped—was it that obvious? But you quickly masked it with a dry laugh. “Of those girls? Please.”

“M’kay, cool. So… you planning on actually joining the party, or just standing there sulking?”

“I’m not sulking,” you bristled, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably. He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Because it kind of looks like you are. Pouty, even.”

You knelt down by the edge of the pool, leaning just close enough to point at his nose. “I’m not sulking,”

“Uh-huh,” he hummed, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You know, you could’ve been in here with me this whole time.” His smirk softened into something more genuine, and for a split second, you forgot all about the other people around. It was just you and him, the water lapping gently against the poolside, the strum of the party fading into the background. Quick as a viper, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and yanking you forward. You tumbled into the pool with a splash, cool water engulfing you.

When you surfaced, spluttering and wiping the water from your eyes, you shot him a dirty look. “Asshole!”

He was laughing, eyes crinkling at the edges in that way that made it impossible to stay too mad. Before you could thump him on the shoulder, he pulled you closer, hands settling on your waist as the water swirled around you. “Told you you should’ve joined me,” with that, just as suddenly as he’d pulled you in, Nicholas leaned down and kissed you. His mouth moved against yours, tender yet insistent, his grip on your waist tightening, pulling you flush against his soaked body. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your palm, as he kissed you like he had been waiting for this moment as long as you had.

Hands slid up your sides, fingers skimming along the curves of your waist before one hand moved to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. The kiss deepened, and he angled his head slightly. Your mind spun as he pushed forward, his tongue slipping into your mouth with a deliberate slowness, exploring every corner with a sensual, languid rhythm. There was nothing rushed about it—he wanted to take his time, savour the taste of you, to tease. His tongue brushed lightly against yours, coaxing a soft gasp from you as your fingers instinctively gripped his shoulders, trying to anchor yourself in the dizzying sensation of it all. Your first tongue kiss was with no one other than Nicholas Alexander Chavez.

When he finally pulled back, it wasn’t by much. His forehead rested against yours, both of you a bit breathless, eyes fluttering open to meet his.

“You’re really not mad, are you?”

part II here

MLIST.  fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[locallibrarylover]

and you are not pretty enough youre not smart enough youre not funny enough youre not deep enough the best years of your life are behind you its all downhill now so sad so sad this is all you came to so sad so sad so sad

[milkteabinniechan]

bath water | hwang hyunjin

part two

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY ☕| m.list

pairing: virgin! hyunjin x afab reader

warnings: oral (f. receiving), some angst, lots of smut, hyunjin is just learning hehe

a/n: this is a continuation of this story. This was a labor of love and I feel personally connected to this so please go easy on me, thank you for reading!

Your phone hadn't buzzed yet. Hadn't rung once. You cleaned your apartment. Twice. You reorganized your closet. You washed your hair. You played loud music. He still hadn't called.

Brrt Brrrrt. Your phone jumped on your desk. Not so gracefully, you leaped to grab it. "Buy one, get one on all hand soap! Now through Sunday." You squeezed your phone in your hand. A goddamn promotion. How evil.

You lay your head on your pillow, slaying arms out wide. Your eyes blur and unfocused, making shapes in the ceiling. You let your eyelids close. Suddenly you were back in that bathtub. Hyunjin's fingers appearing in and out of focus. You could hear the water, you could smell his cologne.

Brrt. Brrrrt. Now you were imagining things. Pretending your phone was ringing. You really were losing it. You glance down at your closed fist, phone inside. The light shone through your fingers. A cute picture of a ferret peeking through, Hyunjin’s contact photo. You shot up from your bed. This was real. 

“Hey…” his voice was low.

“Hey, you…” Your voice was shaking, “what’s up?” attempting to sound casual, you hoped it was convincing enough.

“Not much, just bought some new watercolors, some brushes. They’ve got this great sale going on at…”

Hyunjin continued talking about his day. His voice was chipper, like nothing had happened. He sounded warm, so warm. You clutched your shirt. 

“...what about you?” his voice back in your head. 

“Oh! Not a lot. Just some spring cleaning, ya know.”

Hyunjin paused. “You hate cleaning.” He huffed. You could hear the smirk in his voice. 

The conversation continued like that for a while. A few pleasantries, a few inside jokes. He made you giggle, so hard you would snort, making him laugh too. After a long fit of laughing and funny voices, there was a silence between you. You both sat in it for a moment.

“So…” Hyunjin cleared his throat, “I wanted to ask you something.”

You clutched your shirt again. 

“Do you think I could… paint you again?”

Days later you found yourself at Hyunjin’s apartment again. New plastic sheets on the floor. Neither of you had discussed what happened last time. He just asked to paint. That is all he wanted. You stared down at the plastic. Then up at Hyunjin, taking a deep breath.

“Where do you want me?” you spoke in a clear, confident voice, hands on your hips. A power pose. However, you felt like feathers and cotton candy on the inside, so fragile. 

Hyunjin pulled up some photos on his phone of women with painted stomachs. Beautiful works of art sprawled across skin. Your stomach flipped. Your mouth dried up. 

“Is this okay?” Hyunjin lowered his phone and met his eyes with yours. He had an intensity that shot through you like a bullet. All your feathers and cotton candy would melt away if he stared at you like that for even one more second.

“Of course.” You clasped the hem of your shirt and began to pull up. You expected Hyunjin to turn away, like last time. But he didn’t. He stood right there in front of you and watched. He watched your shirt graze past your stomach, past your breasts, up over your head. Your eyes met his as your shirt fell to the floor. One of your bra straps slipped off your shoulder. Hyunjin reached out and grabbed it, pulling the strap back up.

“Let’s get started.” He turned toward his supplies, unwrapping fresh, unused brushes and paints. You nodded your head and lay flat on your back, plastic crinkling underneath you as you adjusted and moved.

The first brush stroke across your lower abdomen felt exactly as you remembered. The cool paint countered your hot skin. You try your best to steady your breathing, letting out small I’m sorry’s every so often. It was different then the first time, however. Now you could see his face. His eyebrows pressing together in concentration, slightly biting his bottom lip, tilting his head to get the best perspective. You felt heat building in your core as his paintbrush traced lower and lower down your stomach. Your thighs clenched together involuntarily. You willed your body to stop. To not give away the awful, dirty thoughts that were going on inside your mind. You heard Hyunjin clear his throat and set his brush down, maybe to grab a different one. You closed your eyes and tightened your mouth into a thin line. You braced yourself for the soft bristles again, only this time there were no soft bristles. There was skin, fingers dipped softly into watercolor. You would know those fingers anywhere. A thumb ran down your outer thigh, a long streak of paint followed along with it. Then an index finger drew another long, thick line down your thigh. You bit your lip hard, so hard you feared it may bleed. You squeezed your eyes together tightly.

Hold it together. He’s just using a different medium. Don’t get off to this.

Unfortunately, your body was not listening to your brain. Your body wasn’t listening to anything except the feeling of Hyunjin’s fingers against your skin. He ran another paint soaked finger from your knee up to your inner thigh, causing your legs to open in response. You bucked your hips slightly at the sensation of Hyunjin being so close to your core.

“Hyunjinnie…” you moaned softly. A wet spot already forming on your panties.

Hyunjin hooked his paint covered fingers around the hem of your panties, coloring them in purples and blues. He lowered them delicately, exposing just the top of your cunt. He lowered his head and kissed gently, but hungerly. Like that first kiss was going to save him, he bowed his head like praying for a holy light and he had finally found it. 

“I want to taste it.” He spoke deep into your clothed cunt. He wanted to enter the gates of heaven, not just paint the Sistine Chapel.

You lifted your hips and helped pull your panties down the rest of the way, the plastic sheets still crinkling beneath you. Hyunjin grabbed both of your legs simultaneously, bringing them to his chest, so your open, wet cunt was exposed and displayed for him. You watched his eyes, and there it was. That concentrated and intense look that left you vulnerable and unable to move.

He kissed your wet core like the way he used a paint brush. His tongue was innocent at first, giving small licks, waiting for you to open up for him like a flower. The muscle moving like music, so very conscious of every reaction that your body gave him. Then you bloomed for him. You pushed your hips into his face sparingly, not wanting to overwhelm him. This was so new, so fresh. The first push of your hips jarred him slightly, his eyes met yours from between your legs. You could see his smirk again from under your thighs. He drove his face further into you, making you arch your back, the plastic sheet slipping from under your elbows. 

Hyunjin let his eyes roll back as his tongue continued its holy work. Lapping and licking every inch of you. Your lips now swollen at the marvel of his mouth.Your hips were thrusting at a faster speed now, climbing toward your own release. 

“Come inside my mouth.” Hyunjin muffled from inside of you. His breath was hot with each word.

Both of your bodies wet from sweat, you carded your fingers through Hyunjin’s hair and gripped tightly, giving yourself leverage and momentum to ride his tongue harder. The paint on your stomach still wet, dripping down onto the floor. Grinding, grinding, grinding into Hyunjin’s open mouth, you could feel the tense bundle of nerves reaching their climax, you were starting to see stars, you were no longer on this earth, in this solar system, you were something entirely new. 

Your climax held there in the air for a moment. Like you were both floating, just inches off the ground. Paint had spilled everywhere. Hyunijn lifted his head back up, panting and out of breath. Saliva fell from his open mouth, dripping down his swollen lips and chin. He smiles wildly.

“So…” you huffed in between panting breaths, “anywhere else you want to paint me?”

[lanadelnegan]

Hey, I love your writing it’s so good you truly are a phenomenal writer. Anyways, I was wondering if you could do a gym teacher negan x female reader. (She’s a senior about to graduate and she’s been flirting with her teacher and they both feel the same way for each other and one day he decides to break the tension and things just get steamy. Btw I literally adore that you use a daddy kink (you are so real for that). Thank you so much :)

omg thank you so so much!!! and god this sounds insanely hot. i'm such a whore for teacher negan.

Crush - Part 1

Gym Teacher Negan x Female Reader

read part two here

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, *reader is 18*, you catch Coach Negan masturbating, angst, teasing, flirting, sexual tension, teacher x student, part 2 will be 99% smut

Song inspo: Crush by Ethel Cain

"Ya gonna miss me when I graduate?" You ask, reaching for a piece of candy from the bowl on Negan's desk. Class started five minutes ago, but both of you have a tendency to be late.

Negan has been your gym teacher since junior year and the two of you have grown closer over the past two years than any teacher and student should. It's hard to fight the crush you've developed for him, considering his charming sense of humor, ridiculously good looks, and most importantly - how much attention he gives you.

His eyes trail away from his computer screen as he stands, coming around the desk beside you. "Is there a reason you're not in your gym clothes, miss y/l/n?"

"What? You don't like this?" You tease, looking down at your outfit. Your usual attire consists of some jeans and a t-shirt, but this is your last week of high school, so you decided to spice it up and wear a short blue sundress today.

Negan glances down at your body, letting his gaze linger on your breasts for a moment too long as he stands tall in front of you.

"It's a little inappropriate, wouldn't you say so? .... You tryna get some high school boy's attention?" His head tilts waiting for your answer.

"I wouldn't say boy." You take a bite of the unwrapped mini snickers bar in your hand before smirking at him.

"Oh?" His brows raise playfully. "A girl then?"

"No.. gym teacher." You say barely above a whisper as you smoothly lick some of the chocolate off your bottom lip. Your cheeks turn a light shade of pink at your own words.

You've become much bolder since you turned 18 last month, and you aren't missing the opportunity to spend every second flirting with Coach Negan before school is out.

The corner of his mouth raises into a knowing smirk as he stands closer to you, intoxicating you with the scent of his musky, sporty cologne.

"You want my attention, doll? Ya gotta try harder than that." He snatches the candy bar from your hand before popping it into his own mouth and leaving you standing alone in his office.

His loud voice from the gym echoes through the hallway as you make your way to the locker room, replaying his words in your head and changing into your tiniest pair of shorts.

You want my attention? Ya gotta try harder than that.

You tie your hair up in a high ponytail in the mirror, noting the way your oversized shirt and shorts barely cover your ass before giving yourself a pep talk.

"Y/l/n, nice of you to finally join us." He yells as you enter the gym.

You roll your eyes nonchalantly before finding your spot on the court and beginning your stretches.

Negan walks up and down the rows of students as you all stretch and music flows through the speakers of the gym. There's no denying he's the coolest P.E. teacher you've ever had. Not even counting his looks.

When he reaches your space, he makes a point to roam his eyes up and down your body as you stretch. You stare back at him, grinning at the effect you seem to have on him. You can't help but notice the way his dick bounces behind his gym shorts as he walks and you mentally thank the gods that he chose not to wear underwear today.

Your body bends side to side as you stretch, not taking your eyes off of him as he gets closer to you.

"You can do better than that." He whispers lowly.

You're not sure if he's referring to your stretching or his comment from earlier... Ya gotta try harder than that.

Either way, you take it as a challenge and bend over right as he's passing you, touching the tips of your fingers to your toes. Your head turns slightly behind you to see his reaction but he's not looking which only makes you groan with frustration.

"Lucky for you kids I happen to be in a fuckin' good mood today, so rest of class is free time. Just don't get too loud and make me regret it." Negan announces to the class and everyone spreads out, immediately finding their friend groups and beginning various activities.

Unfortunately for you, your only friends in that class are a small group of girls on the volleyball team, and they always play together during free time, leaving you to fend for yourself. You don't mind though because your favorite teacher always keeps you busy.

"Heads up." Negan tosses a basketball in your direction and you catch it easily. "Shoot with me?" He asks.

"Around the world or horse?" You ask, letting him choose which game to play.

"Horse, duh." He answers without hesitation.

"Okay, but let's make it interesting." You suggest and his head tilts curiously. "Every letter you get, I get to ask you a personal question. Like truth.. but with basketball." I explain and he nods his head in agreement.

"You mean.. I get to ask you the questions, since I'll be the one winning." He grins, taking the ball from your hand and shooting smoothly from the free throw line. The ball swishes the net with ease and you roll your eyes at his cocky smile.

"Anyone can make a free throw." You shoot the ball, hitting the rim as it bounces off.

"Apparently not anyone." He laughs and you give him the evil eye. "Oh, right! Question. Let's see, I'll start easy. Got any crushes at school?" He teases.

You giggle, watching him shoot from the next spot and miss.

"Yes." You answer simply.

He catches his rebound, passing you the ball. "Well, who is it?"

"Nope. That's two questions." You dismiss him, shooting and making it in the basket.

He nods his head sarcastically at your response. "That's how it's gonna be, huh?"

He lobs the ball in the air towards the basket, missing clearly on purpose and you look at him confused. "What the hell was that?"

He shrugs, widening his eyes playfully. "I missed. Ready for my question."

You giggle as you think of a question. "Do you have any crushes at school?"

"That would be highly inappropriate miss y/l/n."

"That's not an answer."

He chuckles before shooting and making it again. "...Yeah, I do."

Your cheeks burn at his answer, but you don't get your hopes up too much knowing it could be anyone, even another teacher.

The game continues back and forth as you and Negan ask each other questions. He shoots the final shot, missing and purposely letting you win.

"So, what's my final question, kid? Make it a good one."

"Do you ever.. think of me.. in that way?" You ask bravely, knowing you might not get another chance like this one.

"In what way?" He asks innocently, resting his hands on his hips.

You blush, not wanting to say it, so you don't. "Nothing, forget it."

He looks down at you with a more serious than playful expression now and you wish you could read his mind.

"Okay. If you say so." He shrugs, throwing the ball down and walking away towards the hall to his office. "I let you win by the way." He calls out before disappearing.

You mentally curse yourself for not asking him but it's too late, so you make your way back to the locker room, wanting to get dressed before everyone comes back in.

You change out of your sweaty clothes before slipping your dress on with nothing underneath since your sweat soaked through your panties and bra. You feel even more exposed than earlier considering your dress barely reaches three inches below your ass cheeks.

You study yourself in the mirror as his words echo in your mind again like a broken record.

You want my attention? Ya gotta try harder than that.

You don't want to miss out on another opportunity with him, knowing your time with him is running out, so you grab your things and saunter down the hall to his open office, stopping at the doorway before entering.

Negan's attention is focused on his computer screen as he speaks. "Can I help you, doll?"

You ignore his question, bravely walking over to him before shutting the door behind you and leaning your backpack against the wall. You join him on the other side of the room, standing before him as he sits in his chair looking up at you. Chills cover your body when your bare ass touches the surface of his cold wooden desk.

His brows scrunch at your sudden boldness as he moves his chair back slightly, allowing space between the two of you. "What are you doing, y/n?" He asks but it comes out as more of a warning.

"Getting your attention" You place your bare feet on each side of his thighs in the chair, spreading your legs in front of him and shuttering as the cool breeze brushes your exposed pussy. "Do you ever think about me... like this?" You ask, finishing your question from earlier.

The look on his face is unreadable as his eyes drop to your center.

"You wanna know what I think about, y/n?" His voice turns to a raspy whisper. "I think about how tight that little pussy must be...how those pretty lips would look wrapped around my cock." His dark, heavy eyes lift to meet yours and you've never seen them so blown with lust before. "What you'd sound like begging for me to fuck you. How sweet you probably taste.." His eyes drop to your pussy again as his top teeth cover his bottom lip. "And then.. I come to my damn senses and realize I can't fuckin' risk my whole career for some pussy."

Ouch. Your eyes water at his sudden change of words.

Your heart stings at the rejection as you cover yourself quickly and climb off his desk. The end of day bell rings just in time to dismiss you as you head for the door.

"Y/n, wait." He sighs.

But you keep walking, leaving him behind like he did to you earlier. That's the last time he's going to make you feel like a fucking idiot. You tell yourself, frustrated that you let his mixed signals get to you.

"Goddamn it. Some pussy? The hells wrong with me." Negan whispers to himself, sliding a frustrated hand down his face as he leans back in his chair.

He feels terrible for making you feel that way, but he reminds himself it was for your own good. He knows you're about to go off to college, and the last thing he wants is for you to go catching feelings for your someone you can't have.

As a consequence of his good intentions, his cock aches painfully in his shorts while he stares blankly at the empty desk you sat on only minutes ago.

The sounds of students dismissing for the day are long gone as he realizes he's finally alone.

Fuck it. He says to himself before opening his desk drawer and pumping some lotion in his hand. He pulls his heavy cock out of his shorts, immediately gripping it in his hand and stroking it desperately.

His head falls back against his chair as he groans out, imagining your legs spread open in front of him once again.

His hand works his cock up and down, focusing on the sensitive tip as his eyes shut tight. He gathers his leaking precum with his thumb, working circles around the tip, wishing it was your lips instead.

A deep groan escapes his throat as he reaches his climax, spraying his load all over his white t-shirt. "Fuuuck, y/n." His eyes drift open when he moans your name, instantly connecting with yours as you stand from the doorway, watching him get off to the thought of you.

"I forgot my backpack."

Part 2 here

[kyuuppi]

help, my boyfriend has no sex drive! (5)

Pairing: Kenma x reader (f)

Contents: smut; established relationship; feminization, "femboy", heavy praise kink (Kenma); rough sex; creampie; Christmas themes

Words: 3.4k

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

“But as long as you’d love me so—

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snoooow”

Kenma tries not to visibly cringe at the cheery music as he emerges from his office, finally finished with his obligatory three-hour “Christmas special” stream.

As you had been for the past month, you’re softly singing along to some Christmas carol playing from your shitty laptop speaker. You had busied yourself with reorganizing the presents under the full-sized tree—something you had insisted on buying for the apartment.

Kenma had little more interest in most holidays than the “free day from school” perks. But as he watches you scurry around your shared living room wearing candy cane-themed stockings, an oversized ugly Christmas sweater, and a hundred-yen-store Santa hat, Kenma is thankful you had expressed your desire to celebrate with him. He will gladly participate in anything that makes you this innocently cheerful. 

Your background music is abruptly cut short and you frown when you realize your laptop has just died again. But the disappointment is cut short when you notice Kenma, standing awkwardly by the couch in the dark Christmas sweater you had insisted he wear for his stream. 

“KenKen—your stream is over?”

Kenma smiles softly at how eager you look, eyes practically sparkling. 

“Yeah, I’m free now. You wanted to open presents, right?” 

You nod quickly, guiding him to the couch and leaving only to retrieve a cup of hot cocoa—extra whipped cream—and a slice of homemade apple pie, placing them both in front of him on the coffee table. He thanks you quietly, predictably digging into the apple pie first. 

“So I think we should start with your family’s gifts first,” you begin, already passing him a small stack of presents, all wrapped in identical green and red paper. 

After nearly half an hour you two had finally worked your way through nearly all of the presents. Most were the typical things–an abhorrent amount of socks and pajamas from your families, Kenma’s mother gifting both of you very cringey matching couple sets with any video game character she saw. You had to try very hard not to laugh at Kenma’s face when you opened a matching Kirby and Jigglypuff sweater set with a handwritten heart note.

“Aww, don’t pout KenKen, your mom was just being thoughtful.” “They’re not even in the same series.” 

A few gifts had been surprising–namely Kuroo’s cat ear headphones—to which Kenma promptly sent a text telling Kuroo to never buy him Christmas gift ever again— and even a signed pro jersey from Hinata. Even if he didn’t voice it, you noticed how touched Kenma seemed by the gesture and you made a mental note to buy something to display it in the apartment. A few gifts were even from Kenma’s fans, sending various game merchandise, snacks from their country, and even fan art of the two of you. 

Finally, the last remaining gifts were the ones you made for each other. You didn’t want to pressure Kenma to buy you anything fancy–and you also couldn’t afford to reciprocate with anything fancy, so you set a strict budget. 

Kenma was unexpectedly good at keeping secrets so you weren’t sure what he had gotten you–probably a game he wanted you to play together but the box was unexpectedly big—

Regardless, you knew what you got him , and it was something you had been thinking about for months. Needless to say, you were eager for him to open it. 

“Who should go firs—”

“I’ll go!”

Kenma raises a brow but complies as you all but shove your gift into his hands. The outside is unassuming—a flat package wrapped in red paper with a holographic silver stick-on bow in the center. Somehow, he feels vaguely uneasy. 

Cautiously, Kenma begins unwrapping the gift. You practically vibrate with excitement in your seat, eagerly watching as his thin fingers peel away the final layers of colorful paper. 

Finally, your present reveals itself, soft nylon fabric in a bright red shade. Kenma seems confused, unsure of what exactly he is looking at until he shifts and the fabric unravels into two long strips. 

“Ta-daa,” you cheer, “your very own pair of thigh-high stockings!”

Kenma looks horrified. 

“This is a joke,” Kenma states, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself just as much as you. 

“What do you mean? Don’t you like them? Look, they’re even Christmas-themed!”

You guide his hands over to the top of the socks where a large red ribbon sits. Two short red strings dangle the ribbon with a small, fuzzy white ball at the end each. You make him squeeze the soft ball for good measure. His expression doesn’t change. 

“Why would you buy me these? You wasted actual, real-life money for this,” Kenma bemoans. 

“Didn’t your fans suggest something like this before? I think they called them programmer socks—”

“ Oh my god please stop talking.”

Kenma lets out a long, suffering groan as you eye him with an absolute shit-eating grin.

It’s fine, he thinks. You wanted to be a little shit like Kuroo but it was just a prank. He could probably Venmo back the money you wasted on this and never have to think of this situation ever again. He’ll toss them in the back of the closet next to those cat ear headphones Kuroo bought him. 

He is proven wrong when you nudge his shin with your own stocking-clad toes and give him an expectant look. 

“Well?”

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to try them on?”

Kenma’s brain very obviously fries and you have to resist the urge to laugh at his expression. 

“C’mon, I spent actual, real-life money on these," you tease, throwing his words back at him, "I wanna see you wear them at least once!”

“You have to be joking,” he all but whines. 

Your excited expression tells him you are very much not joking. Kenma considers refusing more firmly. He knows you genuinely care about him and would never push him to do something he was uncomfortable with—or at least so long as it wouldn’t actually kill him.  

But your eyes are wide and practically sparkling as you look at him expectantly with that cute little grin–the crippling humiliation that will likely haunt him every night for the rest of his life is nothing compared to your happiness. Kenma sighs deeply and you know you’ve won. 

He ignores your excited squeals as he stands up and shuffles towards the bathroom in something akin to a walk of shame. 

As Kenma stares at his own lithe form in the mirror he’s positive that he has never felt so mortified in his whole life. Not when he accidentally set a ball into Lev’s face during a match in high school. Not when he missed his ult in a team fight and cost his team the ranked match in League. Not even when he came so hard he nearly passed out while getting his dick sucked during a live stream. 

Kenma can barely even recognize himself in the mirror, eyes flitting from his familiar golden gaze down to his oversized black and white Nightmare Before Christmas sweater and, finally, to his thin legs wrapped in an inappropriately bright red pair of thigh-high socks.

Somehow, the stockings feel even more exposing than if he were just naked. He feels like some cheap, poorly drawn femboy character in a hentai. One of his first thoughts was they don’t look nearly as appealing on him as they do on you. His legs are too lanky–straight and lean from years of volleyball but missing the curve of healthy fat yours have. His face heats up as he visualizes your thighs currently clad in your own pair of red and white striped stockings. 

“KenKen are you ready yet? You’re taking foreeeeever!”

His heart rate picks up and he tries to remind himself it's just you, the person who makes him feel safest. He’s going to go out there, you’re going to see how cringe he looks, then you'll both laugh and never talk about this again. 

He takes a deep breath and opens the door, immediately meeting your gaze as you sit on the couch where he left you. Breath bated, he watches as your eyes dart down his body, darting around his lower half with your mouth agape. He tries his best not to squirm under your stare. 

“Fuck, Ken,” you chuckle breathily, “you look amazing.”

Kenma’s breath hitches, certainly not expecting that type of response. As you continue to take him in he realizes your gaze looks almost hungry, like you’re ready to devour him–shit, are you seriously into this?

He finds his answer in the way you motion him over, helpless in how his body obeys before he can even process the silent request. You reach out hesitantly, fingertips so close to his thighs he can feel your body heat even through the thin fabric. You glance up at him, asking permission, and he’s nodding immediately, desperate for your touch.

Your fingers land near his left knee, trailing up slowly and making his whole body tremble lightly. When your fingertips catch on the hem of the stockings he nearly gasps and then you're brushing his soft skin directly, only stopping when you reach the edge of the sweater that’s just barely covering his rapidly hardening cock. 

“You’re so pretty,” you praise, "my pretty boy."

Kenma makes a choked sound, surprised and mildly offended but also awfully turned on to hear any form of praise from your lips. No, he wants to argue, you’re the pretty one –but you look up at him, so pleased, that he can’t remember how to speak. 

“And now we match,” you sing, tone innocent as you raise your leg between his own. His eyes follow, nearly hypnotized by the contrast between your red-and-white stockings against his red ones before your clothed shin brushes against his crotch in a way that is anything but innocent. He has to grab the back of the couch near your head to keep his knees from buckling as he groans.

You seem to take some form of pity on him because you let up on his crotch with a giggle, making room for him to sit down beside you and catch his breath. Even when you let him rest your attention never strays from the item of clothing, hand idly stroking his thigh while you continue to drink in the sight of his pale skin contrasting with the scarlet cloth. 

“Do you really like it that much,” he asks, almost hesitant. 

He’s surprised at how sheepish you become, moving your hand away as your face slightly flushes. 

“Um–yeah. I know it’s kinda weird, sorry, you just look really pretty sometimes.”

Kenma frowns slightly and takes your hand back, returning it to his thigh with his own on top of yours. The action was meant to reassure you but it felt too bold and he avoids eye contact as he speaks.

“You don’t have to apologize, I don’t hate it…”

He sees the way you perk up, practically beaming, from the corner of his eye and is quick to clarify less you try to buy him a pair of panties or something next year. 

“It’s not my thing—I prefer seeing you in cute clothes…but I can try things like this if it makes you this happy.”

“Aww, KenKen, that’s so sweet!”

Kenma huffs, breath nearly knocked out of him when you launch yourself into his chest, planting noisy kisses all over his face. He tries his best to scowl but he’s pretty sure he’s failing by the way you giggle at his expression. Your Santa hat gets knocked off in the commotion but neither of you care. Kenma even takes the opportunity to bury his fingers in your messy hair as your kisses finally focus on his lips. 

Eventually, the kisses deepen, morphing from quick pecks to slow and open-mouthed. Your tongue invades his mouth, gravity giving you a clear advantage as you take charge of this kiss. But not one to easily accept defeat, Kenma takes the opportunity to grab a handful of your ass in a way that has you gasping in surprise. You start to grind on him, both of you letting out soft sounds between kisses. 

It’s you who pulls away first, making Kenma softly whine in protest, gaze hazy as he blinks up at you in question. 

“Wanna ride you,” you explain simply. 

Kenma hisses out his approval and obediently waits as you pull down your lounge shorts. You yank them down your legs and fling them across the living room with a little too much force, accidentally hitting the Christmas tree. You laugh at the sight of your fuzzy white shorts hanging on the tree like some soft of kinky Christmas ornament but Kenma is quick to redirect your attention by pulling you back down for another kiss. 

He grips your ass again, this time bare, and moves his fingers to prepare you for his dick but—

He abruptly stops and pulls away from the kiss in shock. 

“You’re already this wet?” His expression looks genuinely surprised and you can’t help but giggle. 

“I told you, you look really pretty.”

Kenma groans, not sure if he’s annoyed or turned on but his cock throbs all the same. You pull up the bottom half of his sweater to reach his black boxers. He’s so hard that it's almost difficult to get them off but he helps you pull them down just enough to free his leaking cock. It takes a moment to properly position yourself from this new angle, hindered by your bulky sweater and the headrest of the couch digging into your side but you manage to guide his leaky head to your drenched hole and ease down.

You both groan as he breaches your cunt, your wetness making the slide smooth even as you reach his thick base.

“F-fuck, Ken, you always feel so good,” you moan.

The praise feels like a punch to the gut and he’s thankful he’s already lying down so he can’t embarrass himself further by losing his balance. He’s coming to realize even if feminization isn’t his thing, praise might be. He thinks he'd do just about anything if it pleased you—if it made you look down at him with those shiny eyes and call him your good boy—fuck. Kenma has to force himself back to reality before he makes himself cum too quickly just by his own fantasies. 

You readjust your weight, leaning back and using his bent knees as leverage. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his stockings as you begin to move, raising to his tip before dropping your whole weight down. It feels good—mind-numbingly so—but he finds it looks even better. The angle you put yourself into gives him an unobstructed view of your face–eyes pinched closed and reddened lips open in pleasure, your breasts–soft and bouncing with every movement–and, best of all, your tight hole sucking him in with every uptake. 

He can’t tear his eyes away from where the two of you are connected. A creamy white ring is quickly forming at the base of his cock from how soaked you are, thin strings sticking to your pussy like webs. Framing it all are your thick thighs, muscles straining with your movements and squeezed by those god damned red-and-white striped thigh highs.

Fuck, he wishes he could record this.

He has apparently said that aloud on accident because now you’re grinning down at him conspiratorially. 

“Y-yeah?” you stutter out, “you wanna make a movie with me?”

Kenma doesn’t verbally answer but he doesn’t need to. Instead, he’s gripping your hips and guiding your pace, making you bounce on his cock faster while his own hips start to meet your thrusts. 

It has only been a few minutes but it's becoming clear your stamina is far from athletic. Your thighs burn and your pace stumbles but Kenma is quick to take advantage of the situation, using a strength you didn’t know he was capable of to roll you over and push you face down. 

“Kenma, wh—oh!”

Any dissent you had intended to make is abruptly cut off when your boyfriend, one knee digging into the couch for leverage, feeds his length back into your greedy hole and sets a pace that has you nearly screaming. His hips snap into you, hard, and you scramble to find something to hold on to. One hand finds the armrest of the couch near your head, nails nearly tearing into the fabric, while the other ends up behind you, digging into his thigh as he rams his hips into you. You’re drooling as you manage to stutter out a barely coherent statement through your moans.

“K-Ken, so h-hard, fuck—”

“Yeah,” He replies, sounding breathless but not nearly as wrecked as you. You curse his retired high school athlete stamina. 

“Am I still your pretty boy?”

The question momentarily shocks you. You aren’t sure what response he’s looking for but you answer honestly, too fucked out to ponder on it. 

“Y-yesyesyes, the prettiest! ”

“You like getting fucked by your pretty boy?”

“Yeeeess, I l-love it—oh god—”

One hand reaches up to grip your hair, tugging your hair in a way you aren’t sure is punishment or a reward. You cry out all the same, cunt squeezing him for dear life as he hits something deep deep deep inside of you. You’re fairly certain you’ve never been fucked this hard in your life. The sweet, no-sex-drive-having boyfriend trope becomes little more than a pipe dream as his hips smack into your ass without reprieve. 

“‘m g-gonna cum,” you warn.

Kenma’s grip on your hip tightens and he adjusts his angle to hit the spot he knows makes your toes curl and your pitch turns airy. The nail in the coffin comes when he releases your hair, but only to start rubbing your clit, remembering your favorite rhythm from the time he watched you masturbate. 

Expectedly, you cum, toes curling and squeals reaching a pitch you think might cause your boyfriend hearing damage. Your whole body seizes with your orgasm, cunt spasming and thighs squeezing shit as you please for him to stop, go harder–you aren’t sure. 

Kenma forces you to ride through it, fucking you even as your hips stutter violently and never letting up on your pulsating nub. It's only when you're nearing tears from the overstimulation that Kenma stops, moaning sweetly as his own orgasm overtakes him. He collapses against you in exhaustion as warmth fills you from deep inside, making a mess on your thighs as it gushes out between you. 

“Mm, y’r heavyyy,” you complain sleepily. 

Kenma grunts something in response but doesn’t bother moving. In fact, he seems to make himself more comfortable by moving his hands to find your own. He slips his long fingers in the spaces between your own, locking your hands together. Your heart swells at the action, constantly reminded how much this boy loves you even when he doesn't vocalize it very often.  

You allow him a few more moments of peace, listening to his harsh pants die down into something more calm before you speak again. 

“By the way, what was my present?”

Kenma stiffens against you, having completely forgotten about Christmas altogether. Quickly, he pulls away from you and the loss of warmth almost makes you regret saying anything. On shaky legs, Kenma shuffles over to the forgotten box, wrapped in royal blue paper and topped with a pretty gold ribbon. He comes back to the couch, gingerly helping you sit up before placing the box on your lap. 

You’re immediately surprised by the hefty weight of the box and grow curious as you tear at the paper. Within seconds, the logo and picture on the box become clear, making you gasp in shock. 

“Kenmaaaa,” you whine, trying not to tear up as you pout at him. 

To his credit, Kenma looks honestly guilty as he avoids your eyes. 

“We set a twenty-thousand-yen spending limit, ” you remind him.

“I know but—this is basically a necessity. Your old one was going to die any day now,” Kenma reasons, helping you pull out the shiny new laptop –in rose gold no less. 

“And it's a gaming laptop–that means you can play with me more so it’s basically a gift for me more than you,” he continues. 

You know he’s absolutely pulling excuses out of his ass but you can’t help the rush of affection at how much Kenma wants to spoil you. He always buys you the things you want, even when you insist on not wanting to take advantage of him as a wealthy streamer and businessman. He usually comes up with some excuse, I was going to buy one anyway so we can share or I have too much money this month, taxes will be a hassle if I don’t spend it. 

But he is right–your old laptop was on its last leg and every time you opened a Word document for school you had to pray it wouldn’t crash before you could save your draft.

You softly smile as you trace the box with a finger, elated that he even remembered which color you wanted. He grins at how pleased you clearly are, even if you won’t say it. 

“Besides,” his grin suddenly turns sly as he places a hand on the swell of your hip, “I heard the webcam is really great for recording movies.”

[zahraaziza]

hey lovely i wanted to request masc ellie x a hyper femme reader like me 💋

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: thank you anon, this is such a cute request! this may be short cause i am on writers block, but still enjoy reading!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. explicit sexual content. 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢.

—୨♡୧ now playing 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝐥𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐳𝐨𝐮𝐚𝐢)

as opposites attract, at least they do to ellie…

εїз masc!ellie making you sit pretty, whilst she kneels to slip on your shoes, planting a tender kiss to your knee followed by a faint pat to the planes of your thighs, inferring to you that you're good to go

εїз masc!ellie leaving small pecks along your poor little finger once a perfectly manicured nail snaps off, gingerly brushing the pout off your soft lips with the pad of her thumb, before uttering a soft spoken promise that "we’ll get it fixed, baby"

εїз masc!ellie impatiently waiting on her lovely baby to climb into the passenger seat of her car, all giddy, flashing a new fresh set of shimmery nails at her, whose face never misses to light up like a billboard, too goddamn cute to be fair

εїз masc!ellie nuzzling the flat of her palm between those supple thighs of her very own passenger princess, fingertips nonchalantly riding up just below the hem of your skirt, faintly drawing shapes along your silky serene skin

εїз masc!ellie toying with the ribbon you so delicately wrapped around your hair, the tiny milky colored pearls glued to your nails or that sparkly pendant of the necklace, she just lovingly clipped to the back of your neck, instantly turning into mush at the sight of your puckered lips and eyebrows knitting together, "shh, it's alright, baby, i'll fix you back up"

εїз masc!ellie having you sit at her feet, all sweet and pliable, resting your cheek against her knee, dreamily gazing up at her with those eyes of yours shining with cherries and wine for no one but her, whilst she tenderly pats the back of your head, "what a sweet little thing you are for me, aren't you?"

εїз masc!ellie studying your features in awe, as you meticulously accentuated them in shades of rosy make-up, letting her train of thought wander off to what a shame it would be to see it all smudged, running down that prettily fucked out face, once she gets to have you all to herself

εїз masc!ellie snapping polaroids of you all dolled up, in her favorite pieces of lingerie, and exposed under her enticed fingertips, hiding your bashfully flushed cheeks, which she'll keep tucked away inside her wallet or phone case

εїз masc!ellie gently slipping the embroidered velour of your light dolly stockings up your legs, littering lukewarm, wet kisses along what the material is bound to engulf, lightly brushing your velvet clad skin with the tip of her nose, savoring your irresistible floral scent

εїз masc!ellie tangling her velvety tongue with yours, tying cherry knots in the cup of your mouth, dragging out each and every kiss, desiring to earn what felt like a lingering taste of your delectable raspberry flavored lip gloss

εїз masc!ellie taking her sweet time to trail kisses above the delicate little bow gracing the waistband of those lace panties, meshing her most beloved softer parts of yours to a present only for her very fine hands to unwrap, before fucking you stupid against the sheets

εїз masc!ellie whispering sweet nothings into the shell of your ear as she tends to your drooling princess parts, doting praises dripping off of her freckled lips like honey, sliding her glistening fingers deeper and there go your candied mewls like music to her ears, "that's right, baby, keep feeling good for me, just like that"

༺♡︎༻𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: @scarstarlet @millersaurora @anchoeritic @ellabsprincess @seraqhites @cowgirlcherrie @abbyskitty @destielcore @elliessknife @dropsofs4turn @milllersfae @cherriesxinthespring @dixonsdolls @digit4lslut @porcelainbambi @angvlita @kissesskittens @fxiryverse @elliesbelle @starologist @kokomos @xioriae @machetegirl109 @abbys-wife @lightpinkprincess444 @hazywazysmind @winfleurs @elliephobic @lias-writings @lonelyfooryouonly @beforeimdeceased @angel4abby @hehatesmati

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

[baldval]

Since you made one for Valentine’s Day, how bout celebrating Halloween with the main hazbin cast? Maybe Charlie is throwing a Halloween party or something!

HALLOWEEN W HAZBIN! ₊˚⊹♡

characters: vox, charlie, valentino, lucifer, alastor

warnings: nothing :)

a/n: idk if i like alastor's part, he's just so hard to write imo😭😭 pls tell me what you think guys🤞

VOX:

꩜ it’s obvious to anyone that vox looooves halloween. 

꩜ he’s claimed to you on several occasions that it’s his favorite holiday.

꩜ and that getting the chance to spend it with you only makes it better. 

꩜ and how does vox spend Halloween? two words.

꩜ haunted house. 

꩜ you never really understood the concept of having those on hell.

꩜ hell is already scary as it is.

꩜ however, being an overlord, having the control that vox has, eliminates some of the fear most people normally feel.

꩜ so a haunted house is his favourite place to go when he wants to feel some of that adrenaline.

꩜ he picked you up that night and away you went, ready to get your scare-factor on. 

꩜ darling, if you get scared, just let me know!” he pointed to himself with a grin "i'll stop the whole thing, i swear".

꩜ “afterall, I wouldn’t be much of a man if I can’t protect the person I care about most.” he smiles at you and you can't help blushing.

꩜ you stuck to him like glue, laughing and screaming through every house you went through.

꩜ it was well into the night before you both decided to call it.

꩜ your throats raw and blood pumping from the adrenaline.

꩜ but even in your stupor, vox still managed to take your breath away once he brought you back to your apartment.

꩜ his arms circled around you as he kisses your face.

꩜ you bury your face in his neck as you hug him goodbye.

CHARLIE:

꩜ as far as charlie is concerned, you can’t celebrate Halloween without a good time.

꩜ and to her, the best way to do that is with a party!

꩜ she throws one once every year at the hotel, because, how could she not?

꩜ “you’ll come right? you have to! pleeeease!”

꩜ she’s so adorably persistent, eyes all puppy dog wide and hands folded.

꩜ your answer is obvious.

꩜ and it had her jumping up and down throughout the whole lobby.

꩜ upon arriving at the hotel, you were completely in awe of the change of scenery.

꩜ what once had a reddish vintage look now practically screamed 'halloween'.

꩜ costumes, decorations, snacks, bowls filled with candy, games, music.

꩜ you knew your girlfriend sure took things to the extreme, but nonetheless, it was always fun.

VALENTINO:

꩜ valentino loves halloween.

꩜ you could say he likes it for the aesthetic and you would be right.

꩜ he'd invite you over that night to spend the evening with him.

꩜ you thought maybe you were gonna go to a halloween party, somewhere filled with decorations and people.

꩜ but when you get to his house you only see a mountain of scary and halloween themed movies piled high on the coffee table in his living room.

꩜ along with a bowl of popcorn, soda, and a selection of only your favourite candies of course.

꩜ “are we… gonna watch all of these?”

꩜ "well duh. why? you got something else to do?”

꩜ unexpected, indeed, but who would complain?

꩜ it was hard to pick which movie to watch first since he had such an extensive collection, but you both decided to kick things off with the classic 'the nightmare before christmas'. 

꩜ after that, 'carrie', 'scream', 'anabelle', 'halloween' too of course.

꩜ name it, and valentino had it. 

꩜ you sat on the sofa between his legs the entire time, bowl of popcorn in your lap, and you silently fed him pieces of the salty snack while he unwrapped and fed you bits of candy. 

꩜ it was the perfect way to spend halloween and you wished you could have gone at it all night.

꩜ but after the 7th film, you had promptly knocked out against val’s chest, popcorn bowl empty.

꩜ but instead of waking you up, he merely shut off the tv and covered both your bodies with a blanket, kissing your forehead.

LUCIFER:

꩜ you're getting ready as you anxiously wait for the king of hell.

꩜ the hotel was organising a halloween party, and of course you couldn't miss it.

꩜ and of course you were going with lucifer.

꩜ you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement mingled with nerves.

꩜ just as you were beginning to think he might not show, you heard a knock at the door.

꩜ with a mischievous grin, he strutted over to you.

꩜ "sorry for the delay, darling," he said, offering you his hand. "hope you didn't wait too long."

꩜ you accepted his hand, feeling a thrill run down your spine as his fingers intertwined with yours.

꩜ "not at all," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the butterflies in your stomach.

꩜ together, you walked in to the lobby, greeted by the lively sounds of the halloween party in full swing.

꩜ you were sitting at the bar, just chatting.

꩜ "i have to go to the bathroom, i'll be right back" he says with a wink as he leaves.

꩜ "hmm so he really is in love with you" you hear husk, the bartender, say.

꩜ "oh so you've doubted that?"

꩜ "not really, it's just that it's the first time i see it in live action".

꩜ "what do you mean?" you question him.

꩜ "i mean, do you see the way he stares at you as you talk." he fills up a glass. "pure adoration."

꩜ you feel heat creeping up your cheeks and turn around before husk realises how flushed you are.

꩜ lucifer gets back and it isn't long before you find yourselves in the ballroom.

꩜ with a twirl, he pulls you into his arms, and the two of you began to dance to the infectious beat of the music.

꩜ as you moved together, laughter bubbled up between you, your clothes swishing in tune with the music.

꩜ "you know," he says, his voice low as he spun you around, "there's nothing i would want more in the world that being with you."

꩜ you couldn't help but smile at his words, feeling a warmth spreading through you.

꩜ "well i can assure you it goes both ways." you replied, caught up in the moment as you gazed into his eyes.

ALASTOR:

꩜ it does surprise you that the radio demon has no idea what halloween is.

꩜ he comes up to you and asks you why the whole lobby is filled with pumpkins and little paper ghosts and black and orange streamers.

꩜ you simply smile and say, “it’s halloween!”

꩜ “oh…”

꩜ it’s not that he didn’t know what hallowen was, he explained to you.

꩜ he just wasn’t really aware of what occurred during the holiday itself.

꩜ so you decided it was time to change that. 

꩜ you told him to meet you at your room, not giving him any more details than that.

꩜ when he arrived, you took him by the hand and led him towards one of the best places you could possibly think of to give him a proper introduction to the spookiest night of the year. 

꩜ the pumpkin patch. 

꩜ upon arriving, alastor seemed absolutely awestruck at all the different things there were to do.

꩜ the corn maze, hayride, petting zoo (to which you found out that alastor is a major softie for animals).

꩜ and of course, pumpkin carving.

꩜ it was so cute watching his expressions.

꩜ how his brow would furrow when he tried removing the guts and how his tongue would poke out when he began working on the face.

꩜ you almost forgot you had your own pumpkin to carve. 

꩜ you both left in the later evening, hand in hand as the stars twinkled above you. 

꩜ “so what did you think? did you have fun?”

꩜ you were expecting a nod, or a quick little hum. 

꩜ but he straight whisked you off your feet and into his arms.

꩜ and you knew that right now, the smile on his face was truly genuine.

[slyblonder]

Sweet Treat

Friends w/ benefits!Mark x GN!Reader

(reader has afab anatomy)

word count : 0.7k

“Wheres my treat?” “Your what?”

You and Mark have been friends for a little over two years, but only friends with benefits for about 6 months. This all came into agreement after a very wine drunk, slightly stoned,bored mentality. You were attractive. Mark was attractive(and big). What’s the worst that could happen you thought and agreed.

You hate to ring your own bell but the dick is AMAZING. Going into this you would’ve never guessed Mark would have the stamina he did. Especially with being on the bigger side than most, he’d manhandle you with ease. Yeah you were gonna keep this going for as long as you possibly could. “If you keep doing that I’ll cum again… I-I can’t anymore.” You were practically shaking,overstimulated,and a sobbing mess as mark ate you out. He was too pussy drunk to care about your pleads to stop, taking in your sweet taste as if it was his last. His fingers quickly replaced his tongue as he looked up at you, smiling as how broken you looked. “Then cum baby, let loose for me.” Thats all you needed to hear for that band to snap, letting out the most erotic moan either of you have ever heard.

You both lied there holding one another as you tried to recover, shaking a little every now and then which definitely earned a small chuckle from Mark. “Dude I’ve never heard you moan like that before, it was pretty hot honestly.” You looked up at him with a joking blank stare not wanting to give him any satisfaction. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Plus I literally just stopped shaking, please give me like an hour before you get horny again.” You let out a small laugh and pat his chest before sitting up a bit and stretching. “I need to start getting ready for this event though. If I’m late there’s no doubt Chenle will kill me.” Standing up and tossing on whoever’s hoodie was at the edge of the bed, you noticed Mark staring at you blankly but not how you did earlier. This boy was truly perplexed.

“Where’s my treat?” “What treat?” Upon first glance you would’ve thought Mark just got told Justin Bieber quit music. He looked down heartbroken and couldn’t believe what he just heard. You like sweet treats and sharing them with people so you keep small bowls of different candies,chocolates, and other similar things in several areas of your home. Since Mark has been over so often, the bowl in your room had ran out and you never refilled it. After you both were done exploring each other you gave him one. Everytime. You basically trained and conditioned him. By accident at that. “Oh sweetie…thats-“ You couldn’t help but laugh and leave the room and come back with a melon candy. “Here you go baby.” Watching his face soften to a small pout was too cute for you to bear. “I thought I didn’t do a good job so you weren’t giving me a treat. Wait do you give other guys one too when they’re done if they do a good job? Did I do a good job? Wait are there othe-.”Before he could finish his list of questions you laughed and shook your head as you moved to sit across from him.

“You just fucked me, came in me, the ate me out until I came 3 times. I think you did more than a good job baby. And no there is no other guys, You have more than enough for me.” You watched as he listened and began to unwrap the candy. “Isn’t this like positive reinforcement like they use on dogs? oh my god you're treating me like a dog.””You know I do question what goes on in your head sometimes. No I’m not treating you like a dog, I just like sharing sweet treats with you.” You looked over at the bowl on your dresser and nodded towards it. “You finished that in a month. You’re here very often.” Mark looked over at the bowl and grew shy, he really was over often but he truly loves being in your presence. He does like you after all but you don’t need to know that right now. His eyes flickered down to your lips, suddenly growing a strong urge to kiss you.

“Let me share my sweet treat then.”

©️slyblonder

(Helloo thank you so much for reading please feel free to like a reblog pleasee I hope you enjoyed it🤍😞 im currently writing this at 1:27am(i wish i was joking) also feel free to request or ask questions in the ask box🤍🤍)

[onlycrystal]

hiii could u pls do a bratty fm reader x tsukishima kei who puts her in her place during sex??

needy

cw: brat! sub reader, dom! tsukishima (brat-tamer), semi-public sex (they’re in a bathroom in a house at a party), tsukis a lil mean ( but he always is lets be fr) degradation, overstimulation, dacryphilia, etc

authors note: I AM SOOO SORRY I HAD SUHC BAD WRITERS BLOCK FOR THIS ONE, low-key gets rushed at the end sorryyy this is also not read thru sorry for errors pls keep up the submissions everyone I enjoy having stuff to guide my writing!

you looked around the room, seeing people play pool, beer pong, and red plastic cups galore. rap music blared in your ears, causing you to wince from the intense sound waves. you knew nobody here, and you felt super uncomfortable.

every friday, your boyfriend, tsukishima, would go out to parties. even though you went to the same college, it was never really your... setting. a bunch of people drunk off their asses doing stupid shit? yeah it wasn't really your scene. but, you loved spending time with tsuki, and one day you decided to go to one with him.

which led you to now, stuck on some sofa between 2 guys who you didn't know looking at you like candy, unwrapping you in their eyes. you adjusted in your spot uncomfortably, pulling your skirt down since it kept riding up. "I've never seen you at these parties, you should come more often" the nameless raven haired boy purred. "im kuroo and hes bokuto" you just smiled awkwardly at him and the silver haired one who wouldn't even talk, just stare.

you were bored, you just wanted to spend time with your boyfriend :( you got up and walked around the house, scanning for the tall lanky boy everywhere. suddenly, you catch sight of him. he seemed to be talking to those same boys you just left. are they following me or smth? you thought to yourself.

you walked up to him shyly, seeing him excuse himself from the boys, who would not stop staring at you!

"hey babe, you enjoying the party?" he asked, patting your head cutely and snickering a bit when he ruffled your hair. you pouted back at him, and he stopped. he could tell something was wrong but he didn't know what. "tsuki..." you brought yourself closer to him and pressed your jutted-out chest against his abs (due to height difference). he looked down at you with warning. you didn't realize what was wrong until now. a heat formed between your legs and you rubbed your thighs together, only a little bit so people wouldn't notice. "tsuki, i wanna go back home..."

he looked a little pissed off. "y/n, we are in public" his eyebrows furrowed at the word "public" but you didnt care. you looked up at him with big eyes "want you to fuck me baby" you were nearly whining at this point, and you smirked slightly as you felt him harden up down there. but boy was he mad! and it did not help that kuroo and bokuto were watching this whole thing play out. tsukishima, who basically had steam coming off his head, looked down at you with rage and lust, putting his arm around your waist "bathroom, now"

you followed him, tripping over yourself slightly as he practically pushed you into the bathroom, harshly slamming the door behind him and locking it aggressively. the music sounded much quieter from in here, and the dead silence made chills run up your back as your stared at your very angry boyfriend.

"jesus fucking christ, y/n. dont you know when to quit?" he brought his hand to his face, his long fingers massaging between his eyebrows to relax him before he lost his temper with you. you didnt falter, instead removing the hand from his face and guiding his long skinny fingers into your mouth to suck on. "want your long fingers in my pussy, daddy~" you whimpered sounding extremely desperate, which made his erection grow further. "wanna rub my pussy all over you" you pouted and he took his fingers out of your mouth, and put his hand on your throat. he pushed you up against the wall of the bathroom, slightly choking you. "you're such a fucking brat." he basically spat the words in your face. "then fuck me like one." you replied, and before you could think, he crashed his lips onto yours.

he made out with you in fury, of course this was pleasureful for him too, but he wasn't going to tell you that. his kisses were aggressive, causing whines and moans to slip from your lips. his lips traveled across your neck, biting you, leaving dark hickies that definitely wouldn't fade for awhile. you whined and scratched at his back as he continued to trail his hickies down over your chest. "oh I’ll fuck you like one, you little slut." he turned you around so that your face was pressed up against the cold wall. his hold was aggressive and strong. his finger hooked at your panties and brought them down, leaving your skirt on. his finger teased at your heat, as he brought it up revealing the slick on his finger "being a whore in front of my friends turns you on that much?" you opened your mouth to make a snarky remark back, but suddenly he jammed the same fingers into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. "you're gonna shut the fuck up while I give you what you want, mkay?" he shoved his fingers into your pussy, with a quick pace jamming them in and out. you whimpered in response, and arched your back a little to get him to go faster. he slapped your cunt "needy little baby, aren't ya?" you whined and teared up a little, looking at him. "p-please tsuki! 'm s-sorry!" you were now a whining and crying mess. he chuckled and stared down at you "its a little late for that sweetheart." he continued to finger you aggressively, occasionally rubbing your clit. as your mascara began to run down your face a little, you lost composure and had trouble standing "'m gonna- ah~ gonna cum" he smirked and didnt slow down "on my fingers." you released on his fingers, coating them completely. he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them as he looked at you. "taste so good, so sweet, babe" you blushed against the wall and didnt look him in the eyes.

"quiet now aren't we? well that'll change." you blushed harder as you heard him undo his pants. a moan slipped from your lips as he pressed the tip of his cock against your pussy. he grinned, and without hesitation, slammed right into you. you moaned loud, tears forming at your eyes cuz " 'ts too much! tsuki - hic - cant take it...~" you cried a little, but he didnt falter. instead he continued ramming in and out of you harshly. "fuck, squeezing me so hard" he moaned as he threw his head back slightly. "tsuki 'm sorry!~" you moaned as he continued to pummel into you. "are you now, babe?~ how bout you show me how sorry you are." you whined as he hit your gspot, and felt his breath on the side of your neck. his mouth next to your ear "cum, babe" you cum all over his dick, grabbing at the wall as you do it. you hear him whine as he cums inside you. you pant, trying to recover from the extremely rough sex your boyfriend had put you through. he turned you around, and looked down at you, as you stared intently at the ground quietly.

"have you learned your lesson babe?" he grabbed your chin and made you look at him. staring up at him with big eyes, a pout on ur lips, lipstick smeared, and mascara running down your face, you whine "y-yes, tsuki! im so s- hic - sorry" even though he brought you in here since he was mad in the first place, he could never deny an apology from his good little girl. he wiped your tears and kissed you. " 's okay, baby, now how bout we go home so you can rub your pussy all over me?" he snickered at the embarrassment on your face, you punched his stomach lightly. you loved spending time with your boyfriend.

[junedenim]

2008

beneath the boardwalk, part 6 (series masterlist)

dance little liar

warnings: angst, fluff, smut, drugs, etc.

word count: 12.3k

I don't think Alex and I do birthday presents too well. We don't do fancy things, and while Alex is easy to get gifts for because he'll never dislike anything you get him, he's difficult because he doesn't want anything either. Anything he could want, mostly in the music department, I have little idea of what the best thing out there is. He also can just buy it himself.

So, for our birthdays, we've usually given homemade things, a tradition stemming back to the first few we spent together, but specifically our 22nd birthdays together.

The day before, I had just started back at work again after the holiday break and being hungover for a few days after New Year's. I had asked Alex before Christmas what he wanted (another issue, his birthday is right after Christmas) and he said a shelf for his records, which is really just a gift for me because it got his records off the floor where I kept tripping over them. Then, he said, "I don't know, just give me something sweet."

Sweet lands in a lot of categories. Candies, alcohol, desserts. Or sex, flavoured condoms, candy panties. Or sentimental, heartfelt, handmade. So, I combined two categories and made a cake from scratch. It wasn't much of a gift because Alex made the cake with me.

"I want to do it for you," I insisted, trying to pull him out of the kitchen.

He stood with his hands on his hips. "Well, it's my birthday and I want to make it with you."

We made the cake—chocolate—and it sucked. I blame Alex. Eventually, he did eat the whole thing. Whether out of pride or politeness. 

Before he ate the cake, I lit the two "2" candles I had purchased and we sang "Happy Birthday" together because I felt too embarrassed to sing it solo, so he sang it with me. We ended up breaking out into laughter before the end of the song and Alex could barely blow the candles out through it.

At the end of the night, when we sat eating cake in bed, curled up, far away from January blues, I gave Alex a picture book I had made. When I was younger, my mother would go through all her old photos from when she was around this age up until Stacey was born. This was before Tommy died and things like that were a joyous act to do. She had this one photo of her, just her, alone in a photo booth. She couldn't have been older than 10 and she had a beaming smile on her face. She looked just like me. I asked her if I could keep it and she let me. I have it framed on my dresser. 

The whole act inspired me to capture the time Alex and I were living in. The book wasn't packed full of pictures. That was sort of the beauty of it that years after this birthday, that book would be filled by our future. But of the pictures in it, sat the very first photo I took of Alex in his room, scribbling away in his notebook up to a photo Georgia had taken of us on New Year's with me sat in his lap. They weren't all of Alex and me, some had the band in them or Miles. Robert even appears in one photo, taken after one of their Astoria gigs. But the majority of them chronicled the life Alex and I had lived up to that point and putting it all together I felt like my mother longing for a time that had passed, except I was living in that time. It gave me a kick of excitement.

When he unwrapped the book, he gave it a questioning look before we thumbed through the pages together. I imagined he looked like I did when my mother and I thumbed through the pages together. He pointed out little details and marveled at the photos he didn't remember being taken. At one point, he pointed at a photo of me and exclaimed, "You looked hot there! I mean, you're always hot, but va va voom."

I threw my head back in laughter. "Who are you? My grandpa?"

He turned to me quizzically. "Your grandpa talks to you like that?"

I slapped his arm. "Both my grandpas are dead. Now, shut up, and continue."

We flipped our way through the whole thing and I gave him a little birthday card that I wrote a long note in. His fingers grazed carefully over it all. His delicate touch was like he was fearful one wrong move would set fire to it. He closed the book and placed it cautiously on his tiny bedside table. 

Alex turned back to me rather emotionally. He sniffled and just said, "I loved it. Thank you." His arms wrapped tight around me, his hug capturing me.

I rubbed my hand up and down his back in a soothing motion. "Thank you," I whispered in his ear.

"For what?" He whispered back in mine. "All I had to do was stand for pictures."

I giggled into his ear. I didn't pull back from the hug. If I looked at him at that moment I would have cried. "Loving me. It means a lot."

"How do you think I feel? I got you for a girlfriend."

It was all sweet.

*

About a week into January, Alex and I both became sick. He was fine because he didn't have to go to work. He could just lounge around all day, propped up on a pillow, watching TV (in fact, he did, this is when he started watching Breaking Bad, a fixture that would overtake his life for the next five years). I, however, had to go to work.

"Don't go," he whined. I was dressed for work, runny nose, and my big winter coat on. His head was shoved into the pillow and he was wearing the same clothes for the past three days.

"I have to go to work."

"Don't go," he whined again.

"I'm not going to sit here and take care of you all day."

He sat up slowly, his head adjusting to the new altitude. He placed his feet down on the ground and looked like he might get out of bed if his head wasn't weighing him down. "I don't want you to. You're sick. I'll take care of you."

"You're sick," I countered.

"Then, we'll be sick together," he argued.

"I have to go to work." I turned on my feet when he stood and wrapped his arms around my waist, tugging me back into him before I could rush out the door.

"Don't go." He sounded much clearer now with no obstructions in the way. "You'll be no good there."

"Hey, I am always good," I defended. "If I were bleeding out I'd still be of use, or in labour, or dead—" I sneezed then. "Urgh. Look. I can go to work, I can function, I'm fine."

He softened and pressed a lingering kiss to my flushed cheek. "Drink a lot of water, would you? And call me if you feel worse. I'll come get you."

I pushed his growing hair behind his ear. "You can't come get me. We don't have a car."

He kissed my cheek again. "I'll come get ya. I'll walk over and carry you on my back on the way home."

"You're a dork." I tugged on his ear. "I have to go."

"Okay," he conceded. "Call me on your lunch break."

I kissed his cheek. I felt like I was the working husband and Alex was the stay-at-home mum. I was the breadwinner (even if I totally wasn't but I was going to the offices and my "wife" was staying home). I stepped out of his grasp and finally made my way to the front door. "I will. Eat good foods."

"Oh, Janie, you know I'm going to eat all your ice cream while you're gone."

I stuck my tongue out and left. Even with a stuffy nose and a rainy London, I knew walking down Myddelton Street I had everything I ever wanted, at least for that age because work sucked that day and I almost quit because I'm a lazy son of a bitch who was sick and desperate to go home to her boyfriend. But I managed because I loved that job with all my heart. I felt privileged. Georgia was suffering through late-night poetry readings and I had an established career. It wasn't exactly what I wanted to do because editing has never been my strong suit but it was a step in the right direction for my life. I loved that job.

When I returned home, Alex was relaxed in bed with a cup of tea. "I'm sick," I announced, dropping my bag on the floor.

"We can all tell, sweetie. I made you some tea." He pointed to the kitchen counter where he left it out to cool, just how I like it. "How was work?"

I groaned and dragged my feet over to the kitchen, slipping bits of my attire off as I went. My shoes were tossed about and my coat was thrown on the floor. "Not worth it." 

I moved over to the bed, wriggling to settle between his knees, cup of tea in my hand. He was gentle, placing his hand over my burning forehead. "How are you feeling?" He took my cup out of my hand, setting it down.

"I'm so tired," I moaned. He undressed me in the most non-sexual sense. We were sniffling and his motions were slow and tender. He undid my bra and it gave me the same relief as when I did it at the end of the workday. With each passing day, Alex and I were becoming more conjoined. He was an extension of me as I was of him. We were completely intertwined and part of one another. "And I feel so shitty, and my whole skeleton aches, and—stop laughing at me, it's not funny."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says, kissing my temple to make up for it, running a hand up and down my spine. He gave me a shirt to wear, a clean one of his, and from that point on they were my preferred nighttime wear because it was exactly what Alex would pick for me to wear. It was that comfort after a long day, his hand soothing, up and down my spine.

He handed my tea back to me and it healed me as soon as I sipped it. "What have you been up to today, mister?"

He sighed. "Nothing. I took a shower."

I smirked. "I can tell."

"Hey!" He couldn't sound upset if he tried; a big smile and a voice that tipped with laughter. "I had a valid excuse."

"I know. I know." I pinched his cheek. "And I'm very proud of you for being a big boy and doing it without me telling you."

He whacked away my hand but tugged me closer. "What do you want to do now?"

I grumbled and laid my head in the slope between his neck and shoulder. "Sleep. Watch TV. I don't know."

"Why don't we sleep?" He suggested.

I sat up straight and placed my tea on a flat surface after nearly spilling it on Alex. "You just want to nap."

"Uh, yeah. Come on, I need it, you need it. Let's sleep."

"It's too early."

"It's never too early to nap."

I rolled my eyes. "Then, it's too late. I'm hungry."

"Do you want to order something?"

"It's too early."

"Oh, come on, Janie. Don't make me force-feed you."

I laughed. "And then snuff me out with a pillow."

"Yeah." He laughed in return. "Come on, let's eat."

We ate and passed out after. We both woke briefly around 10 PM and fought because Alex did eat my ice cream. He promised to get some tomorrow and that it would never happen again (liar) and then we went back to sleep, both snoring and sounding in desperate need of a sleep apnea mask. But we had the other and I called out sick the next day.

*

A few days before the Brit Awards, I was informed we were going. The band had never attended before and I had obviously never gone before. Alex listed out the whole plan of the boys dressing as old English hunting men.

"You can join us," he said as we ate dinner in bed. We often did this when we ate at home, which wasn't very often. We didn't have enough room to put a dining table in and I preferred the comfort of our bed to that of a chair. We ate out most nights anyway. It seemed like every night we were out somewhere. That mostly had to do with Alex finally getting a hefty paycheck from album and tour sales. We still ate at McDonald's quite often.

I rolled my eyes. "I am not dressing like a boy for an award show."

He tugged at my waist, making me slosh my salad around. "You'd look hot in anything. You know that."

"Well, maybe, but I want to dress nice. How many occasions will I have to wear a beautiful dress?" I was slowly falling in love with fashion. London makes you want to dress your best.

"You could wear a beautiful dress every day if you wanted."

"I work as an assistant at a publishing house, not Vogue. Besides, I want to look like a proper English lady for my English gentleman. Where else would we do that?"

"A wedding," Alex suggested.

I scrunched up my nose and shook my head. "We've already done that."

"We've already done the award show thing too," he pointed out.

"Yeah, and you wore a rain jacket. NME is different. I want to be fancy dress for the Brits. You'd wear jeans to our wedding if you could."

He raised an eyebrow, questioning, but not trying to be apparent about it. "Our wedding?"

I hadn't realized the slip of the tongue. "Ew. I don't know why I said that."

"The thought of marrying me disgust you?" He joked. 

"Well, yeah, I mean—I don't know, shush. I don't want to talk about it." I was flustered. Alex has that effect on most people and he's good at using it. He doesn't make it obvious but he'll make you feel like he's studying you.

He shrugged, turning his eyes away. "Neither do I."

"Weddings are gross," I groaned.

"Yeah." He looked over at me, sparks in his eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

I slapped his arm. "Stop. Let me eat my dinner in peace. God, Alex."

"I didn't say anything!"

I didn't respond. I poked away at my salad and the conversation returned to the Brits. "We're just taking a piss out of the whole thing, you know."

"You want the free alcohol."

"Fuck yes and that's why you'll go with me."

"I'd go with you even if it wasn't." Although, alcohol always helped.

"Aw, you must really love me." He leaned out, puckering his lips.

"Oh, shut it, you."

He washed the dishes that night and then he joined me in the shower. Under the water mist, after we had sex and while I washed his hair, he said, "I'd marry you, you know."

I didn't know. We never talked about things that heavy. "I know," I said.

"We're too young for that kind of thing," he said.

I nodded. "It's a cheesy thing to do anyway."

Alex didn't say anything but he had always known every thought I had as it passed through me. My need to mock it meant I really wanted it.

For the Brits, I didn't go all out because even if it felt more official than NME, it wasn't the type of event you wore a ballgown to. I wore a midi black dress whose attractive quality was a low-cut neckline, not that I had any cleavage to show off. But the fabric framed a necklace Alex had gifted me over Christmas. It had a tiny flower pendant that fell on my sternum. He purchased it somewhere in Germany, he can't remember.

Alex dressed as an old English hunter was much more attractive than I thought it would be. He had a newsboy hat with a twig sewn into it that he gave me as soon as we arrived at the afterparty and I wore it for the rest of the night. We lost it at some point on the way home. I can't quite remember. We got really drunk.

The Brits made the mistake this year of allowing guests to drink alcohol at the table, worsened by the fact they gave a pre-ordered liquor cache under the table. It was almost a bet to have us drink it all. I read out the program they gave us to Alex. It hadn't gotten too rowdy yet, we were actually planning on eating dinner if we hadn't arrived after the main course period. We managed to snag a piece of dessert before the main show started. 

"Oh, lookie here," I said, pointing to a photo of the band displayed in the program. "Cutie patootie."

Alex scoffed, "I look like I just wet meself."

I cackled. He wasn't far off. He was sitting with his nervous bug-eyed gaze and his hands stuffed between his knees. "Well, I think you look cute."

I continued flipping and Alex slagged off, "All that Brit School nonsense."

"But Adele." I held up the spread of Adele with a BRIT Trust check.

"Yeah, but you don't see me whining on about Barnsley." He sipped back another glass of alcohol. He was deeper in than I and he would remain far more drunk than me the whole night, a rare exchange. 

I snorted. "I don't think anyone is whining on about Barnsley. I liked it though."

"That's because you were the most popular lass there."

I laughed at the idea. "No, I wasn't."

He sat back, his look completely serious. "What are you on about? Everyone loved you."

I continued flipping through the pages, skimming through the text. "I was an easy lay, Alex, you can say it."

"Stop with that nonsense." He had been sensitive ever since some Mirror story had come out about my behavior in school. I didn't know why people would care so much about what I got up to in college. I had admittedly been hurt by the article but I didn't feel any different than when Will would call me a slut. You know, except the whole national scale about the whole thing. I was partially honored by the whole thing that someone would deem me popular enough to publish in a tabloid. It was like I was a soap star my mother would read about. That was the bad part. My mother read it. She brought it up at Christmas dinner, a sly "Jane's famous enough to be called a loose woman."

I tore my eyes away from the program and looked at Al. "It's not nonsense if it's true."

"You don't have to be down on yourself."

I laughed though I didn't find it funny and shook my head in annoyance. "I'm not down on myself. I'm not ashamed of it. I'm not a virgin. Shocker." He could tell I was slightly ticked off, looking back down at Adele.

"I know. I guess...I just didn't know how you...felt toward the whole...I don't know...thing...I just..."

I snapped my head up. "Are you interviewing me?" I laughed.

"Huh?" He was cute, brows furrowed under the brim of his hat.

I pushed his hat down over his eyes, forcing him to readjust it. "I'm choosing to embrace my sexuality this year."

"Oh. Okay." He waited a few seconds before saying, "Does that mean we're gonna fuck in the bathroom?"

I gasped and slapped his chest. "Alexander. I am a lady and you a gentleman, slow your horses."

"Well, then, come hither madame, and let's copulate in the loo."

I laughed hard, "Please never say copulate again. I can tell why people thought you were a weirdo at Barnsley."

His face dropped. "Did people really think that?"

I snuffed a chuckle. "No, Alex, geez, you still care what those bums think of you?"

"No, but, I guess, my impression was that I was liked."

"Alex," I placed my hands on his shoulder with complete sincerity in my voice, "everybody loved you. Except maybe Will and that group."

His eyes squinted. "Will didn't like me?"

I crossed my legs and turned back to the program. "You bagged the hottest lass in school, what do you think?"

Then, we drank, drank, drank. Any leftover alcohol we had went to spraying the boys when they won. For their first award, Alex was over on Jamie's lap and I was charged with making sure the wooden duck wasn't forgotten at our table amongst the champagne chaos. I handed it over James Ford and Richard Hawley amidst the chaos. Alex held a horn and a flask, which showed no shame in the obvious inebriation as he said, "We are the Arctic Monkeys and we are the most fantastic" before blowing the aforementioned horn into the microphone.

In the span of heading on stage and returning to the table, the lads must have drank more because they came back even more wasted. It was an easy coping mechanism for the slow pain of the award show with brief breaks of relief as Mark Ronson and Amy Winehouse performed and the Osbournes hosting, who also had obvious intoxication. 

I laughed so hard I almost peed myself as Vic Reeves and Sharon Osbourne fought over who got to read the winner of the Mastercard British Album of the Year (this is very important because Sharon also got pissed at Vic for not remembering the award he was presenting). The whole ordeal had me drunk laughing into Alex's arms and the only thing keeping me upright was his side, which of course meant the moment they were announced the winner and Alex left my side to go onstage I fell on my ass, nearly tugging him down with me.

"Are you alright?" He asked with a tone of laughter. He reached down to pick me up. 

"Yeah." I tried to hold more laughter back but it was unbearable. "I'm so drunk, Alex."

He laughed just as hard as me. "I think I am too."

"Oh." I laughed some more. "I think you have to go get your award."

"I think so too." We laughed some more until Alex was pushed away toward the stage where he walked up very slowly making Sharon yell that they didn't have enough time making me laugh even more. Thank god for Katie, now keeping me upright with her tiny frame.

Nick took my place onstage with Alex as they leaned into one another, twin poles keeping each other standing. Alex's speech went as most speeches had that night: a thank you to the BRIT School in the style of Adele, Kate Nash, Leona Lewis, and the audience of BRIT School attendees. Except for the obvious credential of going to the BRIT School. It was all very tongue-in-cheek drunk hilarious. Luckily the band made it back in time for Paul McCartney and for that, I will always be thankful as I risked my ankles swaying and jumping to "Live and Let Die."

At the affiliated after-party, I danced in my heeled boots with Katie and used the toilet so many times I must have set a Brits record. Alex became rather tired early on and slumped in a chair around 1 AM. We left soon after that, sloppily drunk waiting for a cab, leaning into each other silently. We had our photo taken and it is the first time I can recall visibly having photographers snap pictures. All before then had been sly shots and from that point on some barrier had been broken. I didn't mind it as much as Alex did. I wasn't thrilled by it either but I liked the idea of looking back on memories of that night that I was too out of to remember.

In the back of the cab, going home together, we fiddled with each other's hands and talked softly. Such a loud night had winded down and it was just us (and the driver) together. "You know your speech got cut off?" I asked him. 

"Yeah." He nodded slowly and his eyes fluttered. "Guess The BRIT School weren't happy with their proud graduates."

I chuckled. "Do you know how happy I am I went to Barnsley?"

He laughed and shook his head. "You might be the only one."

I moved closer to him. "I better not be. I'd have never met you."

Alex stared at me in disbelief. He looked like he was slowly processing the information into his system. His touch was soothing on me as he leaned his forehead to mine. "I love you. You got that, right?"

I smiled so close to him. "I know. Love you too. Did you know?"

He tilted his head slightly. "I had an idea." He kissed me then, close, tight, in the backseat, on our way home, with each other.

*

For my birthday—the 22nd one—Alex and I held a mild party, which turned into a bigger one. Amidst the chaos, Alex and I escaped outside and had a smoke break. Up against our building's brick wall, we soaked in our hazy drunkenness. We laughed ridiculously but we were still able to stand up straight.

"Should we get a cat?" I asked him. Georgia and Kyle had just adopted one.

"Who would take care of it?" Alex asked.

I laughed, even if I was plotting ways to steal Georgia and Kyle's cat. "Fair enough."

Alex looked away and his demeanor had changed, just an inch. His face had dropped to a neutral tone, other than his lips, slightly downturned. "What's wrong?" I asked. He shook his head, avoiding my eyes. I reached out and brushed his cheek. "Tell me. It's not right to be sad on my birthday. It's the most magical day of the year."

He smiled at my enthusiasm, always happy when I was happy. I worried that meant I brought him down when I was sad so often. He looked up, holding something back in himself. "Are you happy?"

My brows furrowed, completely lost. "Don't I seem happy?"

"Yeah. I just worry. I don't know what I'm thinking." He looked away, down at his hands, fistfighting each other.

"You're doing the second-guessing thing," I told him. I leaned closer, sliding my arm between his back and the wall, holding onto the middle of his spine. "I'm not gonna up and leave. I hope you trust me."

"Of course," Alex insisted. He reached down and squeezed my other hand. "I struggle with trusting meself."

I brushed his hair behind his ear, rubbing that spot to calm him. "Well, I trust you. That should count for something."

He stood silently and I watched as a small smile grew on his face. "It means everything." He looked up at me, eyes shiny and piercing. "I always want to be here for you."

"You are," I promised. I leaned my forehead against his. "Now, can we stop rehashing old mistakes and enjoy my party?"

Alex put on a happier face, even if I didn't fully buy it. "Yeah. Sorry for being a bummer."

I laughed. "I'm not one to talk. But I'd much prefer you laughing and making crude jokes all night than this."

He stood off the wall and smiled with a promise to not be a party pooper. Then, he made out with me outside our flat's door until Georgia caught us. She wagged her finger at us and we laughed even harder. Throughout the night Alex made jokes about my boobs and tried to fondle me. It was the most glorious display of a man grabbing a woman's ass. 

I loved every second of it because he'd grab my left cheek making me yelp before asking my opinion on the song playing. He cared every bit what I had to say about it. I had never felt that with anyone before and I've never felt it since. Every second, every mumble, every movement captured him and he didn't let up for a second, he never has. 

I wrapped my arms around his neck and tugged him closer because I have always wanted him closer. Closer to my lips, closer to my heart, closer to my city, closer to me. I had moved past my problem with public displays of affection in the last year. I don't know what flipped, I think I just was sick of not having him touch me. We didn't usually fondle each other this much (alcohol-afflicted) but not holding his hand felt ridiculous. 

Later, after I had blown out the candles and we were all eating the red velvet cake, Alex and I sat on the edge of our bed like we did most of our eating. We were sitting in the middle of the noise but it was quiet enough to hear each other, music turned down and people's mouths full of cake and I had to ask what had been eating away at me. "Are you happy?" I asked. "I mean, here in London."

Alex leaned away from me. He fought a smile, wanting to seem sincere and not cheesy. "Are you kidding?"

I shifted closer to him, leaning my arm forward to him. "I've kind of figured how you feel but since you asked me I wanted to be sure."

His hand reached out and he pushed back a chunk of hair that had flopped forward, holding onto my shoulder after. "I love being here with you."

"I know that." Alex's affection was never easily hidden. For me, it was always easy to tell if you liked something or not and I always knew he loved me, even when we weren't together loving each other. "But if I weren't here would you live in London?"

Alex looked down at his cake, playing with the fork, thinking to himself. He hummed. "I don't know. I think so." Then, he shrugged, took a bite of cake, and looked up at me, leaning close to my face. "But I just want to be wherever you are."

I rolled my eyes. It was too much for me to handle. I pushed his shoulder and couldn't prevent a grin. "Stop it."

He chuckled, pleased with getting me flustered. It has always been his favourite hobby.

*

The Age of the Understatement came out a month later and while the Puppets were rehearsing for Later with Jools Holland, I listened to it in full. I had heard most of it by that point, through bits at Black Box and things Alex had strummed, but fully mixed, I was struck with the fact that I didn't know how to feel about it. I loved it but the subject matter was hard to digest because despite being together when the album was worked on, the majority of songs were written during our break-up.

It was interesting to get his perspective on these things and to hear his longing and even his bitterness toward me. I had always been so interested in this part of Alex because he never showed it to me during our separation. I had worn my heart on my sleeve to an almost embarrassing degree while he stayed silent other than small encouragements. 

I wasn't very upset over it. I always wondered why or how I became numb to these things. I blamed my parents for most of it. I ignored that nagging thought in my head that said it was something else. I ignored it for a while.

*

In April, Alex's parents came down to London for a week. On the second day, we went on a tour of the Tower of London and ate at Rules for lunch. Penny and I shared oysters and I drank A Kiss for Lillie because I loved the name so much.

"How's it feel being shacked up?" David asked us, drinking a London Pride.

I giggled, covering my face with my napkin while Alex ridiculed, "Dad." I've always felt like a little kid under the Turners' stare. I am frozen at 17 eating Sunday roast in the dead of winter when I dine with them. In front of them, I felt like Alex and I were playing a game of house and his parents were asking us how the game was going.

I dropped my napkin and looked over at Alex. He had a grin and was sipping his London Pride, the boys were alike with that. His occupation with his drink made me answer. "I think it's going well. Alex leaves his wet towels on the floor," I tattled.

"Hey!" He put his drink down, the remnants of liquid cornering his mouth. "Jane doesn't do the dishes."

Penny and David both looked on amused. "That does sound like it's going well," Penny said with a chuckle.

We dug into our meals and recharged from our walking and poor weather by chatting. Penny and David told us the news in Sheffield, which per usual was very light and boring, but it was still interesting to know what back home was like.

"How are your parents liking Bath?" Penny asked me.

"Oh, um." I didn't really know the answer. I don't know if my parents liked anything. "They've settled. Stacey's not a big fan but she'll be headed to college soon." She'd certainly been counting down the days. I was freaked out. How was I old enough for Stacey to be going to college? At least, I wasn't my mother. I think she was having panic attacks over that realization.

"Have they visited here yet?" Penny continued to ask.

I took a swig of my drink to clear the food and anxiety in my mouth. "No, no. I think Stacey wants to but my parents wouldn't let her make the journey on her own."

"If they do, I would love to come down and meet them. It's strange to have not met them yet."

I laughed. The idea of Penny and my mother in a room together felt physically impossible like forcing the ends of a magnet together. "Oh, no, I don't think you'll ever meet my parents. I wouldn't subject you two to that."

They both laughed but the air felt awkward or maybe that was just me. I clasped my hands and placed my elbows on the desk, leaning my chin on them. "I just think..." I tried to think of an explanation. I really did. Nothing came to mind. I would say I had lost any thoughts but I don't think I ever had an opinion on the matter to begin with. My parents with Alex's parents felt like a fever dream and if it were ever to occur I'd make sure Stacey was in the room. "Anyway, should we get dessert?"

*

In the summer, I attended my first Last Shadow Puppets gig with their secret set at Glastonbury. Since it was a weekend and it was Glastonbury, I took off work Friday to attend. The Puppets weren't performing until Saturday but Sinéad O'Connor was on Friday so I made it my mission to see her. 

In addition, Matt came out to play drums with them (and Jack White too on guitar) so per usual the whole weekend turned into a booze-filled extravaganza. Though I mention drinking a lot here we didn't do it very often (well, as often as any Brits in their 20s convincing themselves they're not alcoholic). Simply, this year's more notable points occurred over a pint. I blacked out during Jay-Z's headlining set on Saturday, but other substances might have been involved there too. I mean, we also got to see Amy Winehouse again and Leonard Cohen on Sunday for which I cried during "Hallelujah" because I'm a cliche, what was there not to love?

After this, Alex and I returned to London unchanged, slipping back into our old habits, just like I have always wished for. We returned to even older habits of writing together, although less planned. At night, I would write in one of my notebooks and Alex would sometimes join in. Neither of us said anything about it, fearful it would ruin the magic.

Around this time, Alex started bringing up Los Angeles. He started small, one Saturday or Sunday afternoon in July, while I was fixing one of the holes in his trousers. My sewing skills were minimal back then (I pride myself in saying they have improved in recent years) but far better than Alex who struggled to thread a needle.

He kept me company as we sat on the floor, my eyes concentrated on the fabric, poking the needle through it. "I was talking to Matt about LA recently. About going out there," he said.

I hummed. "Well, you know I've always wanted to go."

"We were thinking at the end of the year. After the Puppets' tour. Recording out there at Josh Homme's." My eyes were too focused on the needle and thread than looking at him. Alex had talked about Homme before, slowly getting to know him through the years. Homme had become a common name rather than Queens of the Stone Age's Josh Homme.

"I could probably get off for a week or during the holidays," I told him nonchalantly (mistake).

I looked up and he handed me the scissors, smiling bright and wide. "We'll do all the hikes you want."

I stared at him narrowly. "I just like nature."

He held his hands up. "I'm not knocking you for it."

A few weeks later, we had Jamie, Katie, Matt, and his new girlfriend over for dinner. (Nick was in Sheffield for his mum's birthday). We got a foldout table for us all to sit at and Alex cooked something, I don't remember what but it smelled and tasted good. I was very impressed.

We had seen much of each other in the past few months but this had been the first time we all sat and just talked in a long while. There was catching up and getting to know this girlfriend of Matt's that didn't last for long, but I remember her being nice. 

We had finished eating long ago, but we were still sitting with our empty plates, chatting away when LA came up again. An unknowing Matt asked, "What are you going to do with this place when we're in LA?"

The only way I made sense of what Matt was asking was to assume he was referring to someone house sitting. I shrugged. "I mean, Georgia has a key to check in if we'd need it."

"Two places. Swanky, swanky," Jamie uttered.

"What?" I furrowed my brows and tried to get some understanding from Alex. His face was hidden away, his hand rubbing his face, and that was clear enough for me but I still asked. "Why would we need two places?" I asked sternly. "We're only going to be there for a week."

"Al told us you were coming out with us," Matt said, a little lost.

I tried to look at Alex but he shied away and it became clear that he had bent the truth when he told me about LA. "For how long?" I asked Matt.

"We're all thinking of moving out there. At least for the next album."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm getting the impression you didn't know this."

"Uh-huh," I uttered. I stood up and began to clear the dishes. 

"Should we go so you guys can fight?" Matt asked.

I walked to the kitchen, only a few measly steps away from our makeshift table. Everything too close. "We're not fighting," Alex said, always quick to deny a fight, horrible at diffusing one.

I didn't want to bicker in front of them so I put the dishes in the sink and asked if anybody wanted dessert. The remainder of the evening was tense but I leaned closer to Katie than Alex and when they left I was sad to see them go because I didn't want to fight and I didn't want to do the dishes.

The door shut and Alex stared on at me. I choose dishes. I turned the faucet on and Alex said, "I can do them."

"Will you or will you say that and then not do them?" My back was to him but I could picture him clearly, awkward standing between the foldout table and our bed.

"Look." He sighed harshly, I could hear the aches of it ring in my ear. "Things got bigger and I did a shite job at keeping you informed."

My boiling anger couldn't cool down with him talking so I figured to just out with it. I quickly turned off the water and turned to look at him. "I always thought that once we were finally in the same city as one another—let alone the same house as one another—that all those old problems we had of half-truths and not telling each other things was over with but you seem to have a hard time with it."

"I knew if I told you, you'd get pissed—"

My eyes widened. "You're a fucking idiot. I'm even more pissed now 'cause you lied to me."

"I didn't lie to you. I was trying to work things out and I knew you wouldn't go if I told you about moving out there," Alex tried to explain.

"What were you planning on doing? Kidnapping me out there?"

"No, I was just trying to work things out. Can't I work things out before telling you about them?"

"Why can't we do that together?" All our habits had been hard to break. I thought we had broken away from this one. We told each other all the details only for our ears and those walls, just like in my childhood bedroom, but just like back then things were always omitted. I can't lie, I'd done it too, but mine were much smaller, not life-changing.

"Oh, come on, Jane, because I know you. You would have shut the idea down right away even if I came to with some grand presentation. You only want things your way."

"Because it's my turn! I get to pick! You said that, not me." I held it over his head because I had the right to. Of course, I wanted things my way, I had bent to people's will for so long that I wanted them to bend toward me, but that just didn't happen.

"You're right and I'm sorry. Nothing's definitive. It's not like we're leaving tomorrow." His dissipation angered me and I was no longer open to accepting apologies.

"If you move out to LA, I'm breaking up with you." It was final in my mind and it hurt but it would hurt more for him to go.

He stepped back. His head moved around, rattled and confused. "What?!"

I pointed to myself. My face was hot and my fury was on fire. "It's my turn! I get to decide! We're not going."

"You don't get to decide that."

"Uh, yeah, I do because it's my turn."

"So, what did you think you'd have jurisdiction over for the rest of our lives?"

"At least for a year!"

"When we leave it will be a year."

I let out a breath and couldn't even look at him. A realization ticked over me. "And our lease will be up. Are you conspiring against me or something?" I scowled. Hard.

"No. I'm talking about doing things we talked about for years. We're fucking off to America."

"Don't use my words against me." Alex likes to do this.

"You're using mine against me." I like to do this.

"I don't want to fuck off to America anymore. You're asking me to give up my job, my friends, my flat. It's not like you'd do any of that for me." That's what hurt most. Those tallying of sacrifices. Maybe because I was willing to do it and I know he'd never be. There is something more wrong with me than him but he was well-adjusted and I was a petulant child.

"I'd do a lot for you and you know it."

"Then do this for me. What's so wrong about London? You recorded a whole album here when we weren't together. Now that we are, you have to go to another country."

"For a few months. Not the rest of your life and you don't have to come!" He emphasized that part.

"I know that! I know that, you fucking idiot. I want to be with you. That's the difference but you seem awful desperate to get away from me."

"Fuck off with that, Janie. You know that's not true. I'll go out there for a few months. I'll come back. That's it." He seemed to want to put an end to the fight, didn't want the fireworks to keep going and I was determined more by that to keep it going. To stretch it out for as long as possible.

"Then, we're breaking up. I'm not doing this coming and going shit for the rest of my life."

"Don't be so dramatic."

"Why does it matter? You're moving away to sunny Los Angeles with all the models."

"Do you think I'm gonna cheat on you? Let me remind you who cheated." Touché.

"Oh, fuck that. We were barely together when I went to Aruba and god knows what you were doing. And I'm not threatened by some model. Shockingly the one thing I don't have doubts about is that you love me."

"Good!" He said it so harshly it almost made me laugh. "Stop with all this break-up talk then."

"Why can't you just stay here?" I argued it, even though I knew it was no longer an option. It was as if he was already gone.

"Why can't you come with me? You'll write, you'll hike, you'll be the coolest chick in all of LA."

"Did you just call me a chick? Who are you?" I laughed at the ridiculousness and Alex joined in but I was laughing at him, nowhere near with him. I returned to the argument quickly. "I like my job. That might shock you since you just sit around here all day but I like going to work."

He rolled his eyes and didn't address my dig at his career. Alex works hard, he knows he works hard, he knows I know he works hard. There was no need to pointlessly defend it. "You tolerate your job. You want to be an assistant for the rest of your life, fine, but I think—I know you'd rather be doing the writing. Come on, you'll be Joan Didion or whatever."

"I prefer Eve Babitz," I stalely said, crossing my arms.

Alex shrugged. "Fine. Eve Babitz. Or Patti Smith. Or fucking Steinbeck. Just give me a little."

I scoffed, "I give you a lot." I walked around but he kept following. The place was so fucking small.

"I know. I just know you'll love it or you could get a job out there with Simon & Schuester, and ask to be transferred."

"They're not gonna transfer an editorial assistant and their US offices are in New York." I felt he didn't even care enough to research that part. It was plain and simple that I would just follow him around always.

"Then work at the bajillion other publishing houses out there. Or get published yourself. You're worth more than some dumb assistant."

"I like my job and will you stop chasing after me?" He stopped his movement and I walked to the opposite wall, still not too far away. I muttered, "I fucking hate this place."

"Then, come to LA, we'll get a big place where you can hide out in the guest room when you hate me," Alex offered. But it didn't matter. I just wanted it to end.

"Will you stop?" I was just exhausted, slumping down on our bed.

He sighed. He was over fighting too. We didn't kiss and make up, but he tossed me the TV remote and went and did the dishes. I fell asleep before he came to bed.

We avoided the topic for a while. Alex wanted me to have some distance to think about it and I did. I pictured living in a warmer climate, having that tan on my skin I so desperately loved. I wanted to make him happy most of all. But, for once, at first, I wasn't willing to give up something that made me happy. My job wasn't glorious but it was stable and I needed that stability. Alex had been the most reliant thing to lean on up to that point in my life and as written and seen he was often coming and going, even if emotionally he was always there for me.

In August, before he left on a string of Puppets dates, Alex asked me if I thought more about it. I had but I didn't have any answer. He reassured me of his return and a promise that I would love LA, even if I just came for a week. I didn't doubt that part, but I didn't want to give in.

*

When autumn approached and Alex returned for his September-long break, we fell back into step but not back into comfortability. LA always hung over our heads and Alex didn't bring it up again but I know he was waiting for an answer just like I was waiting to come to an answer. It was a debate between heart and head. Georgia shamed me for the whole idea of leaving England. Stacey cooed at the romance of it all. One was my peer, the other was my 16-year-old sister.

Late one night—it must have been around midnight, either Tuesday night or Wednesday morning—Alex and I played gin rummy, drinking wine. We were silent other than the record playing quietly in the background. I could tell he was getting sleepy.

I drew a card and asked, "How do you think we'll be when we're older?"

He quirked a small smile. "Does gin rummy get you sappy? You've asked me this before."

I wasn't asking him this in the same way, not fishing for a compliment of being an old married couple. I need assurance. "Do you think we'll be together?"

He waited and looked at his card like he was trying to find a match, trying to make sense of his hand. Then, he looked up, smiled, and said, "Yes."

His earnestness was shocking, blunt, plain, and simple. "You've got a lot of faith." With every passing day, I believed Alex and I could work forever, if we got past this hump of young adulthood then we'd be okay. Every day I doubted we could get past that hump. 

But then, his smile grew bigger and sleepier and he said, "It's you and me. What's there to doubt?"

I laughed. "Do you want the list?"

He shrugged. "You're never gonna know unless you try."

Alex won that round and we decided to call it a night. I took a shower and he did something during that time, I don't know what, but he managed to stay awake for me to slip under the sheets and into his arms. I nudged closer to him and nozzled my head in that crook of him.

"You smell nice," he told me. His hand scratched my damp hair, tender and careful, the best kind of massage. 

I felt everything in me relax. I shifted my head to speak and breathe clearly. "I'll come with you. To LA. I'll come."

His movements stilled like if he changed anything I would turn around and reject him, spit all over him. "You sure?"

I sighed. "I think so. But if not I can just live off you for the rest of my life." I feared that but still joked. Coping mechanism.

Alex moved away from me, shuffling me down his arm so he could see my face, a small kiss between my brows. "It would be an honour."

I ducked into his neck and said, "I'm gonna have to be my own person one day." I don't know if I was saying it to him or to me.

I squeezed my arm with some reassurance. "You know, one day you'll understand how cool you are."

"Nah," I shook my head, "I'm just Plain Jane."

*

I have wondered what it would be like if Alex wrote this book and how his perspective might change the impression of the story. I think that most about LA.

We left in November. Alex spent the month of October playing the final dates of the Puppets' tour. I gave my notice at Simon & Schuster and though my decision displeasured Georgia, she took me out to drinks, just the two of us. My parents had approved of the move, even if it didn't matter much where I lived, but they took me out to dinner and Stacey was excited to visit. 

There wasn't much to pack, and I left behind memorabilia that would cost a lot of money today, monetarily and sentimentally. Alex got a small house, bigger than our flat, but smaller than future homes. We weren't sure how long we'd be there so staying modest with our space seemed proper, especially when we were renting.

Truthfully, past my slight resentment against LA for ripping me away from London, I took to California quickly. I liked the heat and the ocean, even if it was winter. It was just a more lukewarm winter. 

Josh Homme's studio being in Joshua Tree was the cherry on top. Alex's memory was always intact and he made it his mission to get me into the national park as soon as possible. Smart move. Throughout winter, we must have hiked every inch of it, seen Gram Parsons memorial too many times, and stargazed at the Milky Way a thousand times. 

We always had fun at night. The speculation of what went on in the desert isn't far off and, though it wasn't a constant thing, partaking in psychedelics wasn't rare. I quite liked it. I think we all did. Joshua Tree at night was definitely a good place to do it. I'm pretty sure that town is founded off of it. 

I looked at the sky when we did it but more often than not I enjoyed looking at people. Like everything else, people usually meant just Alex. His hair was shaggier, but not long, more Beatles mop-top with curly ends. His eyes looked brownier and felt more puppy-dog, paired with a pout. He hadn't been wearing a heavy coat or long sleeve too often and I liked seeing him in short sleeves, fitter than ever. I liked watching him do it more than anything. 

He'd turn to me, notice me staring, scruff my hair in his hands. "Look at us two. Observers." We simply liked watching each other. Always have, even through the rough times. I just found him intriguing and interesting to look at. He tempted something in me that made me so desperate to stare on just like when we were 17. I asked him once if I had that quality too. He laughed, finding the question ridiculous because "Of course. Who wouldn't look at ya?"

Parts of me wanted to return to London where I felt like the one in control. Being unemployed didn't help. Alex would come home to me, which was lovely, but I wanted something to come home from too. Alex brought me to the studio occasionally but I wasn't a fan of being the girlfriend, sitting on an amp, waiting around. I didn't have any friends either. That might have been the worst. Sitting around doing next to nothing grew boring quickly and though I wrote I didn't know what I was writing for.

But I did write something and I wrote often. My days of notebooks were gone and I switched to typing. Something I was dreadful at, sticking my index fingers out and pointing. Alex taught me how to type. He'd drawn up a diagram for me to memorize where the keys were and I always laughed because I could've just looked at my keyboard. He thought staring at it on a piece of paper would be easier.

Eventually, he unlocked the true thing that would make me learn how to type properly and quickly: a competition. It was on one of those stupid typing websites that I had tried out but got sick of typing "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog." However, one day, Alex said, "We've finally found something that I'm better than you at." (This is a clear lie because he's better at almost everything than me but he indulges me so you must too). It became my mission then to be better at typing than Alex. I achieved this by the second week in California because he's not that good of a typist either. 

So, I began typing instead of handwriting, which meant I was writing a greater quantity than ever. To get out of the house, I would go to a cafe and type and type and type. Drinking way too much coffee, which led to my sleep schedule getting completely fucked up (along with those acid trips). Sometimes, I would sleep the whole day while Alex left and returned from the studio. It worked out kind of nicely. It's like I wasn't even missing him. However, it wasn't highly advisable for a healthy lifestyle so I tweaked it just a little, staying up a whole day, and passing out at 9 PM. I blamed jetlag. At that point, we had been there for a month.

That's about when I became bored of California. Early December. I loved being in California, I loved being with Alex & the band, but I didn't have much of a life. It was recreational play with my boyfriend and his best mates. I didn't have any friends of my own to go out drinking with and shit-talk about how Alex didn't pick up the wet towels. When I voiced this to Alex, it never came from a calm standpoint. That has always been my issue.

I told him, "I have no life here. I'm just doing whatever you do and you don't do anything so I do nothing." It was late and we were going to bed but I had to start something.

Alex—clad in his pajamas and tired from actually doing things all day—leaped quickly to frustrated aggravation. I had changed that calm demeanor in him. It killed me. He stood up and walked to the door with his back to me. Not even a bother of wishing me good night.

"Where are you going?" I scoffed at him.

He sighed before turning around and spitting, "I'm not gonna be your punching bag. I love you but I'm getting tired of this shit. If you're going to blame me for every bad feeling you have, then leave. I'm not making you happy then go."

He watched my fury dissolve. I regretted and despised my need to ruin a perfect evening with anger. He did nothing wrong and a pit would develop in me, forcing its way out, fighting its way through me before I was firing away. 

I swallowed that lump. "I'm sorry."

My eyes downcasted, he walked over to me on the edge of the bed, sitting beside me. "It's fine." His arm came around me and I turned into him, hugging him properly. He squeezed back tightly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Talk. Like adults. "Yeah," I said in his ear. "I'd like that."

I told him every emotion that had festered. Praised California for its inspiration and blamed it for my loneliness. I went on and on never-ending and he listened, held my hand, and didn't say anything. I cried at one point, not heavily, but enough for him to squeeze my hand tighter in reassurance. "I don't do too well with change. Clearly." I brushed it away, sniffling.

Alex looked over at my face and realizing I had come to my conclusion, he finally spoke and asked, "Do you want to go back home?"

I laughed and looking at him I felt the answer should be no, but my eyes fell down, and soon did my smile. "Maybe."

"Okay." I wanted so badly not to disappoint him and he knew that. He tugged me close and hugged me. "It's okay. You'll go back and I'll be back for Christmas and we'll do something special. It'll be okay." I cried hard into his shoulder, probably getting snot over him, but he didn't care. His hand soothed my shaking shoulders. "I'm sorry I'm selfish."

I pulled away, rubbing my nose. "Stop. You're doing something wonderful and I love being here, I just think it's too soon. Maybe in a couple of years, this would have been better and I could've gotten a job out here but something happens to me when I'm not occupied. I feel like I go crazy. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, don't be sorry."

I shook my head. "Don't do that. You don't deserve all the mean things I've said. You're so loving and caring and I'm a bitch."

"Stop it. It's okay to not want to do everything I want to do. I love that we butt heads, that you put me in my place. I know that I broke a promise to you and you have every right to be pissed at me for it. I just want you to do what's best for you."

"Yeah," I said with a shaky breath. He rubbed his hands up and down my arms. I was the beating waves crashing onto his harbor. His lighthouse stayed put.

*

The following night, we went to Ivar, a nightclub in West Hollywood. I was still debating if I would return to California in 2009 and with that, I decided to enjoy the time we had left before we returned home for the holidays. The club was packed, I was dressed slutty because that's what you do when it's 70ºF in winter. 

A little black dress is key. Along with a nice pair of heels, which I usually didn't dare dance in but that night I wanted to feel glorious. Paired with the gifted flower pendant, I felt drunk happy. I've always felt happier drunk and since I became aware of this fact it has worried me.

However, that night, I felt well-paced and among happy people. Alex was smiling and Alex hated these kinds of things where people were all squished together, drowning him, so that must mean it was a really good night. I clung to him, arms around his neck, swaying amongst the loud bass beats from the DJ. 

"I love dancing," I told him.

He chuckled, lighter than me. His nose nudged my cheek. "I can tell. You're always happy when you're dancing."

I pulled away from him, shimming my hips. "Well, the music tells me to move and I listen. You're stiff as a board."

"Me nature, I suppose."

I shrugged, moving back to him. "You're cute when you're watching me."

"I'm always watching you. I can't look away from you."

I giggled because it was too much sweetness, his sugar was rotting me from the inside out. I tapped his nose. "You're a charmer. You're my little guy."

"Yeah." He smiled. "I like being your guy. Your fella."

"Fella!" I exclaimed, swaying, unbalanced in my heels. "You're my fella. And I, your lady." I moved my feet side to side, singing into his ear, "You are woman and I am man."

He laughed, right back into my ear, like a game of telephone. "Don't go all musical theater on me, Janie."

I messed with his hair, my fluffy puppy dog. "I balance you out."

"I'd be that shy boy up against the wall if it weren't for you."

"Yes, but you'd have all the girls wrapped around your finger," I reminded him. All those armchair girls he used to have.

"I only want one girl and I'm wrapped around her finger." I suppose to him, he favoured a dancefloor girl (and maybe this is when I started to fall in love with that song, remembering that tiny boy who wrote it).

"Who?" I requested to hear him utter it. My name on his lips.

He chuckled, looking up at the ceiling, strobe lights flickering. "Don't make me play that game."

"But I want to hear you say it," I whined.

Alex looked down, those brown eyes close to mine and he kissed me. We were transferring heat back and forth to one another, capturing each other within the madness as the crowd swelled around us. "You've got me wrapped around your finger, Janie. All yours." It was the greatest gift a girl could ask for.

It felt like we were stuck inside a speaker, the whole place pulsating and booming. The vibration ate away at my soul and it soon became unbearable, which meant it was time for a smoke break. We snuck outside and shared a cigarette because it felt more romantic. I held the lighter and Alex held the cigarette to my lips.

"I want to see a movie this weekend but everything that's out right now is depressing," I told him.

"We could go see Twilight." The movie had come out two weeks prior and Alex couldn't stop joking about it. He would comment on the reports of diehard fans and I would say it's no different than his fans but he counters this by saying that Twilight is a shittier movie than their shite music. Yet, he kept bringing the movie up. Almost like he wanted to go and see it...interesting...

"Landmark is doing Harold & Maude." Landmark had been our go-to activity with retro movies galore. It is now Vista Theater owned by Quentin Tarantino, no relevance here. I just thought I'd mention it as a fun fact.

"Aw," he cooed, leaning the side of his body up against the bricks. "I love Harold & Maude."

I smiled an impossible-to-resist smile. "I know you do. It's 'cause you look like Harold."

He sneered. "I do not. His eyes are all far apart."

"But you've got the same hair." I brushed my hand through his head of hair.

Alex didn't believe me for a second. "We do not. That makes you Ruth Gordon."

I placed my hand over my heart. "I consider that to be an honor."

"I know you do, Rosemary's Baby."

"'Anyone! Anyone! It didn't have to be a no-good slut straight from the gutter. Just as long as she is young, healthy, and not a virgin!'" I quoted.

He laughed, throwing his head back in delight. "You've seen that movie too many times."

"It's 'cause I love John Cassavetes so much."

"You want a guy like Guy Woodhouse?" Hmm, a satan-worshiping husband or Alex?

"No, I want a guy like John Cassavetes. You look like him a little. If you got a little facial reconstruction."

"A little facial reconstruction?" He laughed.

"Well, I see more of him in you than Harold. Besides, Cassavetes was an alcoholic and died 20 years ago, you're much more my taste."

His laughter continued. "That's good to know."

Then, we were kissing and we kissed for a while, long enough that we needed time to separate and breathe. Though we had less air to breathe inside the club, we decided it was an appropriate time to head back inside, at least to let the boys know we were still around.

On our way back inside, we walked by a woman. She stopped me, taking my arm and saying, "I love what you're wearing."

A stranger had never complimented my outfit before. I've had unknown men whistle at me but never a woman telling me, "And that necklace, it's stunning." She was platinum blonde with a short bob by her ears. She was dressed in a white babydoll dress and had pearl bracelets on both her wrists. 

"Oh." My hand went up to it and I fiddled with it, looking over at Alex. His hands were in his pockets and his eyes watched on, nudging me forward with his gaze like I was a child on their first day of school. "He got it in Germany."

"Foreign. You and the necklace."

"British," I told her.

"I've loved British people ever since Harry Potter. Are you British too?" Her eyes turned to Alex.

"Yeah."

"Are you here on vacation?"

"No, he's recording an album," I explained.

"An album? Cool," she praised for a moment before turning back to me. "What do you do?"

"I was an editorial assistant for Simon & Schuester back in London but, I guess, I'm unemployed right now."

"She's a writer," Alex spoke for me. Always my cheerleader.

She squealed. "Oh, my god! I'm an art director for ELLE magazine! You know, I could tell you were a writer. You have that look to you."

I laughed and partially thought that Alex had paid this woman to approach me. "What look is that?" I asked.

Her eyes trailed up and down me, X-raying me and examining the image. "You just seem astute. Maybe it's the British thing."

"You don't know many British people," I told her and she laughed and laughed and at some point, Alex slipped away back to our group but I didn't notice. We talked and she gave me her phone number and her name: Opal. I'd comment on the peculiarity of it but I'm Plain Jane so who am I to pass judgment? Actually, I quite like the name.

Later in the evening, after we had drunk sex (Alex and I, not Opal and I), he hugged me to him and I hugged back. I possess a great need to be near Alex as much as possible, but drunk me would die without it. That part of me will always love hanging off of him. 

My brain was foggy but we were both clear-headed enough to remember the exchange. "I like you a lot, Alex."

He laughed at me. "I figured."

But I was serious, both now in writing it and then when saying it. I turned, sitting up on his chest, elbows on his ribs. "No, like I really like you."

Alex pushed my flyaways back, a funny smirk staring me down. "I really like you too, Janie."

I moaned dramatically. "Like that when you call me 'Janie.' Do you know what that means to me?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "You want to go for round 2?"

"No!" I shouted, furrowing my brows. "This isn't a sexual thing, it's a loving thing."

"Liking thing," he corrected.

I nodded, pouting my lips. My face felt fuzzy. "I always hated when people called me that. I felt like I was being babied or something. Maybe it's something to do with my dad or Tommy or a stupid guy. But then you call me that and it's like an angels' chorus." I was stupid drunk and stood up on my knees, flapping my arms like I was a bird, and fell beside Alex on the bed. Though I demanded this was a serious thing, I wasn't very serious. My drunk words were my sober thoughts. Luckily, they were pretty sweet.

Alex looked over at me, turning onto his side. His eyes were soft and shiny, staring into me. I was like a baby and started pulling at his face, tugging on his cheeks and tapping his nose. He laughed at my actions but was rather emotional, pulling my hands away from his face, and pushing them down to rest on his chest.

"I'm glad I can be not a stupid guy for you." The idea of stupid guys seemed long ago, almost foreign to me. Maybe I chose to block it out or maybe I had a hard time believing that I lucked into Alex. Even if he faulted and he faulted a lot, I never doubted his care for me. He was the first person I felt that unconditional nature from and it transformed something in me, giving me the belief that nothing should ever be less than this, but perhaps nothing will ever be as good as this. As good as him.

"You are, but you're my stupid guy." I giggled, pleased with my insult. I turned onto my side too, placing my arm over his body, pulling myself closer to him. "I really like the person you are and the person you're becoming. I like every version of you. I'll love every version of you."

He was silent for a while. I was able to stay quiet and still. I could tell he was thinking of what I had just said. It was rare that my words bested Al's in the romance department, but maybe once in a blue moon. 

Then, he nodded, swallowed hard, and tried to force something down; emotions, tears, a laugh—I don't know. "I'm a lucky guy," he said quietly.

I shook my head, adamantly insisting, "You're a deserving guy."

*

a/n: i swear i didn't just post this because @goblinontour praised it. but i will keep mentioning the compliment.

[crazychaoticizzy]

Sugar Rush

You never expected to suck off your boyfriend with candy wrapped around his dick, but there's a first time for everything.

ARMIN X READER

CONTENT: MINORS DNI, gn!reader, established relationship, oral (m receiving), food play, hair pulling, probably unrealistic, a very random horny thought a friend and I came up with one night

WORD COUNT: 788

Masterlist

AOT Masterlist

You paused the movie you were watching with Armin, listening for another knock on your door before getting up.

Once the second set of knocks had sounded, you sighed, standing up and stretching before walking to your front door. You unlocked it, opening it to reveal a man with a box under his arm. He'd been looking at a paper, glancing up when he heard your door open.

He held the box out to you, revealing that it was a 72 pack of Fruit Roll-Ups. You raised an eyebrow.

"Why are you giving me this?" It was a stupid question, but what else were you supposed to do when a man in a Walmart uniform hands you a giant box of candy?

"Because this"—the man looked at the number on your door—"is the address I was supposed to deliver it to."

You leaned against the door frame, holding the box under your arm. "What am I supposed to do with seventy-two Fruit Roll-Ups?"

The man shrugged. "Eat 'em?" He shrugged again, bidding you goodbye and walking away.

You started after him, shaking your head before closing the door.

"Hey, did you order Fruit Roll-Ups?" you asked, sitting back now with Armin.

"No. Why?" He turned his head toward you, seeing the box in your lap. His eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Oh."

"Yeah." You sighed, fingers tapping on the top of the box. "What should we do with these?"

"We could always give them to someone else?" he suggested. "We don't really have a use for that many Fruit Roll-Ups."

You hummed, nodding. You racked your brain for ideas, mind settling on something a friend of yours had sent you a while back.

You replayed the video in your head, rethinking about her message afterwards saying you should try it out. You had rejected the idea because you rarely bought candy, but now that you had it in your hands . . .

"I have an idea."

—

In retrospect, maybe wrapping candy around Armin’s dick and giving him head was a ridiculous idea.

But the soft moans that left his lips when you carefully fit your mouth over his cock are addicting, and you want to draw more noises from him.

Your lips taste like sugar when you pull your mouth off him and kiss his tip. Armin softly whines at the action, running a hand through his short hair and gently tugging on it.

The Fruit Roll-Up you'd wrapped around his dick had become sticky to the touch, covered in a mixture of your spit and Armin's precum. You looked up at him through your lashes, seeing his head thrown back on the couch with his eyes screwed shut. You softly smile, leaving another kiss on his tip before taking him in your mouth again.

The high pitched, whiny moan he lets out is music to your ears. You softly bob your head as his hand snakes into your hair, gently forcing you further onto his cock.

You just barely feel him graze the back of your throat, but it’s enough to make you gag. The way your throat constricts around his dick has him keening your name, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes as he moans.

He softly curses, muttering incoherent praises to you as you suck on his cock. His grip on your hair tightens. "Y/n, m'gonna come."

He sounds drunk with the way his words slur together, and maybe he was intoxicated just by the feel of your mouth.

One thing he never expected to happen was his significant other giving him head with candy wrapped around him.

Another thing was that he never expected to enjoy it so much.

It was just a few more moments until he came, some of his cum shooting into your mouth.

You pulled away, carefully wiping your wet lips before slowly swallowing his load.

"Did you like that?" you softly ask, gingerly unwrapping the sticky Fruit Roll-Up before putting that in your mouth as well.

You held eye contact with Armin as you did so, his eyes transfixed on the way you carefully stuffed the lump of candy in your mouth. He watched with his mouth agape, not hearing your question.

You softly hummed, leaning forward until you were level with him from where he sat on the couch.

"Armin?" you softly asked, his name rolling off your tongue like honey.

"Hm?" He closed his mouth, blinking at you for a second before responding. "Oh, uhm, yeah, I did," he whispered.

A smile crossed your face. "Really?"

He hums in affirmation, nodding and moving his face closer to yours.

"We're using all of those Fruit Roll-Ups," he said before he kissed your lips.

just a little thought a friend and i had

i'm gonna say i had no idea how to write this or what I was doing so hopefully you enjoy

and this might not be for everyone so if you don't like it scroll past and don't leave comments please and thank you

-Izzy <3

TAGLIST: @arminsvoicecracks comment or dm if you'd like to be notified whenever I write for Armin!

[andromeda-nova-writing]

What a Treat!

Fem!Reader Words: 1376

Summary: The depressing state of no one showing up to Trick or Treat and being trapped with way too much candy. It was something that happened way too much for Kaveh's sanity. Maybe this year would finally be different.

AN: Happy Halloween! Can be read as romantic or not. Thanks for helping me come up with the idea  @milkstore Beta read by @isekyaaa

This would be the year Kaveh finally got to hand out candy. It had been way too many years of getting only a few trick-or-treaters. He has wasted putting up decorations for too long. Candy had gone to waste year after year after year. This year would be different because he changed locations. He wasn’t even at his own home! He was with someone who cared about his woes! And someone who let him truly go all out on the decorations.

This would be his year he kept telling himself as he poured out the bags of candy into a bowl. “How many did you say you got last year?”

“At least 40,” Y/N answered as she looked into a small handheld mirror and applied lipstick. “You know it's been a while since I last got dressed up. Actually, no scratch that. I dressed up not last year, but the year before.”

“I told you that you didn’t have to get dressed up with me if you didn’t want to.” Kaveh had a small lisp due to the little fangs he had on his teeth.

“My house looks like the best one on the block. It would be weird if I didn’t dress up.” Y/N put the mirror down before closing up the lipstick. “Plus I wouldn’t have expected you ever to get dressed up as a vampire. You don’t tend to handle horror well.”

“I’m not that bad.” He frowned placing the empty candy bag on the counter.

“Okay, then after there’s no more trick-or-treaters do you want to watch Isabelle? I have the original on VHS. They kept all the gory details in this one, including the eyeball popping-”

“Hey! What time did you say they start arriving?”

Y/N laughed knowing she was getting a no regardless. “Sometime after 6 pm and usually finishing up around 8.”

Kaveh looked at the unopened bags of candy on the counter. “And you said somewhere around 40 kids. What if we don’t have enough?”

“It will be plenty. We would have to give out handfuls to run out early.”

“But think of how happy they’ll be when they get a giant handful of candy.”

“How about just the first kid then? We got to make sure everyone else gets candy without going to the store.” Y/N suggested as she pulled a lollipop from the bowl.

“What makes you think I was going to suggest that?” He reached over trying to put the lollipop back before Y/N could unwrap it.

She leaned back quickly moving away as she unwrapped the treat before popping it in her mouth. “It’s you. Also, my house you’re using. This is my payment.”

It had been almost an hour of sitting outside amongst the decorations. The lights were glowing, and the fog machine made everything the right amount of eerie. The cobweb on her porch might have been real, but she wasn’t going to let Kaveh know that. She didn’t feel like having to catch and release a spider that was already outdoors. It was quiet except for the music, which added to the atmosphere of the decorations.

It had been too quiet all night. Y/N looked over at the untouched candy bowl before looking up at Kaveh whose smile at the beginning of the evening seemed to be fading. “I don’t th-”

“Don’t tell me that.” He couldn’t believe it. He even changed locations! “Maybe we started too early.”

“Yeah, I’m just going to go inside and get a blanket. It’s getting chilly.” She stood up moving towards the door. Placing her hand on the door, Y/N turned her head back to him. “Do you want one too?”

“... please. The wind is just blowing through my shirt.” 

“Okay. Two blankets, coming up.” Y/N spoke with a smile.

It was still cold with the blankets, not from the cool October air but from the lack of people. The only candy eaten had been from the two of them. Kaveh had given up sitting properly and had curled up on the wicker couch next to Y/N. His head lay on her lap. They had been outside for almost two hours by now. Any luck of handing out candy was long gone.

The only reason Y/N stayed outside was for Kaveh's sake. It already felt lonely enough with no one walking around outside. To leave him for the warmth of inside would only make her home feel just as cold. So she stayed outside with him playing on her phone.

Well, she said she was just playing on her phone, but she was really texting a few friends. Everything was just so off about tonight. There was one song they were personally playing that had silence within it, and Y/N could have sworn she had heard music muffled from a distance. Someone had to have known something about that.

Cyno responded that his patrols were being done more around the areas of town filled with clubs and nightlife. Nilou was on the other side of town putting on a children's haunted house, so there was no response from her. Dehya said she and Candace had run out of candy over an hour ago.

The porch lights on neighbor’s houses were slowly going out one by one. Y/N sighed seeing they were the last house left with a light on. Not a single kid had come through. “I think it’s time.”

“I know.” He sat up, hair a little disheveled from how long he had been lying down. His blanket wrapped around him but offered no comfort. 

“We could watch a movie. Your pick.” Y/N offered trying to save the night.

“I think I should just go.”

“You don’t have to. We could play a game or something.” She really wanted to cheer him up. It would have been easier if they just went inside earlier. Then the night could have been saved somewhat.

“I just want to go and wallow in bed.” Kaveh kept his eyes on the ground. “I’m gonna go get my things.”

“Okay. Just text me when you’re home safe.”

He just nodded a yes before going inside her home. There had been at least 40 kids here last year for Halloween. She had seen them come back and forth to school. What happened?

Kaveh opened the door to his shared home throwing his keys on the table up front. “I’m back.” He called out. Looking up he could see Alhaithiam sitting on the couch reading his book like always. It looked to at least be a horror novel. Guess he did get into the holiday spirit this year.

He stood there debating if he should complain about the failure that happened or if he should lay in bed and rot in his failure. It’s not like he would get it. 

“You should have left one of those bags behind,” Alhaithiam spoke without even looking up from his book. “I kept having to send kids away. You would think having the porch light off would keep them away.”

“How many showed up?” Every year for the past years he has been living here Halloween has just been a full-on failure! “It couldn’t have been more than 7.” That was the most that had ever shown up.”

“20.”

“20! And you didn’t think about calling to let me know!?”

“You went to Y/N’s to hand out candy. I was trying to enjoy some silence.”

“We got no one! You stole my chance this year!” Kaveh accused. 

“That’s not my fault no one showed up. Did you not look into events around the area? It tends to change how many people will show up or not.”

“Of course we…” they never checked. Kaveh quickly took out his phone. He hadn't checked it since he left Y/N's. He already had a text message from her. A photo of a flyer that was for the elementary school down the road where she lived. The only message she sent was ‘sorry’. 

“Are you kidding me?” A Halloween party for kids filled with candy, games, and a costume contest. Kaveh ran his hand through his hair. “I’m going to bed!” He couldn’t deal with this any longer. His lack of luck in this was just a cruel joke.

[heartfullofleeches]

This is stupid but would any of your oc’s hear the reader go “Oh blow me” as a snarky remark/insult and take it as a command

C.C's (incubus) overdramatic ass slides across the floor, scuffing the fuck outta his knees in the glide. A worthy sacrifice as he paws at your thighs. "It is my duty to serve and my greatest honor to please."

His whore of a father/mother (Orion) goes a step further and just picks you up off the floor and removes your clothes like he's unwrapping a piece of candy - or just shoves his hand mouth down pants. Fucker is twelve feet tall so it's kinda like he is

D.Kay (murder bot) is more than prepared "What you want, B? Gotta a tongue that vibrates, glows in the dark, heats up, cool down, splits in two. Shit - we gotta nothin better to due. Let'z try 'em all."

(Maidbots) Lemon asks if you'd like them to put on some music first to be polite, but don't let the pleasantries fool you. Clementine simply ties up her hair and kneels. Cherry shortcuts from embarrassment (and the disappointment they don't have a mouth).

Lollie, Sucrose, and Mocha would be glad to eat you for a change but uh.... they're made outta candy so I'm not sure if that's a wise decision

Both Eggnog (Cow hybrid) and Maddox (Reaper) take it as an order as well, but neither have much experience with the deed and ask you to lead the way for them (and hold their hand)

V (incel) is already dropping your pants before you inform him of the error. He has the audacity to look at you offended when he's the one with your underwear in his teeth

Host (Eldritch Deity ShowHost) produces his finest blade and carves a clean hole in his face to give you the entertainment you so desire

[conelluwrites]

god forbid i romanticize this

PG! Shuichi Saihara x GN! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

Kinktober Playlist

Song: romanticize this by james marriott

Requested by: Mojito_Babe on AO3

Warnings: dub-con elements (Shuichi preys on reader’s naivety, porn plot), blindfolds, blowjobs, swallowing

Shuichi could not believe his luck with how easy you were to trick into this situation.  Hell, is it even tricking when all he had to do was invite you over and explain some made up rules to a ‘game’?

You look just so irresistible on his bedroom floor, on your knees and blindfolded with one of his uniform ties.

It takes all of his self control to not stroke his cock immediately 

Seriously, all that’s missing if your lips around his cock

Patience, Shuichi…

He lets out a shaky breath of anticipation and places the headphones over your ears

Please don’t ask questions, please don’t ask questions, please don’t

“What are these for?”

Fuck, fuck fuck, his brain freezes.  He should have expected you to ask something and maybe he did but your sudden question makes him forget his memorized answer

“Don’t worry about it, it’s just so if I open a wrapper, you won’t hear me.”

You seem content with this explanation, listening to whatever music Shuichi has decided is best to block out any sound.

He taps your chin and watches in awe as you open your mouth, your tongue slightly out

Patience, Shuichi…

He rubs hard candy against your tongue, his breath hitches as he sees drool collect on your tongue and touches the tips of his fingers

Good job, you guess the treat correctly

His patience is waning so quickly, he feels constricted in his pants

He tugs them down, one hand stroking his cock slowly while the other unwraps a thick candy cane

God

Your lips wrap around it and he can imagine your tongue licking at the bottom of the stick

When he pulls it away, a bit of saliva drips from your lips and he lets out a soft grunt at the sight

Ding, ding, ding, you’re so good at this game!

The cool whip cream against the tip of his red hot cock makes him whimper

Your tongue is wet and warm against it as you practically slurp at him

Shuichi’s brain is practically melting, how can’t you tell you’re licking at his cock?  Can you tell and you’re just playing dumb?  He doesn’t even care at this point.

His long, thin fingers reach out and tangle in your hair, just barely bobbing your head on him

He has to bite his lip, he wants to shout in pleasure

Patience Shu-

He gasp as his hot cum shoots in ropes in your mouth

You jump slightly in surprise, but then your tongue eagerly licks at the slit, wanting to taste more and more

You need to guess right, after all, you’ll be three for three!

His legs tremble as he feels himself come down from his high while your tongue teases his tip until there’s nothing left to expel

He taps your head to let you know that he’s done letting you taste this round’s secret

He tugs his pants back up and tries to steady his breathing

Bummer, you got it wrong :(

[bratdotcom]

Sweet Talk

( Ethan Winters x gn!reader || dancing in the kitchen )

authors note: title is from a song by saint motel! also this is a request from @smilessssss !! i really hope i did your request some justice! thank you for requesting ＼(^_^)／

warnings: usage of pet names, forehead kissing, no usages of (y/n)

Ethan's eyes drop, following your hands as you slip another unwrapped sweet into your mouth, he's genuinely surprised that you've eaten this much without getting full- he wasn't much of a sweet tooth so seeing you eat that much without even stopping for a sip of water stumped him, genuinely it did.

Another thing that confused him was how you were always so happy all the time, even in the mornings. Even on Mondays, the day of the week he dreaded so much, though there wasn't much to dread on when he had you.

Ethan yawns, palming his hand over his mouth. "Are you done with those, honey? You've already eaten half the bag." He says softly. Ethan was starting to get tired. Lazing on the couch with you always made him sleepy, one way or another he found himself draped over you or under you, fuzzy sock covered ankles interlocked with one another. Right now, his arm was around your waist, cuddling up against you almost obsessively. Love for you sweet just like the candy you were eating.

You, on the other hand, weren't a bit tired in any sense at all. You finish the candy in your mouth, crumbling the waxy paper in your hands and tossing it meticulously over to the coffee table, where the rest of the candy wrappers were. Slowly forming a small pile. A candy wrapper mountain, a mountain of sugar.

"Not yet, babe. I don't even get how you feel tired right now." You reply, glancing at Ethan. You notice his tired eyes drooping. It wasn't even that late in the afternoon, with the sunlight still beaming through the windows. The sun's rays gently waft through the room, and its rays make everything even more cozy. It was bright, yet not too bright. Perfect for an afternoon waltz, you think to yourself.

Maybe it was the sugar running through your veins or the sudden urge to get it all out of your system. You suddenly find yourself standing up from your seat.

Without warning, pulling yourself away from Ethan's grasp, he looks up at you, a bit confused as he stands up as well. Mirroring you, in an endearing way. Instinctively, he holds your hand as you lead him to his little shelf of records.

"What are you planning?" He smiles as you page your fingers through his collection of records. Settling on a favorite of his, Miss D and the Pallyboys. His eyes narrow, playfully as he watches you place the record onto the record player. "Let's dance!" You exclaim, letting go of his hand to set the record in place. Placing the stylus carefully onto the vinyl, music begins to play through the room.

Comforting sounds of a familiar chorus fills your ears as you guide one of Ethan's hands to the small of your back. The other, in yours as you take the lead in a barely-remembered waltz routine, you both took classes on months ago. Ethan can't help but smile, crows feet curling up in the corners of his eyes. He's letting you take the lead since he doesn't remember the steps, but he doesn't mind.

As the record plays, it eventually leads you both to the kitchen. "This is like the movies, right?" He comments in a soft whisper, dipping his head next to your ear. He didn't want to ruin the ambiance or talk over his favorite vinyl.

"Mhm! Just like," You twirl him around, fuzzy sock covered ankles making sliding along the title that much easier, a little less of a falling hazard waiting to happen when you catch him in your arms. You trail off your sentence with your swift movements. "The movies!" You exclaim, with a big smile on your face when you realize the move you pulled off. Ethan realizes this, too, all wide-eyed like a deer in headlights.

You both catch your breath, still holding onto his back for dear life, not wanting to let go and let your husband hit the cold tile floor. "Honey," He manages to stutter out in a somewhat strained voice. "Holding too tight- you're holding too tight." He manages to say, gently tapping you on your shoulder to catch your attention.

"Oh," you utter quietly, quickly pulling Ethan back onto his feet. You dust off his back, smoothing out the wrinkles left by your hand on his shirt. "You did good, honey." He mentions a small smile on his face. "Can't believe you even remember how the routine goes- you did great." He adds, chuckling.

All of a sudden, you feel bashful, the sugar in your system dying out just like your enthusiasm to dance to Lady D and the Pallyboys. "Thank you, honey." You say back, quietly.

"Aw, don't get all shy on me now! I saw how you did all that." He chuckles softly, patting your shoulder again. "You did great." He repeats, kissing your forehead.

[heartbreak-sandwich]

Billy Hargrove x Fem!OC

Summary: JJ would never turn down a free candy cane. When she runs into Billy and company on the street, he can't get her out of his head. A text exchange heats up between them, and when JJ decides to take things one step further with a steamy photo, Billy has no choice but to take a bathroom break for some sweet relief. Experience the gift that keeps on giving in the next 1.5k words✨ CW: light SMUT, masturbation (M solo), mentions of p/v sex, sexting A huge thank you to my beta reader and editor @lifesshort-imshorter for helping me bring this piece to life!!!

DAY TWO OF HOHOHOE WEEK Prompt: Candy cane Read Part 1 in this mini series here

“Thanks again, Joyce!” JJ waved her final goodbye to Joyce Byers as she exited Melvald’s General Store and started down the sidewalk back to her parked car. She excitedly unwrapped the long end of her candy cane, immediately popping it in between her lips and hollowing her cheeks around the minty treat. Peppermint was her favorite, and she was never known to decline a free candy cane.

The chime of laughter rang in her ears as JJ approached a trio of people coming the opposite way down the sidewalk. She swore she recognized them – two men and a woman – all bundled up in winter garb, joking amongst themselves and walking at a brisk pace.

As she got closer, a fire started in her belly at the sight of Billy Hargrove walking alongside two of her other former Hawkins classmates, Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins. They hadn’t noticed her yet, so she did her best to compose her posture and brighten the look in her eyes.

“Is that JJ Feron?!” Carol exclaimed, holding out her arms and quickening her pace. It took all of the energy JJ could muster not to roll her eyes. She and Carol had never really been friends, but she wasn’t about to bitch and moan in front of Billy, especially after last night.

JJ accepted the friendly hug from Carol and tuned out her giddy gushing as she snuck a glance at Billy who wore his usual smirk, his icy blue eyes shining against the crystalline backdrop of snow and gray sky.

“How are you guys?” JJ willed herself to smile at the trio in greeting which was returned by Tommy as Carol began droning on about how miserable her journey home to Hawkins had been. JJ continued to lavish licks on her candy cane while she feigned interest in Carol’s story. She was eternally grateful when Tommy checked his watch, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“We’d better get going, babe. We’ll miss our movie. Great to see you, JJ. Let’s catch up later.” Tommy’s brisk remarks were music to JJ’s ears, and she unsheathed her candy cane from her mouth with a pop.

“Don’t miss your show. I’ll catch you guys later,” she replied contentedly.

“Later,” Billy agreed, his eye contact almost too intense for the moment. JJ couldn’t help but feel like Billy’s statement was more of a promise, and her suspicion was confirmed when she caught him stealing a glance at her over his shoulder as the three of them continued past where she stood on the sidewalk.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

JJ made it back to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She was removing her winter layers and hanging them up in the closet when her phone buzzed in the pocket of her jeans. She took it out, surveying the screen, and a devious smile bloomed on her cherry-red lips.

Billy: Someone’s looking delicious today.

She stifled the giggle that broke open in her chest, the urge to kick her feet like a schoolgirl almost getting the best of her. As much as she wanted to return the compliment and then some, she decided to rein herself in and play it cool just to see if he might give chase.

JJ: Not nearly as delicious as this candy cane.

She was still working away at the candy cane, making sure to savor it as she undressed and got ready for a shower. Not even a few minutes flew by before her phone was buzzing again.

Billy: What I wouldn’t give to be that candy cane right now…

JJ’s eyes rounded, her cheeks almost matching the shade of her lipstick at Billy’s daring comment. She grinned around her candy cane and laid back on her bed to reply. She had an idea that would bring Billy to his knees.

JJ: What? You mean you want to be inside of my warm, wet mouth…have my soft tongue licking you up and down…getting your sticky flavors all over my lips?

It only took Billy a few seconds to respond, and she knew she had him in the palm of her hand.

Billy: Jacqueline…you’re killing me… JJ: I was just clarifying ;) Billy: Sure you were. At this rate, I might have to take a trip to the bathroom just so I can focus on the movie. JJ: A trip to the bathroom? What for? Billy: Wouldn’t you like to know…

JJ let herself squeal and laugh alone in her room. Ravaging a bite out of the end of her candy cane, she decided to take things a step further. She opened her robe to reveal her white lace bra and settled her snack snug in between her cleavage, letting it drip sticky sweetness onto her warm skin. Positioning the phone camera high above herself, she snapped a photo and quickly sent it before she could change her mind.

She stared back at herself on the screen, her red lips and the stripes of her holiday treat standing out bright against the pure white of her bra and bedsheets. As soon as the picture made it through to the other side, Billy was typing. JJ’s breath shallowed in anticipation.

Billy: DAMN. Billy: If you could only see what you’re doing to me right now.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

BILLY’S POV

Billy tapped Tommy on the shoulder in the dark. “Bathroom,” he whispered simply. Tommy nodded in response, and his eyes returned to the giant movie screen. Billy sidestepped out of the aisle and hurried out into the lobby of the theater, almost jogging his way to the men’s restroom. JJ Feron was going to be the death of him, and he was a willing victim.

He burst into the room with way too much gusto for a public restroom visit and made sure he was alone before locking himself in the stall furthest away from the door. Pulling out his phone, he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans with a groan, finally able to relieve some of the pressure on his aching, rock-hard cock.

Unlocking his phone, Billy pulled up the picture JJ had just sent him. Hiding it from Tommy during the movie was difficult, but he had managed to sneak a look at it just long enough to drive himself totally wild. He couldn’t take just sitting there anymore. After his adventure with JJ the night before, all he could think about was seeing her again, and this was the next best thing.

Seeing the photo a second time made him bite his lower lip, his brows knitting together in despair, missing her in that moment, as he gripped his waistband. With his empty hand, he let his cock spring free, salty dewdrops already forming at the tip. Billy stared at JJ’s perky tits just barely covered by her white lace bra, a bitten off candy cane nestled between them, and he spat into his hand. If he didn’t feel like he was about to explode into a million pieces at just the sight of this girl, he would be embarrassed at how unglamorous the situation was.

Tracing his tongue along his lower lip, he began a steady rhythm fisting his cock over and over to the thoughts of everything else he wanted to do to Jacqueline June Feron. He thought of her auburn curls tangled around his fingers as her pussy sucked him in deeper each time he tried to pull out. He remembered the sound of the frame of Steve’s mirror rattling against the wall, and JJ’s tireless moans, and each moment of pleasure he recalled only pushed him closer and closer to his edge.

Billy’s phone vibrated again, and the words on the screen sent him reeling.

JJ: I wish I was doing more…being the good girl I am, sucking you like that candy cane until you burst in my mouth…

That was all he needed. He felt a surge of heat just before he painted his hand white with his own sticky release, unable to stifle the strained moans escaping his throat in between his heavy, labored breathing. Delirious, wrist stiff and aching, he slumped against the wall of the stall he was in, waiting to regain his vision and control of the rest of his body as the wave of pleasure ebbed.

He took one last glance at JJ’s photo before he responded shamelessly.

Billy: My hand doesn't clean up nearly as well as your mouth would. Can I see you again tonight? JJ: I'm a little busy, but I'll try to fit you in. Billy: Oh, I know you can ;) JJ: Pick me up at 10.

With JJ's agreement to meet again that night, Billy shoved his phone into his pocket and cleaned up the best he could in the bathroom before sauntering back into the theater. He glanced at Tommy and Carol who were like zombies, mindlessly shoveling handfuls of popcorn into their mouths, hypnotized by the giant screen in front of them, barely even noticing he had returned.

Billy smirked to himself, feeling almost filthy for the break he had to take, but he really couldn't help himself. He couldn't get JJ off his mind no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the show, and if he was honest, she was all he really wanted to think about.

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