#anyways sorry if this one sucks like i said it is very new and not as thought out as ones i usually share

[kwiyosin]

let's talk about childish jelous varsity!satoru :P !!

pairings: varsity!gojo x reader

synopsis: you help your aunt manage her cafe during your free time because hey, free food and you also get paid! plus, it keeps you entertained during game season when satoru is always training. you made a new friend too! student council president!kento, who frequents at the coffee shop.

it's game season so varsity!satoru is busy again. he's the star player anyways. you didn't mind though, not only you got used to it, you support him big time! of course you'd visit their training from time to time, but it's boring to watch boys playing with balls all day!

you would often help out at your aunt's cafe, it's near the campus, it gives free food, it gives you extra cash, and keeps you entertained. varsity!satoru doesn't mind either, plus his sweet tooth even loved the fact that you work at a cafe and alway smells like sweets!

what he did mind though, was when he decided to surprise you after his practice ended early, but when he came to the cafe, he was flabbergasted! varsity!satoru could only watch as he sees you in a booth, chatting with someone. and it's not just someone, it's the student council president!

varsity!satoru can't seem to tear his eyes from you figure, smiling and chatting with the student council president. he was only snapped out of his state when his best friend, suguru hit the back of his head. “get moving dipshit.” suguru says, walking inside the cafe, passing him.

“no suguru look! she found someone else!” varsity!satoru would whine, pulling suguru by his shirt. “they're just talking are you dumb?” suguru replies, rolling his eyes at his white haired friend. “but she's smiling stupid and giggling! she only does that with me!” satoru whines, again. “she does that with everyone, dingus.” ieri comments, pulling both guys out of the way, into a booth.

when the baristas got the orders for three people, you retreated back to the kitchen to help out. satoru did not notice it though, he's still whining about how easy you found someone else as he sulk at their booth.

satoru had his head slumped on the table, a huge pout on his lips as he threw tantrums. ieri and suguru was frowning at him. “look, i know i am very busy right now but other than that, what else did i lack!?” satoru asks his friends, earning an eye roll from both and a “maturity, perhaps.” from ieri.

“am i that childish? i know people gush over nanami-san for being so responsible and so mature. i didn't know my girlfriend would be one of them!” satoru says as he hits his head on the table. “yes, you are.” says the two. “...was busy for a sec and found someone else already...” satoru murmurs, slamming his palm on the table.

“whoa, easy there. my aunt will make you pay if you destroy her table.” hearing your voice, satoru immediately perks up, his head turning your direction. he was about to greet you but then remember he's upset. upset that you found someone else! he turns his head the other way, facing the wall.

“dumbass/stupid” suguru and ieri said at the same time. you gave satoru a questioning look as you placed the tray of their orders down. “didn't see you guys come in, by the way, sorry.” you says, trying to make a small talk. “'course you didn't. you were busy.” satoru, whose eyes are still glued on the wall, mutters.

“come again?” you asks, not really hearing what your boyfriend said. he did not reply though and he's still not facing you. you found it very...weird. “hey, 'toru how was practice? i thought you'd be done in at least two more hours.” you try to talk to him, but again, no reply. “suck it up satoru.” ieri says, so done with his tantrums.

“...toru?” you called out to your boyfriend but satoru kept his eyes glued on the wall. he wasn't even just looking away, he's literally sat there facing the wall. he looked so fucking stupid. yet you can't figure out why. “is he okay?” you ask, turning to his friends. “when is he ever okay? that guy has some screw loose.” ieri says, playfully rolling her eyes.

suguru sighs, looking at you with his tired eyes. “he's jealous because you wer—” “I AM NOT JEALOUS OF NANAMI-SAN!” oh. oh. you and ieri stifle a laugh and suguru face palmed. everyone in the cafe, including kento, has heard satoru. now everyone's eyes are on him.

satoru realized what he just revealed, although his words said otherwise, everyone in the room understood the situation. he could only stare at you with wide eyes, watching as you fight the urge to burst out laughing.

“i see.” you manage to say in between laughs. “in that case, it's okay for me to leave then? nanami-san and I still have a lot of matters to discuss about the council, i have a lot to learn being the newly elected vice president anyways.” you add, looking directly at satoru with your teasing smile.

oh right. oh shit you're right! satoru had forgotten that you're the new vice president! “don't leave. :c” satoru murmured, embarrassed at his own actions as he scoots over, giving you a place to sit. once you sat down, you let out a laugh.

“i'm not jealous.” he tells you, his voice dramatically low. “mhm, you're not.” you replied, playfully rolling your eyes at him. “dude you're embarrassing.” suguru and ieri said in unison.

𐙚 : short and crappy ik,,, :[ i got bored okay!!

plus i really love the idea of jjk hs!au i'm thinking of what roles the other characs should play :P

[numberonetacostan]

Thinking about the characters who are still in MeAfterlife (Some of them have canonically seen people they were friends with die too)

Also that 4s can't even attempt the red line game because it would, at best, cause him to take back over the body.

Hi there!!!^^ Welcome, and thank you for your submission!!!!!! X] Strap in because you've given me THOUGHTS.

So we're gonna focus on 4S here because it makes my heart go pitter patter that he never attempts the red line game. He has been inside MeLife for a decade or so, almost completely alone before everyone linked to MeLife got deleted, (since it's not as though Mephone just went around deleting people he made, yeah? We don't know if he ever ended up meeting Box, but I hope they did meet.) and he never tried it. He never regretted giving his life up for Mephone4's. It doesn't get more the brothers of all time than, guys, idk what to tell you.

Onto the THOUGHTS. And by that I mean an entire AU has spawned. Gold star for you, anon!! Okay, please consider Taco and 4S interactions pls. Yeah big surprise my THOUGHTS are about Taco. Anyways, consider her not being revived post-Truth or Flare and meeting 4S inside of MeLife, yeah? One ex-villain who redeemed himself with his last act and one villain who believed she could never be redeemed and played her act until the bitter end. I'm cooking people. So, to clarify real quick, Mepad would absolutely not let this happen if Truth or Flare played out as it did in canon, so there would have to be a little tweaking here, but it's not too tough actually. Taco just doesn't turn him on. She can teleport without him being on, he himself says she didn't need to activate his consciousness to get the files for the challenge, so she just. Doesn't. Even in canon I think she does it in a, erm, moment of weakness in a sense, with her missing Mic's company and deciding to turn him on for someone to talk to. In this version she simply wouldn't let herself do that and shake off the notion of doing such a thing, continuing to stubbornly ignore her feelings. She does Truth or Flare with Mepad's body as her hostage rather than just himself, dies, and isn't revived. Mepad would be powered back on and get the details on what happened from Mephone4, who would conveniently not mention that Taco died. Being more caught up in the challenge/elimination/making sure Mepad is okay/the next elimination, the contestants wouldn't think about her revival until later, in which they could safety assume Mephone has already revived her while they weren't around since they have no precedent for him not reviving people at this point.

And then there's Taco. Dead. Wakes up in MeLife and honestly? Not very happy to be waking up at all. Was hoping for a more final death. Believes herself to be incapable of starting over in more ways than one, was kind of hoping to just be done with everything when she'd died. She'd wander around the void for a while, it's still mostly empty at this point so there's not much to see, run into 4S!!!!! And!!!!!!!! We see him having words of wisdom for Knife in the finale, and he could have some for Taco too!!!!!!!!!!! They would not be delivered as... gently as Mepad delivers his, but still!!! They've both been pretty shit!!!!! Hard!!!!! Especially with Pickle, interestingly enough!! I don't have an exact discussion for them to have yet since I came up with this au like 20 minutes ago when I read this ask but hopefully you guys are picking up what I'm putting down!!! They can talk, or Taco can be talked at, since she's still incredibly sad at this point, about redemption and being better and past mistakes and fhueifhuerifhruei. I need them to interact!!!!!!

So, either 4S could revive Taco on his own- he probably knows about the red line game and could throw her all the way over the line if he really wanted to. She is a rather throwable shape, after all. As well, he could probably approve her revival himself, in the way that Mephone had to press "Yes" to revive all the contestants in the finale. It's his hardware, after all. So he could have a nice talk with her and than throw her out back into the world (like that one vine)!!! Or, in the finale when everyone's been deleted, the two of them can meet up with everyone else. I do like this one because they get more time to bond and talk!!! More development for Taco!!!! And more pain for her because leaving MeLife means leaving 4S behind. So they end up finding everyone at the Wall of Them All and Taco finds out that Mephone created them!! She can not catch a break, my angel <3. "...I'm really gonna do it this time, 4S". Anyways. She probably wouldn't want to come back with everyone, honestly. She hasn't gotten to be rejected by Pickle yet, yeah, but she also didn't connect with Mepad and hasn't made up with Mic either. 4S is her only friend, she really doesn't see any reason for her to go back to life. 4S would though!!!! 4S would be pretty adamant on going back, and even if they haven't made up yet, I think Mic would also encourage her to come back!!! Despite their break up, Mic's yearning was still a 7/10 at this point, and either way she doesn't want Taco dead forever, and has been very worried about her especially since hearing about Truth or Flare. The fact that Taco wants to remain dead is also very concerning!!! So she and 4S end up saying their goodbyes and she plays the red line game <3.

I will stop here since this is no longer about your ask. Sorry!!!!! This is fun to think about though!!!! :D

[hailsatanacab]

GUESS WHO’S BACK! this time, with a slightly different take on the prompt 🤣 Bio!Dad Bruce, Siblings Danny and Damian!! I know I said I was going to do twin!Damian, but it just fit better this way I think. I told you this prompt really gripped me, so please enjoy even more words on it!!

---

Look. The only excuse Danny can give is that he's tired, alright? He's so, so tired. Matchsticks propping up his eyelids kind of tired. Five quiet seconds away from face planting into the ground kind of tired. Mistake the coat rack for his mom again kind of tired.

Beat this ghost into the ground if he doesn't put him back in his bedroom so he can finish his homework and finally get some sleep kind of tired.

Seriously, what the hell? He'd only just gotten back to his room after souping the fifth ectopus of the night (apparently there was some sort of migration happening and it just happened to coincide with the worst case of homework overload he's had since freshman year) when he was enveloped in a swirling mess of green and deposited in an ectoplasmic cage in some random ghost's lair. It's just not fair! If it doesn't rain, it pours, and the only constant in life is that Danny doesn’t ever seem to have an umbrella.

So, when Danny looks down and sees that he's still clutching his textbook and homework packet to his chest, and then looks around to see a few more cages containing a few more blurry looking people all milling around and banging on the ectoplasm in confusion, sees the ghost up the front in the middle of a monologue that Danny just knows is going to take forever, he does the only reasonable thing he can think of.

He does his homework.

Yes, he knows he's meant to be a hero, he knows he's meant to be helping these people escape, but come on! He's also an overworked high school student with several deadlines and a dwindling amount of detentions he can get before exclusion, so what choice does he really have?

The ghost doesn't even feel all that powerful, maybe on par with Boxy? He's got a sense for these things now—an annoyance metre, rather than his normal ghost sense—and from the weak pulse of ectoplasm surrounding him, the cheesy Sigmund Freud-looking therapist getup, and the very fact that he's still monologuing, Danny just knows. More annoying to deal with than an actual oh-shit-the-world-is-ending kind of problem. He could take this guy in his sleep.

Or, more accurately, he could take this guy on close to three hours of snatched sleep for the entire week.

So, sue him. He's using this time as independent study. He's doing his homework and there's nothing this smarmy, two-bit Doctor Phil ghost can do to stop him.

Actually, please don't sue him, Danny has this all in hand, he promises. As soon as he hears the other hostages make a sound, he'll abandon his homework and he'll soup the guy. Just let him do most of it first, please!

Decision made, Danny settles down and cracks open his textbook. Math time!

Hey, so turns out, math fucking sucks.

It's not long before Danny thinks this whole thing was a stupid idea and he kinda wishes he would just get expelled. Give him something broken and he’ll fix it. Give him a lab and some scrap metal and he’s pretty sure he can build whatever, just like his parents. 

Getting these numbers into the right answer, however? Impossible! How in the name of all that is dead is he meant to do this?

He's sitting cross-legged on the floor of his cage, textbook split open and the pages from his packet scattered messily around him, head in his hands, when he hears a knock on his cage. A shiver rolls through him as a rush of ectoplasm powers through the walls, lighting it up in a pale glowing green.

“What? What do you want?” he grumbles, not even looking up. “Because if it’s not an easy explanation for the quadratic formula, I don’t wanna know.”

“Are you doing your homework?” The ghost’s voice is incredulous and Danny can feel him swoop down to the floor to get a closer look, but whatever, he still doesn’t look up. Instead, he focuses on trying to put the numbers into some semblance of order. “You should be concentrating on my game!”

“Oh, man, ordinarily I’d be so into blowing off my homework for whatever game you’ve got cooking, but if I get one more detention I’m pretty sure Mom will actually succeed in killing me and I don’t fancy going through that again, you feel?”

“Excuse me? I don’t think you understand the kind of position you’re putting your—”

“You have to do brackets before multiplication, right? But you’ve got to make it balance on both sides of the equation, so that means I’ve got to… Wait, no, balancing equations is something different, isn't it? Ancients, this is so fucked, where’s my calculator…”

The cage rocks back with the force of the ghost’s fists and Danny has to scramble to keep all of his scraps of paper in some sort of order.

“Dude! What the hell?” 

“Answer my question so we can carry on with the game.” The ghost hisses, his face pressed up against the glass walls of the cage.

Danny rolls his eyes. He’s trying to answer his own questions, thank you very much! Perhaps he should just bust out, end this quickly and get back home. At least there he’d have access to the internet—and more importantly, Tucker’s answers. To compare, not to cheat, of course. 

“Fine, what’s your question?”

“You weren’t listening? Do you even care about this at all?”

“All I care about right now is finishing my homework and getting back home at least an hour before my alarm goes off. So unless you can promise me that, I'm going to fight you now and finish off my homework in peace."

“Fight me? At least threatening bodily harm is something you all have in common. Please, you’re all stuck in there until this game ends, whether you like it or not.” The ghost sneers against the cage in what he probably thinks is an intimidating display of teeth, but instead just has Danny realising that he’s not brushed his own in two days. He's been so tired, he's not had time. It's still gross, though. “Answer the questions and you’ll be able to go home lickety-split.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever—as long as I get to answer my own questions, too. X doesn’t solve itself, you know.” As much as he wishes it did.

“Fine. I suppose this isn’t a test for you, anyway.”

Okay, well, at least it seems like Danny’s just a pawn and not an actual player in whatever kind of game this is. He’s not sure how he feels about that—actually, scratch that, yes he does. It’s really fucking nice to not be the one that’s one fuck up away from losing everything. 

Mind you, he’s still not off the hook for it, yet. Obviously, he’ll still be keeping an ear out for anything going wrong, but what’s the harm in letting it play out a little longer? At least he’ll get some more work done.

“Fine.” Danny parrots. “What’s your question?”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“What’s your name?”

“You don’t know who I am?” 

Huh. It’s not often that happens anymore. Weird. 

Instead of giving him any answer, the ghost just whips around and cackles as he flies off towards the centre of the room. The glow of his cage dies down as the supply of ectoplasm dwindles and he finally takes a proper look around.

“Did you hear that? Did you hear the shock in his voice, did you see the betrayal in his eyes? You don’t know who he is!” 

The ghost is swirling around a podium in the middle of the room, mocking the person in a voice that pierces Danny’s eardrums and stabs directly into his brain. Great, he’s entered the blinding headache stage of tired. He squints and rubs his eyes, but the heavy, blurring tiredness doesn’t leave.

He gives up on trying to guess who the hulking figure in the middle is. All he can assume is that he’s the reason they’re all here, what with the five or six other cages surrounding placed facing him.

Look, it’s unreasonable to ask Danny to do maths and hero work, let him just pick one thing to focus on.

“That’s your first point lost, I’m afraid! Let’s keep going, shall we? The questions are going to get a little harder now, good luck…”

With that, the ghost flies over to the first cage and poses another question. “When is his birthday?”

There’s barely any hesitation from the man on the podium who gives his answer as “March 20th,” with a confident growl. It's pretty impressive, to be fair. Danny can’t remember what date his own birthday is half the time, let alone anyone else’s.

To be fair, Danny has two birthdays, so it's doubly hard.

He doesn't forget.

The first birthday, the one he celebrates, is the day he found the Fentons. He tells them he doesn't know his actual birthday and they believe him, so every April 3rd they celebrate the day he came into their lives. 

Or, at least, they do in theory. The Fentons aren't great at remembering birthdays either.

He reserves his true birthday for remembering where he came from. For mourning the life he left behind, the family, his brother. And when the day is over, he pushes it aside and carries on with his completely normal life as best he can.

Which is what he’s doing now. Carrying on with his life as best he can. Doing his homework. 

When this stupid game finally finishes, he’ll get transported back to his bedroom with his three sheets of (hopefully) correct answers and he’ll get some sleep. 

Then he’ll wake up, go to school, and do it all again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as the ghost feeds enough ectoplasm through the first cage so that it lights up just like his did. Immediately, the man inside starts shouting, threatening the ghost with some very creative swearing to let them all go, but Danny just tunes him out because he’s doing what he does best. He's getting on with it.

He swallows and settles back down on the floor, trying to ignore the way his eyes are prickling. Cool. Entering into the “crying way too easily at just about anything” stage of tired. Lovely.

Right. Come on, you can do this. Take a deep breath. It’s just math. 

Solve 7x^2 - 25x + 2 = 0 using the quadratic formula. Give your answer to 2 decimal places. 

What the fuck.

He keeps an ear out as the ghost goes down the line asking the same question and receiving much the same results. Meanwhile, Danny’s getting nowhere fast. 

So, a = 7, right? Which means that b = 25 and c = 2, that’s good, okay, so plug that all into the quadratic formula—wait, shit, b = -25 instead! Does that make a difference?

Whatever, now he has to… fix all the numbers in the formula, so minus minus 25 which is… 0, right? Right. Then it’s all the brackets, so first he’s got to square -25 which is… fuck. Where’s his calculator, did he bring a calculator? How in the hell is he meant to do that in his head?

Danny’s halfway to pulling his hair out when he hears it. The ghost is laughing, congratulating the man on the podium for his three right answers even if it looks like he’s gotten this one wrong, judging by the reaction of the person inside the cage. Danny can’t quite make out what’s happening because all he can see is numbers and, having abandoned squaring -25, a square root that he doesn’t know how to deal with.

So it's understandable that the shout doesn’t quite register to begin with.

“—yal! Danyal!” 

But when it does, when the name finally makes it through, he freezes.

It can’t be real.

“Akhi, please!”

It’s not real.

His head whips up to the cage that’s glowing, but it’s too far away, too bright in the darkness, to really make out for certain that… It can’t be. He can’t be here, why would he be here?

Part of Danny really, really wishes he was paying attention to the monologuing.

“Danyal, please, answer me!” The voice is desperate, so, so desperate. Hoarse and wet and thick with tears, a far cry from the confident boy he used to know. The… the only time Danny’s heard his voice like that was when… But it can’t be him. “Let me go, let me see him! Danyal!”

“Answer my question, you little rat!” The ghost growls, face twisting in a snarling grimace that gets him nowhere. Of course it wouldn’t, there's no way that would scare him.

“Danyal! Please, akhi, please!”

It… Oh shit, is it really him?

Danny stands up, his pencil clattering to the floor, and he steps close enough to the glass wall of the cage so that he can reach out and touch it.

He hesitates.

What if it’s a trick? What if he’s in a nightmare dimension and the ghost is actually super powerful and this is all a trap? It’s not a game for the man on the podium, it’s a game made for torturing him—hell, it even had math in it! He hates math!

It can’t be real.

“Danyal, please, let it be you, please be alive, Danyal… Akhi, please.”

He lets his ectoplasm flood the cage, the walls blinding him as he pours in too much, far more than the ghost keeping them captive could ever hope to conjure. He wets his lips, regulates his ectoplasm to a trickle so that the light dims and he can finally see out again, and tries to say something. Anything. His heart is pounding and his mouth is dry.

“Dami?” he whispers, not daring to hope. Then louder, “Damian?”

“Danyal, is it really—”

“What are you doing?” The ghost snaps, taking his hand off of Damian’s cage so that the light dims and he can’t be heard, and shoots over towards him. “How are you doing that?”

Yeah, fuck this. That’s Damian in there, that’s really Damian, and Danny’s not staying in his cage for another second. He takes his hand off the wall and powers up an ectoblast, not even bothering to transform. He’s getting his little brother.

The glass of the cage shatters easily.

He steps out of the cage easily.

He… It’s not quite as easy to walk over to Damian.

It’s even harder to smash it open, so he just stands there, staring. Watching as Damian—and it is, it really is—stands there, too, his mouth moving as he's trying to call out to him but no sound is heard. Danny can read his lips well enough… 

Damian sniffs, wipes his eyes and nose on his sleeve, and smiles tentatively. It’s a small, fleeting thing. Unsure. Sad. Hopeful.

“Damian?” He still can’t believe it, it has to be some sort of trick, surely. Still… even if it is, he’ll get to hold his brother again. Even if it’s not real. He smiles back at him and readies an ectoblast. “Stand back.”

And then that stupid ghost fires one straight at him instead.

Damian’s gaze flickers behind him, shouting a warning that he can’t hear, and he turns intangible on instinct. The bolt flies through him, but it’s not even strong enough to break Damian’s cage. Yeah, Danny was right. This guy's just annoying, not even worth the time it'll take to fight him.

“You’re ruining it, you’re ruining my game! You’re… you’re a ghost?”

There it is, there's the realisation, finally. He turns to face him, anger boiling in his veins. Fuck this guy.

“You’re an idiot?”

“Excuse me? How dare you?” The ghost blinks, then puffs himself up, ghostly flames licking up his stupid, ill-fitting suit, still not fully comprehending what’s going on. Not knowing the danger he’s in. “In my own lair, how dare you call me that?”

“I’m not a ghost.” Danny interrupts, ice beginning to creep out from his feet. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I’m Phantom.”

“Wh—Phantom?” Immediately, the ghost loses all of his fire and shrinks into himself. “Oh, Ancients, I’m… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Your Majesty, I didn’t mean to—”

“And yet, you did. Is this a challenge?”

“Challenge? Cha—no, no, of course not, of course not, I wouldn’t be challenging you, not at all! Here, I’ll just, I’ll… I’ll let everyone out and then you can be on your way, I’m so sorry!”

Danny doesn’t even bother to answer, he just turns back to Damian with a roll of his eyes and—he’s still there, he keeps expecting him to have vanished, for this all to have been a dream, but he’s still there—and he readies another ectoblast.

“Stand back, okay?”

Damian nods and moves away, his eyes flicking between Danny and the ghost behind him with undisguised contempt.

The ectoplasmic glass shatters easily and then Damian is out of the cage and in front of him, just an arms length away.

They stand there for a long minute, watching, neither of them able to make the first move. Danny should probably start explaining some things, right? Ancients, there’s so much, but…

It’s been six years.

Six years without his brother.

Six years of only allowing himself to remember on one day, because otherwise he’d break down, otherwise he’d go back and…

Six years.

“Hey, Dami.” He tries to smile, tries to step forward, tries to do something other than stand there stupidly, but he just can’t.

“Are you… Danyal? Is it really you?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he laughs, but it comes out weak and watery.

He’s definitely in the crying stage of tired now.

“Are you—” his eyes flicker over to the ghost again and Danny knows what he’s going to say with just as much certainty as he knows he’s not going to like hearing it. “Are you alive? Truly?”

He shrugs, puffs out some air in a sardonic grin, and spreads his arms wide. “Depends on how you define it, I guess. It’s… kind of a long story.”

It’s not comforting, from the look on Damian’s face, but then he hadn’t really expected it to be. He couldn’t lie to him, there was never any lying to Damian. Even when they were children together, he always saw through him.

Damian brings his arm up, towards him, but falters before they actually touch. Danny can feel his core twist and he so desperately wants to reach out and bridge the gap, but… 

“Can I? Danyal, can—”

Ah, screw this, Danny hugs him. 

He hugs him and the solid warmth of his presence, the familiar scent, the feeling of weight, of rightness, of home makes everything truly click for him.

It’s real.

It’s Damian.

Danny clings on tighter and a second later, he feels Damian’s arms circle around him, grabbing fistfuls of his hoodie and pulling it taut in his effort to hold on. Damian’s shoulders start to shake and he can’t help but laugh softly, his heart fluttering in his chest. At least he’s not the only one crying.

“Akhi, it’s really you, it’s really…”

“I’m here, Dami, I’m sorry, I won’t leave again.” He pushes his face into Damian’s shoulder, sniffing against the fabric. Yikes, he hopes Damian won’t be mad at the pretty obvious wet patch. “I promise.”

They stay there for a few minutes longer, clinging to each other, trying to breathe through it, when Danny feels a shifting in the ectoplasm around them. He groans, he just cannot catch a break! 

This guy really does not know when to stop, does he? It’s always the weaker ones, too, the ones that have absolutely no hope in defeating him that never know when to bow out gracefully. It’s annoying. If this ghost isn’t careful, Danny will have to update his annoying list and finally move Boxy out of first place. At least he knows when to make himself scarce.

With a sigh, he conjures up a shield just as the ghost lets the blast loose. If he was alone—he’s so glad he’s not alone—he wouldn’t have bothered with the shield at all, but it’s not like he’s going to let Dami get hit.

“You’re really starting to piss me off, you know that, right?”

“You ruined my game! I don’t care who you are, no one leaves until my game is finished!” The ghost—Danny doesn’t even feel bad about not knowing his name any more, this guy sucks—snarls and throws another ectoblast which Danny knocks away with one of his own.

With one last squeeze, he lets Damian go, already feeling the loss of it. Fuck this guy.

“Last chance, let everyone go and I’ll let you go. Call it a thank you for reuniting us.”

“I already told you,” he spits, both his hands glowing with ectoplasmic fire, “no one leaves until the game is finished!”

Danny pushes Damian behind him and pulls a thermos out of thin air, still not bothering to transform. He knocks the ghost back with a strong blast of ectoplasm and soups him before he can do anything but groan.

At least it was over quickly. 

"I win."

He throws a smile over his shoulder at Damian and pops the thermos back in the pocket dimension it came from. The ghost can stew in there for a couple days, really think about what he did. It’s just rude.

Then he lifts both his arms up and shoots five ectoblasts in quick succession at each of the remaining cages, finally freeing the rest of the ghost’s hostages. Let them get themselves together while Danny can go back to giving Damian a hug.

It’s been so long.

He goes to grab Damian again, but stops when Damian hisses sharply and pulls his hand back.

“You’re hurt?” 

Oh, Ancients, he’s hurt! Did Danny do that? Is it bad, was it an ectoblast? What happened?

Before he can spiral too far, Damian lifts up his wrist to reveal a splint already protecting his injury.

“I sprained it a few days ago, it’s nothing terrible. That’s why I’m me and not, you know.” Damian shrugs and gestures, presumably, to the guy on the podium. Danny has no idea what that’s meant to mean.

“Not what?”

“Not patrolling as Robin. I have been benched until I’m sufficiently healed.”

“Yeah, sure, that makes sense—I’m sorry, wait, what—you’re Robin?” He follows Damian’s outstretched arm towards the guy on the podium and… “Holy shit, is that Batman?”

“Mother never told you?”

“Told me what?”

“He’s our father, Danyal.”

“That’s our… That’s our Batdad? Fatherman? Dadbat? Dad-Dad Bat… man? What?” He shakes his head a little, trying to make some of his thoughts actually connect because nothing is actually making any sense right now. “What the fuck?”

His face burns as he hears the barely stifled laughter coming from pretty much every broken cage. He swivels his head around, eyes wide like an owl, and tries to place the names of the audience he’d forgotten about.

Nightwing—that’s the Nightwing—waves with a cheery grin as he makes his way over to them, and there’s Red Robin with his hand clamped over his mouth, nowhere near successful in silencing his laughter. Black Bat, Signal, Red—is that Red Hood, the crime boss, over there? Holy shit!—all wave at him, too, but mercifully they stay where they are.

Batman steps down from the podium.

“Sorry, I think I missed just about everything earlier. What the hell is going on here? What kind of game was this? ‘How Embarrassed Can We Make Danny?’ Because that’s what it feels like.”

“Nah, but if it's any consolation, you’d certainly be winning that game!” Nightwing laughs as he stops a few feet away from them.

“It was my fault,” Batman says, his voice low and gravelly. He gestures towards the thermos. “He wanted to test my ability as a father. My knowledge of my children.”

“Oh… How did you do?”

“I mean, not great,” Red Hood laughs from behind him. “He didn’t even know who you were.”

“Well, that’s fair, can’t really blame him for that. I’m meant to be dead.” Danny says cheerfully, nodding with a smile that he hopes is reassuring. “I mean, I am dead, but that’s unrelated. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Red Robin asks.

“Don’t worry about it!” Danny waves him away and slings an arm around Damian, just like he used to do when they were young. He feels like he’s buzzing, his core vibrating happily out of his skin, and he’s pretty sure he’s got the goofiest grin on his face. “It’s all good!”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Red Hood says as he picks his way towards them, cutting off whatever Batman was going to say, thank goodness. There’s no way he’s awake enough for a proper, actual conversation about his death(s) and everything that came after them, not at all. “We have bigger things to worry about, after all.”

All of them groan. Guess he’s not the only tired person here.

“What’s wrong now?” Red Robin asks, already pulling up a dope wrist computer that looks slick as hell but obviously isn’t going to work in the Ghost Zone.

Red Hood brandishes a load of papers and turns his head towards Danny. “Danyal here thinks adding 4 and 7 makes 10, which isn’t a great start, but you should actually be multiplying them there, and then multiplying all that by 2, not just… leaving the 2 out? I don’t know what you’ve done with half of this, but it definitely doesn’t make 10 though. I can also tell you that 25 squared is not whatever this squiggle is meant to be. Pretty cool picture of a horse, though, great job on that!”

Danny slumps and hides his face in his hands with a half-hearted sob. He’s so screwed. “It’s meant to be a cat.”

“Oh.” Red Hood turns the paper on its side, tilts his head, then turns the paper upside. “That’s a really crappy cat. Sorry.”

“Do you know how to get us out of here?” Batman asks gently, drawing Danny out of his shame spiral.

“Yeah, that’s not a problem, I can portal us out. At least I’ve got that down.” He rolls his eyes and rubs at the back of his neck with weak laughter. He’s really not making a good impression right now, is he?

“Let’s go, then. If you’d like, I can help you with your homework when we get back somewhere safe.” It’s so weird, Batman sounds so uncertain, not at all like the fearsome crusader he’s seen on the news. And then he smiles, soft and warm, and Danny can’t help but return it. “Damian can help you with the drawing.”

“Yeah… I think I’d like that. Thanks.”

"Let's play a game of 'How well do you know your kids?'" The being shouted, eyebrow still twitching from Robins latest remark.

"I know all my children perfectly." Batman growled at the entity. He held his ground as the spirits (demons?) smile sharpened, "Than you won't mind!"

A puff of purple glowy smoke engulfs then entire area and the next thing anyone knows is that all of Bruces children, even the ones who weren't with them previously, are locked inside magical cages while Batman is trapped in a invisible mime box with a podium and a microphone in what is quite possibly the most garish game show set up ever.

Why was everything neon green and purple? Why was the guy neon green and purple? Who were these other kids-gdi Bruce! You have more kids?

Danny could just transform and beat up the ghost. Its a pretty weak one after all. But this one doesn't seem to recognize him as a halfa and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do his homework without being attacked.

Jason stared at the kid next to him. What kinda life did this kid have to calmly get out his math homework and start solving problems while being held hostage by an unknown entity?! And with the bats no less?!

All the while Batman is getting peppered with questions about his kids and is realizing he doesn't recognize a few of the names.

[yesihaveaobsession]

A Well- Tailored Affair

Alastor x female! reader

Summary: Being The Radio Demon's one and only personal tailor has it own perks.

A/N- Sorry I have been gone for quite some time!! But I'm back, I had NOOOOOO idea what to write and this thought came to me mid sleep at like 12am So anyways I hope you enjoy!

ALSO this was gonna proofread because I didn't have time and I missed yall so sorry if it sucks 💀

Being a tailor in Hell was no small feat, especially when your main client was none other than the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. When you first took the job, you didn’t expect it to be much of a challenge working with his specific tastes. But over time, you came to know him like the back of your hand.

Today, he was scheduled for a fitting. He had dropped off a newer jacket last week but he said he had business to attend to and he'd come back next week and that was today. As always, the atmosphere of your small shop—which wasn’t far from the hotel—was calm and cozy. You were currently cross-stitching a dress for Rosie for some type of event in Cannibal Town when, suddenly, the bell above the door jingled. There he was. Alastor stepped inside with his signature grin, accompanied by the hum of radio static. The aura he carried was palpable. The moment he entered, you could feel the air shift.

"Ah, my favorite tailor!" he exclaimed, spreading his arms wide before resting his hands on the microphone in front of him. With a slight tilt of his head, he asked, "Have you missed me?"

You chuckled softly, stepping away from your work and already reaching for the measuring tape. "You were here last week, Alastor. Hardly enough time to miss anyone." You smiled. His grin didn’t falter, though you didn’t notice how his crimson eyes lingered on you longer than usual. Truth be told, Alastor liked you. More than he should, and more than he realized. Part of it was the trust he placed in you to handle his precious suits, which were such a vital part of who he was. But it was also because you treated them with such grace. You knew what you were doing and were exceptional at it. Not to mention, you were one of the rare souls in Hell who wasn’t afraid of him. And lastly, you were undeniably pretty—he thought that too.

"Ah, but a week without your company is an eternity, my dear," Alastor replied. You brushed off his words with a smile. He often gave small, sweet compliments about your work and how he missed you, so this wasn’t anything new. Yet today, his words seemed to carry a different meaning.

You rolled your eyes playfully, motioning for him to step onto the fitting platform. In front of him was a large mirror—he loved checking his reflection to ensure he always looked impeccable. "Alright, charmer, let’s see what we’re working with today. Did you tear another sleeve during one of your dramatics?" you teased, looking from the sleeve up into his eyes.

He let out a melodic laugh. "Guilty as charged! I simply cannot help myself. Life—or afterlife, rather—demands a flair for the theatrical!"

As you worked, your hands expertly adjusted the fabric of his jacket. You noticed his gaze drifting to you frequently. At first, you thought he might be scrutinizing your technique, but no—this was different. His grin softened ever so slightly whenever he thought you weren’t looking. Watching your focused expression gave him an odd fluttering sensation, almost like butterflies in his stomach.

"You’re very precise," he remarked, his voice quieter than usual.

"Kind of comes with the job," you replied with a smile, pinning a sleeve in place. "Can’t have the Radio Demon walking around in anything less than perfection, right?"

"Indeed. And you, my dear, are perfection. I must confess, I’ve never trusted anyone else with my suits. You have an extraordinary talent."

You paused, caught off guard by the bold confession—especially coming from him. "Thank you, Alastor. That means a lot," you said, grabbing the needle and thread.

"And," he added, tilting his head as though studying a particularly fascinating piece of art, "it doesn’t hurt that you’re quite easy on the eyes." Was he kidding? He had to be, right? Your cheeks flushed instantly, and you nearly dropped the pin you were holding. "Oh! Uh, thanks."

He noticed your reaction and chuckled, clearly amused. "Did I fluster you? My, my, how delightful!" Alastor grinned, watching you through the mirror. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. "Stop moving," you muttered, focusing on adjusting the flaps on his suit. You finished stitching up the rip on his sleeve with a clean, neat stitch—it was a relatively easy fix.

The silence grew heavy until he broke it. "You’re one of the only few who doesn’t fear me, you know… It’s refreshing."

"Well, I figured if you were going to do something to me, you would’ve done it already," you replied with a smirk, stepping back to admire your work. Alastor’s grin widened. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I find your company far too enjoyable to spoil."

You shook your head, laughing softly. "Alright, smooth talker, you’re good to go. You can come and pick it up in 24 hours." You watched as he stepped down from the platform, adjusted his jacket, the one he came in with and turned to face you. "Splendid! I’ll be counting the seconds until I see your lovely presence again!" He started toward the door but paused, looking back over his shoulder with that ever-present grin. "Oh, and my dear, do save a moment for tea when I return. I’d like to enjoy more of your delightful company." You smiled, shaking your head. "You better not rip your coat on purpose in the next 24 hours!" you shouted after him.

You heard his laugh echo as he left, leaving you standing in the middle of your shop, flustered and smiling despite yourself. Maybe being Alastor’s tailor wasn’t so bad after all.

[springseasonie]

Notice Me | LHC (M)

Friends to lovers

Summary: You and your friends go to a college party, and tonight is the night where you are finally going to try and catch your crush's attention, who also happens to be one of your good friends. He doesn't think that he thinks of you in that way, but what happens when he sees you with another guy at the party?

Warnings: sexual content, protected sex, auralism, guided masturbation (kinda), sensory deprivation, super vanilla, reader is legally blind (trust it's important 🙏🏾), long haired haechan, violence (minor fight scene), special appearances: Karina and Yunjin

Word count: 7,5k

Song recs: moment by Victoria Monet

A/N: wrote this on a random whim. Def not my best writing but oh well. Hope you guys like it. I will start working on request after this one I promise 🫶🏾 feedback is loved and appreciated

“Are you guys sure I don't look crazy?” 

“Yes we're sure! Now let's go, we're already 45 minutes late and Mark is yelling at me in my messages!” 

Karina grabbed your hand, pulling you into the frat house followed by your other best friend Yujin. A chill ran down your spine and also your legs, never having this much skin exposed. This was new to you– dressing in skimpy clothes and college parties. But that wasn't the only thing new to you. Having a crush is also very new. 

The only reason you're even here is because of him. Haechan to be exact, who is a part of your friend group. He's the exact opposite of you– loud, cheerful, outgoing. But maybe that's why you like him so much. Opposites attract. 

And that's why you're standing in the middle of the doorway, looking like a deer in headlights in the shortest skirt and tiniest top ever. Tonight was gonna be all about catching his attention. It was going to be about making him look at you like a woman and not a friend. 

You walk through the crowd of people, their bodies constantly smashing yours. The constant bumping makes your glasses slide down your nose, making you fear that you may lose them. Most people think you're being dramatic when you say you can't see without them, but you're as blind as a bat.

Mark and Haechan soon come into view, standing in a circle with their other friends from the basketball team. 

“But don't you guys remember- woah..” Mark turned his head, stopping mid sentence when he saw Karina, and Yujin walking towards them. 

“Hey guys,” Yunjin said excitedly. 

Everyone said their hellos, but you couldn't help but notice the way their eyes lingered on you, all except Haechan. He spared you one glance and one hello before going silent, sipping whatever it was in his cup. You felt yourself die inside, the way he was treating you like an acquaintance all of a sudden. Was it too much? Did you go too far? 

“Sorry were we so late, it takes a long time getting ready,” Karina says, fixing her hair. 

“I'm sure it did.” Mark is still eyeing you like you've said something weird. None of them has ever seen you like this. You're always pretty much covered up. Hoodies and leggings are your daily attire. 

Mark turns his attention to you, scoffing in disbelief. “And look at you, walking in here looking like a sexy Velma.” 

“Oh shut up, she looks good. Right Haechan, doesn't she look good,” Yujin inquires. 

The male glances at you then back to Yujin then at Mark, whose brow is raised waiting for his answer. “You look…nice Y/N.” 

Nice? That's it? “Thanks,” you say, hands glued to your sides. 

Karina sighed, shaking her head at the dry response. “You guys suck at compliments,” she said. “Anyway, let's go get something to drink.” She took a hold of both Yujin and your hands, pulling you to the kitchen. 

Eyes never left your figure since you walked in the building. There were other girls dressed just like you, but for some reason all attention remained on you, and you didn't like it. So used to being a background character in your own life, you'll never get used to attention. 

“God you look hot, we did so good,” Yujin whispered to you, her voice slightly muffled because of the loud music. 

“Do I? He didn't have much of a reaction,” you argued, a frown tugging at your lips. 

“Everyone's been ogling at you all night, even Mark. You definitely look hot,” Karina reassures. “Besides, maybe you'll meet someone else here that you'll like. Haechan doesn't know what he's missing.” 

“Yeah, honestly if he doesn't do anything tonight, you need to move on sister,” Yunjin adds. “Can't keep dwelling on the same guy for 3 years.” 

But you don't want to move on. And if he rejects you, you know that you can't regardless. You'll still like him, because he's a good guy and always has been. There's probably nothing that could make you think anything less. Karina continued to pull you to the kitchen between the bodies when you suddenly bumped your shoulder into someone, causing them to drop something. 

“Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-” 

“It's no problem,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “No big deal. It was just my phone.” 

You didn't even notice you lost the hold of Karina’s hand at this point, your attention being on the man in front of you. “D-did it break? I'll pay for it.” 

“No, it's doing just fine,” he said, placing the phone in his pocket without sparing a glance. He eyed you up and down, his gaze undressing you right in front of him. “What's your name?”

“Y/N,” you answered, gulping slightly out of nervousness. “Yours?” 

“Johnny.” Licking his lips, he narrows his eyes slightly while speaking to you. “You new around here? I've never seen you on campus before.”

“Well, I actually don't go here,” you say, words leaving your mouth a little too fast. “I have a couple of friends that do. They invited me to this party.” 

“Cool,” he said. “Can I… get you a drink?” 

Your eyes widened, a bit taken back by the sudden request, but you didn't disapprove of it at all. Johnny was cute, tall, had a nice voice and seemed like a nice guy. So why not take the offer? “Yeah, sure. That would be great.” 

 -

“Man, he sure is chatting her up,” Mark remarks, watching you and the unknown guy stand and talk while sipping on your drink.

“How can he not? She looks great tonight,” Yunjin comments. “Doesn't she Haechan?” 

Haechan furrows his brows, side eyeing her as he man-spreads on the couch they're all sitting on. “Why me specifically?” 

“Why not?” Yunjin shrugs. 

Haechan rolls his eyes, looking down at his lap trying to focus on anything but the scene in front of him, but he can't help it. You did look good, you looked great. But for some reason he couldn't say it. His stiffness towards you when you came in was because of how different you looked. Haechan wouldn't say he had a crush on you , more so complicated feelings. He didn't yearn for you, but he wouldn't hate it if something sprung from your friendship. 

Haechan knows that his female friends are attractive. Guys always talk about Karina and Yunjin, telling him that he should pursue them or sleep with them, that he's wasting his time being friends. He's never looked at them in that way, but with you it's a different story. You're easy to talk to, and you have lots in common with him. He also loves your glasses. It's something you don't like about yourself, but he thinks they make you look pretty. You've always been pretty to him, probably his exact type on paper. Someone who's smart, calm, a bit of a homebody, true to themselves. 

But disregarding any of that, he didn't have a crush on you. He wasn't into you in that way, despite what everyone else in the friend group thinks. His eyes narrow watching you cross your arms, throwing your head back while laughing at something. “So funny,” he mumbled. 

“You said something,” Yunjin asked. 

“No.”

“Sure… you know, if you like her you should-” 

“I don't like her. We are just friends,” he cuts her off.

Yunjin sighs, making her head. “Haechan you are fooling no one but yourself. I'll let you in on a little secret. Y/N has a crush on you,” she says, hoping that would help him open his eyes. 

Haechan stays silent, expression remaining stoic and straight as he stares directly at the male putting his hand on your hip. That's when he feels a slight sting in his chest. The small ping of jealousy. 

“How would you know that,” he says after a few beats of silence between them. 

“Why do you think she dressed up tonight? God, use your brain.” 

Before Haechan could respond, he watched as someone walked past you, bumping you on the shoulder. He watched as the drink fell out of your hand, almost like a cliche movie. 

The liquid splashed all over the guy’s chest, but he didn't seem too upset. In fact, he looked happy to Haechan, especially when you dabbed the paper towels all over his chest

“God, I am so sorry,” he heard you say panicked. Just as soon as you thought you were done panicking someone else walked beside you, bumping you in the shoulder. You must've been getting bumped all night because your glasses fell. 

“Shit,” you said. You dropped to your knees, feeling around the floor for your frames. “I-Im sorry can you please-”

You look up at Johnny, but you see nothing but a flash in your face. “J-Johnny?”

“God, has anyone ever seen you like this,” he laughed softly. “You're so hot, I could just-”

You heard a loud smack above you, followed by gasp and tons of commotion.

“What the fuck? Who the fuck are you,” you heard Johnny yell. 

“She's looking for her glasses. Aren't you gonna help,” you heard a voice similar to Haechan say. 

Johnny laughed, scoffing at the guy you couldn't see. “Is she your girl or something? You should keep her on a leash before I take her to my place and show her what a good time is.”

“Excuse me,” the other guy grumbled. You were still searching for your glasses, but from what you could tell, a group started to form around the 2 guys and yourself 

 “You heard me. Get your bitch or-”

A loud sound was heard coupled with oh’s and ah’s from the crowd. 

You heard another sound. This time, it sounded like a punch. There was a fight happening, and you were on the ground still looking for your glasses. Just as you reached in another direction on the floor, you felt hands pull your body up. 

“What the fuck was he thinking,” you hear Karina groan. She turned your body, placing your glasses back on your face. For the first time in a minute you can see, and you do not like what you see. 

Haechan and Mark were currently trying to fight Johnny and his two friends. “What is going on? Why is everyone fighting all of a sudden?” 

“Let's just get away from all this, and we'll tell you.”

You were pulled away, Karina and Yujin dragging you outside to the driveway away from the loudness of the party. “So what exactly is going on?” 

“Okay, so basically-” Karina started to speak, but Yujin cut her off quickly. 

“Everyone was watching you and that guy hit it off the whole time, but Haechan looked like he was gonna kill someone. So I said, you know if you like her you should tell her. And he was like I don't like her , we're just friends. Then he saw you trying to clean off that guy's shirt. Then your glasses fell and you got on the ground and-”

“I'm sorry, but what does that have anything to do with what just happened in there,” you say exasperated. 

“Well when your glasses fell and you got down to look for them your-”

“Oh my God.” Karina looked at her phone shocked. You and Yunjin stood next to her to see the screen, and was immediately horrified. 6 different people recorded and took pictures of you looking for your glasses on the floor. Every post had people calling you names ranging from desperate to slut. You didn't realize at the time, but almost your entire ass was out, and your cleavage could be seen clearly. 

“Fuck,” you groaned. “i'm going to kill myself.” You placed your face in your hands, covering the embarrassed expression. 

“Yeah,” Yunjin said, lips pursed right after. “That's what happened.” 

“Why did you guys let me do that” you whined. 

“We were on the couch, surprised. We thought you were trying to seduce the guy, but then we saw him pull his phone out and everything went to hell,” she explains. 

At this point you're pacing the driveway, trying to figure what to do about the party, the post, Johnny, Haechan, everyone. “Well now we have to leave,” you said. “We've been here for less than 2 hours and we have to leave.”

“Okay, well let me call them,” Yujin said. Just as she pulled out her phone, a voice was heard behind her. 

“No need,” Mark said, making his presence known. 

The three of you turned back to see them with their clothes messed up, cuts and bruises on their faces, and tired. 

“Oh my God,” Karina says with her hand over her mouth. “Are you guys okay?” 

“We're fine…well I'm fine. He's a bit..” 

You look over at Haechan who's standing there with his hands in his pockets. You don't know what came over you, but you took a couple of steps towards him, anger filling your mind. 

“Why would you do that,” you said. Your voice startled him, making him look up from the ground. 

“Y/N I-”

“I had no idea what was going on, and you two getting into a fight scares me to death,” you told him. “How did you even get all the cuts on your faces?” 

“Him and his friends had rings and stuff on,” he mumbled, shrugging. “Shit happens.” 

There weren't many times Haechan has seen you upset. The last time you were this mad was when Mark accidentally deleted your essay from your laptop doing his homework. 

“We have to leave right now,” you sighed, arms folded at your chest. “I won't know what to do if you get into another fight and you're already hurt like this.”

Without thinking, your hands reach up to his face, taking his chin between your fingers as you check his face for any other injuries that you can't see. Haechan thought he was crazy when the butterflies erupted in his stomach, but they erupted again when you looked at him with pity, like you cared about him. He hadn't felt that way in a long time. Getting attention from girls came easy to him, but none of the girls he's dealt with made him feel the way you do. 

 “I'll um..I'll get an Uber for us-”

“No I'll get it,” you said. “We're going back to my house, you can't take care of all these by yourself.” 

There it was, more butterflies. 

“We'll go back to Mark’s and help him out,” Karina said, side eyeing Yunjin. 

Yunjin quickly nodded, picking up the message Karina was sending. “Yep! Absolutely! We'll see you tomorrow!” 

“What? I don't need help. I'm a grown man,” he whined. Karina and Yunjin nudged Mark who didn't seem to understand what was going on, making the man look at them confused.

“Grown men don't get into fights at parties,” you snap. “We'll see you guys tomorrow.” 

-

“Wait in the bathroom. I'm going to change super quickly.” You shut your door behind you, locking it before kicking your shoes off. Before walking to your room, you turn to Haechan who looks as stiff as wood. “You look uncomfortable.” 

Haechan watched as you walked away from him, going to your kitchen instead of your room. You grabbed a mug, filling it with water. He's never been so uncomfortable with you, but right now he feels like he could explode. You look so good in your current outfit, the way your hips sway when you walk, the way the shirt hugs your chest. He feels like he shouldn't be looking at you like this, but he feels like he's the only one who should be allowed. 

“Here.” You hand him the mug, looking at him in the eyes like usual. 

Haechan gulps, forcing himself to stop, keeping his eyes on yours and not let the travel any further. “Thanks,” he says, taking it out of your hands. 

“Take your shoes off and relax,” you say. “I'll meet you in the bathroom in 5 minutes.” 

He watches you walk away, holding his breath until you shut the door behind you. “Fuck,” he sighs. The one thing he can't do is get hard standing at your front door. Haechan knows he wouldn't be able to explain that, let alone lie to you about it. The only thing he could do is sit in your bathroom like you asked, and wait for you to put normal clothes on. 

But Haechan is only a man. When you walked into the bathroom with short shorts and a laced lined camisole, the only thing he could do was pray for his presumed innocence. Pray that he didn't make a fool of himself in your house. 

You reached up in your medicine cabinet taking out the pain meds and supplies for his injuries. It took you 10 seconds to get everything out, but for him it felt like 10 years. The way the fabric rose as you lifted your arms, watching you lean your hips on the edge of the counter giving him the smallest piece of your ass to stare at. And the way your nipples poked through the shirt– he was going to pass out right then and there. 

There's nothing Haechan wanted more than to get behind you, feel up on your body. Whatever you were planning for the party worked because now he can't keep his mind off of you, and soon, it'll be his hands. To think you wore that outfit for him, he never would've guessed it. 

“I can change if you need me to,” you said softly, startling him. 

“N-no you don't need to change,” he said, watching you take two pills of pain meds out of the container. 

“Take these.” You handed him the pills, watching him drink them down as you leaned on the counter. Haechan was sitting on the toilet seat, so the sight of him taking deep gulps with his eyes closed was a treat to say the least. You shouldn't be eyeing him like this, but God, was he attractive, even with bruises and cuts. “Are you feeling any better?” 

“Gotta wait for them to kick in first,” he joked, but there was no smile on his face. 

You grabbed an ointment for his bruises, opening it and squeezing some on your fingers. Haechan watched you as you tended to his wounds, concentrating on not trying to hurt him. He loved the way you would bite your lip whenever you were trying to concentrate, he always did. 

The silence was comforting for a while, but then his thoughts got the best of him. Both of you actually. Your chest was in his face, his eyes wouldn't leave yours. The less talking there was, the more sexual tension filled the air, so you needed to get rid of it. But your mouth moves faster than your brain and for some reason, you felt it was the perfect moment to come clean about your intentions with him.

“I have something to confess,” you said softly. 

“What is it?” 

“I wore that outfit for you tonight,” you said, fixing your glasses on your nose bridge. 

He smiled to himself, but you didn't see. “I have something to confess.” 

“Hm,” you hummed. 

“I already knew that.” 

You let out a soft gasp, laughter soon following. “How did you know?” 

“Yunjin,” he said simply. You let out a sigh, shaking your head making him chuckle softly. 

“That girl can't keep a secret to save her life.” You moved on from his bruise, now tending to the scratches on his cheeks. Taking your fingers you apply the cream on the scratches, making him wince. “I only have a little bit left. This is why you shouldn't get in fights Mr. Lee.” 

“Well, I..” he hesitated. “I fought for you.” 

For a second you felt your heart drop. The guy you liked for 3 years fought for you, and you had absolutely nothing to say. “Thank you” was all you could manage. “But…why?” 

“He was…an ass.” Memories of the guy recording you why you were down struck his brain, pissing him off all over again. “He was treating you like some kind of sexual fantasy. And I don't like that.” 

You frowned, remembering that videos and pictures of yourself looking for your glasses are now circulating the Internet. “Yeah…”

“And I didn't like the way he was touching you,” he said, wincing at the feeling of you putting the bandage on. 

“You sound like a protective father,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood. “I appreciate you for defending me, but there's no reason to get hurt while doing it.” 

“But I want to,” he says, making you pause. “Y/N, I think I like you.” 

“I-I..uh..” You wanted so badly to say you liked him too, but now you were nervous. Your face was beating up, fogging your glasses. Be cool, be normal. “T-thanks..” 

“Thanks?” Haechan laughs softly. “That's what I get for fighting.” 

“No, that's not what I meant! I meant-”

“I know what you meant, and it's fine,” he reassured you. “I think I liked you for a long time, just didn't know if you felt the same way.” 

“How long is a long time to you?” 

“A couple months,” he answered. 

You sighed, a slight wave of disappointment filling your chest. “I wanted you for 3 years.” 

Haechan's eyes widened slightly, brows shooting up hearing your words. “3 years? Why didn't you tell me?” 

“Because I'm the kind of girl you befriend, not date,” you answered bitterly. 

“That's not true.” 

“All the girls you like are exactly like you. They're loud, adventurous, cool, hot, wear skimpy clothing,” you argued. “I'm just not your type.” 

“Well that can't be true now, because it seems like you are exactly my type,” he stated. 

“For now.” You started treating his last bit of scratches, scrunching your nose to keep your glasses from slipping again. “Why do you think I wore that outfit? I just wanted you to notice me.” 

“But I noticed you. I do all the time,” he revealed. 

“But it wasn't until tonight which made you realize that,” you added. And with that final comment, you finished tending to his wounds, placing the last bandage on his face. “I'm all done. If you wanna go home, I can-” 

“No,” he said. Haechan placed his hands on the back of your thighs, his soft palms sending lightning through your body. “I'm staying here.” 

You could barely think straight with him touching you, the hold on your legs just getting stronger and stronger, his thumbs pressing into your skin. That's when Haechan kisses up your clothed stomach softly and slowly, making your lashes and heart flutter as you watch him from above. 

“Haechan, stop,” you sigh. “Y-you're not thinking straight.” 

He stands up, his lanky figure looming over yours. You swear you feel dizzy the moment his cologne hits your nose. He pulls you closer, his pelvis on yours. You could feel his hard on sitting right on your aching cunt. 

“I know you feel it,” he whispers. “I know you feel the tension here. And I know you feel how hard I am too.” 

Gulping, you look away from him. This is everything you've fantasized about for the last 3 years, but something is telling you no. Something is telling you it's too good to be true. “Maybe..maybe we should wait.”

Haechan takes your chin in his bruised knuckles, lifting your chin to look at him, but all you can see are his pretty lips hovering over yours. “Are you sure you wanna wait? Because I'm not sure I can hold myself back for even a second.” 

His free hand travels up your leg, his fingertips grazing the heat between your legs ever so slightly, teasing you even more. “You have no idea how pissed it made me feel seeing that guy touch and feel on you, knowing it should've been me.” 

“That's why you fought him?” 

The breathiness of your words almost made him spiral. You were breathing heavily, your chest pressed against his so turned on at every little thing he did. 

“Mhm,” he mumbled. “Seeing you walk around in that tiny skirt knowing I couldn't have you..”

“You have me now..” 

“You're right, I do.” 

Haechan kisses you just as you imagined, soft and with care. He kept kissing you, each kiss making you feel high. His hands left your face and leg, grabbing a hold of your waist. You yelp, feeling your body be lifted onto the end of your sink, legs spread apart as he stands between them. His tongue entered your mouth, the kisses slowing down and lingering a bit. 

Haechan places his hands on your sides, soon traveling to your chest. Hard nipples looking through the fabric, teasing him the whole time he's been in your house can finally be his. Haechan hooks his fingers on the bottom of your shirt, begging to pull it up when you grab his wrist, stopping him. 

You pull away painfully slow, a strong of saliva still connecting your lips only for a second. “Can we go to my room?” 

Haechan said nothing, just backing away from your body and pulling you off the counter. He pulled you to your room, still messy as always. He always loved your house, especially your room. Something about it felt like home. There's always little bits of you scattered throughout your space, whether it be homework, a brush, a mug, or even a sock. It doesn't matter how many times he comes over, it always feels the same. 

But this time it felt a little different. He wasn't going to your room to hang out with the others, he was going to have sex with you. Going to make out with you, to be more than friends with you. This was going to change everything about your relationship with him, but it didn't matter right now. All that mattered was making you feel good. 

Haechan sat on your bed looking up at you, mirroring his previous actions in your bathroom. You were more nervous than ever now with him sitting there expectantly. Fixing your glasses, you placed your hand on his shoulder, climbing on his body to straddle him. 

“Can I take your top off,” his whispered peppering soft kisses down your neck. 

You nod, giving him permission. Haechan hooks his fingers on the hem of your top, lifting the fabric off your body. He feels like he's 16 again, like this is his first time seeing a woman's chest, except it's yours, which is much more important. He starts kissing you slow, his hands naturally finding their way to your chest. You shuddered at the way his cold palms molded your breasts, shaky breaths leaving your mouth and into his every once in a while. 

Haechan started kissing down your jaw, then to your neck, making tilt your head to give him more access. His hands leave your chest for a bit, placing them on your back pulling you closer to his body. Your nipples touch the cold of the print on his graphic tee, stimulating you more while he leaves wet messy kisses all over your skin. 

He kisses lower and lower, lips now pressing against the top of your breast. You look down at him, the most dreamy expression ever when his eyes meet your framed ones. You look so cute in them, but still the sexist person he'd ever seen in glasses. 

You let out a soft moan feeling his tongue swipe against your nipples, the feeling being foreign after being on such a long dry spell. He licks the stiffened peak again, then sucking it while staring up at you. 

“So pretty,” he whispers on your skin. 

You're soaking at this point, his touch and voice bewitching you. Haechan holds you tight, sucking your nipples softly. His eyes hung low, the stare making you squirm. You watched as his brows furrowed hearing your soft whines, his hand gripping the fabric on your hip. He releases your breast from his mouth with a soft pop, the cold air hitting the wet peak making you shiver. 

“Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

Your eyes dart to his face, glasses slipping down your nose bit by bit. “I..”

Haechan smirks, his soft lips kissing your chest once again while his hands roam your body. “I know you do,” he whispers. “You're the most obvious person I know.” 

Haechan slips his hands to your lower back, his fingers dipping lower and lower into your shorts. He can't help himself, squeezing the flesh in his hands like a stress ball making you push into his palms more. 

“I want you to show me,” he says, words muffled in your neck while he kisses it. 

“S-show you,” you question.

“I want you to show me what you do when you make yourself feel good,” he adds. “Is that okay?” 

You were intoxicated in your home and he's barely touched you yet, but his voice and eyes did something else to you. You needed more. You nodded, lips parting slightly when he takes his hands out your shorts. 

“Stand up.” 

You remove your leg from his side, removing yourself from his lap. Haechan stood up, body so close to yours you could feel the heat emitting off of him. He tugged at the bottom of his shirt, lips curling into a small smile. “Wanna help?” 

You nodded slowly, hands lifting his shirt above his head. His eyes disappeared behind the fabric but once it was off him, they connected with yours once again, making your core clench around nothing. You tossed his shirt on the floor, eyes trailing down his soft but toned body. You've seen him shirtless plenty of times but this was different. This felt different. 

Haechan's gaze lingered on you as he unhooked his belt, the sound of the metal clinging sending a shiver down your spine. He let them fall, showcasing black underwear to you. Haechan leans down, kissing you softly as he steps out of the pool of fabric, groaning in your mouth softly when your chest touches his. 

“Now,” he says softly, pulling away from you. Taking your hand, he pulls you to the side of your bed, climbing onto the mattress. Haechan plops down, leaning his head on your headboard in the dreamiest way possible. “I need those off” – he points to your shorts – “and you right here.” He pays the spot between his legs. 

Your fingers dig into your waistline, hesitating for what feels like an eternity. Your heart was beating rapidly,  with every second feeling like years. Haechan watched you pull the last piece of decency off your body, soaking in every bit of bare skin he laid his eyes on. He needed to feel you, touch you, eat you. But first he wanted to see you. 

Climbing on the bed, he sensed how anxious you were, wrapping his arms around your body once you settled between his legs. And just like that, you were like putty in his hands, immediately melting in his touch letting him run his hands all over your skin, groping at you wherever he liked. 

“Spread those legs for me pretty,” he said into your ear, smiling when you obeyed. His fingertips trail lines in your hips, soon moving down your legs. He could barely control himself, hands moving closer and closer to your soaked core, the actions making you bring your knees together. 

“Shit,” you mumbled, face hot as you witnessed your glasses fog bit by bit. 

“Do you always wear your glasses during sex” he asked, kissing behind your ear softly. 

“Y-yes, why?”

“I want you to take them off for me.” Haechan laughs to himself softly when you sit up, turning to him with a confused expression. 

“But then I-I can't see,” you say, a slight whine in your voice. 

“I'll do that for you.” Haechan removes the frames from your face gently, folding them and placing them on your lamp table. “I want you to focus on how you feel and what I say. Can you do that for me?” 

His milky tone, the way his lips brushed on your earlobe, his soft touch between your thighs. You'd do anything he asks for in a heartbeat. “Y-yes.” 

“Good girl,” he praises. “You know what to do.”

Haechan watched you start rubbing your clit slowly, biting his lip softly. His hands continued rubbing your thighs, soothing you as you leaned into his chest more. You feel his heavy breathing on your back, your lids going heavy once you insert two fingers inside. 

Haechan was rock solid at the point, watching your fingers move in and out of you, the squelch your pussy made being music to his ears. “Fuck,” he mumbles in your ear.

You clench around your fingers to his voice, the breath tickling your ears making you squirm between him. Your eyes are closed, so you don't see the way he's looking beside you, watching the way your face twitches at every feeling or sound. His stomach flips when you gasp at the sudden feeling his hands on your chest, small moans escaping to the added pleasure. 

“I love that sound,” he says, the sound of your pussy getting louder when you finger yourself faster. 

“S-stop,” you stutter. 

“Are you embarrassed,” he chuckles softly, nipping at your ear, not taking his eyes off the scene between your legs. You gulp and nod, a small whine spilling from your lips. 

“God you're so cute.” Haechan removes one hand off your chest, creeping his fingers back between your legs. “Almost as cute as this pretty clit right here.” 

“H-haechan..” 

He started rubbing small, slow circles, your moans increasing in volume. You kept fingering yourself, but you needed more. You needed his cock, his mouth, his pretty hands. The thought of him finger fucking you till you came stimulated you, making your hips move on their own, grinding against his fingers.

“Tell me what you're thinking about.” He had pressure on his fingers making a whine leave you plump lips. “What do you want from me Y/N?” 

“I..I want you Haechan,” you answer breathlessly. “I want you to make me cum.” Your hand pumps your hole faster, wetness coating your fingers running down your hands. His breath tickles your neck as he begins to grind on you. Eyes closed, head falling back on his shoulder, you let your hips move on their own. You're so close, the feeling of his chest rising on your back aiding to the pleasure throughout your body. 

“I want you inside me,” you moan softly, brows furrowing. 

“How bad,” he teased, a smile on his lips. He rubbed your clit faster, starting to feel your legs shaking. Your moans increased, whines and whimpers freely falling from your lips. He knew you were going to cum. 

“So, so bad,” you whispered. “I-Im gonna cum haechan..” 

“Cum for me,” he whispered. “You're so pretty when you cum.” 

You pumped your fingers harder and faster, the sound of your wet hole filling his ears. You came around your fingers, pussy squeezing tight on the digits inside you. Haechan kept rubbing your clit, the feeling of his fingers on the sensitive bud making you shiver on his shoulder. 

“There you go Y/N,” he said softly, his other hand rubbing your thigh. “Let it out. God, you make the prettiest sounds.” 

You pulled your fingers from between your legs, hand resting on your other thigh as you breathed heavily against his body. That's when you feel his hand take yours, bringing it to his mouth. Haechan wrapped his lips around your fingers, sucking your arousal off your fingers. 

“Haechan,” you whined, hanging your head low in embarrassment. He chuckled, taking your face and turning it to him. He kisses you softly, the taste of your own cum on his lips. “I need you so bad,” you mumbled on his lips. 

“Lay down for me okay?” 

You nodded, lifting yourself from his body, allowing him to move from behind you. You reached for your glasses, putting them on, clearing your blurry vision. When you looked back up, Haechan was pulling his underwear off his body, hard on so big, it hit his stomach. 

“Holy fuck,” you mumbled to yourself. He was big. Bigger than you imagined, and it makes you wonder where he was hiding it all this time under his skinny jeans. 

“Staring isn't very polite, you know.” 

His voice broke your thoughts, making your eyes snap back up to his face. Dark locks of hair fell in his eyes, that same teasing grin on his mouth. He looked like a dream– bruises and bangs on his face, knuckles red, but still hot. He crawled onto the bed, yanking your body lower on the bed by your ankles. 

“You have some condoms,” he said, eyes scanning your naked body. 

“I-In my drawer.” You point to your bedside table, eyes following him as he bends over you to open the drawer. You were practically drooling at this point, the thirstiest you've ever been and it was starting to become too real to be true. Haechan takes an unopened packet from the drawer, shutting it right after. Your eyes don't leave him as he sits back up and opens the plastic, a gulp going down your throat in anticipation. 

“If at any point you wanna stop, just let me know,” he says, sliding the condoms on. Haechan watches your facial expressions and body language. You were excited, he could tell. But you were also the most nervous he's ever seen you. “Listen,” he says softly. His fingertips glide on the inner side of your thighs, hands pushing your legs up by the back of your knees. “I want you to look at me the whole time. Can you do that?” 

The softness in the way he spoke felt a bit unfamiliar to you, you immediately softened nodding at his request. “Y-yeah.”

Haechan licks his lips, lining himself with you. A small gasp fell from your lips feeling his tip stretch you open. He pushed himself in a bit more, watching your face slowly contort silently. Haechan held your legs up to your chest, eyes never leaving the view of his dick disappearing between your legs.

“Fuck,” he sighed, the feeling of your tight pussy almost making him cum right then and there. He looks back up at your face, your eyes are closed, head resting on your pillow. Your glasses are crooked due to the position of your head, but it's sexy to him. 

Haechan starts thrusting in you slowly, eyes shut as he moves taking in the feeling. But you keep looking at him. You keep staring at the way the muscles in his arms slightly flex, you stare at the way his chest moves after every deep breath he takes. He must've known you were staring because he opens his eyes, staring at you fucked out face. 

“Youre.. you're so big,” you mumbled, voice shaky from the pleasure. 

Haechan opens his eyes, staring down at you through his bangs as he thrusted deeper. “Keep saying things like that, and you'll boost my ego.” He snaps his hips into yours, his dick reaching further into you. Haechan speeds up his movements, his hands gripping your legs tighter, pushing them closer to your chest. You tried you best to look at him, but with every movement, you felt your vision go blurry with pleasure. Your moans and whimpers filled the room accompanied with his grunts and the sound of the bed. 

Haechan lets go of your legs, letting himself fall onto your body. He held himself up, one hand on your hip and the other holding himself. You let your eyes close for one second, but Haechan is quick to slap your hip, making you open your eyes. You stare at him, raising your hand and fixing your glasses with your brows furrowed at the feeling of him inside you. 

“Don't look away,” he moans softly. “Keep looking at me..keep those eyes on me.” 

And you did, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. Haechan lets out a small hiss feeling you squeeze around him. 

“Faster,” you moaned shakily, breath tickling his nose. Haechan melts when your face twists in pleasure, brows scrunching with every moment. 

“Fuck, right there,” you whimpers, pulling him closer. Haechan kisses you, you both moaning and grunting into each other's mouths. 

“You like this Y/N? You like when I fuck you good,” he groans, on your mouth.

“Yes, yes.” You nod fast, eyes stuck in his as he plows you into the mattress. The sound of your skin colliding, bed creaking, moans filling the air over stimulated you along with his raspy voice, saying the dirtiest things in your ear. 

He reaches up, removing your glasses from your face and throwing them somewhere on your bed. Too fucked out to even respond, you shut your eyes letting him bury his head in your neck, leaving wet kisses all over your skin. 

“I'm so close,” you moaned, legs starting to shake on either side of him. 

“Cum for me,” he grunts. “I want you to cum around my cock right now.” He reaches down between your bodies, fingers rubbing your clit fast. Haechan has had sex a million times, but nothing could compare to the way you felt squeezing around him. The way your moans rose in pitch when you came, the way you said his name. 

“Haechan,” you whispered, nails pressing into the skin on his back. “Oh my God, fuck..”

He kept fucking you into the mattress, chasing his own high right after yours. “Just a little more baby, fuck..”

You opened your eyes, brows furrowed as you watched his body rise, hands grasping your waist tight. His thumbs pressed into your sides, holding your body close to his while he plowed into you. Even blurry, he was a dream to look at. His hair hung in his face, biting his lip as he chased his orgasm. 

But better get, you looked like an angel underneath him. The sweat on your body, your face, hair, sounds. Perfect. His eyes followed your hand, watching them as one went to your nipple and the other went between your legs. 

“Fuck,” he kissed. The tight feeling in his stomach started getting tighter. Haechan’s jaw dropped, brows scrunched as he came, a strangled moan escaping his throat. 

Haechan stopped thrusting, pulling out of you after a couple of seconds. The both of you sat in the silence of heavy breathing, his hands still on your waist. You reached to grab your glasses, finding them on the blanket and putting them on lazily. That's when you look at Haechan, his blushed  cheeks, sweat on his forehead, trying to catch his breath. 

“Are you-”

“Can we-”

Both of you stop and look at each other. The air starts to feel heavy for some reason, the silence giving you time to think about what you were going to say. Can we go on a date?

You gulped at the way his eyes won't stop staring into yours. His lips part, eyes narrowing when he rubs his thumbs on your sides, soothing your very obvious nerves. 

“Say it,” he says softly, 

“Can we… be more than friends?” 

You blinked, Haechan staring at you with a blank expression. Suddenly he began laughing, hanging his head low after you spoke. 

“What,” you questioned, heart sinking into your stomach. 

“Why did you ask me that,” he chuckled, grinning from ear to ear at you question. 

You swallowed, expression hardening at his words. “Did I say something wrong?” 

Haechan noticed the tremble in your words and immediately stopped laughing, realizing that you were very much serious. Haechan leaned down, his body on yours and head in your neck. He kissed your skin softly, one hand holding him up while the other caressed your skin. 

You watch him, feeling yourself melting into his soft touch. His fingertips dragged along your abdomen, sending chills down your spine. “H-haechan,” you said softly. “Answer my question.”

Instead of answering you, he moved from your neck to your lips. He captured you in a soft, sweet kiss, turned deep and passionate. Something about the way he kisses you at the moment feels romantic, as if he's trying to communicate his feelings without speaking, but you need him to say it. You need him to speak to you.

Haechan pulled away from you, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. “Did that answer your question,” he said softly. 

You shook your head, making him laugh softly. “Answer.” 

He smiled, licking his lips before speaking. “I can be whatever you want me to be.”

“Well..” you paused before looking  up at him, eyes staring into his soul. The silence felt like an eternity between you both, but it soon disappeared when you spoke. 

“Can you be mine?”

[shomixremix]

HERDING THE CATTLE ♥︎

i saw something about this prompt on here like two years ago and it's been stuck in my head ever since ♡︎

tags: Arataki Itto, afab! reader, cow hybrid! reader, smut, fluff, marking, mating, rough sex, petnames, cowgirl, breeding, creampie

-> you are a small cow hybrid auctioned off to a slaughterhouse since you couldn't produce enough milk and were never calm. the arataki gang saved you, and your new master - the one and oni Arataki Itto - knows just how to keep you in check.

reqs open ♡︎ | minors DNI

"Ahh!! Itto! Itto-ooh! Mh! I-Itto!"

You whined as the Oni bounced you on his cock like you were weightless, watching in amusement as you cried in overstimulation. What was this, your ninth, tenth time cumming? You lost count. Itto never let you rest, not even for a second, bouncing you on his lap through every orgasm.

"Aww, you'r' so cute, love bug... Such a cute little cow, ain't ya'? Don't cry now, sweets, this is what ya' wanted, yeah? Only way I can tire you out, baby~"

Your master cooed, teasing you about being so restless. Oh, how you wished you could take everything back! No, you weren't bursting with energy like you said earlier, no, you couldn't go on forever - your legs were practically jelly at this point, your limp body completely at mercy to Itto.

He used you like a cocksleeve, dragged on his dick whenever he wanted and for however long he wanted - and you loved it. Life was good in the Arataki gang: you always had food, a place to sleep and protection provided to you, at all times. You also had a very tall, very strong and very handsome demon filling you up and breeding you almost daily, making sure your cushy womb was never empty.

The space where you connected was a mess. A glorious mess of both your and his juices seeping out of your hole, being fucked back in each time Itto would trust back. Just as every other day, your gummy walls pulsed around his length, making him shoot yet another load inside you.

"Fuck, baby... Makin' me lose my mind and shit..... So good.... Give me a little taste of that milk, will ya'?"

His large palms left your hips, greedily grabbing at the fat flesh of your boobs. As soon as he squeezed down just a tiny bit, a small stream of milk burst out, hitting Itto in the face. You were instantly mortified. Itto was your master, he saved you from certain death, and now you embarass him like this-

"I'm s-sorry Itto-! So sorry! Didn't mean to, I r-really didn't mean to!"

Instead of scolding you like you were sure any other owner would, the Oni burst out laughing. His laugh was like a roar, shaking his entire body - and with him, you as well.

"Hah, those jerks at the farm jus' didn't know how to milk ya', sweets, 'cause you look full of milk to me!"

It was true - even though you were sold to a slaughterhouse for failing to produce milk, you started leaking like crazy the moment Itto took you as his. That vet back at the farm you grow up on always said that you'd start producing milk if they paired you with a bull, and what better bull than a large, demon one?

Their loss, anyway. Now, all your milk belonged to Itto and his warm mouth, and not to some sketchy farmers who were only interested in selling it.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of his sharp fangs on your nips, greedily sucking at the flesh and gulping down the sweet drink. His dick twitched inside you as he continued feasting, your own arms tightening around his head to pull him closer.

The second he detached himself from your chest he thrust out harshly, in the process accidentally completely pushing you from his lap. Even though Itto was mighty and strong, he wasn't exactly the sharpest. There was a slight possibility that he was so occupied with whatever he was doing that he forgot you were on him.

You watched as he stood up, leaving you sitting on your knees on the ground. The Oni spit a bit of your milk on his palm, then using that same hand to roughly jerk his cock. It was more than obvious that milk was one of his kinks.

Oh, but why would he jerk off with milk as lube when you were right there...? On your knees, right next to him, ready and waiting and... Oh, Archons, were you not enough for him anymore..?

When Itto first saved you, the deal was that you'd stay in the Arataki gang until they found you a new home. However, Itto insisted they keep you, even proclaimed you as his own "pretty girl that no one can touch!" He kept you all to himself, fell asleep with you in his arms at night, brought you any awesome flowers he found, even took you on good, honest dates when he'd get a little Mora! He even acted on his demon urges and sunk his fangs into your neck, mating you!

But what if he didn't want to spend the rest of his life with a little, useless cow? What if that wasn't even enough for his sexual urges any more..?

"I-Itto..." You cry, big tears pooling up in the corners of even bigger eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

At the mention of his name the Oni turns to you, shocked to see you crying.

"Hey, hey, hey! Baby, what's wrong?!"

"Need you.... P-please..."

Not another word needed to be said. Itto immediately reacted, grabbing your soft, much smaller body and seating it once again on his lap, entering you in one swift trust until his tip was snuggly kissing your cervix.

"Shhh, sweets... Let your Oni take care of ya', hm? No need to cry! I thought you couldn't go on, love bug, that's why I stopped! But you really are a restless one, huh, calfie?"

You smiled warmely at the nickname as your head went fuzzy. You laid your pretty head on Arataki's chest - like always - and let him have complete control of how he fucks you.

Each one of his thrust was faster and more brutal than the last. Your pussy was already crying out, threatening to cum just from the first few thrusts. Itto noticed, pinching your puffy clit between his claws and rolling it around.

"OH, ITTO!" You scream in ecstasy, riding your high.

Your master wasn't going to be able to last much longer. With you bouncing on his cock the way you were and how your sweet little cunt was so tight that it was milking him dry, Itto lasted only a couple more thrusts.

"Hah... Haaah... Fuck, love bug... Really wanna milk me too, don't ya'? Ahh... Mmm.. Gonna breed you.. Hah... Gonna breed ya' so good, sweets.. You'll be all nice and full, and you'll get pregnant with my calfs, yeah? Put all that milk to good use, hm? Yeah, yeah!"

He started cumming as well, shooting rope after rope after rope of his sweet release inside you. You were filled to the rim, juices leaking out of your satisfied hole. Arataki didn't let any of it go to waste, his fingertips catching whatever's left and pushing it in.

As soon as you were filled, your hands reached for him, seeking comfort in his warm arms. Itto obliged instantly, carrying you like you were weightless, to the nearby camp they set up. Your master entered his tent, the biggest of the bunch, wrapping your body in a soft blanket and once again settling you in his arms.

"There ya' go, love bug. Comfy?" You nodded, which made Itto break out in a toothy grin. "Well, of course it is! The great numero uno Itto is at your service, baby, of course everything is awesome!"

You chuckled at the way he tooted his own horn, kissing his cheek and hiding your face in his large neck and shoulder.

"G'night, Itto.. Thank you..."

The Oni found your actions adorable, cooing at you: "Awww, sweets, no need to thank me! You know I always gocha. Thank you for being so good f' me, yeah? You're such a good, pretty little cow... I don't know how I got so lucky!"

He pressed a loving kiss on your forehead, caressing your legs with his large palm.

"G'night, baby.."

[purplecoffee13]

A Bit Jealous*

Summary: “Harry is a frat boy and a douchebag who pushes your every last button, but you hate that he’s talking to another girl.”

Wc: 1.8k

Tropes: fratboy!harry

Warnings: SMUT, praise kink, jealousy and a bit of possessiveness

A/N: hey guys! Sorry for being so MIA the past weeks, I really couldn’t get myself to write for some reason. I still have some difficulty with it, but I did cook this little blurb up for y’all. Hope you like it! All the love xxx

General Masterlist

Blurb Masterlist

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

You groan in frustration at Harry's words, pushing him onto his bed before straddling him. "Shut up."

Harry doesn't protest as you occupy his mouth with yours, tongues dancing around each other with a passion that makes it seem like it's the first time. It's not; you've been hooking up for the past three months.

You hated Harry— you still do. You didn't like him and his frat bros walking around campus like they owned the damn place. But after a bad break-up and one too many tequila shots, you ended up in Harry Styles' bed anyway.

You could've shot yourself for your own stupidity, but you didn't. Sleeping with Harry became a habit instead. A past time, you told yourself, to hold you over until someone new came along. But three months have gone by, and there has yet to be someone new.

Harry had wanted you from the first time he saw you. If not for your killer looks and pretty smile, then for your hatred towards him. He'd always liked girls with a temper, and whenever he'd see you around, a part of him would hope that you'd re-direct your hatred and just give him a chance. Just to sleep with, of course. He didn't want a relationship.

"Thought you said Saturday was the 'last time'." Harry taunts you with your own empty promises in between kisses. It's true, you did say that last weekend. Harry has been a bad habit that you need to quit, but any time you try your willpower just isn't strong enough.

"I changed my mind." You respond, putting his cap on your head and taking his shirt off. Harry smirks at the sight of you. He always thinks you look quite cute in anything that belongs to him.

"Of course you did." He flips you over. You let out a yelp as you are being turned onto your back. Harry leans back and pushes your skirt up, leaving you in nothing but your skimpy panties that reveal your excitement by the apparent wet patch on them. "Let me catch up then, yeah?"

"Yes— oh my... fuck!" The air is knocked out of your chest as Harry dives his face right into your pussy. Your hands fly to his hair for some kind of control and your legs close up with each lick that makes you shudder. When your back arches in response to his assault on your clit, Harry takes his focus off of you for a second.

"Stay still," He growls, pushing your thighs away. "and spread your fucking legs."

It is hard to follow his orders perfectly, mainly because of the drinks you have had, but you stay relatively still as Harry continues to eat you out. You have to refrain your eyes from rolling to the back of your skull at the way he sucks your clit. His hands stay on your thighs, massaging them as he works you towards the prospect of a climax. The rumbling of the house party going on downstairs puts a thought inside your head.

"Did you lock your door?" You ask breathily, waiting on a verbal answer. You look over at Harry, but he doesn't pause. Instead, his face stays buried inside you as he shakes his head, and you let out a whimper that is too desperate for someone who claimed last week was the last time you ever wanted to sleep with this guy.

It seems to motivate Harry, as he only speeds his movements. Your breathing starts to get more erratic, and you are once again squirming for an escape. It is like your body knows this orgasm is going to be very intense.

And your body was right. You come hard, explosively even, falling apart under him with a cry of his name. Ever the gentleman, he helps you ride out your high before he finally comes up for air.

"Shit..." you pant, watching Harry move until he's laying next to you. You turn your head to him, unable to keep yourself from smiling at the stupid grin on his face. He is always so proud about making you come.

"You were jealous." He says, and your joy falters at his words.

"What are you talking about?" You scoff, frowning at his words. You roll your eyes for extra measure, but it doesn't seem to convince him.

"That's why you pulled me upstairs, didn't you?" He asks again, and when you sigh, the grin on his face only spreads wider.

"Admit it! You were jealous I was talking to Gigi."

"Maybe I was." You shrug.

"Don't deny it, you— wait what?"

You reach for his pants unzipping them as you sit more upright. Harry follows your movements, staring at you wide-eyed as he observes you.

"Maybe I was a bit jealous. Maybe I don't really like the idea of you fucking someone else." You tell him, a sultry voice coating your words as you take his cock out of his pants. You push him further against the bed, positioning him so he is now sitting against the headboard.

"Maybe..." you trail off, letting his tip trace over your entrance. Harry gasps in anticipation, thoughts too blurred and too curious to see what you're going to say and do. "I don't like the prospect of sharing you. Of not having you fuck me raw anymore."

With that said, you sink yourself down on Harry's cock, hands resting on his shoulders for steadiness. He grumbles out a few profanities, his head shooting back and eyes shut tightly

"Wouldn't you hate that? It feels too good like this, doesn't it?" You rasp in his ear, slowly beginning to bounce up and down his cock. Harry lets out a moan—something he doesn't do often—grabbing onto your hips as he watches his cock disappear in you repeatedly. His eyes trail up to your concentrated face; jaw slack and small 'uh's leaving your plump lips.

Your tits bounce slightly, still restrained by one of those corset tops you often wear when going out. It drives him crazy, those tops. The way your breasts spill out of them a little bit, but enough to leave the rest to the imagination. And God does he imagine things when you wear those types of tops...

He peels his eyes open, takes in the sight of you, and lifts his hands from your waist to undo your top. He easily pulls down the zipper in the back, and before you know it, your bare chest is being massaged by Harry's hand. He bites his lip as he plays with your nipples, reveling in the way you whimper at the sensitive touch.

Your hips move rhythmically, driving Harry's cock in and out of you at a pace that is making the both of you dizzy.

"Fuck, I didn't know jealousy could look so pretty." Harry rasps, his eyes locking with yours. The corner of his mouth tugs up at your inability to handle that compliment. You've never really known what to say when he's being nice to you for a change, and the asshole likes to fluster you. It's why he even compliments you in the first place, you are certain of it. "But here you are... riding yourself on my cock because you hate to see me talking to another girl."

"Shut up." You frown, closing your eyes at the increasing bubble in your stomach that you feel is about to explode sooner rather than later. You change the angle in which you move your hips a little bit, allowing Harry's cock to hit a particularly sweet spot.

"So possessive..." He challenges you some more, and you put your hand over his mouth as a response.

All of a sudden, you are being flipped onto your back, Harry now hovering above you. You whine at the change of position, not yet having been done with that one certain angle yet. Like he can read your mind, Harry assures you,

"I'll get deep in there, baby, don't worry."

The words and the caring tone in which they are spoken causes for a fire to erupt in your tummy. Doe-eyed, you stare at Harry, silently complying as he throws your legs over his shoulders. When he thrusts his hips forward and drives deep, way deeper into you, a small scream leaves you before you can stop yourself.

Harry is quick to place his hand across your mouth as he begins fucks you with slow, deep thrusts. Tears stream down the side of your face as Harry hits your spot over and over again, each time feeling more euphoric than the last, and each one brining you closer to an orgasm.

With the way you grip his hand tighter with every passing second, Harry knows that you are very close.

"Are you close, baby? Gonna come again?" He asks, a wave of satisfaction filling his veins when you nod frantically, all sorts of noises leaving the mouth muffled by his big hand. Your eyes roll into the back of your head when Harry starts slowly circling your clit, the pleasure becoming too much to handle.

"C'mon baby, you can come again for me. Just for me." He says softly, leaning in closer so there is nothing to do but get lost in his pretty eyes. "You're mine to fuck, and I'm yours, hmm? Does that sound good to you?"

A muffled 'yes' is the only comprehensible word that leaves your mouth as you finally explode. Head tilted backwards, you let your orgasm wash over you like a tidal wave that is so strong that the only option is to let it consume you, and just go with it. The traces of Harry's fingers on your skin elongate the ecstatic feeling in your body, and even as your body moves along with the aftershocks of your orgasm, you fear you have never felt so high before.

Your climax triggers Harry's. The way you are pulsing around him proves too much and it shows in the erratic thrusts and unstable breathing pattern that manifest in desperate pants. You try to fixate your eyes on the way he crumbles above you, the knowledge that his sperm is coating your walls filling you with a moronic amount of pride.

Slowly, Harry stills inside of you. You're still a bit in awe of that element he seemed to be in just now. It looked so fucking sexy and the image of it seems to be burned into your brain forever now. Harry lifts his head, the signature arrogant smirk back on face, a quiet laugh sounding from the back of his throat.

"You should get jealous more often."

You hit him in the head with the pillow next to you.

[carlsangel]

YOU’RE WHINING

carl grimes x reader

(carls whining gets irritating.)

tags: oral sex (m!receiving), needy carl :P

masterlist here!

Carl was never really one to pry for things. He really did love taking care of you whenever he had the chance, he enjoyed the traditional ways of handling your relationship. He would love to hold doors open for you, let you enter places first (unless dangerous), cooking for you, or even when it came to your intimate relationship.

Most of the time, he did what he could to pleasure you. Whatever position allowed you to feel best, he did it for you. He also made sure you finished first every time. Not to mention he loves going down on you, not just because it pleasured you but he just absolutely adores it. Anyway, the first time you’d done something for him, he realized how nice it was to be to one receiving the head.

You didn’t realize how needy he could get before then. That man is vocal. The first time he let you give him head was when you guys were insanely bored while no one was home.

It’s a good thing no one was home as he practically couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Anyway since then he’s been begging for it again. Unfortunately there was never really a right time. You were always on runs and even then you were always having some sort of trouble whether it was walkers, issues with the car, even people. It all got worse when you were assigned on different jobs for a week. Aaron had found a new horse and you were put the task of breaking it. Meanwhile, Carl had perimeter watch.

After a long and frustrating day with the new horse, you pull her into a newly built stable to brush her down n such. Despite your struggles in breaking her, she was beautiful, you had to admit. You were just about done before you heard footsteps approaching, so you turn around to be greeted by the sight of Carl. He said he’d come meet you after his shift.

“Hey.” You smile and he almost swoons completely. He greets you back with a small hello and a kiss on the cheek before giving his attention to the horse in front of you. He stroked her for a moment before looking back at you, admiring how you looked. He wanted you to suck him off so bad, he was practically yearning for it. He felt this feeling in his throat, almost like a moan, but not. You look back over to him and look at him sort of oddly, wondering what the expression on his face was about.

“You okay?” You ask, sort of setting him off. Then he lets out a noise, one that sort of baffles you before he started rambling. “Please, I really need it can you-” His breath is heavy and he pulls his hat off to cover his crotch where you can assume there’s a tent in his jeans. Your eyes widen and you’re not quite sure how to respond. “Jesus, Carl you’re whining.” You state, completely taken aback by his demeanor.

“I know m’really sorry but I…I really need you to go down on me I’m begging here.” He takes a step closer to you and takes your hand in his, holding it real tight because he is, in fact, begging. “Just behind the stable, no one will see.” He pleads.

Well…how can you say no to that?

Soon after, you’re kneeling down in front of him in the grass between the large steel wall (of Alexandria) and the wood of the stables. He was right, no one would see you there but they could definitely hear you so you warn him. “You’re gonna need to be quiet.” You start to work on getting his belt off and he nods, his breath getting heavier the longer he sees you on your knees in front of him.

As you work on his belt, you decide to tease him a little because, why not? So you press kisses to his (very hard by the way) dick through his jeans, causing him to moan already. You haven’t even gotten to the real thing. “I told you baby you gotta be quiet.” You smile up at him and he looks down at you so frustrated. Frustrated because you’re teasing him and you know how long he’s been wanting this. Except, that only makes it hotter for him.

You finally get his belt unbuckled and you unbutton his jeans. You tug them down, along with his underwear, just to see how needy he really was. He was rock hard, he couldn’t help it with the way you looked when he walked into the stable, your hair a mess, tired eyes and sweaty. It got him really, really aroused. You take a hold of his length which draws a sharp hiss from his mouth.

Just looking up at him like the way you were prompted him to leak a little which you very clearly took notice considering you took that as a go ahead to take him in your mouth. “Oh god-” His arms were practically nailed to the wood behind him and you continued to take him, sliding his cock in and out of your mouth repeatedly, your saliva building up and following each movement of your mouth. Your other hand goes to the base of his cock and it sort of lingers there, your fingers gently massaging. It was taking everything in him to not rut his hips into your mouth.

“I can’t..” His hands now go to your hair where he gently tries to steady himself but he seriously can’t take it. The wet noises coming from your mouth as you still won’t stop. “Please baby I’m close.” He moans, prompting you to pull back a moment, pulling a whine from him as well. You still slowly twist your hand around his dick while you look up at him, admiring him and how gorgeous he looks. His bottom lip is red from biting it so hard trying to keep quiet, but his mouth is agape and he’s breathing so hard. Meanwhile his eyes are half lidded and he just looks so fucked out.

“Is this what you wanted?” You giggle and swirl your tongue around his tip, prodding your tongue into the slit of it. All the air leaves his body and eyes roll into the back of his head. He moans so fucking loud, your eyes widen at his volume. “If you don’t close your mouth I will stop.” You laugh and he nods, taking in a deep breath to get ready for you to start again.

“Good?” He looks down and nods yes. “Yeah, good.” So you start again, moving your hand with your mouth too, spreading the saliva down to cover him with it completely. You go back to bobbing your head at a steady pace, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth. Carl resorted to just letting out soft groans, quiet enough for just the two of you to hear.

Soon enough, he was close again and this time you wouldn’t stop. You’d move quicker, taking more and more of him into your throat while he pushed your hair back out of your face. “M’gonna cum please don’t stop-” He speaks breathlessly and you comply, not stopping until he grips the back of your head still against him while the warm liquid spills down your throat. Once every drop is out of him, he lets go of your head and you pull away, doing everything you can to make it look somewhat attractive. A string of saliva follows your mouth from his dick.

You wipe your mouth with your sleeve and he gets himself back situated in his jeans. All he wants to do at this point is love on you. You treated him so well. He pulls you into a hug, leaning back against the stable wall while he kisses you all over your face.

“That good?”

“No that was incredible.”

a/n: so let’s talk about this LMFAOOOO LISTEN!!! i got this request and started writing it right after T-T and then finished it an hour after it was requested. where did that motivation come from? no idea. but also this made me realize i have never posted a fic where the reader gives him a blow job so…that might be why?

anyway this was very impromptu, match ups done soon blah blah ghost in the woods blah blah

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow

[princessbrunette]

personally, you enjoyed heatwaves. especially now that farmhand!jj was around. it means you got to flounce around all day, getting away with wearing little to no clothing, hanging out in the barn because it’s ‘cooler in there’— a fact no one could argue against, and eat a bunch of homegrown fruit. who would complain?

“you sure you don’t want none, jayj?” you refer to the fruit platter sat on your lap. it comes out all spitty and garbled through the mouthful of cherries you have, the juice of it leaking down your lips, staining your chin and dripping into your chest. you’d always been a messy eater.

“aint it a lil unprofessional of me to eat on the job?” his speech is the tiniest bit muffled too, but only as he is gripping a toothpick between his teeth as he lazily paints the new fence inside the barn white. you want to comment on how he didn’t seem to care last week when he ate you out on the floor of the barn, but bite your tongue, opting for subtlety.

“well no one’s gotta know…” you swing your legs from the short haybale you sit on. when you said things like that, things with such a double entendre— it made you very hard to resist. especially when you’re sat there in your ‘heatwave appropriate’ attire — being that tiny, tight gingham bikini top and denim shorts that jj was pretty sure were three sizes too small. he’s lucky he’d invested in such starchy jeans or he might be visibly straining against the fabric by now.

he chuckles to himself, muttering a “damn minx.” before you giggle and beckon him over. “c’mon. atleast feed me. m’so hot and my arms tired, just don’t wanna do it anymore.” you pull out the theatrics, and he whips his head around to watch you with a smirk of disbelief. jj valued his job sure, but at the end of the day he was just a man.

“alright then.” he saunters over, wiping his hands on his jeans as to not get any of that paint on your pretty skin. there was no paint on them anyway, the blonde actually super meticulous and good at his job, but he wanted to be sure.

he plucks a strawberry from your plate, wiggling his fingers for a moment and licking his own lips as he stares down at you, watching the way your plush mouth closes around it, batting your lashes up at him and letting out a quiet ‘mmph’ of pleasure at the sweet taste on your tongue.

“taste good?” he asks and you nod, swallowing it down. once you’d eaten the rest from his hand like a sweet desperate wounded animal, you found yourself sucking the juices off his long weathered fingers, eyes fluttering shut. if he wasn’t hard before, he sure was now.

“lord have mercy.” he drawls in that southern twang and you giggle, pulling back as you catch yourself, wiping your mouth with the back of your wrist.

“terribly sorry mr maybank. i got carried away.” you grin, not sorry at all.

“that ain’t no problem, sugar. matter’ fact i think i do want a taste.” leaning down, jj pinches your chin lightly, opening your mouth and bringing your lips to his, he smears his wide tongue over yours making you let out a high pitched mewl against him, thighs squirming against one another. he holds you there, lapping up the freshly resided juices and when he finally pulls away, there’s a string of sweet saliva that connects your lips for a moment.

smirking, jj runs his thumb affectionately over your chin as you stare up at him, dumbstruck. “yeah you were right. sure does taste good.” he gives your cheek a kind little pat, like you would a horse before sauntering back to his work station — fully expecting you to follow and beg him to take you right there. who were you to exceed those expectations?

[sylv-tf]

Just ReLAX

"Shit, not the fucking door too man!" cussed Connor as the door to his dorm's shared bathroom laid sideways in the frame, having just fallen off its hinges. College was supposed to be his big new start, but everything in this first day had been shit. He missed his first class going to the wrong building, had the tires on his bike stolen, and at the end of it all he had to walk back to his run-down dorm building where the hot water still wasn't working... and now the door.

"Fuck it, I'll just play some WoW or something," he said, walking over to his computer setup. Within five minutes though, he was up again, having discovered the internet connection was so bad he couldn't even log in. It was still early afternoon outside, the sunlight filtering in through the dusty window of his dorm. At the very least he could make sure he knew where his next class was, so he didn't miss it like the first one. Throwing his ratty shoes and loose-fitting knitted sweater on, he headed out the door. Thankfully this one didn't fall off like the last one, but he still just felt tense as he walked out the building's lobby and into the afternoon sun.

His dorm building sat just off the campus quad, which at this point in the day was filled with both students rushing to class and those doing anything to avoid it. As Connor walked across the cracked sidewalks that crisscrossed the green lawn he couldn't help but notice the number of guys just relaxing in the sun. It was hard not to feel outclassed, comparing his greasy brown hair, sweater, and loose jeans to their clean cuts and perms and athletic clothes that draped ever so perfectly against well-defined muscles.

Whatever, he knew he was a nerd. It was fine. Why should he care about fitting in - he didn't in high school anyways. He'd just keep on with his online friends... unless they got busy. That could be a problem. Well, he couldn't even worry about that now since the internet sucked. Maybe his suitemate would know how to fix it? No, they hadn't even moved in yet. And what are the chances they'd even speak to him after he already broke the bathroom door! Fuck, he'd have to get that fixed soon. Where was the maintenance office? Wait, no he was supposed be looking for his next cla-

WHAM

Connor felt a sharp pain on the back right of his skull and the world seemed to spin and flash white for a bit. When he finally got a hold of himself he was looking up at the sky... and there was some guy in orange and white on top of him. Was he... talking? His mouth was moving at least...

"...ro. ...ey, bro ar... ... Bro? Bro, are you okay?"

"Ugh... yeah, I guess, what happened?" replied Connor. The guy above him seemed to lean back a bit after hearing him speak. His bright ginger curls looked fiery in the sun, and dang, he was kinda built too. Was he an athlete? "Yo, I'm so sorry man. I was laxing out with my bro, Casey, and you looked like you zoned out right in the middle of our pass. Freaked me out when you just stopped moving like that, can't like."

"Oh... uh, sorry? I didn't notice I guess. Was kinda wrapped up in my own thoughts or something." Connor couldn't help but mumble. The day just couldn't get any worse could it.

Meanwhile, the ginger hunk squatting over him just turned slightly and yelled back over his shoulder, "Yo, Casey, hurry up with the ice would ya'? And grab a drink too, this guy looks like he could use it!"

He turned back to Connor now, "Nah bro, you're all good. It just happens sometimes. You seemed super stressed out so, I get it bro. Casey and I are like that too right before a big game, but then you like, lock in super hard when the whistle blows and it all washes away and shit."

Connor just stared blankly at this mystery man, clearly from a different world than his own. "Uh... right." As he sat up straight, he felt the burly hand of this ginger "bro" hold his shoulder steady, directing his gaze towards another guy, presumably Casey, jogging over with a wet-looking blue bag and a sports bottle.

"Zach, I got the stuff. How's he doing?" Casey was similarly built to the ginger guy, who Connor assumed to be Zach, but with straight brown hair, squatted down on his left and handed him the drink.

"Where does it hurt bro? We got an ice pack for you."

Sheepishly, Connor accepted the drink and started to look around. There were a few stray glances from passerby, but thankfully it didn't look like he caused a scene... "Just the back right of my head, I can get it," he replied, taking the ice pack with his free hand and holding it to his head.

The cold was sharp but quickly became soothing as it spread from the base of his neck to the rest of his head. As he took a sip of the drink too, he found it tasted oddly good. There was a distinctive metallic note to it, but mostly it was a fruit punch flavor with lots of pineapple and orange. Before he knew it, Connor had downed the whole bottle.

"Fuck, that tasted really good? What is that anyways?"

Casey spoke up, "It's Coach's recipe for the lax team. Gatorade but with his special blend of electrolytes and shit, more or less."

"Huh, so you guys play... lax? Is that a sport, I guess?"

Zach and Casey laughed. "Lacrosse bro. It's sick, you ever played?"

"Nah, look at me man. I haven't played anything in my life." Zach seemed to give the faintest smirk to Casey. "You sure bro?" At this point he began to stand up, and with Casey lifted Connor up by his arms. "I've got a hard time believing someone with these arms doesn't at least work out."

Connor glanced down at his arms. They didn't look particularly built. Well, were they always that tan? He moved them up and down, flexing them a bit. They weren't as twiggy as he thought they were... huh.

"Nah, I really didn't play anything. Guess it's just natural?"

Casey responded, "Fuck bro, if that's natural you've definitely gotta lax out. Come over here."

The two athletes practically pulled Connor along towards their bags, which had been sitting out on the ground a ways away. Connor could see sticks with nets on the ends sticking out, a number of pieces of what looked like chest pads, white rubber balls (presumably what he just got hit with) and a number of other things he didn't quite recognize.

Zach, meanwhile, had already grabbed a set of pads and a stick and was heading back to Connor. "Here bro, throw this over your head," he said, tossing him the pads.

"What?"

"Just do it bro, you don't wanna get beamed with the rock again, right? Casey's got a lid for you too."

Connor looked uncertain but seeing both guys smiling was enough to win him over. "Hey," he thought, "may as well see what it's like to be an athlete for a bit." He struggled briefly with the pads before Zach helped to slide them into place over his shoulders. They felt a bit heavy, but it felt kinda nice too. He was still chilly from the ice pack and the heaviness just made him feel... calm. Or maybe just chilled out?

Casey came in quick with the helmet from the left. Connor had only caught a glimpse of it before. It looked wild, being mostly white but with burgundy and gold decals all along it. Wait... those were the university colors. Was this a helmet from the lacrosse team?

Connor took a step back from Casey. "Wait, guys, is this university property? That's a bit too much for me, I mean I'm just-"

Casey was already at his side and the helmet came down. The inside was soft, not at all what he expected from how jagged the outside looked. It was kind of dark as well, though he could see through the first gap between the bars on the front. Was he actually wearing the school helmet? Was he wearing sports gear right now? In public? What would people think?

Connor could feel and hear the two athletes still strapping on elbow pads but at the same time he felt that calm from before. Did it really matter? He was just trying it out. And the two players with him would clear up any confusion, since they seemed like bros. Yeah... this was fine actually.

He reached up to adjust his helmet a bit as Casey approached with a stick. "Here bro, just follow along with Zach and I and we'll teach you the basics. Just relax."

Connor's mind was blank. Whatever Casey and Zach said was what he did. Learning how to hold his spoon, passing around the rock, stationary at first and then while running. Somehow, no matter what he did he never felt tired. And when the group got thirsty, Coach's drink was always close at hand. As the sun began to set, Zach and Casey called it in.

Connor, like the other two, was drenched in sweat. He didn't even really remember taking his sweater and shirt off, but he must have at some point, because he was bare torso in the setting sun. But man, his body really was better than he gave it credit for. Zach had even said his genetics were crazy to have abs without working out. And Connor felt great. Amazing even! What was he even worried about earlier today? Nothing important, he was sure.

"Zach, Casey, bros. Lax is like, crazy dope dudes."

Zach was the first to reply. "Bro, it's insane you've never laxed before, you picked it up crazy fast. You should honestly talk to Coach. He's got walk-ons next week and if you work with him and us a bit more, I bet you could clinch a spot."

"No way bro, that's crazy. Play for the school? I'm not as good as you two."

Casey butted in. "Bro, you're insane for a newbie. Trust the process, bro. You'd be on in no time. In fact, we should head over now so you can meet him. Help us pack and shit, and we'll jog over. You down?" "Damn bro, really? Fuck yeah, let's do it."

----------

Needless to say, the walk-on tryouts were a bit of a blowout. With Coach's guidance, Connor was a standout performer, ready to take the field for the team and crush their opponents every time. His new shorter haircut that Coach recommended suited him, just like his new number, #17, and his new carefree, cocky attitude. And like the loyal bros they are, Zach and Casey made sure to grab a picture with their new recruit at media day.

[johnsmithforstupidstuff]

Too late now

"Listen, it won't be that bad, just relax." Elias said in a condescending tone.

"What do you mean not that bad?! You have no idea how much being your socks sucked. You never even washed me and kept me on for days! I can’t even imagine how bad it would be to be your underwear. I am sorry but I don’t want to do it!" you replied with a stern voice.

"Well, in that case I have bad news for you, because I don't really care what you want. You owe me and it is definitely too late to chicken out now." Elias said, while fidgeting with his phone, opening the TransformR app on his phone.

"No, Elias please! I beg you. I can't keep doing this. Every time you transform me it gets more difficult to keep sane."

"Well, tough luck I guess. You better get used to this, because if you keep bitching like that I might just keep you transformed! Anyway, you wasted enough of my time, see ya in a few weeks." With that Elias clicked the final button on his phone, sealing your fate for the upcoming weeks.

In front of him you collapsed into yourself, becoming hollow and turning white. You fell onto the floor, right in front of his stinking feet.

"Well then, let’s talk specifics. Duration, 5 weeks, senses enhanced, very absorbent, both liquid and gas. Perfect, I guess everything is set now. Let’s try you on for size." Elias said, bending down while undressing. You saw, as he flicked his still wet workout clothes straight into his clothes, instead of the washing machine, a fate, you were surely going to share in the next few weeks. He pulled his legs through your openings and you finally came into contact with his immense ass and junk. He did not shower after his workout, you were sure of that. With the enhanced senses you were forced to smell and taste every single one of his many inches of manhood, stinking of sweat and his ass reeking of musk.

"Let's see about that absorbing power of yours," Elias said, before going down to his knees and poking his ass out. A few seconds passed, then Elias farted right into you. Your torture intensified. In combination with the dried sweat and ass smell, you were now also bombarded with Elias’ foul gas. Not only that, but you absorbed every bit of it into your fibers, never truly going away, the smell always lingering…

"Nice, I can't smell anything. At least I don't have to be as careful with my protein farst, those are deadly. Anyway, you clearly absorb gas, what about liquid?" Elias said, lying down in his bed and opening his favourite websites. You felt, as Elias began to massage his dick through you. You could feel, smell, and especially taste his enormous member. You suffered with each stroke, feeling his veins pulsating through you. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a load of his cum exploded in your face. You could feel it, as it slowly seeped into your fibers as well, compounding the foul stench and taste. "Nice, I see we will have a lot of fun. Let's go for a run," Elias said, before getting up and getting dressed.

This was going to be a long 5 weeks

[thisthatpinkvenom]

GIVE HER A LITTLE POW-POW ON HER BABYMAKER

BUSINESSMAN!SAN / HOUSEWIFE!FEM READER

⤏ Synopsis: What Bibi said in "Automatic" but make it domestic.

⤏ Genre(s): drabble*, smut smut smuttity smut but I think it's kinda cute(?) 😗

⤏ Content: rich married couple!au, established relationship!au, non-idol!au, housewife!fem reader who knows how to cook (sorry to anyone who's not a MasterChef)

⤏ NSFW Warning(s): just straight up fucking, unprotected, breeding kink but it's more than a kink, creampie, light choking, light dirty talk, soft dom!San (my knees are weak), lots of swearing left and right, lots of yearning and pet names and it's kinda lovey-dovey but hey, what else do you expect from me at this point

⤏ Note*: this content is completely fictional.

"Ngh...l-let me make you feel g-good."

"Trust me; you already are..."

Earlier that evening, the familiar jingling of keys as the elevator doors opened and signaled San's arrival. His bag dropped to the floor with a thud before he stripped himself of his coat and undid his tie with a grimace on his face. He looked irritable, though the lines on his forehead ceased to be visible when he'd heard your feet padding across the floor to carry you into his embrace. A sequence of small and innocent pecks progressed into longing kisses and relieved sighs. And before you knew it, you were in the nude and on your bed, getting the pounding you'd been daydreaming of all day.

The bed never ceased its squeaking as your husband fucked you from behind. With your hand's iron grip on the headboard—that further continued to dig the dent in the wall deeper—your thighs trembled under all the weight you stressed onto your knees. Your back was flush against his abdomen, skin sticking with his through sheens of sweat. You were fortunate to live in a penthouse that offered you more privacy and freedom to fuck like rabbits, or else you would've received a very heated complaint for the incessant banging on your wall alone.

"This bed's f-fucking annoying," he grunted, frustration communicated through his hand which squeezed your breast in its clutch. "Need a new one, for fuck's s-sake."

You'd never voiced your complaints about the bed frame before, its sensitivity to any movement you made becoming a nuisance to your ears. You wanted to discuss going out and buying a new one but the right time hadn't come yet. Frankly, San had too much packed into his schedule, and you didn't want to pile any more things on his to-do list.

"I-I've been—ah—wanting t-to talk to you about t-that…"

Gradually, his thrusts became tamer until he stopped. The hand on your breast fell to your hip as he sat back on his heels, pulling you with him in the process. Your heart's drumming in your ears and you're trying to catch up with your own breath.

You didn't need to see to know the frown that made its way to his face. "Sannie—"

"And why am I only hearing this now?"

"You're so busy, and I didn't want to bother you. It wasn't a big deal, anyway," you reasoned.

His nose brushed the nape of your neck before he placed an open-mouthed kiss on your collarbone. "Mm, that's silly. Your concerns are my concerns. You should know that already, Baby."

Thank God, you were sitting. Otherwise, you would've melted to your knees if he kept this up. Fuck.

"I'll always try to make room for you," he continued, "no matter how hard it may be." His words melted under the soft sucks his lips made on your neck, his fingers having found your clit to toy with. "How about we go get a new one, this weekend? Then I can fuck you without all the noise."

Your walls clenched around his cock, earning a hiss and a chuckle vibrating on your skin.

"Ride me."

You set a steady pace when you began to work yourself on his lap, the squeaking commencing once again with every bounce you made on his cock. Despite the very vocal bed frame, the squelching from between your thighs couldn't be ignored either—the wet, little mess that your husband liked to play around with so much.

His other hand made its way up to your neck, his thumb and fingers gently pressing themselves into either side. The pressure had your eyes seeing black while your hands searched for his wrists, nimble fingers enclosing around them for any sense of stability. You really needed release, the flesh of your ass and thighs rippling with each hard smack against him.

"One day, I'll make time to put a baby in you. My baby," he rasped, the grip on your neck stiffening for a brief moment. "Ah, fuck…how does that s-sound, Honey?"

You clenched your teeth, eyes squeezed shut at the mention of being knocked up. And when you thought you couldn't be any more wetter, he'd proven you wrong.

"Oh, my God…d-don't say things you don't mean, Baby," you whined.

The pads of his fingers pressed deeper on your clit as they continued to draw circles on the nub.

"I fucking mean it. I always keep my promises."

Everything was just too much for you, your senses were stimulated to oblivion and you couldn't handle it any longer. The inevitable tension of your aroused pussy gave his cock a vice-like grip as you began to see speckles of noise behind your heavy eyes.

"Gonna cum, gonna cum—Sannie, I-I'm gonna fucking cum," you cried. Salt laid on your tongue from the tears that flowed freely down your cheeks, while the hand on your neck moved to your jaw.

He turned your face to his and shoved his tongue between your lips, pausing briefly to murmur, "I know, Baby. I know."

A trembling, soaked pile of mush was all you were at that moment. Putty under his touch, while you let him fuck your sensitive walls until he spurted a warm, white mess inside you. Your hips rocked slower until they settled to a halt, and your wet kisses had become tender. Nothing about this was funny, but you couldn't help but giggle, your teeth knocking against San's while the bliss was still clouding your mind.

"Lunch was really delicious as usual, by the way. Thank you, Honey."

Your thumbs declared a half-hearted war with each other, fiddling with no serious direction. You faced him, lying on your sides with lopsided smiles shared just between the two of you. The soft whirring of the air conditioner filled the room. Otherwise, you were undisturbed.

"You're welcome," you responded dreamily.

He shuffled closer to you, the bed squeaking once again.

"So, what's for tomorrow?"

You grinned, a playful glint in your narrowed eyes. "It's a secret. You can't open it until lunchtime. And don't even try, I know everything."

"Didn't I say your concerns were mine?"

"This one's an exception."

He smirked. "What if I gave you that baby in exchange for knowing what's for lunch tomorrow? Starting right now."

Your cheeks grew warm when the tip of his nose kissed yours.

"You play a really hard bargain."

[lovecla]

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you:

FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, game plan:

➴ chapter warnings: none <3

➴ word count: 1.5k

💌 from me to you: and here’s the first chapter of fake it ‘till you make it! posting this sooner than expected in honor of last night’s game. can you guys believe we have nico hischier as our captain? how lucky are we? anyways! i hope you all like this! (the posting schedule will be just like TYPA, every other day!) ♡

𖧷

WHEN YOU tell people that being friends with a hot, young NHL player isn’t at all that great, all they do is look at you like you’re batshit crazy, and give you one hundred and fifty four arguments trying to make you, someone who’s been friends with a guy who’s been a NHL star player for the past few years, see how wrong you are.

You love Nico Hischier. You really do. You met him when you were just eighteen, being friends with his sister, Nina, and immediately locking in with Nico. He’s the sweetest, kindest and most loving man you have ever met in your life, and now that you’re twenty-three, almost twenty-four, you can see how rare men like Nico are.

But now that he’s a famous player, captain of an entire team and known for being one of the hottest men in the NHL, you sure feel like you’re paying a high price for being in his life.

Not in a bad way, though. It just sucks to see the amount of women throwing themselves at his feet, and what sucks even more, is knowing that he won’t even blink an eye at them because he’s head over heels for Nora Ellis, a crazy girl he met two years ago at a party.

Nora is beautiful, you’ll give him that. And usually, you wouldn’t be upset with him having a crush. In fact, you and Nina are always encouraging him to engage in new relationships and meet new people, so that he isn’t only worried about his job.

Nora. She’s the most beautiful black woman you have ever seen. She’s intelligent, she’s funny and she knows things about Hockey like no one else— being the daughter of one of the most talented coaches in the NHL does that to you, you guess.

The only problem with Nora Ellis is the fact that she only cares for men who are in a relationship.

Married or dating, she doesn’t care. Her only goal is to make them give up on their partner to be with her, and once she gets tired of them, she finds another mission to busy herself with.

Nico doesn’t seem to notice that. To be fair, no one really does. She can be very subtle and discreet, and the only reason why you caught up on that in the first place is because every party you go to, you try to blend yourself with the walls, so you don’t get too much attention on yourself.

Nico always tells you to stay by his side and mingle with his friends, but by the end of the night, you’re always sitting near the bathroom door, with a drink in your hands, watching the party unfold with attentive eyes.

And turns out that a lot can happen in the bathroom of a party full of NHL players and Nora Ellis.

So you know she’s not good for him. You’ve tried to talk him out of it more times than you can actually recall, but it’s a dead end. Nico’s in love with her, and has been for two years now. He won’t give up on her unless something really drastic happens, but since Nora is really good at what she does— destroying relationships for fun—, nothing will ever rise to the surface.

“She’s so… pretty,” Nico sighs, sitting on the couch beside you, making you sigh and put your book down, not forgetting to mark the page you were in. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

You smile, touching his cheek, watching with awe as his dimples appear. “It’s fine, Dimples.”

He rolls his eyes as he always does when you call him that, and continues.

“You’re the only one who still listens to me ramble about Nora,” he pouts. “Nina said that if I talk about her one more time, she’ll fly to Newark and personally destroy my phone so I can’t call her anymore.”

You laugh loudly, perfectly picturing Nina saying that.

“And Luca?” you ask, raising your eyebrow.

“Luca just says I need to move on.”

“Well, he’s always been more patient than Nina, that’s for sure,” you nod, placing your book on Nico’s coffee table and bringing your knees close to your chest, resting your head on them. “But… he’s not wrong, y’know?”

Nico gives you the puppy eyes, as he always does whenever someone mentions that he should get over Nora, and you sigh again.

Seeing him like this sucked in every way. And you’ve tried everything— get him on dating apps, blind dates, normal dates, pointing at a pretty girl at a party, literally everything.

And still, he’s not budging.

“I wish she would just look at me. I’m handsome, right?” He looks at you, brown eyes filled with despair.

You spend some seconds analyzing him, as you often liked to do. His brown, hazelnut eyes that shined bright everyday, his hair that’s now a little bit longer than usual, his legs and arms which are absolutely huge— when did he get that big anyway?— and his perfect, charming smile and dimples.

“Emma?”

“O-oh, yeah, you’re… fine, I guess,” you shrug, trying to hide the fact that you were checking him out. Weird. “It’s not about you, Nico, I’ve said that before.”

“Okay, but why won’t she pay attention to me, then?”

Because you don’t have a girlfriend, is what you want to say.

Wait.

“Oh my God!” you jump in your seat, scaring Nico who lets out a loud scream and jumps out of the couch with you.

“What the— Emma.” He puts his hands on his hips, trying to look scary, but you brush him off.

“I know how to make her fall in love with you,” you smile, walking around in circles, trying to organize your thoughts inside your head. Nico. Nora. She thinks she’s in love. Nico’s happy. They get together. She’ll leave him after three months or so. Nico’s sad. But! Nico’s moved on. “God, how did I not think of that before?”

“What are you talking about—”

“We have to date.”

Nico stares at you like you’re crazy, his eyes big and confused. He opens his mouth a few times, probably trying to think of something to say, before closing it and inhaling the air.

You wait for him to say something, but when it’s obvious that he won’t, you continue:

“I know it sounds crazy, and I know what you must be thinking, but hear me out,” you step closer, looking up at him. “Girls sometimes don’t pay attention to guys because… well, because they can’t really see them. Like, for example: there’s this one guy in my office which I don’t care about, he’s just my coworker and nothing else.”

“What does this have to do with—” you put your index finger over his lips, shushing him.

“Wait,” you say. “So, he’s there and he isn’t anything. Until, one night, I had a dream that he’s dating me. And suddenly, I wake up and go to work, and I can’t see him the same way I did before. I start noticing how nice his hair is or how tall he is. Do you understand it now?”

Nico smiles, scratching his forehead with his finger.

“No, Emma. That doesn’t even make sense.”

You snort. “Because you’re a man. But trust me on this one, Nico. The second Nora sees you with someone else, she will notice you.”

Mostly because she’s a whore, but we’ll keep that to ourselves for a while.

“Do you have… like… a crush on me or something?” His face is now red and he gets closer to you, placing his hand on your shoulder while he looks like he’s trying to comfort you. “Is that why you want to do this?”

“What— No, what the hell!” you can feel your face getting warm and you step away from him. “No, I don’t have a c-crush on you. I just can’t stand you talking about her anymore. I’m your friend, so I will help you.”

Nico sighs, relieved it seems, still looking unsure.

“You don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to,” you say, closing your eyes for a few seconds. “I know it sounds crazy and I know you probably think I’m trying to get something here but in reality—”

“I’ll do it.”

“What?!” you can’t hide your surprise, almost shouting with how loud you spoke.

He smiles, sitting back on the couch, spreading his thighs and stretching his arms. “I mean, you’re never wrong about these love related things. You did get my sister an amazing boyfriend and you did manage to convince my brother to ask that girl out, and now they’re married. So it’s probably my turn to accept your love advice and shit, right?”

You’re starting to feel bad about this whole thing, because you know Nora will probably break his heart in thousands of little pieces, but what else can you do?

It’s the perfect plan, you think to yourself. It’s flawless, and it will work.

“I try my best,” you give him a half-smile, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “But you have to promise me something.”

Nico nods. “Anything.”

“If this doesn’t work out, then you'll move on.”

“Emma—”

“It’s not healthy for you to be thristing over someone for this much time,” you sit on the couch next to him and place your hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “We will fight, and we will fight hard, but if there’s no results in three months, and I’m being generous, we’ll move on. Okay?”

Nico stared at his hands, biting his lips before looking at you again.

“Okay.”

𖧷

<next chapter>

[yourdarlingalina]

is it new years yet? | jack hughes

synopsis: y/n's new years kiss is the last person she expected, her former fuck buddy pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader word count: 2.7k warnings: slightly steamy, heavy making out, mentions of sex, a bit angsty, not properly proofread is it new years yet? - sabrina carpenter

What's the best way to forget about your fuck buddy who broke things off with you a week before Christmas? Who you definitely don't have feelings for and who definitely didn't find out about said feelings by accident?

From a responsible person's point of view, it was the correct decision. I fell for someone who just wanted no strings attached sex. He doesn't want a relationship, and it is supposed to save me from being hurt even worse in the future. But I am not a responsible person. A responsible person wouldn't have been talking about their feelings with friends when they knew that the person they had feelings for was also in the same bar.

Which is how I ended up in my current situation. A glass of champagne in one hand while the other holds onto a random guy's shoulder as we sway and grind to the upbeat tempo blasting through the club's speakers. The best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one, right? At least, that's what my friends were telling me as they convinced me to go out with them for New Year's Eve.

"Start the new year off with someone new."

And start the new year off with someone new I will. The guy in front of me is decent looking, he's no Jack but he'd do. His hands were at least doing all the right things, one gripping my hip to pull me closer as the other was pushing my hair out of the way of my neck so that he could leave sloppy open mouthed kisses to my skin. Hands roamed down my body as I brought the champagne flute closer to my lips, this night would require copious amounts of alcohol if I am to make it to midnight. He pawed his hands down from my hips to my ass, gripping and squeezing in ways that should be making me want to push my body harder against his. His mouth trailing from my neck down to cleavage, nipping and sucking at the exposed flesh.

He was doing everything right to my body, but it just didn't feel right. I wanted it to be Jack who was brave enough to handle me this way in the middle of a crowded club, not ashamed to be seen with me, but it wasn't. He made it very clear that he only wanted me in private, with no one knowing that I was his on those nights and that he was mine, even if it was only for a short time. It was like he knew my body better than I did, knew what buttons to press to make me cry out his name. How he made me come undone again and again. The kisses that gave me full body shivers and touches that left my skin feeling like it was set alight.

I was not getting those feelings with the man attached to my body. He seemed like he'd be a great lover for a night, but not in the way I needed. Perhaps if I met him before everything, I could be happy with him but it felt like I had been ruined.

A party popper would end up becoming my hero of the night when one went off right next to my ear causing the glass in my hand to tumble down, splashing champagne on the man as it made its way down to shatter on the floor.

"Oh God! I am so sorry!" I profusely apologize as the man whose name I can't quite remember jumps away from me.

"It's alright, suppose I was gonna end up sticky tonight anyway. I'll be back." He shoots me a wink as he makes off in the direction of the bathrooms. I take the brief moment to escape to the bar, being careful to not slip on the alcohol or broken glass scattering the floor.

I push past the glitter and sweat coated bodies, pushing myself into a corner where I don't think my former dance partner will find me. One of the bartenders comes over to take my drink order not long after I get into my seat.

"What can I get for you?" The man asks quickly, obviously on the verge of losing it due to the new year's rush tonight.

"She'll have a vodka cranberry and I'll have a beer." A voice says from behind me, a voice I know extremely well. I didn't know he was going to be here tonight. Not a single person thought to mention that to me? The bartender makes a move to speak but the man behind me continues, "Brand doesn't matter, just whatever you have." The bartender just nods then scurries off to get our drinks.

I slowly turn on my stool to face him.

"Jack." I say, acknowledging him.

"y/n." He says back, sending shivers down my spine with just how he says my name. He moves closer, keeping me between the counter and his body. Leaning over his body almost touches mine, he keeps his eyes on me, his face getting closer, and for just a second I think he's about to kiss me, but his fingers wrap around the beer bottle that was placed on the counter and suddenly he's back where he was originally standing. "You seem to be having fun tonight."

"You've been watching me?" I blurt out before I could think. Instead, grabbing my drink, putting it to my mouth before I could say anything else.

"Hard not to when you're basically letting whoever that was fuck you in front of everyone." He bitterly spits out. He's jealous? He's not allowed to be jealous. He doesn't want me, I got that loud and clear.

"So? Why do you care?" His eyes snap to me. "I'm not yours, I never was." I break my eyes away from his, suddenly thinking about how interesting my drink looks. He smirks at my sudden movement, his fingers grip my chin and force me to look at him. His face is so close to mine again, I can feel his breath on my face, can smell the alcohol off his lips. He's intoxicating. I clench my thighs together at the small act. Even like this he still has so much power over me. I am undoubtedly his.

His eyes flick from my eyes down to my clenched thighs to my eyes again to the countdown clock behind me and finally back to my eyes. "Thirty minutes till midnight. Meet me on the balcony upstairs in fifteen?" He's asking but it comes out as more of a command.

"Why would I do that?" I push back. I can at least hold onto a little bit of my dignity during this. Can't I? Might be debatable.

"Because I made a mistake two weeks ago." He whispers against my lips. My eyes flutter shut, he's gone when I open them.

◈   ◈   ◈   ◈   ◈   ◈   ◈   ◈   ◈

Fifteen minutes went by quicker than I would've liked for them to. I still haven't made up mind on if I should talk to him or not, but my body decided that I'd still go. I slowly made my way up, giving myself more time to collect my thoughts. I hadn't talked to him properly since that night.

It was a night out after a big win, Jack had invited me and some friends to go out with him and the team. Teasing remarks were thrown at me about how I look at Jack like I was in love. I never did hide my staring well. He had noticed too, how when he looked over at me, my eyes were already on him. Adoration was obvious in my eyes when they were on him. When I got quiet and didn't make any attempt to shoot down the accusations they all got loud. "You love Jack!" They shouted over and over. My cheeks flushed, embarrassment flooded up veins, I had to get away from it.

He heard. I turned to leave the group and he was behind me, eyes wide and jaw slack in shock. He was frozen, a deer in headlights. Me whispering his name snapped him out of his daze causing him to walk off in the opposite direction. I made the mistake of going after him.

"We said no strings attached." He said after the door slammed behind me, his back still facing me.

"I know." My words came out whispered, I was terrified of this. This was never meant to happen. Feelings were never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to find out that one of our few rules were broken.

"We can't continue like this." He finally turned and faced me. He showed no emotion, he was so goddamn hard to read. His blank facial expressions would be the bane of my existence.

"I know." I whispered again, the only words I could get out. I fucked up, by catching feelings, by continuing this when I knew I caught feelings. I tried to push them down and pretend that they didn't exist, but it just wasn't enough.

"I don't love you." I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the tears start to well up and not daring to let them have the chance of escaping. I knew how he felt, but hearing it was a completely different feeling.

"I know." I sobbed out. He was gone by the time I opened my eyes.

Here I was, yet again, going after him. I somehow made it to the top of the stairs and through the crowd of dancing bodies. There he was, standing on the balcony, leaning over the railing and looking out at the Hudson. I stood there for a good minute, just staring at him, debating on if it was even worth listening to him. Did he really make a mistake or was he just feeling guilty that he didn't reciprocate my feelings?

"What was the mistake?" I finally ask.

His head whips around so fast that I almost think that he's about to give himself whiplash. A small laugh like huff comes out as I walk further out onto the balcony.

"I almost thought you weren't gonna come." His voice is softer, careful, like he was actually scared of the thought that I wouldn't meet him. I look back at the countdown clock on the wall, ten minutes to midnight.

"I like to be fashionably late." He lets a small laugh escape at my comment. God, I love that sound.

"You always have." He turns away again, hands gripping the railing, knuckles turning white from the tension.

"You still haven't answered my question." I say, waiting for him to finally tell me what the mistake was. Was he regretting ending us or how he spoke to me?

"That night." He starts to say before cutting himself off, lips pursed into a thin line.

"Yes?" I nudge his leg with the tip of my heel. He looks at me, eyes scanning my face like he's trying to read my thoughts. Trying to get any idea of what I'm thinking.

"I lied to you." No. "I said I didn't love you." No. "I lied." No.

I should be wanting to hear this, but I don't. I never thought I'd be the type of person to run back to a man just because he gives me a pretty apology and I will not start now, especially when I know it's not true.

"You don't love me, you just miss the sex. Don't worry, you'll find someone else to suck your dick." I move to walk away before I feel this hand come up to grip my arm. He was not going to make this easy for me. All I want to do is go home and crawl under my blankets, forget that all of this even happened in the first place.

"Please, just hear me out." I turn my head to look at him and goddamn those eyes that make me want to melt. He's looking at me so sweetly, I've never seen him look at anyone like this.

"Make it quick." I brush off his hand and lean back towards the railing.

"Oh come on, you know I don't do quickies." He attempts to make a joke, a playful smile pulling on his lips. It quickly fades though as he get serious again. "I broke our rule before we even made it." My head snaps up at his words. What?

"I loved you before we slept together that first time." He can't be telling me the truth. No, our first night together was a drunken mess that was just meant to be a one night stand. The relationship that came after was just mutually beneficial, he didn't have to worry about someone running to the tabloids and I got someone who touched me in a way I didn't think was possible.

"Stop lying to me." I choke out. I don't need a pity confession from him, especially when I just want to leave him behind next year which is in, I quickly check the clock, three minutes.

"I'm not!" He counters back just as the words leave my mouth.

"If you loved me you wouldn't have reacted like that." My eyes are brimming with tears, this is not how I wanted my night to go. I just wanted to find a new guy to kiss at midnight to make me forget about Jack.

"I never thought you'd feel the same." How he could think that is astounding. I don't think he realizes just how magnetic he is, and not just because he's Jack Hughes, hockey star. No, he was much more than that. A good friend, a shoulder to lean on, someone that listens when you really need it, a respectful person who makes you feel like you're floating when his attention is on you. "I'm not good at expressing my emotions."

"Yeah, no shit!" I nearly scream at him. "What do you expect me to do with this?"

"I want to start fresh next year." He admits, his eyes lock back onto mine. "If you gave me another chance, I promise, I won't fuck it up again." He's not lying, he's being genuine. I can see it written all over his face, the softening of his eyes, the breaking down of his walls. He's having a hard time even attempting to be vulnerable about this.

The shouting from the party starts to get louder. "Ten!" Maybe I should give him another chance. "Nine!" If I get hurt again then it's on me. "Eight!" He is who I want to be with. "Seven!" Why not? Is this not what I wanted just hours ago? "Six!"

"Kiss me." I tell him.

"Five!"

"What?" He sputters out.

"Four!"

"You heard me." I say, giving him a soft smile so that he knows I truly mean it.

"Three!" He shifts his body to be parallel mine. "Two!" His hands cup my cheeks. "One!" His lips meet mine as literal fireworks go off. "Happy New Year!" People shout around us. But my mind is just on him. As he's pulling me as close as humanly possible but it's still not enough.

My hands snake up with his abdomen, fingers gripping at anything they can. His hands move to my hair, to my neck, down my chest, caressing softly down to my hips, pulling and pleading to get as close as possible. My body was being set alight, the familiar feeling I've been yearning for. He's pulling sounds out from me that I've never made before. It's from the feeling that he's fully mine now, no hesitancy in his movements, he's confident and proud in what he's doing. 

My fingers move up to curl around strands of his hair, pulling his face fully flush to mine, lips melding and moving against each other at a fiery pace. We break away unfortunately to catch our breath, our smiling faces still touching, neither one of us making an attempt to move farther away. In fact, he's nuzzling his face even closer into mine, if that was even possible.

"What are you going to do with me now?" I ask against his lips, looking up into those beautiful, mind melting, ocean like eyes.

"Start the year off right, by apologizing in so many ways." He says then capturing my lips again before dragging me through the crowd of bodies, down the stairs, and out of the door.

[poweringthroughthis]

birthday cake | lee sangyeon

nsfw, mature content, mdni

desc: (name) isn't a big fan of his birthdays, so his friends decide to cheer him up with a particularly handsome gift this year.

warnings: oral, rimming, anal s*x, fluff

Birthdays are no easy feat for (name). Between corporate slavery, a horrendous economy and a dead love life, there really isn't much to celebrate. Well, maybe except for his friends. With New constantly reprimanding him for his bad decisions, Changmin being the sweetest guy ever, Juyeon raising his standards in men and Kevin teaching him all the naughty things of the world, (name) appreciated those little troublemakers deeply.

So, despite not being the biggest self-lover on birthdays, the male did expect his friends would, at the very least, come over to his place, watch horror movies and build pillow forts as they bitch about anyone and everyone. Being far away from family made (name) cherish the boys' efforts all the more.

However, with no one even replying to his texts, let alone showing up at his apartment, he was more than a bit confused. The male was just about to call New and demand the reason behind their sudden silence when the doorbell rang.

(name) was more than relieved to hear the chime and was quick to open the door, not wanting the person to ring it again. The man's mouth opened, a bright smile already on his lips but before any words could leave him, a cake was shoved into his face and his vision was obstructed by the sugary mess.

The male was still blinking in surprise when the candles were blown off and someone clapped happily, a voice exclaiming, "Happy birthday!"

(name) finally managed to pry the cake away from his eyes, looking at the group of four that stood before him. They were all holding gifts and smiling widely at him.

"You're here," he mumbled, not even bothering to hide the happiness in his voice.

"Of course," Kevin exclaimed, stepping inside the house and taking off his shoes. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I'm surprised you guys are here, to be honest," the birthday boy mumbled, still wiping the icing from his eyes and nose.

"And why is that?" Changmin asked.

"You weren't answering your phones."

"Oh, those..." Juyeon mumbled, looking at the other three for a brief second before continuing. "We left them in the car. You know how the signal sucks here."

(name) nodded. He didn't believe a word of it. "And who brought the cake?"

"Me," the black-haired male replied. "You said you loved that cheesecake so I decided to surprise you."

"Thank you, Chanhee." (name) smiled.

"No problem, dude. Now let's go and open your gifts!"

"Yes, please. I have a present too and I've been dying to give it to you!" Juyeon added excitedly, pushing past his friends and into the house.

The others followed him, leaving their shoes at the door.

(name) was feeling like the happiest person alive. His friends came to visit, brought him gifts and baked a cake for him. They didn't have to, but they did it anyway.

Chanhee noticed (name) and gave him a small smile. "It was a pretty last minute decision. Sorry, we couldn't do better."

"I think this is already amazing," the male replied, mirroring the other's smile.

"Hey! Stop flirting and get your asses in here," Juyeon called out.

Chanhee rolled his eyes. "We should go and stop him before he does something stupid."

The younger one nodded, following his friend into the living room.

They did all that (name) had envisioned. Watching horror movies(The Amityville franchise this year), eating the cake Chanhee baked and talking smack. Like clockwork. The smile didn't leave (name)'s face the entire night. A few drinks in and the guys were still sober, but way more relaxed.

"Guys, I have to say something." (name) began, the boys turning around to look at him with fond smiles on their faces.

"Thank you. Thank you for doing this every year. And on days when it's not even my birthday. Life is a lot less shittier because I have you all."

Perhaps it was the soju talking, but (name) felt like he needed to make it known how grateful he was for his boys.

"Aww you cutie, c'mere.." Kevin cooed at the male, making kissy faces as he tackled him into a hug, the birthday boy yelling for him to get away.

"Ewww cringe!" Chanhee fake-gagged as he made a disgusted expression.

"Shut up, Chanhee. We know you're the biggest crybaby deep down" Changmin shushed him.

"I think it's time to give you your gift," Juyeon whispered into (name)'s ear, his hot breath sending shivers down (name)'s spine.

"O-okay."

Juyeon smiled, standing up and walking towards the door, leaving (name) confused. Why didn't Juyeon bring the gift inside with him initially? He glanced over at the others who were looking into space, avoiding his gaze. Alert number 1.

"I swear to god y'all if this is something stupid like last ti-"

"Hello."

(name) stopped dead in his tracks as a deep, matured voice interrupted him. He turned around to see: Lee Sangyeon. His very attractive, very charming and very well-spoken neighbor, though (name) had barely exchanged anything past normal greetings with the man.

"So, remember how we were late? We were hastily searching for a good gift shop as the old one recently closed, and ran into this guy who was kind enough to help us navigate to a new one. Guess who it was?" Juyeon explained the last bit in a sing-song voice. "Exactly! Sangyeon hyung."

"And when we left for the same way, we talked a little more and realized he's your neighbor! What a small world." Changmin added.

Hyung? Damn Juyeon and his extroverted nature. And yes, Changmin, (name) is well aware of his hot neighbor. Thank yew. He's been purposely treading carefully around him in order to NOT make a fool of himself, which you've kinda defeated the whole point of?!

"Happy birthday! I hope you don't mind me. I was free and your friends insisted I join." Sangyeon offered a charming grin.

"Thank you. And ,N-no, no, not at all! I don't mind. Please, feel free to join anytime you'd like. I mean-" (name) rambled.

"Oh boy. I knew he was gonna shit himself" New sighed.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing. It's kinda cute. YOU'RE kinda cute." Sangyeon chuckled, and if the sound of it didn't send an electric jolt down (name)'s spine.

"So are we done yet or..?" Kevin yawned, leaning onto the couch. Everyone scurried off back to their places in the living room, continuing the movie they'd paused to drink. For a while, the boys made small talk with Sangyeon, (name) getting to know the man better. As time passed, they all became increasingly sleepy, but (name) and Sangyeon hardly ceased talking to each other, now cuddled up with each other. They clicked rather well.

"So, I think there's one last gift left. For both of you." Chanhee smirked.

"I agree," Sangyeon whispered.

Before (name) could blink, he was pulled into a warm embrace and his lips met Sangyeon's. It was gentle, yet firm, and (name) felt like he could die and be satisfied. The latter tasted of sweet wine, and the older's scent filled his senses as he pulled him closer, a soft sigh escaping him. Sangyeon's lips were soft and warm, and his tongue moved confidently against his own, making (name)'s toes curl.

As Sangyeon pulled back, a smile appeared on his face. (name) had been crushing over him for 2 weeks now. So is it safe to assume his feelings are somewhat reciprocated?

"How was that?" Sangyeon asked, his fingers stroking (name)'s hair.

"Amazing.." the latter breathed.

"I'm glad." The elder smiled, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Well, I hope you had a good birthday."

"Yes, and I have you to thank for it."

"Then perhaps we should do this again?"

"Definitely."

And (name) was sure his heart was about to burst with joy.

"Ahem."

New's voice caught their attention.

"Sorry for the interruption but it's getting late and we should leave," he announced, gesturing at the other 3 who were already gathering their belongings.

"Alright. You guys have fun and behave yourselves." Kevin grinned, bidding them a goodbye.

(name)'s eyes widened. "Yeah, bye Kevin!" he offered a tight-lipped smile, mouthing "I.will.Kill.You", knowing fully well it must have been the Canadian's idea to pull this stunt. "You needed this babe" Kevin whispered in the other's ear. "Thank me later", he left after blowing (name) a kiss, Chanhee and Changmin dragging him.

"Sangyeon, we hope we can see you around soon." Juyeon said.

"Definitely."

The birthday boy's eyes met with Sangyeon's, and (name) didn't miss the way the man's pupils dilated. He wasn't alone in his feelings.

"Happy birthday, again." The eldest of the 4 leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on (name)'s cheek, the gesture sending warmth throughout his body.

The moment the 4 left, (name) plopped onto the couch, still dazed from what had transpired.

"They really thought of everything."

"It seems so."

"Are you happy?"

"Yes, very."

"Good, that's what matters."

"Can I...can I kiss you again?"

"Of course."

Sangyeon cupped his cheeks, bringing their lips together. It was gentle and slow, yet there was a hint of hunger behind it.

"I've been thinking about this for a long time," Sangyeon admitted, his thumb brushing over (name)'s bottom lip.

"So have I."

"That's good to know."

The eldest captured (name)'s lips again, this time with more urgency. He sucked on his bottom lip, drawing a low moan from him. The sound spurred Sangyeon on, and his tongue slipped into the younger's mouth, eliciting another moan.

"I'm not quite finished yet. There are many other things I'd like to do to you."

"Such as?"

"You'll just have to wait and see."

The next thing (name) knew, he was being lifted up, the male's legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Sangyeon carried him to his room, and the two fell onto the bed in a heap of tangled limbs. Their lips met again, the kiss becoming more passionate and urgent.

"Do you want me to keep going?" Sangyeon whispered against his lips, his fingers brushing the younger's cheek.

"Yes, please," (name) whined.

The older one wasted no time and started undressing the male beneath him. After he had stripped him down, the two kissed some more, their hands roaming each other's bodies.

"I'm going to make you feel good," Sangyeon breathed against his ear, his fingers trailing down his abdomen, causing him to shiver.

(name)'s eyes widened as the elder stood up and stripped down his lower half, his thick member on full display. The birthday boy swallowed nervously, his cock throbbing at the sight.

"You're already so hard." (name) breathed.

The latter was about to apologize, but his words were caught in his throat when he felt a wet heat envelope his length. He couldn't hold back a moan as he threw his head back.

(name) continued to suck on his length, eliciting a chorus of moans from the elder.

After a few minutes, Sangyeon hurriedly pulled (name)'s mouth away, biting his lips to stop himself from cumming.

"Mmh, I think you're ready," Sangyeon mumbled, and (name) let go of his member, wiping his mouth with his hand.

He reached the hem of the birthday boy's underwear, tugging it down. The cool air of the room caused the latter's member to twitch, and Sangyeon smiled. He laid (name) down face first on the bed, spread out. Kneeling between the younger's legs, he leaned down and spread his ass cheeks apart using his hands, licking his lips at the sight of the male's pink, puckered hole.

(name) gasped as he felt the wet heat of the elder's tongue circling his entrance. He gripped the sheets tightly as he felt the sensation of being stretched.

The younger male could only moan in response, the feeling of being penetrated by the elder's tongue was intoxicating. He could feel his orgasm approaching, and he arched his back, pressing his hips against Sangyeon's face.

"It's your birthday, but i'm the one eating the cake," the elder chuckled, and (name) whimpered, feeling the latter's tongue slide in deeper.

"Oh fuck," he moaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

Sangyeon continued to fuck (name) with his tongue, and the younger male couldn't help but cry out in pleasure.

"I-I'm gonna cum," (name) whined.

"Go ahead, baby," the elder encouraged, and the younger male could only gasp and shudder as his orgasm ripped through him.

Sangyeon sat up and grabbed the bottle of lube on the bedside table. He squirted a generous amount onto his palm and spread it over his length.

"Ready, baby?"

"Yes, please," (name) nodded, spreading his legs wider.

Sangyeon lined himself up with the younger's entrance and pushed inside, eliciting a loud moan from the younger.

"F-fuck, you're so tight," the elder moaned, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Feels so good," (name) panted.

The elder started to thrust in and out of the younger male, and the latter could only moan in response.

"You feel so good around me," Sangyeon moaned, and (name) could only whine in response, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

The older one leaned over, capturing his lips in a heated kiss.

The elder started thrusting faster, the sound of their skin slapping filling the room.

"Fuck, I'm close," the elder moaned, his eyes screwed shut.

"M-me too," (name) gasped.

Sangyeon gripped the younger's hips tighter and increased his pace, causing the latter to moan loudly.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," the elder growled, and he spilled inside the birthday boy.

"Holy shit," (name) breathed, his orgasm rippling through him.

The elder pulled out, the latter's cum coating the tip of his cock.

"Happy birthday to you," Sangyeon breathed, leaning down to kiss the birthday boy.

(name) sighed contently. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Making my birthday special."

"I'll make every birthday special, if you'll let me," the elder smiled, and the two kissed once more.

When the 4 were far away, New's voice broke the silence.

"Hey Juyeon.."

"Yes?"

"Do you think he'll actually thank us for setting him up with his crush?"

"Probably not.." Juyeon answered.

"Should we start running?"

"Yup."

"We're doomed."

"Well, it was worth it."

"Definitely."

"Happy Birthday, (name)." Kevin yelled into the night, wishing nothing but happiness for their friend, as the 4 walked home.

[silverzoomies]

Angels

peter maximoff x reader

warnings: peter being a goober, he watches porn for like half a second, it's highkey a stranger things crossover, my dialogue is goofy as hell

word count: 5,240

a/n: had a lot of fun with this one !! a while back, my buddy @quickandsilvers (now deactivated, and i can't find their new acc) requested a fic where he works in a video store and makes a fool of himself. i think i strayed from their prompt a lot, but i hope they don't mind. sorry about the stranger things crossover !! it happened naturally while writing it, and i couldn't stop thinking about steve and peter interacting. lol

Like a responsible adult, Peter spent the span of an entire month “studying” for his GED final. His rapid fire attention span made focusing a tough feat, even past his years of high school age hyperactivity. Which was the very reason he had to study so friggin hard for his GED in the first place. Peter never graduated high school. And because he never graduated high school, he didn’t really know what real studying was. “Studying” for him mostly entailed speed reading, once or twice over. Before he called it quits and bolted away to do…Peter stuff.

He was honestly really proud of himself for sticking it out, though. Much to his mother’s most pleasant surprise. Peter carried a perfect attendance streak through all his classes. A wildly stark contrast to his self proclaimed, unmatched ditch streak back in high school. In hindsight, that wasn’t something worth boasting about.

But all his hard work and bonafide effort proved supremely disappointing…when he flunked the final anyway.

Peter’s chest ached, as though someone tore his heart out, stomped on it, then double tapped for good measure. In a fit of unbridled frustration, Peter raced across the entire planet to burn out his rage. His blood boiled hot in his veins. After circling the globe about a gajillion times, he finally skidded to a stop. Somewhere in Indiana.

His clothes were all tattered and covered in holes. Burned from supersonic force. The soles of his favorite shoes turned to ash, crying smoke like a bonfire. Painful blisters littered his feet. But in his defeated haze, he couldn’t find the energy to care. Barefoot and blistered, Peter walked to the nearest payphone, his head tipped back in shame.

He could only imagine how devastated his mom would be.

It broke Peter’s heart, knowing he’d have to call her and ruin her day. After she promised to take him and his sisters out for a celebratory dinner. All you can eat Chinese! - she said. Being on the receiving end of bad news was one thing. But delivering said news to one’s mother - after an entire lifetime spent letting her down? That sucked unimaginably more.

At the payphone - after tossing his desecrated shoes in the trash - Peter hesitantly brought the handset to his ear. Deep breath in. Now, breathe out. He leaned against the glass of the phone booth. Over the line, his mother’s voice lost all liveliness. And a moment later, Wanda took over instead, sounding majorly peeved off. She threw all kinds of accusations at him - Did you even try, Piet? I thought you were taking this seriously! You said you studied! You totally dashed mom’s hopes!

Peter rolled his finger through one of the holes in his Queen shirt. Mannnn. Friggin sucks. He got that one from the totally sick Hot Space Tour. He even took Wanda with him, and they had the most righteous time. With her so disappointed on the phone like this, it hurt to recall any fond memories. Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried cracking a half-assed joke to lighten the mood.

“Soooooo…no Chinese tonight then?”

Yeah, nah. Sis didn’t take to that one too well. Peter hated arguing with her, but the two spat back and forth for about five minutes. Peter bumped his head against the glass as his stress ran up to mach ten. Gathering whatever patience he had left - a microscopic amount, at this point - he apologized, told his sister he loved her, and hung up. Once he stepped outside of the phone booth, he heaved a long groan.

Peter’s fingers twitched at his sides. Taking a quick glance upward, he noticed a nearby video store. A Family Video, nestled in a strip mall next to an arcade. Narrowing his eyes, Peter chewed his lip in contemplation.

And he made a supremely stupid move.

A millenia passed since Peter gave into his klepto compulsions. Maybe old habits die hard, as they say.

At the Hawkins PD, the chief lingered nearby in a rickety, metal chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The night seemed to drag for eons, as Peter paced barefoot in restless circles…within the confines of a lonesome jail cell. Since Hawkins was such a small town, hardly any of the feds were familiar with the X-Men. Mutants were a rare commodity. They sooner thought Peter was a hobo the chief picked up off the street.

Come next morning, Peter got an earful from Chuck. Thankfully, the generous prof forgave Peter for his colossal fuck-ups. He even paid Peter’s bail. And while the speedster felt even more sick with guilt because of it; he was grateful he wouldn’t have to spend another second in nowhere town Indiana.

Tormentous boredom aside; for some reason, the place gave Peter the creeps.

Falling victim to his own compulsions proved a major setback on all fronts. After Chuck chewed Peter out over the phone, he broke even more bad news. Apparently, the Family Video manager made a major stink about Peter’s thievery. Even called in a complaint to Xavier’s school. The guy went so far as to blame mutants for their “dishonesty.” A completely baseless generalization. All because of some dumb knucklehead’s reckless behavior.

Chuck convinced the asshole to let Peter off the hook. Only if the speedster made up for it by working a summer’s job at Family Video. A short-term punishment. At least until Autumn, when Peter got another shot at his GED. The professor basically grounded Peter from X-Men stuff. Awesome. Heck, technically, he grounded him from the mansion altogether. Cool beans. Thumbs up. Hunky dory.

Hell no. Peter was an adult. Not a teenager who needed to be disciplined after disobeying papa’s orders. He didn’t even really have a papa. In fact, papa disappeared off the face of the planet just a few years back.

Peter digressed. Whatever, right? Grown men messed up all the time. So what if he made a few minor missteps on the road to personal development?

And he would’ve argued these points, had something in Chuck’s honest voice not guilted him into silence.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to wear a stupid vest or anything.

The sweltering hot month of June.

Quicksilver should be out kicking ass, causing trouble, stealing hearts (playing video games, tampering with tech, being a total nerd).

Instead, he found himself leaning on the counter of a Family Video register in Indiana.

Peter had never worked an everyman’s retail job in his life. And holy smokes, was it slow. The days ran slower than a sloth in cement shoes. At any given moment, Peter swore he was nanoseconds away from dying of boredom. Literally. Call him melodramatic, but the monotony of day-to-day living sucked the speedy soul out of him. Only a few weeks passed since he “joined the Family Video team.” But all he ever did was idle behind the counter like a chud, gorging on snacks and watching MTV.

Whenever the news reported another X-Men victory, achieved without the help of the team’s one and only speedster; Peter felt the urge to run around the globe again. All he wanted was to shake off his temperament until his legs gave out. But alas. His feet stayed planted on freshly mopped linoleum, in the confines of VHS rental hell.

On the flip side, at least his new shoes were still intact.

Peter spent his days doing mind-numbing activities like reorganizing shelves, sorting movies by genre, and mopping floors. Playing with the label maker was kinda fun. Totally not even a little boring. Nope. Peter never daydreamed some psycho might rob the place, just so he’d have an excuse to be Quicksilver again.

Why would he? When he could play with that sweet label maker.

Yawn.

Thankfully, he wasn’t completely alone. Not that he minded much either way. Solitude and Peter went together like Han Solo and Chewy. But another guy worked the same shift as Peter. Some dude named Steve, with great hair and a metric fuckton of pins all over his vest. He swore up and down, his friend Robin insisted he cover himself head to toe in them. Because something something “chicks totally dig a guy with accessories.”

Peter never met Robin, since her hours were all jacked up. But judging by the Rainbow Brite, Care Bear, and Garbage Pail Kids pins all over Steve’s vest; Peter knew she had to be pulling her pal’s leg.

Which…alright. Cool. He could respect that.

Steve was a decent enough guy and super chill to talk to. He got along great with the group of hellions who always came in, looking for nerdy flicks like Clash of the Titans. Peter once spent a whole afternoon debating Star Wars logistics with them; arguing whether or not Ewoks had any justifiable place in Return of the Jedi. But, come on, those fuzzballs were kinda cool.

And Peter refused to admit he had a few Ewok figures in his collection back in Westchester.

Neither Steve, nor his munchkins seemed to have any qualms about mutants. The only thing he ever bitched about was Peter’s effortless ability to stay in tip-top shape.

“It’s so bullshit, man.” He blatantly complained, “You can pig out on Twinkies all day and still look like that. What does your metabolism run on? Jet fuel?”

Peter’s beady eyes darted swiftly back and forth, across the pages of Lord of the Rings. One of Steve’s little minions gave the speedster a used copy. Worn at the edges. Barely held together by the spine. Peter hadn’t read a real book by choice since middle school. As he skimmed through it at a remarkable pace, he spoke through a creamy bite of Twinkie.

“Flux Capacitor.”

Shame. Sucks for Steve. The dude was obviously good looking. But he somehow fumbled his attempts at flirting with cute chicks. Not to mention, his opportunities came so few and far in between, with Peter there to steal the show. And while some small-town ladies had a tendency to scrunch their noses and sneer at the presence of a mutant - others recognized him as a hero. One of the X-Men. On the rare chance a cutie walked in with her besties following along; they sometimes whispered amongst each other.

"Isn’t he with the X-Men?” “Oh my god, he is!” “Which one is he?” “I think he’s the fast one.” “How fast is he though?” “Oh, he’s, like, so mega fast. Like a speeding bullet on legs.” “Whoa. He’s kinda cute.” “What do you think his calves look like?” “I like his hair.” “What’s he doing here in Hawkins?” “Do you think he’s undercover?” “He looks so ripped.”

Chewing his gum and secretly listening in, Peter cheesed a grin from ear to ear like a doofus. And he soon fell into a shameless habit, letting awestruck girls cop a feel of real, superhero muscles and speedster calves. Hard as vibranium, vascular like Commodore 64 wiring.

What?? Give him a break! Back in Westchester, girls never gave him a second glance.

The endless quiet and steady pace of everyday living drove Peter up a freaking wall after a while. A month in, he felt himself going stir crazy. Peter continuously thought about zipping out for a quick run. One whole second tops. Just to make a break for a slushie at the gas station down the street. Steve even swore he wouldn’t rat Peter out if he bailed and came back. Cuz, like, seriously…who would notice?

But in the back of his mind somewhere, Peter heard Chuck’s voice. A guilty reminder to slow his roll. Stop and smell the roses. The speedster had his impulses, sure. But he wasn’t so weak willed. Peter knew, deep in his heart, he could do better. Hell, he was better. A true master of self control. No problem-o.

Except…he totally wasn’t.

Hand to god, Peter was, and would always be a colossal jackass.

He affirmed this brutally honest fact with himself the first time he met you.

That night, the store seemed like a barren ghost town. Not a customer in sight. Most of the town’s locals were out having fun at a traveling carnival. Steve even took the day off to chaperone his hobbit posse. He stopped by just to give Peter his pin-covered vest, and left his esteemed colleague to stew in his own boredom. Wasting away behind the counter, restless as ever; Peter dreamed of carnival funnel cake.

And why not sneak away for a quick sec? Just to grab himself something sweet. He liked to think he earned it.

Peter zipped to the carnival, paid for some funnel cake, tied Steve’s shoelaces together, and returned to the store in a flash. Leaning comfortably back on a metal stool; he stuffed his gullet with fried delights. Sweet, doughy goodness. Powdered sugar coated his fingers and dusted the corners of his mouth. Peter kept his legs hiked up, dirty sneakers crossed on the countertop. Whatevs. He’d wipe ‘em down before he closed up shop in two hours.

His lidded eyes gaped lazily at one of theTVs hanging from the ceiling. Peter shamelessly watched a wildly inappropriate porno. A filthy flick he snatched from the restricted section and popped in. Partly out of boredom. Mostly out of morbid curiosity. Angels of Passion. Peter sat through an hour of hilariously raunchy scenes - all featuring steamy, angel hanky panky. Talk about divine intervention. He snickered to himself as heat pooled in his cheeks.

A blonde bombshell gyrated her hips in some dude’s lap, rolling her bush, bouncing to the beat of a catchy, unidentifiable song. Her explicit moans echoed lewdly over that earworm of a tune. Jesus, she was really going for it. Looked like she, uh…liked it, actually. Blood in Peter’s cheeks rushed south at warp speed. He felt a familiar tightening in his groin. With funnel cake crammed between his powdery lips, he adjusted himself in his jeans. Smearing powdered sugar carelessly over his crotch.

And he nearly choked to death when a voice he didn’t recognize called his name.

“Wow. Quicksilver? Is that you? Whatcha watchin?”

Oh. Oh, it wasn’t just his name name. But his hero name. Peter whipped his head around, his dark eyes widening as he met yours. Brows raised. Gazing humorously at him as though he were a bozo. Just his luck. A random customer - a very cute customer - picked the most optimal time to walk in. And there he was, the X-Men’s famous speedster; covered in powdered sugar, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk, Care Bear and Rainbow Brite pins all over his vest, a stiffy in his jeans, a nasty porno playing in the background.

What a huge lamebrain, you probably thought.

Peter blinked, and so did you. Time seemed to stretch in a long, awkward moment. Someone should honestly just shoot him and be done with it. From his perspective, an hour passed before he got his shit together. But from your perspective, he was there in a second. Leaning casually over the counter on his elbow, his other hand on his hip. The TV blared reruns of MTV music videos, with Madonna singin’ loud. The very same TV you caught him watching dirty movies on - just for the hell of it. Purely for entertainment’s sake, mind you.

And bizarrely enough, your expression held no judgment.

Furrowing his mercury brows, Peter wiped the last trace of powdered sugar from his lips. He cleared his throat and gave you a careless nod of his head. Stay cool. Stay collected. It wasn’t like his mom caught him with his pants down or something. He put on his best customer service smile. A grin so fake, his dimples vanished into hiding. Time to get the ball rolling before he lost whatever dignity he had left.

Peter hated Indiana. Like, really hated it.

He spoke fast, the words tumbling past his lips at the speed of light.

“That?Thatwasnothing.” Peter blurted out, his mouth running a hundred miles an hour. His fingers tapped anxiously on the countertop. Your curious gaze flicked down to them, before looking into his coke-brown eyes again. His face erupted in flames as he kept rambling, punctuating each sentence with an uneasy laugh, “I wasn’t watching anything. Just some lame religious documentary. Y’know. A real snore fest. I swear, I was this close to takin’ a nap.”

You laughed.

No lie, he wasn’t expecting you to laugh like that. The sound sliced through the tension in the air, catching him off guard. Peter’s breath caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His forced smile curled up involuntarily, revealing his dimples for real this time.

“Yeah? Huh. For some lame documentary, you looked pretty into it. I’m surprised you heard me at all.”

“Eh, you’re not wrong. Puts a whole new meaning to goin’ heels to Jesus, doesn’t it?”

You let out another laugh, and your voice cracked. Blush creeped over your face from the neck up. A surge of shyness overtook Peter. Running a hand up through his hair, he searched for any words to say. And then he remembered he had a job to do.

“Anyway. Sorry. Can I help you with something?” Peter smoothed out his (Steve’s) vest, brushing powdered sugar from it like pesky snow.

“No biggie, dude. Just wondering where your horror section is.”

Peter arched his brow, “Horror, huh?”

With a cheeky smirk, he disappeared, leaving a swift gust of wind in his wake. You gasped a small peep. Pressing your hands to the counter, you leaned forward as though you were looking for him. He took the opportunity to admire your ass from where he stood between the aisles. Politely, of course.

“They’re over here.” The speedster called from his spot, keeping himself nonchalantly propped against a stand of horror mags. Your gaze flitted down to the Walkman hanging at his hip. His easy going stance made you laugh yet again - man, you made him feel like the king of comedy. You made your way to the horror section. Peter kept his eyes on you while you glanced over the tapes, “You lookin’ for anything in particular, orrrrr…”

“Nope, just looking.”

“Just looking. Got it.” Peter clicked his tongue, nodding, “Cool. Well, if you need any recs…I mean, I’m kind of a movie aficionado, so…”

“Oh, you are, are you?”

Aw, you actually humored him.

“Pfffbbt. Yeah. My twin sis is, like, super into sitcoms and stuff. But I’m the movie guy of the family.”

“And what kinda movies do you like?”

Peter didn’t miss a beat, “Star Wars, definitely. But I like Bladerunner too. ET. Robocop. Alien. Oh! Rocky’s awesome too. Scarface. I can do a crazy good Tony Montana impression. Clint Eastwood movies are cool. Conan the Barbarian. Can’t get enough of Arnold. And I’m not sayin’ Flash Gordon’s my favorite, but-”

You gaped at Peter like you saw him get hit by a car or something. He stopped himself short, pausing as he named off movies on his fingers.

“What? Not a fan?”

“Not a fan of wh-”

“Flash Gordon?”

“Is that what you said? I didn’t understand a single word of that, dude!”

Oh. Guess he got a little too amped up. The apples of Peter’s cheeks turned pink. Scratching the back of his neck, he sheepishly laughed.

“Sorry, uh…lemme start over…I like Star Wars.”

“So do I! I love Star Wa-”

Peter raised his head, fixing you with a squinty eyed, analytical look - mostly playful. He quickly cut you off again.

“What about Ewoks?”

“They’re like little teddy bears! What’s not to love?”

Points for you, cute, mystery babe.

“Oh, bitchin’. Yeah, uh-”

And like a huge doofus, Peter leaned a little too hard against the magazine stand. It tumbled to the floor as he knocked it over unintentionally. Catching himself, he flashed his teeth in a humiliated smile.

“Uh…I totally meant for that to happen.” He clarified.

Even though you laughed yet again - and sounded so, unfairly cute too - Peter vanished to the restroom to smack himself in the face a few times. Returning only to clean up the fallen magazines. Another microsecond later, he appeared behind the counter. At the register again. His summer hellscape. Purgatory.

And for now, after making such an ass of himself, he’d leave you be. Let you come to him.

You eventually did.

“Just these.” You muttered bashfully, sliding a few tapes across the counter.

Peter glanced up to look at you every few beats. Tapping away at the keypad, his agile fingers danced across the keys with finesse. And despite the speed at which he normally worked, there was an unmistakable lag in his movements. Almost deliberate. He took special care as he typed your information and logged your rentals. It was as if he prolonged the interaction on purpose, drawing out everything at a leisurely pace.

Very unlike Quicksilver.

You eyed the pins all over his (Steve's) vest.

"Nice pins." You said.

"Thanks. Care Bears are the shit."

You held back another giggle, covering your mouth to conceal it.

“Say, uhm…forgive me if I’m being too nosy. But what are you doing all the way out here in Indiana, Quicksil-” You paused, tilting your head innocently to the side. Your eyes squinted into thin slits as you read his nametag, “Peeeter? Peter, yeah.”

Peter flashed a lazy, cat-like grin, snapping his fingers and throwing a finger gun your way.

“Bingo, you got it. But, yeah, everyone else calls me Quicksilver. Except for the oldies who have no clue who I am. It’s insane being recognized sometimes. Cuz I’m just a glorified track-and-field star who ended up a wage monkey, I guess. The job sucks ass, honestly.” He chuckled, leaning against the counter, resting his weight on an elbow, “As for what I’m doin’ here? It’s top secret X-Men business.”

“Ooooh! What, like…some kinda covert op-”

“Covert operation? Yeeeeeaaaaaahhh…nah, I’m totally messin’. Let’s just say I got into some trouble and this is my punishment.” Peter chuckled softly, glancing at the films you picked out. His eyes widened as he scanned the titles, letting out a low whistle, “H’oooh. Some pretty gritty stuff here. These are brutal. Blood, guts, limbs flyin’ all over the place. You tryin’ to give yourself nightmares?”

“Eh, it’s all fake anyway. Just cheesy, dumb fun.” You giggled, taking the horror flicks from him. A jolt of electricity shot through him as your fingers brushed his own. The contact was brief, but it left a flutter in his stomach he couldn’t shake. Parting your pretty lips, you teased, “They’re way more interesting than any lame, religious documentaries.”

Peter raised a brow and gave you a bemused look, your playful comment catching him by surprise. He crossed his strong arms, restlessly tapping his finger against his bicep.

“Mhm. But that “documentary” had some pretty hot angels, not gonna lie.” He joked. Peter smirked, his eyes flickering up and down, giving you a quick once-over. He snapped his fingers again, keeping his tone casual, “Hey, speaking of, are you gonna be wingin’ it back to the pearly gates anytime soon? Or are you stickin’ around for a while?”

Aha! So, you weren’t immune to his natural charm. Your eyes shot open, your blush sending a righteous wave of satisfaction buzzing through him. Peter pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek and wiggled his brows. His confidence soared beyond the stars. Shrugging off any remnants of awkwardness, he eased himself back into a state of carelessness. You broke into another cute giggle fit.

You scratched the back of your neck, looking bashfully down at your shoes.

“Nice save. I think that one actually made me blush.”

Peter blinked laxly, drawing out a satisfied hum. 

“Oh, yeah, it did for sure. Looks cute on you. What can I say? I aim to please.”

A warm smile graced his face as he slid you the last tape.

“Flash Gordon?” He asked.

If you blushed any more, you’d probably explode.

“I couldn’t keep up with the way you were talking…but you mentioned that one. You said it was one of your favorites, right?”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat.

The banter between the two of you seemed to flow so naturally. Time lost all meaning. And as the minutes passed and you said your goodbyes, moving towards the doors; Peter’s foot tapped at a frenzied pace. A powerful urge to chase after you swarmed him like a pack of angry bees. He knew he wouldn’t be staying in Indiana for much longer. Only a month more, at the most. But, man…there was something about you.

Ah, screw it. Act now, face the consequences later.

A fwip, and Peter materialized before you at the doors. You stumbled back and erupted in another surprised squeal. His hands instinctively reached out, grabbing your shoulders to steady you before you fell.

“Sorry! Sorry. Uh, any chance you’d wanna stick around for a while longer? It’s just so dead here tonight. We could kick it back, chill, and hang. And fingers crossed, I promise I won’t make you watch any weird, religious docs or nothin’.”

Miraculously, you agreed. Peter couldn’t believe his luck. And he spent the remaining few minutes of his shift, along with the rest of that night, hanging out with some cutie he met on a whim.

Maybe Robin was right. It was the vest, wasn't it? Chicks were totally into guys with accessories.

The impossibly hotter month of July.

Some might call Peter a little irresponsible. And true to form, he was. But you were legit the most fun thing to happen to him in months. Up there with the bitchin’ funnel cake he swiped from the carnival, the same night he met you. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since. Both you, and the funnel cake.

Carpe diem or whatever.

In the cramped shadows of a video store supply closet, Peter pulled you oh-so-close against his body. Hot as hellfire. His heartbeat ran on bubbly fumes of anticipation. Peter’s chapped lips confidently claimed yours, a moment after you gave him a bashful peck and confessed the cutest thing ever-

“Pleaaaase don’t go back to Westchester!! I really really like you. I think you totally rock. I’m gonna miss you too much if you leave.”

D’awww. You were all soft on him. Your pouty lips and innocent eyes made his chest warm and tingly. Peter never imagined someone could win him over so easily. But after the front doors chimed, and you walked into the store wearing a Grace Under Pressure shirt - of which you told him you wore only because he got you into Rush; Peter thought he heard wedding bells. But, oh…wait. No. The doors chimed again.

Peter felt his resolve instantly weaken around you. Whatever aloof front of speedster confidence he held onto seemed to melt away. Mostly. Partially.

In the closet, he grinned into the kiss, tasting your giggles on his tongue as he coaxed you into something deeper. You were such an undeniable sweetheart. A ray of sunshine, casting light on the most boring summer of his life. Clinging bashfully to his intense kisses, you followed the motion of his tongue. Your own tongue raveled delicate threads with his. Overzealous, he tangled those threads in frantic knots. Peter breathed the softest groan, running strong hands down your back and just above-

Passionate rock songs rang out love ballad riffs in his head, and the music halted to a disappointing stop when - all at once, a veil of blinding light washed over you both. Moment ruined. What asshole would even dare? You pulled away from his kiss, but an eager Peter chased your lips. He only stopped himself once he noticed a figure looming in the closet doorway. Steve looked unamused, holding a broom and dustpan in hand.

“Can I help you?” Peter sarcastically quipped.

“Really, man? Really?” Steve scoffed, cheeks pinkening. Clearing his throat, his dark eyes shifted. Away from the couple getting a little too cozy. He stated in a matter-of-fact way, “FYI, you’re still on the clock, yanno? Jesus.”

“Jesus? I’m flattered, Harrington, but you can just call me Peter.”

A soft snicker erupted from your swollen lips. Your small hands curled shamefully into Peter’s work vest, narrowly avoiding the band pins stuck in the fabric. Ultimately, you failed to keep your giggles at bay. Peter always had a way of making you laugh til you cried. His own hands rested just above your booty, a centimeter away from some spicy grab action. Damn you, Steve. Damn you. Teasing an indignant sigh, Peter reached out to lazily snag the door handle.

“Ever heard of knocking?” He joked before easing the door closed, sealing your cute chuckles inside.

The icy cold, freeze-your-balls-off month of January. Post New Years.

Bundled up in a warm, turtleneck sweater and matching, black jeans; Peter cozied up next to you on the sofa. At his mom’s place, Wanda was perched comfortably on the floor. She kept her back against the foot of the couch close to Peter. In one of the loveseats, Lorna sat with her legs tucked under her. A blanket draped over her small frame. The faint hum of infomercials in the background went ignored, as Peter fell into a long winded info dump about the Lord of the Rings.

Peter’s mother padded into the room from the kitchen. A hand-made shawl covered her shoulders, knitted by Wanda and given to Magda as a gift. Carrying several glass bottle sodas, she passed one out to each of her kids before delivering the last one to you. Magda breathed a chuckle. She noticed the way you narrowed your eyes, as you struggled to follow Peter’s speedy rambling. His family seemed to have no problem keeping up. They understood every word, without asking him to stop and reiterate.

Lorna rolled her eyes affectionately. Wanda gazed up at her brother like he held all the secrets of the universe - and she wanted the details on every single one.

When Peter’s rambling eventually ceased, his mother asked him if he had any plans for the future. He poked inside his empty box of chow mein with a pair of chopsticks. A bit embarrassed, Peter grinned. Now that he finally scored his GED - he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He just hadn’t told anyone aside from Wanda yet. She patted Peter on the knee. A gesture of encouragement, pushing him to open up. With a timid sigh, he confessed - he wanted to teach at Xavier’s.

He got a big ol’ hug from mom for that one.

When she left for work, Peter snuggled up on the couch with you and his sisters. You were all crammed in like warm penguins on a chilly night. Until Peter randomly pushed himself out of the pile. He stumbled forward, checking his watch. Waving his soda in your face, he winked.

“Babe, hold this for me? I almost forgot I wanted to do something.”

Before you could ask, he zipped away and returned in a nanosecond. Peter threw himself into the cuddle puddle.

“Where’d you even go?” You asked, scooting aside to give him more room.

Peter snatched his soda and shrugged, lazily smirking.

“Dropped by Family Video. Tied Steve’s shoelaces together.”