#but it was a big ol balls joke

[finniestoncrane]

when peter asked egon if the girls liked his big cranium and he said they preferred his epididymis?? it’s both baby. i can assure you it’s both

[eatingmarkerz]

i decided to redraw one of my favourite pieces ive made!!!

old one below vvv

from july of last year!!

[tinycoffeeroom]

lover boy | daniel ricciardo

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

pairing: daniel ricciardo x f!reader

requested: congrats on 1k!!!! can i order a macchiato with daniel where theyre like a little bit secret and they super joky with each other? maybe they decide to go official and kiss in front of fans?? 100 shots of fluff too please! thank u!!!

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Private not secret. That’s how you could describe your relationship with Daniel to some extent. He would gush about his “loving girlfriend” in interviews and on social media but he’d never revealed who the girl who stole his heart was. 

It worked for the both of you. He got to keep you all to himself, and you got to live some sense of normality outside of being flown all over the country to support him on race days. 

The two of you were huddled in hospitality, enjoying the kiss of cold air the building provided against the blistering Bahrain heat. Clad in a VCARB shirt and linen trousers, any fan currently floating around the paddock would simply think you were an employee, and given how Daniel liked to make everyone around him laugh, seeing the two of you giggling in the corner wouldn’t raise too many questions. 

Nudging you with his shoulder, he throws his head back in a loud laugh as you crack another terrible dad joke, your eyes unable to pull away from the length of his throat, the way his Adam's apple bobbed deeply with every guffaw. 

“Why do I keep you around?” He speaks through ebbing chuckles, a hand hidden on the small of your back under the shirt. 

Shrugging, you swipe your hair back playfully. “Because I’m smart, funny and have a great rack.”

You track Daniel’s eyes as they draw down to the V of your shirt. Since he had a few inches on you, he had an unobstructed view to what he crudely describes as his favourite stress relievers. 

Glancing back up to meet your eyes, he grins at the way you jokingly raise an eyebrow at him. “You sure do, it’s a shame I haven’t seen them properly in so long.”

Rolling your eyes, you tap a finger under his chin, lifting his head from where it had dipped to glance down your shirt again. “You saw them this morning, drama queen.”

He presses a hand to his forehead, head rolling back as if he were a damsel in distress. “It’s been 84 years…”

Using your hand still in the air, you smack his hand off his forehead softly, scoffing lightheartedly. Hand darting out to capture yours, he pulls it down to where it’s hidden between the two of you, thumb stroking absentmindedly across the back of your hand. 

“Give me a peek?”

Squeezing his hand, you glance left to right as if considering it. Fighting the smirk on your face as his eyes light up at the possibility. “Dan, I’m not getting my boobs out in the middle of hospitality. If you can wait until the hotel tonight however…”

Trailing off, you raise your other hand to rest gently against his chest, fingers tapping along to the thump of his heart underneath. 

He groans, body twisting from side to side slightly like a child about to throw a tantrum. “Babe, it’s hot as balls out there. I’m gonna be so tired tonight.”

Patting his chest, you grin cheekily up at him. “So I’ll be doing all the work, like most race weekends.”

Gasping dramatically, he rests a hand over yours, pout on full display. “You wound me.”

Before you get a chance to rebut, one of the media managers pops her head around the corner, spotting the two of you. “Daniel, we have to be at the pre-race press conference in 20 minutes. Chop chop!”

She throws a friendly smile your way, head nodding once as a greeting. Waving back at her, your attention is dragged back to your boyfriend as he huffs softly, giving the woman a thumbs up as he drops his hand back to the small of your back to guide you to the entrance. 

Before he steps outside, he turns to face you, lips puckered. Raising a hand, you pat his lips once, huffing as he tries to nip at one of your fingers. “Nuh-uh, big ol’ windows right there lover boy, anyone could see.” 

He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, eyes wide and softly following the lines of your face. “Let them, I’m tired of hiding you.”

“Don’t use those cow eyes on me, that’s evil.” Sighing, you can’t stop your lips from matching his wide smile, the two of you locked in a silent conversation through eye contact. 

It’s been a long 3 years, sneaking around, going outside for dates separately and hiding in the back corners of restaurants. Wearing whichever teams shirt he’s racing under to use as an excuse to be there. You think about how it could be, the way it would feel to hold his hand in the paddock and give him a good luck kiss before he goes off to race. 

He sees right through you, able to read you like an open book. “So?”

Reaching behind you, you pull his hand from your back, linking your fingers together. “I’m tired of hiding too.” Heart racing at the way his smile turns fond, you pull yourself closer to him. “Need to let everyone know I bagged a hot Aussie.” 

A voice calls from beside you. “Didn’t know you were dating Oscar?”

Looking across, a smirking Lando meets your eyes as he leans against the doorway, the door propped open behind him. 

“Oh, ha ha. Very funny, short arse.” Daniel uses your linked hands to drag you next to him, hand leaving yours to smoothly slide along your back and rest on your hip. “What brings you to our humble abode?”

“I’m on the pre-race conference with you, thought we could walk down together.” 

You coo at the pair, hands clasping in front of you. “Landan reunited, how cute!”

You can almost feel how hard Lando rolls his eyes, mimicking your words back to you in a high pitched tone. Swatting at his shoulder, he holds his hand up in surrender, backing out of the doorway. 

“Daniel, 10 minutes! We’re gonna have to speedwalk!” The media manager breezes past the pair of you, clapping Daniel on the back as she passes. 

You grab his collar, pulling him in to drop 3 kisses against his lips. Feeling his other hand come to rest on your hip, you smile against his lips. Pulling away minutely, you let your eyes roam over the way his have crinkled at the sides, bright grin on display for all to see. “Go, you’ve got business to do. I’m gonna go get a piece of that cheesecake we were eyeing in catering.”

His hands squeeze your hips gently before he pulls away fully, stepping through the open door to join Lando and the media manager. 

Watching him leave, you laugh as he shoves Lando playfully, the two of them bickering as they walk down the paddock. 

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The media manager is too engrossed in her phone to care what Daniel and Lando are talking about, the two of them discussing the upcoming race quietly. 

“Oh yeah, look at you, all official and shit. Only took you 3 bloody years! Did nearly throw up at the three kisses thing though, a nod to your race number?”

Daniel hums, beaming as he thinks back to when you’d first started the official unofficial pre-race ritual. 

[FLASHBACK]

It had been a hard 2021, filled with highs and lows in his papaya car. Just after missing out on points in Zandvoort, you had come to find him in his drivers room before Monza. 

A long spiel of a pep talk later and a short pre-race nap later, he’d been about to leave, race suit hanging from his hips. Slipping your hands under his fireproofs, you leaned up, talking through kisses. 

“You.” Kiss. “Got”. Kiss. “This.” Kiss. 

On the final kiss, he’d grabbed your face, thumbs skimming across your cheeks, suspending you in that moment until the need to breathe outweighed his need to kiss you. Pulling away, he dropped a final kiss to the bridge of your nose, the smile you always loved to see plastered across his face. 

“I love you.” At that point, you’d only been together a few months but it felt like the perfect moment. Watching as you grinned back at him, flushed cheeks hot under his hands, he was sure he’d gotten it right.

[FLASHBACK]

He shoves Lando jokingly as he points out the way he was flushed from his cheeks all the way down his neck. “Partially, and it’s also a way of saying I love you.” 

Lando fake gags, narrowing his eyes at the lovesick expression on Daniel’s face. “I miss when you were single.”

Raising an eyebrow as he turns to face the younger man, his eyes flicker up briefly to make sure they were in the right spot for the conference. “Because I was lonely like you?” 

Lando scoffs, opening the door for the media manager to step through, eyes still glued to her phone. “Rude. But yeah.” 

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a/n: the first of the 1k celebrations and we're kicking it off with danny ric!! reqs for this event are open til july 18th so request while you can (or even after, my inbox is always open <3)

[iwritefandomimagines]

NOT FOR HIM — BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

masterlist

pairing: benedict bridgerton x reader [plus platonic anthony x reader where he’s being a matchmaker/shitstirrer]

description: you may not have been the season’s diamond, but your debut had caused quite the stir in many a man’s heart — your childhood best friend benedict bridgerton included. however, given that the viscount had decided that he would marry this season, benedict cannot see why you would choose him over his brother.

warnings: kinda tiny bit of angst (if you squint) into tooth-rotting fluff !!! tiny bit of suggestive benedict at the very end but it’s not much !

author’s note: this is basically like a reverse to the anthony one i wrote because i have a big ol’ soft spot for benedict too after my latest rewatch. enjoy !!! [edited, but not thoroughly — will be returning to do so asap]

“You look astonishing, Y/N,” Benedict’s eyes were wide when he saw you, “Absolutely astonishing.”

You blushed crimson under the intensity of his gaze, “You don’t look too bad yourself this evening, Lord Bridgerton.”

You never called him that — you’d known him far too long to consistently comply with formalities — but considering that it was one of your very first balls of your very first season, you had to be the picture of manners.

“It is so strange to hear you call me Lord Bridgerton,” Benedict screwed his face up, “Even if it does give me some small hope that you might consider me too as one of your many suitors.”

You shook your head gently with a laugh, “Oh, Benedict, as if you would wish to court me.”

Before he had a chance to retaliate with stern disagreement at your idea that it was such a preposterous notion, your eyes snapped up to see his brother entering the ballroom.

“Ah,” you grinned, noticing that he had spotted you both immediately and was on his way over to you, “It appears your brother has finally arrived!”

You didn’t look at Benedict for long enough to see the frown on his face at your apparent excitement.

For years, everyone around you had speculated about the closeness of your relationship with Benedict.

Granted, you were close with the whole family, but the tenderness with which Benedict treated you had always teetered on blatant romance even if neither of you had seen it before.

Of course he was aware of it now — he’d realised he was in love with you long ago as silly young teenagers, and now that you were finally out in society (emphasis on finally, as you had delayed doing so as much as possible) he had hoped to make that clear.

But of course your eyes were fixed on his brother, the Viscount, who had finally decided he wished to marry and therefore seemingly snatched all of your attention away from him.

“Good evening, my lord,” you curtsied, and Anthony laughed, “Such formality! How are you enjoying your first ball, Y/N? I trust my brother has not let you leave his side?”

You giggled, and as much as Benedict adored the sound of your laughter he couldn’t help the clenching of his jaw at his brother’s remark and your evident amusement.

“He has taken great care of me, undoubtedly,” you smiled, hands resting on Benedict’s upper arm for a moment as you leaned into him, “How do you feel about your first ball on the hunt for a wife?”

Anthony scoffed, “Consumed with dread, as expected,” he joked, “Brother, would you mind if I stole Y/N away for one dance? Only so that I might enjoy one last moment of vague freedom before I endure the onslaught of mamas I see staring me down?”

Benedict swallowed thickly, because yes he very much did mind you being stolen away to dance with a man who could provide for you so much better than he could.

He had always been second best to his brother, but never with you.

And now he felt rather ridiculous as he nodded meekly and watched you saunter away at the side of his own brother, who would never love you like he did nor treat you as more than a friend and a commodity necessary to the life of an important man.

“Of course.”

You smiled shyly over at Benedict as you followed Anthony away, and made a mental note to confront him about the sad look gracing his features as you did so.

“My brother is staring daggers into my skull already,” Anthony chuckled as you took your positions to dance, “I rather wonder why he was not dancing with you if he is so bothered by my doing so.”

You bit your lip, “We have danced together twice already, Anthony. In fact, I’ve danced only with him so far tonight. I feel… safe with Benedict. This is all so terrifying.”

As Anthony beamed down at you knowingly, you realised quite what he had initially said, “Whatever do you mean by him staring daggers? Why would he be doing that?”

“Oh, my dear Y/N, you must see that my poor fool of a brother is overcome with jealousy at our interaction,” he laughed as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Particularly now that I plan to marry. He quite clearly thinks that it is you I wish to do so with.”

You looked down at your feet for a moment, suddenly feeling shy.

When you remembered that you were talking to a man you knew like he was part of your own family, however, your head snapped back up — a smirk gracing your face.

“Oh, am I not to become Viscountess? I so had my hopes up!” you feigned a gasp, “In all seriousness, Anthony, why on earth would Benedict think we might marry and more so why on earth would he care so much?”

Anthony heaved out a deep sigh at that as you danced, almost irritated by your blatant ignorance to what was so clear.

“I don’t believe I should tell you the answer to that if you are somehow quite unaware of it yourself,” he shook his head, briefly meeting the eyes of his brother as he spun you, and smiled almost teasingly at him, “I hope that after stealing you from him for this dance he might finally discuss it with you himself.”

You rolled your eyes, “You jest, Anthony, because if you are trying to imply that he has affections towards me I’m sure you are sorely mistaken.”

Anthony stopped abruptly, quirking his eyebrow at you, “You truly are oblivious?”

You looked at him curiously, doe eyed and inquisitive as you waited for him to continue — or to resume dancing so you didn’t continue to feel all eyes on your frozen frames.

“Right, very well. I am going to walk away now, all smiles,” he informed you, plastering a smile on his face and nodding at the onlookers as he kissed the back of your hand to show no ill-will had halted your dance, “I would suggest that you get some fresh air, perhaps? My brother might… Come to check on you.”

You forced a smile as he silently moved away from you and towards the buffet table at the other side of the hall.

With a sharp breath you took his advice, despite your confusion, and lifted your skirt a little to busy your hands as you traipsed out of the ballroom and onto the balcony.

Like clockwork, Benedict Bridgerton found himself at your side in mere moments.

“Are you waiting here for my brother?”

The tension in the air was palpable, his voice low as he failed to hide the disappointment at his suspicions.

“Not for him, no.”

“Then for another?”

“I suppose so.”

“Apologies, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

You spun on your heel now as he turned to leave, touching his shoulder, “No, Benedict, I was waiting— for you.”

“For me?”

The incredulous smile on his face made your heart swell with hope — perhaps Anthony was right.

Maybe what you had spent all these years perceiving as friendship truly was reciprocated love all this time.

“Anthony claimed he believed you jealous, and that you thought we were attached,” you giggled, and he swore his heart melted at the sound of your gentle laughter, “And I was utterly unsure as to why you would believe that, let alone be jealous of it. But then he told me to get some fresh air and that you might find me here and I became hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Yes. Hopeful that perhaps the feelings that have steadily grown on my part throughout the time I have known you might be returned. That perhaps you were not joking when you said you hoped I might consider you a suitor this season,” you blushed crimson as you served him your honest feelings on a silver platter.

He cocked his head to the side curiously, not quite believing you entirely though you were evidently being sincere, “Do you not wish to marry my brother?”

You scoffed, quickly covering your mouth with your hand at the outburst, but then sighed as you looked deeply into his eyes, “Of course not, Benedict.”

“But he is a Viscount — he could offer you so much more than I, and he seemed taken with you.”

“He was taken with making you jealous enough to confront me, my dear Benedict. He spent our dance essentially telling me to wise up and talk to you,” you bit your lip nervously, “Because he knows that I have long loved you, and believes that you feel the same.”

The curious smile on his face grew now into a beaming grin, his hands flying to take yours within them and bring them to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“I—, Y/N, I cannot— I cannot even begin to express the joy that those words have brought me,” the words tumbled from his lips like he couldn’t think fast enough to convey his feelings, “I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I settled for cherishing mere friendship because I feared I would not be… I would not be the man for you beyond that.”

You shook your head, “Benedict, surely you know how dear you are to me? I— at the very least in my heart, you are the man for me. I’ve been certain of it for so long and that is why I feared entering society so much. I didn’t want to marry for the sake of marriage and have to have the man I truly love as a mere friend. You are more than enough for me, Benedict, I feel safe with you — you are home to me.”

“And you are home to me, Y/N,” he was trying so very hard not to kiss you, his words soft and delicate as his breath fanned over your face due to your newfound close proximity, “If you would allow me to… I would like to court you. In fact, I would propose to you now if I was to allow my selfishness to take control. But I want you to be sure it is me you want, even if it hurts to see you dance and converse with others.”

“You’re all I could ever want, Benedict,” you spoke like it was utterly obvious, “And when you do propose, you can be certain of my acceptance. For now I am happy to share every dance with you and pretend we need to get to know each other to form an engagement. We have all of the time in the world.”

“We do.”

You were both breathing heavily, eyes glossy with the sheer emotion of the confessions you had just shared.

“I wish so badly that I could kiss you right now, but I fear I may not be able to control myself in future once I do,” his voice was barely above a whisper as you licked your lips, swallowing thickly.

“I wish— I wish you might kiss me too,” your reply was hardly even coherent, too love drunk to properly formulate your words, “More than anything.”

He was still holding onto your hands, and so he brought them up to ghost another kiss over them again, settling for this as he fought his urge to press his lips to yours instead.

“As you said, my love, we have all the time in the world,” there was a subtle undertone of what you might describe as lust in his tone now, intertwined with the love struck lilt he had been speaking with.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his lips ghosted up your forearm briefly before he brought them back down to your hands.

“And I cannot wait.”

———

horny benedict at the end to satiate my own need for that despite the intention for this to just be fluffy hahaha. hope you enjoyed !!!

feel free to keep requesting — and in the mean time here is my masterlist.

[orangeocelotmartyn]

The start of something new (Garbage Rat, Martyn, and Ren triangle)

trancript under the cut

Oli: Have you seen a Rat-tic around here, because I told one of them there would be one. Water: I don't know what that is-- Eloise: No, but you know who I have found? I found Mratyn-I found Mratyn, and Will! Oli: Marty! Eloise: Everybody's here, yeah, Marty-- Oli: Marty's here. Marty from the good ole days! (begins playing a quiet clip of applause) Eloise: He looks a bit different, though, he looks a bit different, and I think he's got-I think he's got a boyfriend. Oli: (shuts off the sound of the applause) Wait, what. Eloise: I don't know, he just kept calling him all these pet names like "Big J" and "Captain," but I might be misinterpreting that. Oli: But he didn't call him anything like "O-Dawg," or-or "Garbage Rat," did he? Cause that's my names, he wouldn't use those on someone else. (he plays a clip of an audience 'aw'ing) Eloise: No, he didn't call him that. Oli: Oh, well, that's good, that's nice, I'd love to see Marty.

---

Oli: Don't worry guys, I'm gonna free you! Bek: Help me! Martyn: (through disbelieving laughter) You've gotta be joking--you've gotta be kidding, Garbage Rat! Oli: (joyously) Marty! Martyn: (laughing) What are you doing here! Oli: I've been here the wh--two weeks now, getting drunk on wine! And forgetting stuff. Martyn: What is the--right-- Oli: What happened to your eye? It go the same way as mine? Martyn: I don't wanna talk about it. Captain, if we're gonna recruit anybody, this is our guy-- Ren: Who is the loud one? Martyn: --This is our guy! Oli: You've not found another-- Ren: Reveal yourself loud one! Oli: Hello its me the Garbage Rat I eat the garbage. And what is your name sailor? Ren: Hello Garbage Rat, I am Admiral Jaque Levy La'rat. Oli: No way. And what are you doing with my boy? Ren: (clears throat) He's the Lieutenant on my-my vessel. I picked him up a few weeks ago out in the middle of the ocean, he was in half a tennis ball floating around and it was quite pathetic. Oli: No way...that's quite the step up from being a highway rat. Martyn: Ehh--that's the first time you've described it as pathetic, I don't think I like that. Bek: Bit embarrassing Martyn. Ren: Highway rat, what--? Oli: I actually never called him pathetic--

---

Oli: -friends everywhere we go-- Martyn: Garbage Rat! Oli: Oh my god, Captain, my Captain. (Martyn: Oh.) Hello. Ren: It's the Garbage one again, hello! Martyn: Oh, two seconds, Will! (Will: Okay!) Oli: Hello, you found yourself--you guys find yourself a ship to commandeer yet, you found yourself a highway to man? Martyn: Ah, we-- Ren: We find ourself a perfect spot to rebuild. Martyn: Yeah, we found a plot. We got home and a plot. We're gonna go to the kitchen with Will, wanna come? Ren: I would like, I would like to add, Mister Garbage, that you look magnificent on our boat. I mean, look--the three of us together, side by side, as the pirate crew is there no better-- Oli: Yeah...ey, ey now, I love pirating, I love stealing, I love robbing, I love eating. I'm all those things, but water is not a thing that I enjoy, my sweet croissant. Yeah. Water-- Martyn: Yeah, he's got a past with, uh, flushers. Oli: Drowning, flushes, the whole-- Ren: I understand. Oli: --nine yards, yeah. I shall not be going anything that could have whirlpools. Ren: Out on the high seas, some might call you a Coward. Martyn: Ooh. Oli: Well. In the garbage bin, somebody might call you a corpse. But I ain't gonna make it happen. (Martyn laughs in surprise) Martyn: Yikes. I should step in here, but I don't wanna, I wanna see what happens. Ren: My words. I've never heard such intimidation before. Oli: It's been a good few years. I've faced a lot of creatures in my time. I remember when we were-- Ren: Alright, well Mister Garbage, I'd be happy to have you as an ally on shore, in that case. Oli: I would love to be an ally on shore. And if you--

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

really could use some good ol fashioned astartes now. big burly boys emotionally stunted by their hell conditioning and the trauma of unending war. but buried beneath all the brainwashing lie the same deep passions that all humans possess. they fuck because it’s fun, it’s just a way to blow off steam, something casual between battle brothers. but sometimes late at night, after a grueling campaign with heavy casualties, they go at it for hours, barely leaving each other’s bodies. jokes and dirty talk fade away until they’re fucking in silence. and at that moment, balls deep and staring into each other’s eyes, there’s a feeling, a vulnerability that they barely understand. in the morning they’ll get up and move on with their lives, just friends and nothing else, and they’ll even believe it too. at this moment, though, they’re indescribably connected, and there is nothing more precious in the galaxy

[griffonsgrove]

NSFW Alphabet || Lucifer Morningstar

Hello my sweeties!! Been a while but I thought I’d break the hiatus with something a little fun. The last time I posted, I hadn't seen the entirety of Hazbin, but now I have so I definitely have had more time to fully flesh out my thoughts on the characters a bit more >:] I think I’ll get started on all of your lovely requests asap!! Ty for being so patient and please enjoy!!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel cw: sexy fun times be warned wordcount: 1758

  Fandom: Hazbin Hotel cw: sexy fun times be warned wordcount: 1758

 NSFW Content 18+ Minors DNI

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Lucifer is such a sweetie!!! He’ll always be sure to check in on you, make sure that you're ok, clean you up and tend to you, especially after a particularly rough session. After coming down from that post-sex high, he’ll become really cuddly and cling onto you like a koala, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. 

That’s not to say he doesn't like being pampered as well, it's tough work being the king of hell! Sometimes he just wants to be coddled and doted on by his wonderful, sexy partner.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Being the sin of pride, I’d have to say Lucifer’s favorite body part would have to be those big ol’ magnificent wings of his. They’re a sign of his status and power, plus he’ll never get tired of the way your face lights up when you gaze upon them.

For you however, he loves your face. Watching those cute little reactions you make while he pleasures you, or watching your eyes roll into the back of your head as he hits that spot deep inside of you. He likes knowing that he makes you feel good. (It boosts his already massive ego).

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Thick and pearlescent. I'm not joking, it has a slight shimmer to it. It’s tangy on the tongue at first but has a sweet aftertaste. He prefers cumming inside of you, he feels like it's more intimate that way and it satiates his more primal instincts

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Wants you to sit on his face sooooo bad. Like full weight and everything. He doesn't care about the potential risk of suffocating either, he actually welcomes it. Lucifer is already a self-deprecating person and thinks he would die a very happy man with your thighs trapped around his face and surrounded by your scent.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) I mean- He’s technically had two wives and has a child- I think it's safe to say that he’s pretty damn experienced when it comes to making love. He’ll always put your needs before his own though, confident in his ability to make you see stars.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

As stated previously, Lucifer loves being able to see your face, so anything where he has you in his sights, such as the classic missionary, mating press, cowgirl, rocking horse, and the lotus position are a few of his favorites.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Oh he’s an absolute goofball a majority of the time. Cracking jokes, doing funny faces, or even making really bad puns that somehow correspond to whatever situation you find yourself in. There are of course softer moments between the two of you, but he takes great pride in being able to make you laugh or giggle when he’s balls deep inside.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Lucifer likes to keep himself well groomed (presentation is everything!). Hes definitely not baby smooth, but he does have a small patch of blonde curls at the base of his crotch. Occasionally trimming when he thinks they’ve grown out of hand.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I’d like to think despite his goofy demeanor, Lucifer really can be sweet and attentive during sex. He really just wants to be loved as much as he loves you, so he puts the utmost thought and care when it comes to pleasuring you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I don't think Lucifer would indulge in jerking off that often. In his mind, he doesn't need to waste the time touching himself when he has you! Of course also being the king of hell leaves him with not a lot of time to get away with cranking one out. 

If he ever finds himself needing some release and you’re not around (which isn't often), then he’ll give in and finally touch himself, thinking of you 100% of the time.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

BREEDING. 100% has a breeding kink, you can't change my mind, the mere thought of seeing you with a round, swollen belly, carrying his child? It’s enough to have him nearly busting in his pants right then and there. Mommy/Daddy kink - This goes both ways, he enjoys being called daddy and even refers to himself as such a majority of the time, it kinda sets off a primal desire in him. But also, loooooves referring to you as daddy/mommy as well, especially if he's subbing. Bro gets a kick out of being topped. Which leads to the next kink:

 Authoritarian - Listen, Lucifer obviously has a type when it comes to choosing his partner alright? Being the short king that he is, if you’re significantly larger/taller than him that’s all he wants in a partner. It’s hard work running an entire realm, sometimes he just likes having someone else take charge for once.

Praise - They don't call him the sin of Pride for nothing. He needs to know how good he’s making you feel, please tell him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s not picky, but likes to keep things somewhat secluded, so anywhere within the sanctity of your shared home is free game. Although I do think that he’d get a kick out of fucking on his throne, he loves the display of power.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Doesn't take much to get him going if we're being honest. He’s a pretty basic guy, if you dress up in some new fancy lacey get up, he’ll jump on you right then and there. He really does just love to admire your natural beauty.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that will physically harm you to an extensive degree. He loves you with all his little heart and he can't imagine inflicting any sort of long lasting wound to your beautiful body, he wouldn't forgive himself. There are of course exceptions (he’ll slap your bum, or give you a teasing pinch, maybe even a few love bites when he gets carried away) but never anything extreme.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) LOVES GIVING. He’s a munch for sure. There’s just something about your taste that drives him wild, it’s like ambrosia for him, and he’s hella skilled with his tongue too.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It really depends on the mood. Lucifer likes to take his time with you, so I feel like he tends to lean more towards slow and sensual love making, but there have been times when he’s been incredibly needy and desperate and just needs to hold you down and drill into you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Lucifer’s a busy man, so I feel like quickies may become a recurring thing, whether that be in between meetings, calls or events, it often leaves him pent up and needing to release that stress.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Very experimental I feel. Wants to at least try everything once, just to see if he likes it or not, but he’ll never try to push your boundaries or try to make you uncomfortable.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s an angelic being, I can imagine he'll be able to go for hours. Hes literally pure energy, you’re the one that usually ends up tapping out after numerous rounds, and he’ll follow you soon after.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Honestly, I dont feel like he’d personally have any toys for himself but would definitely get them to try out on you. As i’ve said he’s pretty experimental, and is always looking for new ways to spice up your sexy times.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Big teaser, but not to the point where he’s mean. He never wants to intentionally hurt your feelings; he’ll feel so bad. He does like to see how bashful you can get though when he asks you certain questions or praises you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

LOUD. I don't make the rules. This man will NOT shut his mouth whatsoever, he wants you to know how good you're making him feel ok? He’s soooo whiny it’s kind of pathetic at times but you love it. If he’s really carried away he wont even speak, just letting out a strain of deep grunts and growls into your ear.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I touched on this briefly earlier, but honestly, Lucifer just wants to be taken care of. He’s so used to looking out for others and running the entirety of hell that it's no surprise he quickly becomes overwhelmed and depressed. Even if it’s just for a day, he’d love to not have to worry about anything, just being coddled and tended to by his partner.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Lucifers got a pretty darn good package. Nearly 7 inches in length, uncut, the same pale white as his skin but fades into a soft pink at the tip, with a prominent vein that runs along the underside. He sure as hell knows how to use it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty average. He knows that your relationship is built off of mutual understanding and love and it doesn't always have to be connected through sex. I’d imagine y'all would have sex about  2-3 times a week at the least (a pretty healthy amount for someone in his position tbh) He enjoys quality time with you, and what’s a better way than having you cum your brains out??

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After making sure you’re well taken care of, Lucifer becomes extremely cuddly and affectionate, it's so adorable actually because he nuzzles into you and becomes a clingy, sleepy teddy bear, craving your warmth. It won't take him long before he eventually falls asleep, enjoying being surrounded by you.

[eddiesxangel]

girlie im sorry if im bothering u but like u write eddie a little TOO GOOD

reader giving eddie head as payment for weed bc who needs to pay with money when the heads too good for him to pass up on

-🦇

Omg never a bother

I think Eddie would be actually stunned you even offer. He thinks you’re joking, maybe take a picture then run away and spread it across town. But when he sees how serious you are, how you genuinely want to suck his cock bc you’re out of cash who’s he to say no?

You’re one of the hottest girls he’s ever see! Of course he wants your mouth on his cock.

He would guide you to the van so it’s more private. You’re in your knees for him instantly while he props himself up so he can watch.

He would love to piss your hair out of the way and praise you because you’re doing so well for him.

Your head is unmatched to any he’s had before. You can take so much of him like your mouth was made for this.

“Shit shit shit—holy fuck you're so good at this" he would try so hard not to blow his load within the first two minutes but the. you start playing with his balls and thats when it's over for him.

you'd ket hum cum in your mouth and he thinks he reached the jackpot. he's willing to sacrifice the $ lost if it means you would be willing to do this again.

eventually you suck his dick so much he falls in love wirh you bc hes a big ol' simp boy. 🤭

[marvelslut16]

The Yule Ball

Prompt number: 13 "Come with me, hurry."

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Ron Weasley x reader

Rating: E(veryone)

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Teenagers being stupid and clueless. Pining.

A/N: No one's gonna read this, but oh well. I've loved it and been to afraid to put it out for years, so now I'm finally just doing it.

You roll your eyes at Ron and Harry complaining that they don’t have dates for the Yule Ball yet, they should be concentrating on the exam that you’re all supposed to be doing. However, you do giggle quietly as Fred asks Angelina to the ball by throwing a piece of paper at her and miming dancing horribly. 

“Well what about you (Y/N/N)?” Ron looks to his left, you're sitting between him and Harry. “You wanna go with me?” 

Your heart picks up speed for a second, the boy you’ve been hopelessly in love with since you were kids is finally noticing you as more than a friend. But the euphoria you feel is short-lived, realizing that you're just a last resort to him, that you’ll never live up to Fleur. Plus you already have a date, one that’ll be tons of fun. 

“I, um, I actually have a date already,” if Ron could tear his wide eyes off your face he would see the mischievous glint in George’s eyes, accompanied by an all knowing smirk. 

“What? Who?” Ron’s voice echoes through the quiet hall, Snape comes up behind him and smacks his head with a book. 

You ignore the question, quickly glancing at the still smirking George, before finishing off your exam. You rush from your seat to hand in your booklet to Snape, as you grab your bag and books you hear Ron asking Hermione to the ball. Your heart plummets into your gut, Ron doesn’t really want to go with you, he just wants a date on his arm. 

You can feel the quick glances of pity from all of your friends; Harry, Hermione, Fred, and George. All of them know about your big ol’ crush on the youngest Weasley boy. You high tail it out of the Great Hall just as Hermione starts telling him off and admitting she has a date. Her and Viktor are actually quite cute together. 

You forgo heading to the library or any other place you typically meet your friends- Hermione will surely head straight to those spots and try to get you to talk about your feelings. Instead you head up the many flights of stairs to the Astronomy tower. The fresh air cools your flushed face, and you take a deep breath willing yourself to shake it off. You lean against one of the railings and stare at the black lake as it ripples from the wind. You close your eyes and think back to when you got asked to the ball mere days ago. 

McGonagall is teaching you how to dance for the ball, boys on one side and girls on the other. You can practically hear Fred and George snicker as you repeatedly glance at their younger brother as the professor lectures the group on etiquette. Ron makes a joke and McGonagall calls him to dance with her, this time you do hear the twins snicker and you join them. 

Once everyone joins in, Ron partners off  with a random girl and you're left standing there alone. You and Ron always pair up for everything, you have since you were in diapers. George quickly swoops in and starts dramatically waltzing you around the room. 

“Mr. Weasley!” McGonagall calls, grabbing everyone’s attention and placing it on you two. “Miss. (Y/L/N) is a young lady, not a rag doll, treat her as such.”

You hide your face in George’s chest, partly from embarrassment from all of the eyes, and partly to hide your giggles. 

“Of course, Professor,” George stands taller and he gracefully leads you through the steps. “I wouldn’t want to hurt dear (Y/N) here. Who else would help me prank Ron?”

You refuse to meet George’s eyes after the two of you see the girl in Ron’s arms giggling at something that he’s said. Usually you're the only one to giggle and laugh at Ron’s jokes, the only one affected by his ‘charm’. George elegantally spins you out and then back into his arms, trying to get you to cheer up and get your mind off of Ron. 

“Ow!” Ron’s partner cries.

Smirking, George leans in and whispers in your ear, “Ickle Ronniekins can’t keep his eyes off of you. Even stepped on his partner’s foot ‘cause he can’t look away.” 

“He’s not looking at me George,” you push the older boy away so he can watch you roll your eyes at him. 

“He stares at you constantly, (Y/N/N),” George frowns at your obliviousness. “He’s been in love with you since he met you, you two always understood each other on a different level than the rest of us.”

“If Ron liked me he would have asked me to the ball already, and he wouldn’t be drooling at Fleur’s feet,” your answer is short and snappy. “Can we just focus on dancing again?”

“Go with me,” it comes out more as a request than a question. “Freddie wants to take Angelina and I’m not going to get in the way of that. We can have fun and make Ronniekins jealous.”

“I don’t know about Ron getting jealous, but it would be fun,” you grin at the red head. “I’m sorry about the Angelina thing.”

“So you’ll be my date?” he ignores the second half of your statement, not wanting to dwell on his twin taking his crush to the ball. 

“I guess,” you tease, your giant smile giving away your excitement. 

“Wicked!” he cheers.

~~

“Who do you think is taking (Y/N)?” Ron asks George, not bothering to lower his voice, even though Padma is standing beside him. Ron had been openly staring at you since you admitted that you have a date, and he kept asking who, but you never answered because you agreed with George not to tell anyone.

“Ickle Ronniekins, you should have asked her sooner,” George teases with a smirk. Both your date’s and your crush’s jaws drop slightly as you make your way down the stairs. 

Your hair is pulled back in an updo, you and Hermione did each other's hair and makeup this morning. You're in a flowy silver dress, giving you an angelic appearance. Your mother even sent her best jewelry to finish off the look. 

“Whoa, (Y/N/N)?” Ron asks, eyes wide and jaw practically on the floor. Padma rolls her eyes at Ron, clearly regretting being his date already. “You look-whoa.”

“You look quite handsome yourself Ron,” you giggle lightly as you take in his old colorful dress robes. Most people would laugh at how ridiculous they look, but Ron can somehow pull the look off.  

“You look smashing, Miss. (Y/L/N),” you giggle again as George grabs your hand and places a kiss on it. 

“Oh thank you Mr. Weasley, you look,” you let your eyes drag over George in his black dress robes as you come up with a compliment. “Striking.” 

“Shall we love?” George puts his arm out to lead you into the Great Hall that the teachers transformed into a beautiful ballroom for the night. You catch a quick peek at Ron as you slip your hand into the crook of his brother's arm, and the young boy looks livid. His face is almost as red as his hair, his jaw locked, and a glare that could level even George if the older Weasley saw it. 

You can feel eyes watching your every move, but you elect to ignore it, instead focusing on George as he twirls you from song to song. No matter how disappointed you both may be that neither of you got to go with your crush, you don’t let it affect your spirits, instead both of you push those thoughts to the back of your minds and have fun as friends. 

“I could use a drink,” you holler to George after two hours on the dance floor and he leads you to the table Ron and Harry are sitting at.

“Stay here,” he takes his coat off and drapes it on the seat you plop down in. “I’ll go get us some punch.”

“Why aren’t you guys out there dancing?” you turn to Ron and Harry, then glancing at the dance floor where Padma and Parvati are dancing with some boys from Beauxbatons.

“Cho is with Cedric,” Harry grumbles, while Ron just glares behind your back.

“One punch for you my lady,” George does a stupid bow as he hands you your glass.

“Why thank you kind sir,” your giggle is cut off by an irritated scoff coming from Ron.

“Is there something you’d like to say Ickle Ronniekins?” George goads him.

“What's wrong Ron?” you ask at the same time, reaching out to touch his shoulder. 

“Bloody hell, you’re what's wrong,” Ron exclaims, and you're thankful the Twisted Sisters are too loud for anyone further than your table to have heard him. 

“Don’t talk to her like that,” George defends you, but it only seems to make it worse.

“What did I do wrong, Ron?” you fiddle with the bracelet that your mum sent you. 

“Come with me, hurry,” Ron pulls you out of the ballroom, up two flights of stairs, down a hallway, and into an alcove hidden by drapery. 

“What has gotten into you?” you finally ask when you two are hidden from prying eyes and ears. 

“How could you go with George?” he ignores your question, pacing back and forth in front of you.

“Because he asked me? Because he was the only one to ask me,” your voice cracks ever so slightly.

“I asked you,” you level your oldest friend with a glare.

“Out of desperation! You asked me as a last resort, Ron, not because you actually wanted to go with me! George at least asked me to go as friends,” angry tears are fighting to breach the surface. “You were too interested in trying to get Fleur to go with you to even consider asking me until you had no other choice.”

“I didn’t think you’d have a date,” he pitters off, not knowing how to save himself.

“Godrick Ron, can you even hear yourself? Do you think that low of me that no one would ask me?”

“But why George of all people?” he asks again, sounding like a broken record. 

“Is that it? Am I not good enough for your brother in your eyes?” you laugh humorlessly. “All those years of friendship and you truly think so low of me…” 

“He knows you’re off limits!” he says out loud, but by the look on his face he clearly meant to keep that thought on the inside.

“I’m not one of your chess pieces, Ron, I’m a person with feelings. You can’t just stake a claim on me-” he cuts off your rant.

“He knows I love you!” his words have so much conviction behind them that you're momentarily stunned. 

“What?” your moth is gaping open like a fish.

“I love you,” he says again like it isn’t the most heavy and meaningful thing he could possibly say. “I don’t ask you to the Ball sooner because I didn’t want you to reject me.”

“You love me?” you can’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that he feels the same.

“Bloody Hell (Y/N), how many times to I have to say it? I love y-” he’s cut off by your lips desperately colliding with his.

“I love you too,” you sigh, resting your forehead on Ron’s. “George only asked me to make you jealous.”

“I’m going to beat him with his bludger,” Ron steps back ready to go fight his brother.

“You can do that later, how about we go back to the Ball so I can dance with my boyfriend,” you lace your fingers with his and pull him back towards the Great Hall. Ron has a dopey smile on his face the whole way down, you called him your boyfriend. 

[piratefishmama]

shit I wanted to ask more about your thoughts on that dynamic with Steve and Eddie but I clicked ask to fast because I'm impatient :)

I'm thinking for this there'd be no upside down, so Eddie wouldn't get chomped, but he's so SCRUFFY. And Steve knows him, because he's very hard to miss in school but he never really had the balls to approach.

Eddie and his big ol wings are kind of. Intimidating. Beautiful, but very intimidating.

It's through the kids that Steve finally winds up talking to him, kids Steve will always be roped into babysitting upside down or not, Eddie still rules the roost in the DnD club, wings giving him the extra somethin somethin to create dramatic flare, are they a cape for a dastardly villain that he uses to cover half his face to create mystery or intrigue, or maybe he gives an extra demonstration of ruffled feathers for an Aarakocra npc!

And more often than not Steve finds Eddie's feathers on the kids, he's pulled a few out of Dustins hair, plucked one or two out of Mike's clothing, he's gathered a little collection (yes he absolutely keeps them they're PRETTY) by the time he finally collars Eddie to help him with sorting them out.

He may have done. A little research into wing maintenance. And maybe... maybe he got the right tools to fix them up, the best oils and things, just... yknow... as a friendly friend thing. Definitely not a "I've harboured a maybe slightly large crush on you for a WHILE" thing. Definitely not.

And Eddie let's him. Or rather he sits there very still, doesn't even joke about it, just sits there like eyes wide mouth zipped shut, trying very hard not to make a PEEP even though ohboyitfeelsverygood

And this happens a few times, eddie tries to make it transactional so it's not like. A thing. Steve helps him with his wings, he gives him a joint or two as a freebie. Transactional, only Steve keeps tucking the joints back into Eddies jacket when he's not looking so it's not transactional and Eddies having a crisis and that inly gets WORSE when he finally can't keep the little whines down when Steve strokes his fingers through his feathers and now he's running away and Steve can't get a moment alone with him anymore and angst!! Pining!!! Misunderstandings and confusion!!!

Steve calling Eddie Angel, though. Cause. Yeh.

[ask-maxie-boy]

Goonion's Ghoul (Part 4)

Bruce does a little digging. This one's a little more serious, but dont worry, the shenanigains resume next chapter <3

Part 1 & 2 Part 3

The pool hall was fairly quiet tonight. It was a dim place who's customers were the only thing shadier than its corners. The smell of smoke lingered in the whole building, but the usual cloud that held over the room seemed to be gone.

The "No Smoking" sign on the door was new, and it seems like people were listening. Bruce fiddled with the stick match between his fingers - he wondered if it was going to be a problem.

"8 Ball, side pocket" Clack!

"Tch. Good game, whatever."

As the men and small crowd around them get their bet earnings, Bruce approached with a predatory grin. "Hey fellas, mind if I get in on a game?"

Most of the men seemed to be sizing him up, but one in particular (the one who won the last match) inhaled sharply. "Matches fuckin' Malone, I haven't seen you 'round here in a while! You sonofabitch, where ya been?"

'Matches Malone' pulls his titular match out from his teeth, and puts on an annoyed face. "Bah, deal went south, had to lay low for a while." Someone handed him a pool stick, prompting Bruce to nod and grab some pool chalk.

"I getcha. We can go a round, Matches. Loser buys a round at the bar for everyone."

"Jeez, I said I was just layin' low and thems are the stakes?" Matches' grin comes back, a gleam rolling along his aviator shades. "Guess I could use a free drink, so why not?"

The other guy rolls his eyes. "Well, aren't you confident. Promise that'll changes once the game starts."

The game gets set up quickly, and they let Malone break. He lines up his stick, but isn't too concerned about exactly how to hit this shot.

"Say," Bruce asks, "I heard there's a new way of gettin' some help around here. Any'a you know about it?" The cue ball slams into the triangle of other balls.

"Oh, you're askin' about the Goonion? You don't gotta beat around da bush. Even if you weren't in good company, there ain't no need to be hush about it." The 7 ball rolls into a corner pocket, a solid color sunk.

Its an easy shot to the 5, side pocket. "Wouldn't expect that from a big band 'a criminals," Bruce says, casually lining up the hit, "but I guess that's Gotham for ya. So, how do I get in contact?" *Clack!*

"There's a big place on 29th street, down by Proctor Ave." The 5 cleanly rolls into the next pocket. "They put up a big sign just yesterday, you cant miss it."

The next shot is a bit more tricky, trying to get the 3 without hitting the 10 in. "No shit? A big ol' sign that says 'Hey, a buncha lackeys here!' right out in the open?"

The other guy snorts. "I mean, the cops don't give a damn, and the criminals are already in on it. That just leaves the bats, but between you and me? I hear the robins are in on it."

Not only does Bruce miss the 3, he knocks the 10 in, closely followed by the cue itself. A scratch. "Well, now I know you're just fuckin' with me."

His opponent grabs the cue ball with a chuckle, and puts it just by the 12 for a clean corner pocket hit. "Like how you were with that last shot? Yeah, yeah, I'm messin' with you... kinda. There's a runnin' joke that the robins should be considered one of us."

Second stripe down, Bruce's eye twitches, hidden by his large sunglasses. "I don't see whats so funny about it, considering how many times we've had our ass handed to us on a black-n-blue platter by 'em."

Its a more difficult shot to hit the 9 in the side pocket, but the opponent aims anyway. "Yeah, Danny's got this big ol' thing about how Vigilantism's a crime and Batman's a crime lord. Ya kinda have to hear him say it, but damn if it isn't funny." He makes the shot, but the cue ball slides in the pocket with the 9, as Bruce bites back a grumble.

Its his chance to get back in the game, and clean it up. Bruce puts the ball on the table, and lines up a shot that should also get him in position for the next few. "Danny, eh? Whats his deal anyway? Everyone seems all buddy buddy with the guy, but I can't find out a thing about him. He some kinda "

The normal sound of a pool stick hitting the cue is clean, crisp, and short. A satisfying ricochet right to where it was aimed, sealing a calculated move into victory.

That is not the noise that echoes through the hall.

Instead, the stick bounces off of the cue strangely, shaking awkwardly as a much harsher CLACK! attacks everyone's ears, as the ball rolls slowly in the wrong direction, and hits nothing.

His opponent, and everyone with and without money on the game, look right at him. Some are giving dirty looks, some seem angry, others just discontent. A few look ready for a fight to break out, as the sudden tension ensnares him. He gets the feeling its not the bum shot they're upset about. "Uh... any chance I can try that hit again?" He asks sheepishly, analyzing exits, preparing for the brawl that might happen, and a cover story for how Matches got out of being attacked by this many people.

Bruce winces as his opponent places their hand on his shoulder, but doesn't strike back just yet. His opponent still seems tense, but not rearing back an attack. "Matches, you'se a good guy, so I'm gonna let you off easy on this one. But for 'da future, dont go askin' around about Danny. He doesn't like people poking into his business.”

The crowd seems to calm down a bit, but there's still a few bad looks being sent towards Bruce. He puts some hint of worry in his voice, dusting off his suit to sell the idea that that shook him up. “I.. I see. Caposh.”

His opponent goes back to the table, picking the cue off the table after Matches' bad hit. “...He's just a kid, Matches. Smart, kind,” he lines up his next shot on the 11, “I'd call him naive if he didn't prove he knew what he was doing.” A clean shot, into the side pocket.

“If you're goin' to the Goonion, you'll meet him and see.” Another easy shot, 13 into the corner. “He does good work. The Hood may have started the union, but Danny stoked the flames, kept us together when we wanted to fall apart.” A hard hit, the cue ball stopping dead as it strikes its target, knocked straight into the pocket. “He fought for us, went up against some of the most dangerous people in Gotham and told them to kneel.” Someone in the crowd murmurs, “Stronger together,” which has him roll his eyes. “Yeah yeah, we all did it, sure. But someone needed to face 'em down, and not only did he bite the bullet,” 14 ball, corner pocket, “he spat it right back out at 'em.”

“He got us dental!” Someone cheers, and most of the crew cheers with him, clinking beer bottles together.

“Point is, he's a good guy who does a good job, and the least we can do is stick our noses out of his business.” 15 ball, opposite corner. “We don't need him getting hurt because we couldn't do that.”

Something flickers in Bruce's eyes at that last comment, noting the slightly somber tone. “...he didn't ask you to stay away, did he?”

“He didn't need to. I told ya, you'll get it when you meet him.” He points out his last shot, “8-ball, corner,” and hangs over the table to aim his cue. “People like him don't usually stick around Gotham, and not by their own choice. If someone finds out you're the one who made him leave, whether you meant it or not...”

The 8 ball rolls cleanly into the pocket, a promise fulfilled. “You'll be lucky if you're found with a bullet to the head.”

An open secret. One that puts him in harms way if the details get out. Details people are purposefully avoiding, out of gratitude. Makes things difficult for him.

“...Well, a deal's a deal. A round on me, everyone!”

@akikkobara @thegatorsgoose @addie-lover-of-stories @apointlessbox @screamingtofillthevoid @semiprofessionaldumbass @sailor-goddess @malice-of-the-sunrise @savaton @spikedlynx @emergentpanda-blog @starlightcat04 @demented-trashcan @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff @soren1830 @vixen-uchiha @rowanaway-fromthisbs @space-dreams-world @wolfeyedwitch @the-legal-shipper @gmkelz11 @dannyphantomphan @idkmrpianoman @somuchyikes @blankliferain @thatonegirl10 @thewondersoflebanon @cass-brightwood @coruscateselene @hallowsden @avelnfear @ultimatebluff @kryzs2000 @blep-23 @jaguarthecat @all-mights-asscheeks @meira-3919 @ricekristytreaty @illya-roma @mentalcarebear @wackyattack @fisticuffsatapplebees @love-has-no-labels @dat1angell @igotafewbadideas @thordottir45 @idfk-man10 @choppedphantomsweets @dragonfirefeather @smol-book-nerd @randomkiddoscrewingaround @alinmenttreasure @queen-of-the-grapefruits @cyber-geist @bianca-hooks123 @gaelic-holiday

[ashboy-3]

The Unspoken Deal

Fandom: Danny Phantom, John Constantine, and DCU Characters: John Constantine, Danny Fenton/Phantom, Batman, Superman, other JL members Words: 3507 Summary:

Danny and John have a deal. It's a simple deal. Every month they have a meet up. Danny keeps as much control over the ghost as he can in return John keeps track of them in the human realm. That's it nothing else should be so simple.

So why do feelings keep getting involved and why does the justice league suddenly seem so interested in the beings of the infinite realms.

John knows one thing for sure: This is all Danny's fault.

“You know these meetings are supposed to be taken seriously? Right mate?” John Constantine asked, only a little annoyed at dealing with the half-ghost.

“Who says? The council, meh I don’t really fully care what they have to say,” the half-ghost laughed, throwing another snowball at the human.

“Why do I put up with you again?” Constantine rubbed his hand over his face.

“You love me,” the ghost teased.

“What makes you so sure,” John hid the small smile that was on his face. He would never admit it, but the half ghost does hold a special place within his heart, a place that very few ever made it to.

“Any big threats I need to know about?” the ghost floated in front of John, ignoring the question that was being asked of him.

“Nothing I’ve heard about oh Danny boy,” John nodded towards him, watching as the Ghost King looked him up and down.

“Sell your soul recently?” Danny eyed him.

“Don’t know what your talkin about mate,” John avoided looking at the ghost, choosing instead to focus on his neglected cigarette.

“Well mate,” Danny easily copied the brit’s accent. “I happen to have a soul piece here.” Danny took the small delicate object out of his pocket, showing it off to John’s widened eyes.

“Be careful with that!” He shouted, seeing Danny just throwing it in the air as if it was a plastic ball.

“I would be if you didn’t treat your soul like a throw away joke,” Danny glared at his old friend, watching him put out the cancer stick as the two walked inside the castle also known as phantom’s keep and talk. “I’m serious John. Every time you sell your soul, I have to find a way to get it. You’ve sold over half of your soul. Soon you won’t have any pieces left,” Danny rolled his eyes, walking into a room where he keeps a singular candy jar, dropping the glowing piece in the jar. It made a small clink as it fell with the other pieces.

“That really is my whole soul isn’t it,” John peaked into the room to look at the jar.

“Farid so. Makes almost a whole soul. Be careful, our time is almost up so I’ll be seeing you next month?” Danny frowned at the idea of John leaving.

“I’ll be sure to give you a call if something comes up mate,” John assured him.

“And the heroes will be kept out of my realm?” They both know Danny’s rules about humans walking around the realms. Even now, years later from his teenage years, the humans he allows in are few and small. Adding heroes to that list just makes it worse.

“No heroes,” John assured him, opening the portal with a simple spell, stepping back into the house of mystery. “I’ll be seeing you ole Danny boy,” John smiled a sad smile at watching the portal close, shutting off his communication with the older ghost.

Recently all of their monthly meetings have the old warlock feeling like this. Feeling like something is missing or wrong. Sometimes he debates saying more, extending their meetings, even offering to meet more than once a month, but it never goes that far, choosing instead to ignore the feeling and continue on his day.

Pouring himself a drink, a favorite activity of his. He couldn’t help the groan that came from his mouth at hearing his phone ring.

Ring Ring Ring

Constantine sighed as the annoying ring hurt his ears. It was worse when he checked the caller ID. “What do ya want bats. Ima little busy?”

“Meeting at the watchtower. Be there,” the rough voice ordered from the phone.

“You could at least butter me up a little,” the thick British accent responded. Batman didn’t dignify him with a response, choosing instead to just hang up the phone.

“Well doll seems I still can’t take a break,” John signed, talking to the house. Downing his drink within one gulp he casted another spell, landing him right in the watchtower.

“Do you have to appear on the table every time?” Superman asked in wonder.

“Just how magic works mate,” John dusted off his tan coat, stepping off the table that was surrounded by multiple leaguers. “Alright what’s this whole shin dig about?”

“We have gotten multiple reports and sightings about strange creatures,” Batman started, clicking buttons on a small remote for all of the leaguers to see. Up on the big screens were creatures, creatures that Constantine was very familiar with. A bad feeling began to weave its way into his liver ruined gut.

“Are they aliens?” one of the leaguers questioned.

“Nothing in any of our databases,” Hal shook his head with crossed arms.

“Nothing from under the sea,” Aquaman agreed.

“So, they’ve come from a strange place that none of us have heard about?” Wonder Woman threw her hands in the air from disbelief.

“I don’t believe they come from the underworld, but John would be a better judge then me,” Zatara looked towards the brit.

“I don’t know nothing bout them mate. Prolly best to leave them be for now,” John shrugged, ignoring the questioning looks he was getting from some his ‘coworkers’ with trust issues.

“I’ll look more into them,” Zatara nodded. “Find out if they become a threat.” He assured the league.

“We’ll be looking into the lantern database and getting contact with others, find out if anyone knows anything,” Jon agreed, nodding towards Hal. All three getting up to leave the table.

“Well, if that’s all I’ll be on my bloody way. Drag me out of my house for notin,” John muttered angrily.

“Actually, John if you wouldn’t mind having a conversation with me?” Zatara asked, waving him over.

“Fine,” the brit groaned, getting a pack of his smokes out, lighting one up within the watchtower, ignoring glares he was getting from the three top dogs.

Zatara had taken John to a lone room, nothing really in it besides a desk, a few chairs, and one small couch, it was clearly only a room used for conversations.

“What’s this bout?” John wondered.

“You know something about those creatures,” Zatara stated firmly.

“I know nothin bout nothin,” John nodded, not agreeing with the magician’s statement.

“Oh please, you’re eyes widened when you saw the pictures. If you know something it should be shared. I will not reveal your secrets, however if you refuse to say anything it will just cause everyone, including me, to dig deeper into them.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise. They could be dangerous.”

John laughed at that statement. “If that’s all I’m leaving.” Zatara was ready to fight back but looking up he discovered to see the brit gone.

***

“Danny mate pick up your damn phone!” John yelled at the blasted thing from his third time calling his old friend, now pacing around the old House of Mystery. Grabbing the full glass of scotch that the house kindly made for him.

“Sorry John. I was in a meeting,” Danny smiled into the phone. He may be a supernatural being, but he still had plenty to use of his fourteen-year-old mind, an age he hasn’t been for many years.

“Danny you bloody idiot! I thought that you were keeping them under control!” John yelled into the phone, surprising Danny.

“Don’t you dare yell at me John Constantine!” Danny yelled back into the phone, stopping him in his place.

“You’re right. I’m sorry Danny boy. The Justice League just got on my bloody ass about your spooks. Bats is ready to go to war with them,” John sat down in his chair.

“Want to summon me? We can talk about it?” Danny asked into the phone, both knew the undertones of the conversation.

“Things never go right when I summon you,” John refused to look towards a picture of him and Danny. The old ghost laughing, his baby face unable to grow much facial hair, as John cheered a beer, a smile on his face as well. It was one of their first nights out together in the human world.

“But it’s fun. No funny business this time?” Danny offered.

“Now you’re just tempting fate love,” John grinned into his scotch.

“You’re easy to tempt,” Danny nodded in agreement, both understanding the silent message.

Grabbing a piece of green glowing chalk John stumbled towards an empty part of his floor, no need to look up the sigils Danny choose for his summoning. He didn’t understand most of them, but the guy laughed every time he appeared in the human realm, a silent joke that only he knows. He remembers one drunken night when Danny tried to explain, he got nowhere with the brit.

“Numquam agnus dabo te

numquam agnus dimittam te

numquam amet discurrere et deseram te

numquam agnus fac te clamare

numquam agnus dicere vale

numquam agnus dic mendacium et nocuerunt tibi”

John, always confused by the spell, spoke it loud and clear, letting the candles and lights around the house dance as the green fire descended from the hells, lighting up the circle, leaving in a swirl with a half ghost king, smiling and evil smile at him.

“You summoned me,” Danny stepped out of the circle, walking closer to John.

“I summoned you,” he agreed, the mood much different from their business meeting they had just yesterday. John’s breathing becoming deeper and heavier the closer Danny stepped towards him. It forever amazed him that the ghost could become bigger or smaller with just a thought.

“I promised no funny business,” Danny noted, his half breaths just as deep.

“Screw that!” John declared, pushing their lips together, creating a fire between the two. A fire that would not let out till the two were done.

This was routine for when John summoned Danny. A routine that neither is sure how it started, but neither regret. They both agree it’s just sex. No feelings need to be mixed in, but John can’t help the flutter in hie heart when he thinks about everything that Danny does for him. Keeping him updated, collecting his soul contracts, giving him this. It was everything that he could dream about.

“Do you want to stop?” Danny asked carefully, his breath on John’s.

“If you stop, I will exorcize you,” John glared at the ghost.

“Fair enough,” Danny laughed, the two stumbling towards John’s room in the old mystery house.

The next day, both barely clothed, wrapped up in blankets and each other, John woke up, staring at Danny, tracing his fingers over the old, faded scars.

“You’re staring again,” Danny’s eyes fluttered open.

“You make it hard not to,” John grinned at him, turning around in the bed to light a cigarette.

“You said my subjects are hurting the humans,” Danny started to sit up in the bed, the ring of rage glowing proudly on his finger.

“I never said hurting. I keep an eye on them for you here. I promised, didn’t I?” John turned towards him, clearly understanding that this is no longer pleasure, only business.

“Then what was the call about?” Danny raised an eyebrow, getting up from the bed in a way only one trained in royalty could. John thought that he was beautiful.

“Bats called in a meeting. Trying to figure out where they came from. I was honest. Told them they ain’t form the underworld. Bloody Zatara caught me. Wanted to know how I recognized them. Refused to tell him that they were looking for limbo. I made a promise to ya Danny boy and I intend to keep it,” John tapped his cigarette on the ashtray he keeps by the bed. Watching as Danny slowly dressed himself in his torn-up jeans and shirt, a jacket going with it. One would never think he was dead, much less royalty.

“Do you want me to talk to them?” Danny asked.

“Do you want to talk to them?” John uno reversed him.

“I’m free in two days. I’ll calm down the Justice League,” Danny snapped his fingers, disappearing in green fire, just the same as he arrived. John knows that when he walks back to his living room all evidence of his summoning will be gone as well.

“Damn. You have it bad,” a voice laughed from the living room.

“Damn it!” John shouted, face turning red from anger as he shut his bedroom door, a door that was not shut last night, as he quickly got dressed, stomping back into the living room. “Chas. What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“Checking up on you. Someone has to,” he shrugged. “Haven’t seen you be like that with someone in forever. So, when’s the next date?” Chas teased.

“Sod off Chas. We’re not dating,” John waved him away, grabbing a cold beer.

“Sure. You only look the people you shag like that because no feelings are attached,” Chas nodded, clearly sarcastic.

“He doesn’t want a relationship. He just wants to make sure I keep his subjects out of trouble while in the human realm. Nothing more nothing less,” John took a big gulp of beer.

“Have either of you ever actually talked about this?” Chas asked.

“C’mon mate. We’ve never talked about it because there is nothing to talk about,” John yelled. “We meet in his realm at a set time we talk. If something comes up, I can call him,” John shrugged.

“so, nothing ever happened while in his realm?” Chas raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing worth bringing up in conversation,” John argued back, the jar that contains his soul in the back of his mind.

“Sure,” Chas snorted, clearly not believing him. “I’ll leave you. Just. Don’t ruin this for yourself John. You are clearly happy with him and that doesn’t happen often with you,” Chas walked out of the house, leaving John by himself, only the house to keep him company.

“I don’t like him. I can’t like him. Why would I even like him?” John asked himself and the house. “The guy only rescues my soul every chance he can get. He willingly comes to visit the human realm for me. He willingly gave me his summoning. “Fuck!” John shouted, realization hitting him.

Panic still fresh in his brain he called up Batman. “I have news about the creatures. Meeting in two days.” John didn’t give the guy a chance to reply, closing his phone and ending the call. He has two days to get his body ass unsober as possible before he has to see Danny again.

***

“Alright bats. Everyone here?” John asked, appearing once again on the table, the annoyance clear on Superman’s face.

“You have news about the strange creatures?” Batman asked, coming from him however, everyone knew that it was an order.

“Yeah yeah. I’ll get to that. Move out of the way people,” John only got down form the table to put his bag down, grabbing the green glowing chalk, and walking back up on the table, aware that he has other magic user’s eyes on him. Writing the familiar symbols, he knew by heart. He still had the old book on his shelf, but he has no use for it.

“Be prepared mates. He’s a tad dramatic,” John warned, muttering the same summoning from before. His eyes turning white as green flames enveloped the room, clearly it was done in a more dramatic way for the audience the two have present.

“Numquam agnus dabo te

numquam agnus dimittam te

numquam amet discurrere et deseram te

numquam agnus fac te clamare

numquam agnus dicere vale

numquam agnus dic mendacium et nocuerunt tibi”

Unlike yesterday where all Danny was wearing was ripped jeans, a t-shirt full of small holes and a warm jacket, today he was draped in armor of black, white, and ecto green. The crown of fire worn proudly at the top of his head and the ring of rage glowing proudly on his finger. Fire forming under his feet as he took steps down the table. John had to take a smirk at how Danny presented himself. This is the same person who tripped over his feet walking in a straight line the other week, crashing his face right into ghost rocks. It never amazed John that Danny could present himself this way, but no one could deny the affect that it had.

“Who are you?” Batman asked, taking the lead as usual.

“Did you not explain to them?” Danny’s voice now held an echo to it, a few leaguers unsure if they were hearing him correctly.

“Sorry love figured you would love to do the honors,” John waved him off, taking a seat.

“I am Phantom. King of the Infinite Realms. John Constantine is the watcher of the human realm for me. He has informed me that the “Justice League” was getting curious about my subjects,” Danny chooses his words carefully. John snorted at his phrasing of the Justice League. “My subjects are not causing lasting harm to any humans. No humans have been injured from them or have been killed. There should be no reason that this club house is looking into my subjects,” Danny’s eyes glowed a deep green, clearly angry about the accusations he has formed in his mind.

“We never claimed that your subjects have injured anybody. We were just concerned. These are new creatures. No one knew of them, and we wanted to make sure they were not a risk,” Wonder Woman was quick to jump in.

“Hah!” Danny grinned, showing his fangs in full view. “My subjects are not new. Most have been around longer then you have been alive. It is your ignorance that has made you assume such a thing.” John knows that if this was with just the two of them alone Danny would have cracked some stupid joke like, “You know what assuming does right? Make an ass out of you and me! Ha! Come on John! It’s funny!”

“I’m sorry?” Wonder Woman was confused.

“My subjects are mostly ghost. Spirits who have refused to pass on. Spirits who have been formed from human ideals. Death, Nocturne, and Time. These are all spirits that have been formed from the thoughts of humans. They will live as long as their ideas live on. There are ones that form naturally, there are ones who have died and left this world, unable to move on they come to my realm. They come back to finish what they started, their right to, or to just cause petty mischief, something they need to do to survive. I keep an eye on every single one in the human realm. From now on if there is an issue you go straight to John. Do I make myself clear?” There was a fire burning in Danny’s eyes as he turned around, stomping out, not wanting to hear any more questions.

“Guess I have no choice but to follow his highness,” John sounded like he was mocking the king, but he knows that if Chas was here, he would call John out on his bullshit quicker then he could snap.

“Did you see their faces?” Danny smiled, as John grabbed Danny’s arm, easily bringing them back to the house of mystery.

“They believe that you are a ruthless tyrant who cares only for his people,” John agreed, pouring himself a drink.

“Pour me one. I know it’s great isn’t it! I worked all day with Ember to get that speech perfect!” Danny’s grin couldn’t get wider, John handed him the drink, watching as Danny drank it with ease.

“Listen Danny boy,” John started, happy that he had the famous liquid courage to help him In this moment.

“What is it, John?” Danny looked up from his drink. There were no problems. The Justice League was handled. What else could there be.

“Mate- Love. It has come to my attention that we might have to rethink our situation John tried, not fully sure how to get the words out.

“You’re going to have to be clearer with me John,” Danny crossed his legs, floating in midair as if Gravity didn’t exist.

“Love I-“John’s throat stopped, not letting him get the words out. “Damn it!” John chugged the rest of his drink, cursing the heavens at his predicament. “Danny I- “once again he was stopped by himself, his beer not helping him at all.

Tired of trying with words, John did the next best thing, he let his actions speak for him. Grabbing Danny, pulling him close, no lust in the moment, unlike a few days ago, he took a deep hopeful breath and pushed a messy kiss upon the half ghost. “Danny, I like you,” John was finally able to whisper.

“Took you long enough mate,” Danny’s smile was wide and hopeful, grabbing John’s neck to kiss him once again. John knows that he’s in for a lifetime of puns, but he is kissing Danny, kissing the half ghost he doesn’t regret a single thing.

[angronsjewelbeetle]

Okay see before you had my interest but now you have my attention /half-joking (this means I turned notifications on for you)

How about the Primarchs when you cuddle with them? I'm so sorry I've sent so many asks but you write so well 😭😭😭🥺👉👈

~⭐️

NO APOLOGIES NEEDED PLEASE SEND MORE!! You are a fucking delight and my first "named" anon I'm so exciteddd!!

..also FUCK YES CUDDLES!! This is also combined with sharing a bed and sleeping together btw.

Primarchs and cuddling ~♡

Includes: everyone.

Lion: plonks himself by you, face down on the pillows. Will grunt at you if you cuddle into him. But don't let him fool you; the moment you fall asleep he curls around you like a big ol cat. You will wake up being spooned.

Fulgrim: lays on his back with you on top of him. He wraps both arms around your waist and kisses your forehead, he likes it if you kiss his collarbone. He plays with your hair and if your head is shaved, he likes to run his hand over it. Sometimes you wake up under him with his head on your chest, head bowed and peacefully asleep.

Perturabo: not the most cuddly man, but his beloved cracks that shit like porcelain. He lays on his side and curls around you, he says nothing, only holds you, arms around your waist, chin pressed to your shoulder.

Khan: he fully encourages you to use his tit pillows. He cups one hand around the back of your head and kisses your forehead, his other hand rests on your waist. Soft furs cover what his body doesn't and his heartbeats are steady against your ear.

Leman: another tit pillow man. He's fat and he's soft and comfortable and you need no blankets while you are with him. You'll cook. He lays on his side and tucks you in as tightly as he can against him.

Rogal: at first it's like trying to cuddle a statue. But if you wriggle in and tuck your head against his neck, he absolutely melts. His legs curl up and he wraps around you, a big wall of warmth. If you hear his breath stutter in your ear, let him be.

Sanguinius: two words. Wing cocoon. He curls up in a ball of feathers and arms and legs and with you at the centre, he becomes a shield to the outside world. Peppers kisses across your shoulder and face.

Ferrus: his arms are cold, but the rest of him burns like a furnace, press your ear to his chest and deal with the icy brush of his hands upon your back, and he will murmurs praises of you accomplishments into the crown of your head.

Angron: holds himself as still as he can on his side, his bicep twitches occasionally. He doesn't sleep, and if he does, it's brief and his eyes are open for it. The Nails are uncomfortable against his scalp, and he doesn't sleep well on the bed - he doesn't think he deserves to be on it, let alone with you. He's warm to the touch, and his eyes beg you, so please, throw a leg over his hip if it's comfortable for you, use his arm as a pillow, tuck your head against his neck. Or simply spoon him, it's a moment he'll treasure for as long as he lasts.

Guilliman: big spoons you, kisses your cheek, makes a downright ridiculous pun in your ear and sends you both into uncontrollable laugher, it's nice to hear and his chest is warm where his heartbeats and laughter thumps against your back.

Mortarion: lays on his back, you pressed to his side, an arm around your back, mumbles stories of his until you fall asleep to the rumble of his voice in his chest, and only then does he tilt his head and falls asleep with his nose in your hair.

Magnus: you may fall asleep with him at his usual size, but when you wake up, he'll be definitively smaller, more human sized, and he's almost laying on top of you, lightly snoring where his nose is smushed into the pillows.

Konrad: his arms are tight around your waist, mouth pressed to your shoulder, he sometimes talks, stilted half-sentences and on one memorable occasion he has sat up, jolting you awake, yelled something about...actually, you're not really sure what, and then proceeded to curl up around you protectively and squeeze your breath out.

Horus: hands on your hips, peppers kisses across your face and tickles you a little to make you squirm, tells you about his day, might make up an insane story just to have you sit up and demand to know if he's kidding. He just smirks and tells you if you kiss him he'll tell you.

Lorgar: lays on his side and stares at you, he won't touch unless you give him permission, but once you do, he squirms down the bed to cup your cheek and press kisses to any distinctive marks of yours - freckles, moles, scars, anything - he's reverent and devoted and you fall asleep with your noses touching.

Vulkan: a living furnace. Seriously, like Leman, you will not need a blanket while you are with him, barely even a sheet, he sleeps bare chested, and he tells you how much he loves you every time you do this, makes a joke with his hand resting toastily against your back, kisses your nose and falls asleep smiling.

Corvus: starfished across the bed on his back, blankets only half covering him, more wrapped around you - he's a cold sleeper. He looks peaceful, mouth wide open, completely gone to the world, but every time you move, he wakes up, looking at you, he mumbles occasionally, sometimes he'll give a giddy little giggle and slur an "I love you".

Alpharius: absolute bed and YOU hog. You're going to have to fight him to get away, because he isn't gonna let you out of his arms until he's ready to get up. Which, by the way, is never. He's laying partially on top of you, heartbeats pressed against your back or chest. He drools, by the way. Omegon doesn't.

[fishyvamp]

Joey: -the blatant disrespect coming from your pie hole is unacceptable.

S/O: Pie hole? That's not very sigma grind of you.

Joey: What the fuck are you saying. It's like talking to an alien

S/O: Yeah, I guess you'd need to be rizz level 5 to get that

Joey: I HAVE rizz- oh my god you've infected me

TW: minor degradation, alcohol

LMFAO 😂 I'm going to be honest I think Joey would get sick of it and have you bent over the bar just to keep you quiet. So obligatory 18+ MDNI, smut under the cut. A drabble in which Joey tried to prove he ain't an old man

He knows he's going to lose the fight, the alcohol running rampant in his system. You know all his words and aren't as thrown off by them as he is of yours, but if your too busy moaning his name at least you won't be roasting him for being an old man, 19 ain't that old man.

"what's wrong doll face, Cat got your tongue?" Joey teases as he drags his fingers along your sex dipping into your fluttering hole. Body caging you to the bar. "Is this enough rizz for you?" He whispers huskily in your ear. You just chuckle bracing yourself on the bar moaning slightly, "big yikes," you huff out, "acting hella cringe." A growl escaping him, "Say one of those words one more time and I'll..."

"you'll what? get jiggy with it?" You joke, Joey looked down with a frown your smile bright and infuriating. "I'll walk away, I'll get you all hot and bothered and leave you here blue balled and needy, I'll tell Frank you're in a time out." His fingers going deeper brushing and teasing you. "I know you, I know how much you need this old man to get you off." His breath ghosting the shell of you ear. Teeth grazing softly as he removes his hand drifting upwards tracing the outline of your belly feeling it twitch under his touch, "I know you need this, so be a good toy and behave." His words low and dangerous as he lifts up.

A free Hand undoing his pants as he frees himself, heavy cock bouncing against your thigh. His hand still in place, teasing your hole feeling the way you clench around just one finger, he was determined to prove to you that he wasn't old, determined to make your brain such a mess that you forget those silly words that drive him loco. Another finger met with the other sliding inside you stretching you. Joey grunted with impatience as he lines up the cock with your tight hole moaning loudly as he thrust in. He fit like a fucking glove. Your warmth like velvet on his sensitive skin.

Grunting he picks you off the counter fucking into you harshly, "If I was old could I do this?" He asks hearing you whine in satisfaction. The weight of you feeling nice in his arms, the killer strength of the entity making you feel weightless to him. "Such a good toy, proper little fuck hole." He grunts in time with his thrusts holding you in the air nails digging into his back. You were so loud and yet so quiet. Already coming on his cock as he brushes your sweet spot over and over again. His own belly rolling and twisting. Balls begining to tighten pulling in tight as he unloads inside you. Panting heavily he falls on the couch nearby looking you brushing at your sweaty hair. "How's that for an old man."

You look up coming down from your high with a big ol', "bet." He just blinks in disbelief, "what the fuck does that mean?!"

[monstercampus]

What kind of relationship does Priam and Antón have? Antón is a high ranking noble vampire and Priam is a fairly ordinary werewolf. Did they click immediately or did their friendship take some time to develop. What is the general attitude between werewolves and vampires? Would vampires gossip about Antóns roommate. Did Priams pack have any concerns?

I absolutely love your writing and the wonderful world you’ve created. I’m enamored with the lore especially. It’s just so good!!

TY!!! hehe i love writing it just as much <3

The general consensus between vampires and werewolves is that, despite a long history of conflict between the two species, there's only some residual grudges lingering about rather than full-blown hatred. If anything, it's more likely that humans will perpetuate the notion of werewolves vs. vampires from popular idioms to porn categories, but it's a bit out of style to pretend there's a big feud especially when there are so many monster types roaming around nowadays. It's definitely-mostly-considered a "grampa you're getting dementia" kind of conflict rather than anything wholly profound.

Which directly contradicts the relationship Priam and Antón have. They get into it a lot. For as often as they get along they have twice as many instances of arguing or fighting outright, which usually turns into a wrestling match on the living room floor until somebody shouts 'uncle'. It's generally considered somewhat snobbish to judge another monster by their species (with exceptions, of course) so only Antón's more noble, well-bred vampire peers have anything to say about his roommate, thinly veiled by criticisms of his brutishness or lazy nature to cover it up.

On the other hand, the werewolves knew Antón somewhat around the same time Priam met him, because they met on the first day of school--when Priam was trying out for the football team, and accidentally launched the ball right into the back of Antón's head as he walked by. As you can imagine, it made for a rather awkward introduction later when they were introduced to each other as dormmates by the R.A, an icepack held to the vampire's skull and a glare piercing through his new roommate's forehead. Since then they've had a kind of evolving rivalry, where sometimes they're cool and sometimes they get into it like siblings. They're kind of like an old married couple, or at least squabble like they are. In truth they actually like each other a lot and enjoy spending time together, even if their personalities clash more often than not. In fact, up until the human came along, Priam's fellow werewolves often made jokes about Antón being "the ol' ball and chain" just to tease him--but now he's got a new cutie to share with too!

[irisintheafterglow]

End Game #5 (volleyball captain!gojo x you)

summary: your school holds a practice match with kyoto, and two second-years give your team a little trouble.

word count: 3k

cw/tags: language, jjk volleyball au, mentions of food and eating, eventual best friends to lovers (not this chapter BUT WE'RE MAKING PROGRESS I SWEAR), satoru pulls another your mom joke

note: HERE IT IS the long awaited part 5 :D introducing hitter!todo and setter!kamo to rival your fav hitter/setter duos on the tokyo team. long chapter, sorry in advance but i hope you enjoy!

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated !! thank you for all of the support you've given this series :)

“We haven’t held a practice match with Kyoto in years, right?”

“That is correct.”

“And, in that time, have they ever had a different coach?”

“Not that I know of, no.”

“Interesting.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Nothing, I was just–”

“They’re wondering why ol’ Yoshinobu looks like he was present for the Big Bang.” Your team’s captain finishes your explanation from behind you, much to the amusement of Yaga. You meet his gaze incredulously, silently asking why he wasn’t with the rest of the team warming up. He shrugs and gives you a signature lopsided grin that makes your heart do a somersault. “You’re not wrong, though. That man has more wrinkles than a wet paper towel.” 

Your coach draws his mouth into a tight line to suppress a chuckle. “I cannot disagree.”

“Yaga!” A surprised laugh finally slips past your lips while Satoru settles into his place at your side, casually stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. His electric-blue eyes survey the players running serve drills, cool and calculated. “Yuta’s floats have improved tremendously,” you comment, and Satoru hums in agreement. His eyes narrow on a ball striking the top edge of the net and barely falling over to the other side. You feel Yaga intake a deep breath in preparation to yell directions, but Satoru beats him to it, airily reminding Yuuji to take a running start before jumping. Your eyebrows subtly raise in surprise seeing him take initiative and you can’t help smiling at him out of the corner of your eye. 

“Shouldn’t you be on the court, capt–” His head snaps in your direction, laser focused on the last word that you cut off just in time. His eyes twinkle with arrogant satisfaction and you stick your tongue out defiantly.

“What was that, my lovely manager?” He cups his hand to his ear and leans in closer, movements animated like a cartoon character. 

You push his body away but he doesn’t budge. “I was asking why you’re not on the court warming up with the rest of the team, stupid.”

He hums skeptically. “Sure.” You roll your eyes and shake your head slightly in exasperation, wishing again for that I am done with Gojo Satoru bumper sticker. Yaga shoots Satoru a look over your head that makes him recoil a little bit, running a hand through his hair. “If you’re really wondering, I’m reading Kyoto’s players.” 

“The third years?” You nod toward the tall players slamming powerful serve after powerful serve toward your team’s side. 

“No, they haven’t been a threat since I was a first-year. Their serves are intimidation tactics.” Your eyebrows furrow confusedly and you track Satoru’s dark eyes. “I’m reading them.” His fingers rest on your head and gently rotate your gaze to two players leisurely prepping serves. In any other situation, you’d swat his hand away, but he was surprisingly correct. It hadn’t occurred to you to analyze the other team; your focus was preoccupied on the improvements of your own players. But, now that they were directly in your line of sight, you were able to properly deduce why Satoru had taken interest in them. “See ‘em now?”

“Yeah, I do.” The one closer to you was an average height but built. Thick, corded muscle ran over his biceps and calves, flexing as he stretched his neck and legs. He bounces the ball he holds on the ground a few times, clapping to himself routinely. Then, when a scan reveals none of your players are watching him, he fires off a serve neatly landing on the backline of the court. Your players don’t blink an eye as they’re still focused on warming up, but you finally understand why Satoru was watching him. His serves were like a bullet, precise and gone in a blink as if he teleported the ball wherever he wanted. 

“Who is he?”

“His name’s Todo. One of two second-year prodigies that’ll carry Kyoto to Nationals if we don’t stop them first.”  

“He’s that good?”

“Him and that one, over there.” He points to a player tucked into the back corner of the gym, spinning the ball on a delicate finger. He was one of the tallest on the team but you didn’t notice him because of his place in the shadows. Cloudy gray eyes shined as his captain announced the start of spiking drills and you gasped when he set the ball with accuracy nearly on-par with Satoru. The ball moved in a straight, unwavering line, like an arrow that halted just in time for a hitter to punch it over the net. “That’s Kamo. Megs and I have known him since middle school. He’s talented, though his family is a little wacky.” 

“Satoru, you can’t just say things like that,” you whisper, begging him to drop the volume of his voice a little.

He doesn’t. “It’s true. Some relatives kicked him and his mom out when he was little.”

“What does that have to do with volleyball?” 

“Nothing. It’s just trivia. We’ll be fine, either way.” He smirks down at you and you understand. Even if he was reading the Kyoto team, he wasn’t worried. He was confident and self-assured as always, but had a certain determination in his eye that told you he wasn’t going to hold back despite it being a practice match. His lean bicep bumps your shoulder reassuringly. “Hey, if you’re nervous, I’ll just piss off Suguru again. Get him fired up, you know?”

You shake your head adamantly, one hand coming up to cover your face as you squeeze your eyes shut at the memory of running practice in Yaga’s absence. “Please do not. I don’t want to have to drag you out by your earlobes again.” 

“You had to do what?” You and Satoru both stiffen, completely forgetting that Yaga was listening to your conversation the entire time. You attempt to stutter out an explanation while your captain makes a quick escape, bowing unceremoniously in salute and running to join the rest of his players. Soon after, Satoru is pulling the team into a huddle, murmuring warnings about Todo and Kamo and reminding everyone that they’re paying for dinner if they lose. However, instead of groans and protests, you watch Satoru light a decisive fire in his players’ eyes by encouraging them to try the new techniques they’ve been working on.

“If you fail,” he said, “that’s okay.” A lanky arm slapped Suguru on the back and another pulled a tense Nanami closer to his side. “We’ll be here to support you. So, don’t lose.” The team’s fists punch up into the air and you beam at their earnestness. Yaga seemed pleased as well, muttering something under his breath about someone finally getting through his stubbornness. 

Kyoto wins the first set, but Tokyo pulls back ahead to snag the second, leaving the third set as a tiebreaker. Between scribbling point counts and player stats in your notebook, you keep a keen eye on the two players Satoru was talking about earlier. Todo was a talented player, though he had an odd habit of clapping for himself before every serve. You also caught Megumi scowling as Todo talked up Yuuji between plays, catching parts of their conversation revolving around tastes in women and TV shows. Kamo, on the other hand, was relatively quiet. He didn’t speak unless it was a recommendation on strategy or directing the ball to a hitter. Megumi was competing head-to-head with Kamo often, despite Satoru’s attempts to draw attention away from his underclassman. He had a weird fascination with Megumi, you could tell, as he targeted him for 90% of his spikes. Todo and Kamo proved to be a threatening duo in the same way Satoru and Suguru or Megumi and Yuuji were; to your amusement, they also bickered just as much. 

During the last break before the third set while you hand out water and towels, Suguru follows behind you like a duckling, waiting for you to have a moment to talk. 

You catch his eye over your shoulder as you drop towels into the laundry basket. “Did I forget that special flavor thing for yours again? I swear I remembered to put it in because of the one that goes in Satoru’s.” 

“What? Oh, no, that’s not what I’m here to talk about.” He crosses his arms and his sharp eyebrows pull together in deep thought, taking a deep breath. 

You tilt your head to the side curiously, concerned about what was irking him so much in the middle of a match. “Is everything okay, Su?”

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing is wrong, I promise.” You raise your eyebrows in anticipation of his explanation. “I was just wondering what you said to Satoru that made him like…that.” 

“Like what?”

“Like acting as a serious captain.” 

“Oh.” You’re speechless for a moment, unable to string together a satisfactory answer. “I just told him that he needed to try a little harder.” It was the truth but for some reason, you still felt you were holding something back. 

“For your sake?”

“No, for the team’s sake. Why would it be for my sake?” Suguru is silent, eyes widening ever so slightly like he’d accidentally revealed a secret, glancing behind you at the open air. You feel confident enough to press further. “Suguru, why would he try more for my sake?” 

In a blink, he schools his face into careful blankness, shrugging nonchalantly. “Don’t know. It was a weird question, sorry.”

“What was a weird question?” Satoru’s voice pipes up from over your shoulder and you jump. “You can’t be asking people weird questions, Suguru. It’s impolite.” 

“You don’t even know the question, idiot.” Indignancy washes over Suguru’s blank features. “What would you know about manners?”

“Ask your mother what she thinks of my manners–”

“Can we please not do this again?” Your hands press against their chests and you laugh nervously. “It’s a miracle all three of us survived last time.”

“Fine. After all…” Satoru’s voice drops to a menacing volume. 

“Kyoto has a set to lose.” 

The third set made you slightly dizzy as both teams were losing stamina. You didn’t know much about Kyoto when it was exhausted, but you knew your team when it was down. Yuuji’s serves started getting closer to the top edge of the net again, Megumi’s sets were messier, and Panda’s blocks were increasingly hole-filled. Suguru glared across the court at the other team, moisture glistening on his forehead from effort. Even Nanami was winded, wiping sweat from the lenses of his glasses and shaking his head furiously to force his mind back into the game. Your team played their hardest, as did their opponents, but a glance at the score showed 12-10 in favor of Kyoto. With only a handful of points left to win, it looked like Tokyo would be paying for dinner. 

Still, as much as they tried, Kyoto was no match for Satoru’s sheer will. 

Where the rest of his team was panting and on the brink of collapsing, Satoru was just getting warmed up. His serves were at their most powerful and his sets stayed accurate as Kamo’s declined in quality. His fists opened and closed as the score tied up at 13-13, a habit he only did when he was ready for a fight. Megumi pulls a ridiculously successful dump that has you cheering from Yaga’s side, pulling Tokyo ahead 14-13. With the last point on the line, you caught Satoru muttering something in Suguru’s ear, to which Suguru’s jaw dropped in disbelief. He shook his head no, continuing to protest at Satoru’s back as his captain broadcasted a hand signal you’d never seen before and prepared possibly the last serve of the match. 

“It’ll be fine, Suguru! We’re the strongest!” He reassures his nauseous-faced hitter as his opponents snicker, and gives you a quick wink before serving the ball at 45% of his power. Your eyebrows skyrocket in shock as Kyoto receives it easily and makes to tie the score again. What the hell was he doing? Was he purposefully trying to tie up the score? Kamo smirks as he gives a practically perfect set to Todo, who blasts it straight down. You flinch and wait for the gut-churning sound of the ball hitting the floor, but it doesn’t come. Yuuji’s forearm slides under the ball just in time, and he rolls to the side. The receive isn’t the cleanest, dropping toward the middle of the court. 

“You better know what you’re doing!” Suguru calls after his captain, who sprints from the back left corner diagonally toward the net. Suguru mirrors this action from the right corner and like a machine, they screech to a stop in the middle and use that momentum to throw themselves up toward the net. With a mischievous grin, Satoru calls out Inumaki’s name, who’s already in the air from the backline as the ball carefully falls into the libero’s outstretched fingers. 

Your body finds itself standing on its own as Inumaki sets it right to Satoru’s open palm where your captain pulls the nastiest cross shot you’d ever witnessed. Your throat rips a shocked scream that blends seamlessly with the rest of the players’ exclamations of awe. Yaga’s mouth hangs open like a fish, as does Yoshinobu’s while your team swarms around their captain. Suguru, from the other end of the net, appears on the verge of passing out but still finds his hand proudly clapped with Inumaki’s. When Satoru’s eyes find yours, you can’t remember the last time he smiled at you so blindingly, nor can you remember a time beaming just as happily.

He skips the joint dinner between Tokyo and Kyoto, humbly excusing himself when you leave and announcing something about walking you home safely. He falls into step next to you, shoes tapping on the sidewalk in sync with yours. 

“You’re not gonna get dinner with the team?” You ask, well aware that he wouldn’t have attended unless you were there too. 

“Meh,” he drawls. “Yuuji can fend for himself for a night against Todo, and Megumi needs to learn to play nice with Kamo.” 

The corner of your mouth turns up and you find yourself admiring the way the moonlight glittered in Satoru’s eyes. “You say as if they’re your children.”

“Are they not? I am a single father.” 

You giggle. “Yeah, you definitely are. I just didn’t think that, with your extroverted ass, you’d skip an outing with such a large group.”

His mouth quirks carefreely, beautiful eyes tracing constellations in the night. “We have a tradition, don’t we?”

“Oh, you’re not going to ask that one person I got mad about the other night?” The words slip from your lips before you can stop them, and Satoru points at you accusingly. 

“So you were mad! I knew it!” 

“You brought up replacing me with some random stranger; of course I was mad!” You point back at him, poking his chest. He cries out in fake pain, flailing his limbs like an octopus. “I like spending time with you, you know. Even when I don’t tell you.” Your voice trails off and you look anywhere but his face, embarrassed. 

You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, I know. For the record, I like spending time with you too.” He exhales tiredly. “Why’d you think you’re the only one I wanted to get dinner with tonight?”

“Because you like me better than everybody else,” you croon, fluttering your eyelashes dramatically. You expect him to recoil in faux-fear; however, your heart skips as he steps closer and peers down at you. 

“Exactly. Now you’re starting to get it.” His voice is soft with something like exasperation, but the tenderness is gone in a snap. “However, I’d like to do something different tonight, if that’s alright with you.”

Your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Depends on what it is. Are you going to make me eat something I don’t like?”

“No,” he replies, drawing out the last vowel for emphasis. “I’d never.” You look at him skeptically, remembering the time he made you eat a barbecue-flavored cricket. The memory must have occurred to him at the same time and he matches your skeptical expression. “Don’t look at me like that; you said you liked it.” Your mouth opens in retaliation, but he isn’t finished. 

“Let’s go somewhere nicer tonight, not just shitty fast food.”

“I thought you loved shitty fast food.”

“I do, but today is a day of celebration! It demands a different meal than burgers.” He cringes and sticks his tongue out in mock disgust. 

“So, what? You want slightly more expensive burgers?”

“If that’s what you want, sure.” He runs an elegant hand through his hair and you fight the sudden urge to weave your fingers in his. “Let’s go somewhere nice. I’ll even pay.” 

You scoff. “With what money?” He’s quiet again, tilting his head back and forth like a kid caught with too much candy. You understand without a word, mainly because this situation occurred once before. “Satoru!” 

His arms gesture to open air defensively. “It was right there!”

“You don’t remember the last time you stole it?”

“If I recall correctly, he wasn’t that mad that I borrowed it.”

“Yeah, that’s because I was there with you, and don’t try to say it was borrowing! If you weren’t related to him, it would be considered theft.” 

“What dear old dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him, babe.” Your face heats at how easily the pet name slips from his pretty mouth and you pray he doesn’t notice. “So? What do you say? I promise to take full responsibility and also eat anything you don’t like.” His finger crosses an “X” over his heart and you can’t resist the genuine excitement on his face. 

“Fine. But I’m paying for dessert.”

He stamps his foot in childish protest. “That’s not how this–”

“I don’t care if it’s not how it works, Satoru. Consider it payback for not asking that rando to dinner.” 

Even after he walks you home and leaves you a smiling, feeling-filled mess at your windowsill, you’re left wondering who that mystery person is.