emperorundying

[stinkythehutt]

i can’t even imagine how bad being a MECHANIC on tatooine must’ve fucked with obi-wan. there is something about his exile on that planet which is so much like purgatory or hell to me… being forced to live out the childhood traumas of the one person you couldn’t quite get it right with, after said person snapped and massacred your entire family. not that i think the fact that anakin did that is obi-wan’s fault at all but there’s no way it didn’t FEEL like some kind of divine punishment or lesson - having to learn so intimately what precise experiences made anakin so hard to reach & vulnerable to palpatine’s manipulation. like that’s insane. no wonder he then became a barback to siphon free liquor into a huge flask he’d carry around with him always. before that i guess he was just brewing moonshine in the cave

[putriddivine]

i love kombucha so much but the idea of MAKING it still seems wild to me

[kindafooey]

I ran out of homemade apple cider at the best part of Tuesday Night Intoxicated Gaming 😭😭😭😭😭😭 tragedy

[syls-recipes]

Monkey Booze

Ingredients:

1 orange, sliced

1 persimmon, sliced

1 peach, sliced

2 limes, sliced

10 cherries, pitted & halved

1 cup sake

355 ml. raspberry lambic

355 ml. peach lambic

Place the fruit in a large pitcher. Add the sake & lambics, stir until well combined. Taste & adjust the sugar levels based on your palate. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour & serve.

[skenpiel]

im sure theres something to be said about drinking vodka through a baby bottle. but im not gonna be the one to say anything about it

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x f! reader, best friend! Eddie, friends to lovers, mentions of bodily injury, mentions of masturbation (m), oral sex(m)

Summary: Eddie hurts his dick and as his best friend, you decide to help him ease his pain.

WC: 3K

A/N: I am so tickled by the idea of Eddie wrecking his cock and balls on accident so I had to write about it and wedge in some spice as well. Enjoy!

When Eddie had told you he wasn't feeling well enough to hangout tonight he should have realized that someone like you, caring and loyal almost to a fault, would take it upon themselves to help in any way they could, showing up at his trailer a few hours later with dinner and a zipper pouch full of medicine he might need.

"Ding dong, I'm here to take care of you, Munson", you'd gleamed at him playfully.

It was no secret that he didn't take the best care of himself whenever he was under the weather. Eddie was known for skipping his meds and spending most of the day swathed in a cocoon made of blankets, emerging hours later to pad into the kitchenette where he'd nibble at cold, leftover takeout before weakly traipsing back to bed.

So, when you showed up at his front door with your arms wound around a thermos full of homemade chicken soup and a Tupperware container warm with baked salmon, he should have felt happy. He should have felt grateful for the trouble you'd gone through just to make sure that he ate well and was looked after while he was on his own but instead, all he felt was the sharp, piercing sting of guilt.

The thing was, Eddie wasn't really sick.

He wasn't running a fever like he'd claimed over the phone. He'd purposely hidden the real reason why he couldn't come over to your place and watch a movie like the two of you had planned because well, he was embarrassed.

The truth was, Eddie couldn't come hangout because his dick and balls were killing him.

It had happened last night.

He'd been spread out on the couch while Wayne was away, dressed only in a pair of boxers snug around his hips with a movie playing on TV to keep him entertained throughout the night.

As usual, a blunt was held between his plush lips for most of the evening too, a bottle of jack by his feet which he'd pick up and gulp from time to time.

The combination of alcohol and the weed served a particular purpose that night – helping to make the tooth achingly bad acting in Zombie Lake more tolerable, a movie he'd picked solely for the gratuitous nudity.

Forty minutes of naked, unsuspecting women wading in zombie infested waters later and he was more than a little strung out at that point, rendered blissfully languid while he lay slumped against the couch.

Eddie had picked that moment to reach for the whiskey with his bloodshot, half lidded eyes still plastered on the TV screen, missing twice before he managed to pick it up with light fingers.

Bringing the three quarters full bottle up to his lips for another swig, that was when the booze slipped out of his loose grip, too high to react quickly enough and catch it before it was too late.

With his thighs spread far apart, the full weight of the bottle landed directly on his crotch, the pain shooting from between his legs like daggers, enough to make him feel like the air had been kicked right out of his lungs.

The carpet and couch soaked up most of the spilled whiskey, the nearly empty bottle lying on its side on the floor while Eddie couldn't do much but cup both hands over his junk and curl into himself, trying to grunt, groan and hiss through the pain as tears brewed in his eyes.

Now, it's almost been a full 24 hours since the incident happened but his dick's still super sore from the impact. And to make matters worse his balls are blue in more ways than one.

See, Eddie's got the kind of sex drive that had him jacking off at least twice a day to keep himself sane but now thanks to his injury, he's already feeling pent up, unable to tug his swollen cock and give himself that much needed release.

So, though your outfit isn't provocative, it's still you, his best friend whom he's harbored less than platonic feelings for so of course your denim shorts and your tank top are making him want to act up, the swirling desire at the base of his stomach burning even hotter with the way you're taking care of him, showing him a level of concern no one else has before.

It isn't fair, he thinks, having to sit across from you on the couch while he tries to fight off the growing ache in his cock, tries to will his sore member soft for the sake of your friendship as well as curbing his own pain.

You're yet to notice his dilemma though, rummaging through your bag while Eddie tries not to let the scent of your body wash trigger flashes of you sitting in your bath tub with your bare tits above water, all wet and soapy with your nipples all hard and the bubbles trailing between your cleavage and–

"Shit", he hisses when a twinge of pain flares as his dick starts to twitch in his sweats.

"Everything okay, Eds?", you look up from your bag when you hear it but he's quick to wipe the grimace from his face, faking his best smile at you.

"All good. So, what are we doing next?"

He's relieved when he watches your soft smile slowly return to your face, the kind that reaches your eyes and curves your lips in that way that makes him want to reach out and cup your cheek, running his thumb over your soft skin before he tells you how pretty he thinks you are.

"How about casual sex?", you ask, all chipper.

"…what?"

In an instant Eddie's whole body alternates between flashes of frigid cold and scorching hot. Had he heard you right? were you…offering? fuck, his dick is throbbing so bad in his sweats right now.

You dive your hand back into your bag, pulling out a VHS tape and holding it out for Eddie to see.

"Figured a comedy would be for the best", you waved the tape in his gawking face, his stomach somersaulting when he reads the title. Of all the movies you could have picked, you just had to go pick the one called Casual Sex? didn't you?

"Plus, I know how much you like Lea Thompson so I figured this would be a good pick", you smiled sweetly at him, tapping a finger over the actress pictured on the cover.

Another sharp prick of guilt and another dull ache radiates in Eddie's crotch because his mind's being especially cruel to him right now, dredging up unwanted memories of the time he wore out a copy of Howard the Duck by beating his meat to Lea Thompson's scenes all day and night.

"Uh, got anything else?", he croaks, clearing his throat when you narrow your eyes at him a little suspiciously.

After a little back and forth, the two of you end up watching The Thing to Eddie's relief. Nothing there that might trigger a boner except the couple of times you squealed adorably when Kurt Russell popped up on screen, kicking your feet and hugging your knees to your chest, inadvertently making your cleavage more noticeable over the neckline of your tank top.

Eddie's able to ignore it for the most part, that was until you offered to help clean up a little once the movie was over, bending over in your denim shorts to gather the empty soda cans sitting on the table in front of the couch.

Despite the alarm bells echoing in his head, he can't seem to help it, eyes trailing up the back of your smooth, bare thighs, settling on your ass and the way he can just about make out a peek of your cheeks now that your shorts have ridden up high.

Oh shit.

Up until now you'd been pretty pert all night but when you turn around, you're instantly startled by the look on Eddie's face, all twisted up and pinched as he presses a cushion into his lap and begins to wince.

"Eddie, what's wrong?", you set the cans aside, dropping back down on to the couch beside him.

Yet another flash of pain courses through him when he catches sight of the way your breasts bounce in your tank top when you take a seat. Jesus, this wasn't going to be easy, was it?

Eddie tries to mask it but you can read the pain there easily, especially when you're so close to him now, close enough that your shoulder brushes against his bicep.

"Eddie please, you can tell me. What's wrong?"

If there was a way out of this without having to admit the truth, without having to tell you how he'd given a whole new meaning to the term whiskey dick, he couldn't seem to find it, feeling helpless as he crumbles under the weight of your concerned, round-eyed stare.

"I lied, okay? I'm not sick, I just…"

Insides twisting, he has to squeeze his eyes shut the moment he sees the confusion register on your face, the way your eyebrows draw together and your eyes narrow. It's too much for him to handle and it all comes flooding out at once.

"I dropped a bottle of whiskey on my dick last night and now the damn thing's killing me because you look so– uh. Fuck. You look so…like, this and it's just– it's a lot"

Daring to open his eyes again, he finds that your own eyes have gone understandably wide, your lips slightly parted too and he hates himself for thinking how badly he'd like to slip his fingers between them and watch you suck.

"Oh. So like, is it– are you hurt badly?", you break the silence after a few seconds of processing his word vomit, blinking up at Eddie like you're fascinated to learn more about his injured cock.

"I mean, I don't think it's anything I need to go to hospital over but yeah. Hurts a lot", he replies a little sheepishly, a side of Eddie you don't see very often because he's far and away from the shy type that's for sure.

"Like when you get hard?", you tilt your head to the side curiously.

Eddie blinks back at you when you say it, clearly taken aback by how casually you're treating this whole situation after how hard he'd tried to hide it but he manages to answer you with a slow nod.

He shivers next when suddenly you drop your gaze to the cushion he's got pressed over his aching boner. "Hm… it’s probably not going to go away anytime soon either, huh? we should do something about that", you suggest thoughtfully.

In that moment, all he can do is look at you in disbelief, sweat beading at his temple and his fingers trembling on top of the cushion. This couldn't really be happening, could it? His best friend since, forever, offering to get him off?

Eyes drifting up to his once more, you lean a little closer, voice dropping down to a whisper. "I could help you", you offer, tentatively placing your hand on Eddie's knee. "Only if you want me to."

Adams apple bobbing, it hurts Eddie when he swallows, finding his throat's turned dry and tight in the last few seconds.

"Seriously? you'd actually do that? um, are you sure?"

You bite back a laugh because the look on his face is nothing short of adorable, all wide eyed and eager like a puppy awaiting a treat.

"Well, you could sit here with your bruised dick and keep whimpering like a baby or you could let me make you feel better. What's it going to be, Eds?", you quirk up an eyebrow at him at the same time the corner of your mouth picks up into a playful smirk.

"The second one please", he answers quickly, his cheeks flooding with so much color you kind of want to pinch them and tease him about how cute he looks right now.

"Thought so."

Smiling, you pick yourself up off the couch, carefully lowering yourself to kneel between Eddie's legs when you place your hands on his knees and gently encourage him to spread them apart.

He's quick to help you when you reach for the waistband of his sweatpants next, carefully pulling both it and his boxers down to finally free his cock.

For both of you, it's surreal being in this position – Eddie with his cock out, all hard and throbbing for you and you wedged perfectly between his legs like a puzzle piece he'd been searching for all his life.

You have to take a few seconds to admire it; the way the length of him blushes red and curves up towards his belly, the way the many veins wrap around his thickness and the dark, wiry thatch of hair at his base, untrimmed and full. Just how you'd always imagined based on how wild Eddie kept the hair on his head.

Eyes trailing lower, you have to resist the urge to palm his balls to keep from possible hurting him. You want to feel the weight of them in your hand though because you can't help but think they look so full and that makes you feel sorry for Eddie and how he'd had to deal with that discomfort all day.

The thought has you pushing your lips out into a sympathetic little pout, hand reaching out to finally touch him. Gently, you use your fingers to pull back his soft foreskin, leaning forward and parting your lips to delicately kitten lick at his red, leaking tip, keeping your eyes fixed on his face for any signs of discomfort.

You're pleased to find none, chest blooming with pride as you watch complete bliss wash over Eddie's face, swirling your tongue gently and collecting beads of precum when you hear him sigh and moan with relief.

"Oh my god, that's – that's really fucking good. Please keep going", he whines unabashedly because that persistent ache that's been troubling him since last night is being soothed so fucking well by your eager tongue. At this point he doesn't even care what kind of sounds you might pull out of him, desperate to feel more of your touch.

"Don't think I'm gonna last long", he gulps when you blink up at him with your pretty lips wrapped around his tip. "Your mouth feels too good."

His words make your confidence rise like steadily billowing smoke. "You don't need to", you tell him truthfully. "I just want to make you feel better", pressing a sweet kiss to the top of his smooth head, loving the way his breath stutters when you do it and the feeling of his sticky precum coating your lips in a shiny film. Like he's marking you..

As you continue, you refrain from using your hands while you pleasure him, keeping them pressed flat against his inner thighs, using only your mouth to kiss and lick up and down his rigid shaft as your nose nudges against it softly, returning to suckle at his tip from time to time.

It's easy to tell how badly Eddie must have needed this because he's unravelling so quickly under your touch as he throws his head back against the couch, his hands balled into fists by his sides while he whimpers about how well you're doing.

He's so pretty like this with his neck bared to you but you miss his gaze, removing your swelling lips from his cock to coax him back. "Don't hold back with me, Teddie. Tell me what you need and I'll give it to you", you coo earnestly.

Lifting his cloudy head to look down at you, it's Eddie's turn to surprise you when he brings one hand up to brush back a few strands of hair that'd gotten stuck to your damp cheek, a brief moment of tenderness that makes the butterflies resting in the depths of your stomach wake and beat their wings.

"Could you go a little lower?", he asks you, chest heaving and lips slightly pink from biting.

"Want me to lick your balls?", you try to clarify.

That makes him chuckle, a sweet, airy sound that makes you feel like there's sunlight spilling through the spaces between your ribs, filling up your whole chest with pleasant warmth.

"When d'you start talking like this, huh? Y' got such a dirty mouth on you, sweetheart", he teases you lightly, pulling his hand back so you can get back to working him.

You simply smile against his shaft in reply, feigning coy and innocence while trailing kisses lower and lower until you reach the seam of his balls. Placing your warm tongue flat against it, you draw it up slowly, wetting his heated skin before pressing more kisses against his sack, giggling when the hair there starts to tickle your lips.

"Think you can handle it if I take you in my throat? I'll go slow, I promise", you speak up from between his legs.

Given how often he's pumped his cock to the very thought of you throating him, Eddie nearly trips over himself trying to find the words to answer.

"Holy shit, yes please", he manages to let out with a strained groan.

That's all you needed to hear before you're taking him into your mouth again, bobbing up and down a few times slowly, careful not to let your teeth scrape his sensitive skin before you bob deeper and let him reach the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex and making your throat close around him nice and tight.

"Baby– baby, fuck I'm going to cum", he gasps, hips jerking, eyes squeezing shut.

And that's all the warning he can manage to give you before he's spilling down your throat, thick, creamy ropes of it which you swallow down eagerly and as best as you can.

Most of it slides down the warm, wet contracting walls of your throat but you realize just how pent-up Eddie must have been when your cheeks puff out a little with a generous amount of his cum that you couldn't manage to gulp down fast enough, pulling off of Eddie's softening cock with a mouthful of spend sitting warm on your tongue, coating the insides of your cheeks.

Sitting there on your knees while Eddie pants and recuperates, a deeply curious part of you has you swishing his cum in your mouth, savoring the distinct, tangy taste of him before you part your lips and let him look inside.

Exhausted but entirely amazed, he gawks at you and the viscous mess of spit and semen in your mouth, tempted to stick his own tongue in there and taste himself on you before you press your swollen lips back together and promptly swallow, a beaming smile breaking out on your face.

"See? told you I'd take care of you."

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Animal House

Danny can apparently shapeshift, and that’s great!

or it would be great if it wasn’t for the fact he got stuck as an eldritch cat. On the plus side, he can talk to animals like this. Downside: He lacks thumbs and his powers seem to be on the fritz. 

Luckily, he got picked up by the Waynes who seem to think he is some kind of alien cat. It’s actually pretty cool. Lots of soft things and window spots to soak in some sunlight, and, hell, the homemade cat food actually tastes pretty good.

Plus he’s been making friends!

Alfred the cat and Titus are his favorites. Ace is cool but he’s more like an uncle figure. Batcow is chill, but Jerry the turkey is an asshole. Then Dick brings his dog Haley aka Bitewing, so Jason brings his dog Dog, and the whole batfamily of pets is there vibing with Danny.

Then a family emergency happens requiring all hands on deck. Everyone is out of the house and even Alfred is too busy in the Batcave keeping an eye on things to pay attention to the animals. So that can mean only one thing...

Party time!

Danny invites all the DC animals that I remember exists. Krypto the super Dog, Comet the Super Horse, Streaks the Super Cat, Beppo the Super Monkey, Rec the Wonder Dog, and of course Bobo T. Chimpanzee aka Detective chimp, the worlds greatest detective, and the alcoholic ape that’s going to supply the whole party with booze

That’s right, Danny is hosting an animal rager at the Wayne manor, and between his malfunctioning powers, the other super powered animals, and a lot of alcohol, things are going to get WEIRD

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [9] - Engagement

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: A marriage decision leads to an honest conversation about expectations.

Word Count: 2700

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

For a couple of seconds, he gawked at you in complete silence before he managed to pull himself together.

“You—you’re saying yes?”

“I’m saying yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Please don’t ask me again because I have this feeling that I’ll change my mind if I think about it longer than a second,” you stated and he nodded fervently.

“Right,” he said. “Sure, I…wow. Okay, we’re—we’re getting married then.”

“Don’t say that either, I am not ready to hear it out loud,” you said with a sigh but before he could answer, a soft voice reached you both.

“Bucky?”

He closed his eyes shut for a moment as he scrunched up his face and you turned your head to look at the top of the stairs where a pretty girl in an oversized shirt –his shirt, if you had to guess— was leaning to the steel handrail.

“Hi,” she said. “Um, who are you?”

“His fiancée,” you stated, trying your hardest to ignore the pang of jealousy in your stomach and her eyes widened.

“Oh I didn’t—I didn’t know—”

“Neither did I when I woke up today,” you said with a click of your tongue. “Can you leave us please?”

“Sure!” she said as she rushed back to what you could only assume was the bedroom and Bucky shot you an apologetic look.

“Charm I’m sorry, if I knew…”

You walked past him, looking around the huge living room. Even you had to admit it looked incredibly beautiful and sleek, and the clear view of the city that you could see from the floor-to-ceiling windows was absolutely breathtaking. It was exactly what you would come up with if someone asked you what Bucky's apartment would look like; luxurious yet dark.

It didn’t mean you would tell him that though.

“I’m not moving in here by the way, this place is a dump,” you forced yourself to say, “If I wanted industrial interior, I’d buy myself a factory.”

“Right, sure—”

“That could be a fun project though,” you muttered more to yourself as the girl appeared at the top of the stairs again, and rushed downstairs, grabbing her coat off the rack.

“Sorry again,” she said without looking you in the eye and walked out of the apartment, and you heaved a deep sigh.

“None of this will be happening from now on by the way,” Bucky said in a haste and you rolled your eyes, then turned around to look at him.

“I don’t care about you enough to have that conversation with you,” you said. “I don’t give a fuck who you fuck, but you’re not going to make me look like an idiot in front of other people so when it inevitably happens, you’ll keep it a secret.”

“You don’t have to worry about that at all,” he said, his voice firm and you crossed your arms.

“So then,” you said. “I feel like we should both talk about the conditions before taking it to the families and the lawyers and everything.”

“I’m good with your conditions,” he said and you shot him a glare.

“You don’t even know my conditions.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You kept your eyes on him, a slight frown pulling your brows together before you took a deep breath and took off your coat to throw it over the couch.

“Either way, I think we should talk about it,” you insisted and leaned on your hip. “So do you have actual booze in here or are you going to pull out a homemade barrel or something?”

He smiled slightly.

“Take a seat sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll bring the wine.”

“And put a shirt on!” you said as you made your way to the table, ignoring the way your heart skipped a beat. “This is a business deal, honestly. There has to be a dress code.”

                                            *

When Bucky came to the table, he did in fact have his shirt on and he was carrying a bottle of wine with two glasses. He filled one and handed it to you, then filled his own and sat down. You took a sip, pleasantly surprised at the taste and lowered your glass, leaning back.

“Alright,” he said. “Tell me your conditions.”

You swirled the wine in your glass, deep in thought.

“Well first of all, we need to have a time table,” you said. “I don’t want to stay married to you for the rest of my life, and I’m pretty sure you share the sentiment.”

A small smile twitched the corners of his lips but he didn’t comment on it.

“But we can’t get a divorce as soon as I take over because that will lead to a lot of questions and I won’t have the time for distractions, the taking over process is chaotic enough,” you said. “I can’t be making any mistakes, especially considering I already have a rival.”

“Calling Ian a rival makes him sound more important than he actually is,” Bucky commented. “But I agree. We already know some of the families can disagree with this idea.”

“Stark?” you asked and he nodded.

“At least,” he said. “We have Steve and Sam’s support, my family and your family of course, but the rest…”

“You think Romanoff would disagree?”

Bucky thought for a moment.

“Probably, but I can talk to Nat I think,” he said. “She’d hear me out.”

“Barton?”  

“Barton is not going to do anything Nat disagrees with,” he said. “If we have Nat, we have Clint.”

“So that leaves us Stark,” you said, pursing your lips. “Who talks to him, you or me?”

He shot you an apologetic look.

“I mean we may try to sell it as love but at the end of the day, everyone will think about the business side of things,” he said. “It could be better if your father talked to him actually. He already dislikes me enough, and we’re changing the power balance in the city by doing this.”

“Alright,” you said. “My dad could do that.”

“Next?”

“I want your word that I will be included in everything,” you said. “None of the bullshit the earlier generation pulled. I will be in every meeting and I will be included in every single decision.”

He nodded. “Yeah, figured as much.”

“I mean it Bucky,” you said, looking him in the eye. “We will be equals completely.”

“We will be,” he assured you. “I swear on my honor.”

“And I’m not changing my surname.”

He threw his head back. “Charm…”

“Out of question.”

“Charm if I’m going to get you into those meetings, you need to have my surname,” he insisted. “You know the rules. We need to give them an actual reason if you can’t be there as an heir.”

You thought for a moment and cleared your throat.

“Hyphenated it is,” you said. “I’ll keep mine and add yours.”

“It’d be better if—”

“I can’t take over my father’s territory if my last name is Barnes,” you pointed out. “I’ll use both, it’s fine.”

Bucky thought for a moment, then licked his lips and shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine,” he grumbled even though his tone signaled it was anything but fine. You sipped your wine, leaning back.

“Goes without saying that we won’t have any children in the meantime so should we even talk about it?”

“I think we should,” Bucky said, a small smile curling his lips. “Just in case.”

“Just in case?” you repeated and he rolled his eyes.

“It’ll be on the prenup just like everything else,” he reminded you. “And our families will see those prenups, so it’d be better if we covered it beforehand.”

You huffed out and waved a dismissive hand.

“Fine,” you said. “The usual, right? The first born is the heir…”

“The second born is the spare, yeah,” Bucky said. “Although, if you’re keeping your surname…”

“Our children would as well,” you finished his sentence for him and let out a dry laugh. “So then, is the firstborn yours or mine?”

“Maybe it’ll be twins,” he joked and you shook your head.

“We’ll say that the firstborn rules both until the second born is ready, and then divide my territory and yours accordingly,” you said and Bucky raised his brows.

“But until then, both territories?” he asked. “That’s a lot of pressure to put on one person.”

“That person doesn’t exist and will not exist,” you reminded him. “It’s just gonna be a hypothetical article in the prenup, that’s it.”

“And if we want a divorce—”

“When we have a divorce,” you corrected him and Bucky hummed.

“Any specific reque—”

“The weekend house,” you cut him off and he let out a small laugh.

“How long have you had your eye on it?”

“Oh, so long,” you said with a grin. “It’s really pretty.”

Bucky held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “It’s yours then."

“I mean I know I can’t just get it without giving something in return so how about you? What do you want in the divorce?”

“Nothing.”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.

“You want nothing?” you asked him. “Bullshit. Say your price.”

“I don’t need anything.”

“You’re going to get me in the business and help me take over and you want nothing?” you insisted. “No fucking way. What is your game here?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Why are you doing this then?” you asked with a frown. “Seriously. What’s in it for you?”

“My reasons are my own.”

“Bucky…”

“But I do have one request now that you mention it,” he said and you nodded your head.

“Yeah tell me. What is it?”

“Throughout the time we stay married,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “No sleeping with other people.”

“…I’m not going to sleep with you,” you managed to say after a pause and he shrugged his shoulders.

“We’re going into war with an outsider while pushing you to the top,” he said. “Any kind of issue in our marriage, including a whisper of a rumor could work against that. We need to present a united front to all the other families and our people. Can’t fight a war on that many fronts, you know that.”

As much as you hated to admit, as it turned out, Bucky was actually smart when it came to how things worked in business. You nibbled on your lip, trying to put your thoughts in order before sticking your nose in the air.

“That’s a two-way street,” you told him. “If I’m behaving like the perfect wife, you’re going to behave like the perfect husband.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Bucky, I’m serious,” you said, looking him in the eye. “Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your mistresses.”

“Don’t go behind my back and make me kill your boyfriends,” he replied and you took a deep breath, then downed your wine and stretched out your hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you said and he chuckled, then reached out to take your hand into his, sending a pleasant warmth from your hand to your whole body.

“Likewise,” he said, his voice soft. “Let’s make you the queen, princess.”

                                              *

 You and Bucky decided to tell your family about your decision that weekend at their favorite restaurant. It would at least give you some time to get your story straight and you figured it would play into the lie; that you and Bucky had something for each other all along and once you got together you didn’t want to lose any time to get married.

Of course your closest friends were going to know about it, it would be impossible to keep it from Becca, Sarah, Steve and Sam because they’d had the first row to every single fight whenever you were within each other’s sight not to mention heard about how much you two disliked each other for years now.

But as far as anyone else was concerned, it was the happy ending to a decade long crush on both parts.

That night, you decided to stay in a hotel until the weekend. Not only did you not want to talk to Ian or your father, but it would also work in your favor; it was Bucky’s favorite hotel, it was in his territory and he would make sure to stay with you in the honeymoon suit every night until the weekend so you were pretty sure the rumors would reach your families way before you told them.

Your bodyguards were still on your father’s payroll after all.

You sipped your champagne, your feet propped up on the small coffee table across from the couch you were sitting on, the fluffy bathrobe wrapped tight around your body as you changed the channel on the TV but the knock on the door made you turn your head. Heaving a sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed and went to the door, then put a bright smile on your face and swung open the door.

“Finally!” you exclaimed, then gasped at the huge bouquet of roses Bucky was holding. “Oh my God!”

“Hi beautiful,” Bucky said with a smirk and you stole a look at both your father’s and Bucky’s men in the hallway, then turned to him.

“You shouldn’t have!” you giggled as you grabbed his arm to pull him into the suit, and closed the door behind him.

“Flowers are a nice touch,” you commented, the lovesick smile disappearing from your lips even if your heart did a happy flip and Bucky winked at you.

“I’m glad you like them,” he said as you took them from him, then walked to the open kitchen to pour water into the empty wine decanter before putting the flowers into it.

He leaned back to the kitchen island. “Did you talk to Becca yet?”

“Tomorrow,” you said. “I slept the whole day away today, barely did anything. Must be the stress after yesterday.”  

“Is she serious with that girl by the way?” Bucky asked you. “Leila?”

“I’m not going to tell you anything about Becca.”

He tilted his head. “You and I are going to get married—”

“And she’s my best friend so she’s still above you on my loyalty list,” you pointed out. “Marriage is one thing, friendship is another.”

“Should I at least threaten the girl so that she doesn’t break her heart?” Bucky asked and you rolled your eyes.

“No, Leila is a sweetheart,” you said as you walked past him, then threw yourself on the couch to grab the remote. He followed you and rested his hands on the back of the couch you were sitting on, the closeness of his body making your stomach do a pleasant flip for some reason.

“So what are we watching?”

“We are not watching anything,” you said, trying to focus on the screen. “I’m watching The Bachelor.”

He let out a groan. “Seriously?”

“There’s another TV upstairs, go watch whatever you want to watch there,” you said, grabbing your champagne glass again and tilted your head back so that you could look at him, and Bucky shot you a mischievous grin.

“Marriage requires quality time together, Charm.”

“Who told you that lie?” you asked, turning your glances to the TV and he chuckled.

“Steve sent me an article about it today when I told him the news.”

“Not Sam?”

“No, Sam sent me the address of a great psychiatrist,” he said. “For couples therapy and marriage counseling.”   

“That’s much more useful than an article,” you pointed out and he squeezed at your shoulder making your heart skip a beat.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said as he walked to the hanging stairs and someone knocked on the door, making you frown and look at Bucky over your shoulder.

“Room service,” Bucky answered before you could ask. “I already know your favorite so I ordered for both of us.”

“How do you know my favorite?”  

“I pay attention,” he said as he started climbing the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt. “Don’t open the door yet though, will you? Wouldn’t want my men to think I last five minutes.”

“I’m sure that would be an improvement for you,” you said with a scoff and he tsk tsked.

“If you want to see just how wrong you are, all you gotta do is ask nicely princess.”

“That will never happen!” you called out and slipped a little on the couch when you heard him close the bathroom door, then heaved a sigh.  

“Great,” you muttered to yourself as the water started running. “My honeymoon should be so much fun.”

Chapter 10

[holbrookism]

saw this on twitter and immediately thought about unhinged clegan wound tending scene

gale gets seriously injured some time during the stalag period, and of course bucky insists on taking care of gale and nursing him back to full health. (un)fortunately they get a little (a lot) freaky with it -- john finally getting his fix of feeling Needed and Useful while gale has a reason to let go and be Taken Care Of for a little bit.

john produces first aid supplies from god-knows-where and dressing gale's injury so seriously and tenderly. the wound is slightly infected and gale's sporting a low-grade fever, stuck on bed rest and a little delirious half the time. bucky knows he has to disinfect it and stitch it up soon so he procures some illicit booze, half of which he makes gale sip on to ease the pain, while the other half is poured onto the wound itself.

the delirium from gale's fever, combined with breezy drunkenness from the homemade rew alcohol, combined with the gentle intimacy of john's touch amidst all the months of suffering and distance!!! its driving gale insane and he's making the most deranged sounds, little muffled whimpers of pleasure and pain while he squirms on the tiny cot of a bed -- and john is trying his hardest to behave under these conditions but god /damn/.

wound tending but it's basically sex for them. all blown pupils and gentle encouragement that could be easily confused for pillow talk. i can't even get into how Abnormal they'd both be about the grosser stuff.

john has to clean out gale's wound from the INSIDE and gale almost passes out from the pain but he's thinking about how some of john's cells will always be inside him once it heals up. romantic to their unhinged minds.

meanwhile john is losing his shit over the idea of stitches, he's being so so careful and reverently ghosting his fingers over the thread, thinking how lucky he is to leave his mark forever. then being violently guilty about these sicko thoughts.

sighs fondly. they're very unwell.

[soullumii]

it's a risk but babe, i need the thrill | joel miller x f!reader

part 1, part 2

summary: everything finally comes to a head

warnings: 18+!!! smut! unprotected piv, gentle smut

tags: angst, reconciliation, fluff, pining, smut (but it's light compared to the other two parts), halloween vibes (i was supposed to finish this in october, oops)

word count: 5.8k

a/n: guys. i am SO SORRY for the wait. this was so hard for me to finish i almost gave up so many times. i'm still unhappy with this but i can't make myself work on it anymore so here u go. thank you all so much for your patience, i really appreciate it. special thank you to @joelsfaveouritegirl for your support... i probably would've never finished this if it weren't for you, so thank you. <3. and thanks to all of you who kept me accountable. i hope you enjoy this fucking mess. also, this is probably the last joel fic i'll write for a while. i'm sorry. still, i hope you like this.

______________________________________________________________

There are only two seasons in Jackson, Wyoming: winter and not winter.

Where other states might have a gradual shift from warm to cold, in Wyoming, it’s like a slap to the face, quite literally. The moment you step into the evening October air, it feels as if you’ve walked into a wall of cold. 

You shiver in your thick coat, and pull your scarf over your frosty nose as you meander down to the plaza.

While Jackson residents enjoy their time indoors and close to the fireplace during the colder months, they still love to celebrate outdoors, relying on their booze to keep them warm.

You don’t stop by Joel’s for a drink this time, he’s likely already in town square, dragged there by his daughter. Or… sort of daughter. He’s told you how he feels about Ellie, but the girl has her own opinions. Sure, she might deny that he’s like her dad, but she sure as hell treats him like he is. 

You’re meeting them there. 

The stars are already twinkling in the sky when you reach the throng of people. All of Jackson’s residents are in the plaza tonight for Halloween, dressed in homemade costumes and ones raided from the Party City in Idaho Falls. Jack-o-lanterns glow menacingly in corners and scarecrows are propped against brick walls. A few people in particularly frightening costumes prowl about, startling kids and adults alike.

Stalls line the edges of the plaza, each one providing something different. Tipsy Bison’s stall is run by Tommy, serving alcohol for the adults of the town. Seth’s stall is serving pork and brisket sandwiches. There’s a few stalls down the road advertising pumpkins and pastries, and you get a whiff of apple cider. Barrels of fire are scattered about to provide warmth. Lights are strung from the roofs of buildings, spread across the road, like clothes on a clothesline. 

It’s incredibly cozy, and already, you feel much warmer than you did walking out of your house. 

Within moments of passing Seth’s stall you hear Ellie’s voice ring out. 

“She's here!”

You can’t see her weaving through the crowd but you can see Joel trailing behind, his arm trapped in front of him. He politely excuses himself and apologizes to those he bumps into as his daughter drags him through a crowd of people. 

You can’t help but laugh, especially when you hear him say, “Jesus, kid, slow down.” 

And then she’s in front of you, smiling and bouncing excitedly on her heels, dressed as one of the superheroes from the comics she reads. Joel is behind her wearing a black blindfold with the eyes cut out, and a felt superhero crest is stitched to the front of his black sweater. He looks very adorable. Clearly, Ellie forced him to dress up. His gaze catches yours, full of something you can’t quite grasp, a small, embarrassed smile on his lips.

“Hi,” he says, voice soft.

“Hi,” you repeat.

It’s been… well… you’re not quite sure how to describe how it’s been since you told him to stop kissing you. 

It’s not like you guys have stopped seeing each other since then. Or that it’s been more awkward or anything. It just feels as if you’ve been depriving your body of what it needs, like you’re actively starving yourself. 

You’d feel full while he was fucking you, and yet there was a hole in your chest, gnawing at your thoughts, a hunger so deep rooted that it’s been taking you longer to come. 

Joel had noticed, too. Noticed your struggle and your frustration. He took it as something he was doing wrong, even though you insisted that wasn’t the case. Still, he took his time with you, trying to meet all your needs, and that, funnily enough, just made you feel worse. 

Your meetings have grown fewer. Sometimes you would go a couple weeks without seeing each other—at least like that.  Funny, how before you were so upset when he hadn’t been with you for a while. And now… now the distance is needed.

You still went out to dinner with him and Tommy and Maria. You still stopped by to say hi to Ellie and ask Joel how he’s been. Things have been normal, besides the overwhelming feeling of longing that strikes your breast the moment you see him. 

You worry that it shows on your face, especially because of the dreams you’ve been having, like some lovesick teenager. Dreams that don’t involve just having sex. Dreams that frame the two of you as lovers, as parents as… growing old together. 

Sometimes you’ll wake up crying, wondering if maybe you should just stop seeing him, talking to him, being around him all together. But then you’ll see him in town, or on patrols, and you know you’d never be able to stay away.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, and turn your attention to Ellie. 

“Hey kiddo!” You greet, plastering a smile on. She doesn’t seem to notice your being off. 

“You’re not dressed up,” she remarks, arms crossing over her chest. 

“Um. Yes I am,” you gesture to your black sweater and black pants. “I’m a black cat.” 

“You don’t even have ears or whiskers and a nose. That's a terrible costume.” 

Joel squeezes her shoulder with a frown. “Hey, quit.”

“No, she’s fine. She’s right,” you sigh. “This was super last minute.” 

“Cat is doing face painting down by the haunted house. You should let her paint some whiskers on you.” 

You take a glance at Joel and he shrugs. God he looks ridiculous in that costume. Your heart constricts. You might as well be as ridiculous as him. 

“That sounds great,” you say. Ellie looks like she’s about to drag you there when Dina comes running around the corner, practically slamming into her. 

“Hey!” Ellie laughs, “Slow down.” 

“You have to come with me. We’re going to do the haunted house, Jesse is already waiting for us. Come on,” Dina says, and pulls Ellie away before you and Joel can say a thing. 

The two of you stand there for a moment, watching the kids with fond smiles before finally looking at each other. 

His gaze seems to soften impossibly more when it lands on you.

“Your costume is kinda lame,” he says after a moment. 

“Oh shut up.”

**

The paintbrush glides smoothly over your skin as Cat paints the tip of your nose black and whiskers on your cheeks. You keep sneaking glances at Joel who waits patiently for your face painting session to finish.

Once you’re done you stride over to him, grinning.

“Well?” You prompt, turning around and showing off your newly improved costume. “Not so lame anymore, huh?”

He chuckles, eyes roaming your figure. Heat simmers low in your belly at the glint in his dark eyes. “Much better.”

He pauses, eyes catching on your face. “Hey, wait.” He grabs your hand and pulls you in close. He’s warm, a nice contrast to the cool October air. You want to just snuggle up to him, wriggle your fingers up under his sweater to share his warmth.

“You got a little somethin’…” he trails off, hand coming up to press his thumb to your skin. He gently wipes off a stray black smudge from beneath your eye. It takes no less than five seconds, yet it feels like an eternity. Your chest presses into his, his hand is warm as it cups your cheek. His breath puffs against your lips, an almost kiss. And his eyes, focused so dearly on the smudge, slowly drift up to lock with yours. 

“Perfect,” he mumbles, gaze never straying from yours. His hand never leaves your cheek, his thumb brushing carefully below your eye once more, a soft, subconscious caress now.

“Thanks,” you breathe.

Time feels like it’s stopped. 

A kid rushes by with a delighted scream as another kid in a costume chases after him. You and Joel jolt apart, snapped back into motion.

He clears his throat and you swallow hard.

“You want somethin’ to drink?” he asks.

“Yes, please.”

***

Tommy is beaming with his own little flush of alcohol when you and Joel come across his stall.

Maria hangs by his side, but her eyes follow every action happening around you. Ever the diligent leader.

“Howdy,” Tommy says, and Maria takes the time to glance over at the two of you with a welcoming smile.

“Hey,” Joel says, and you nod your head in greeting.

“You guys lookin’ for a drink?” Tommy asks. “We’ve got spiked apple cider.”

You bounce excitedly on your toes at that. Joel laughs lightly at the way your expression brightens. “We’ll take two.”

“Comin’ right up.”

“You’ve done a great job planning for this, Maria. Everything looks amazing,” you say.

She turns to you, and to your surprise, she looks a bit bashful. “Thanks. Everyone on the council helped a lot. I’m glad we can provide something fun like this.”

“The kids really need it.”

“I think the adults do, too. It’s nice to be able to scream without it being true fear.”

“Amen to that,” Tommy pipes up and sets two mugs of steaming spiked apple cider down. 

“Thanks, Tommy,” Joel says, and hands you a mug.

“There’s a haunted house down the road, you guys should go check it out. Laney and Paul spent a long time on it,” Maria says.

“We will, thanks. See you guys around!”

You wave goodbye to them and make your way through the plaza. Joel’s hand finds the small of your back, warm and steady. You’re glad for it, as scarers prowl along the streets, jumping out randomly and thrusting their hands in your face.

The haunted house lingers at the edge of the road like a ghost. Party City decorations blot the yard: gravestones, plastic skeletons, witches with rotted cloaks. It’s like everything they could manage to carry was dumped here. 

A line curves outside the door, kids bouncing on their feet as they await their turns. You feel a little ridiculous joining them, being your age, but Joel probably feels even more ridiculous so you push the thought from your mind.

“I’m actually kind of nervous,” you tell him as screams ring out from within the house.

“This thing ain’t nearly as terrifyin’ as the real world,” Joel says.

“Yeah, but still. I’ve never been a fan of being scared.” 

Joel takes a sip of his spiked apple cider and shrugs. “I’ll protect ya.”

“My hero,” you coo and run your hand over the superhero crest stitched to his chest. He smiles. 

Soon enough you’re at the door. 

“You go first,” you tell Joel, and shove him in front of you, but you don’t let go of him.

"Good to know you're not afraid to throw me to the wolves."

"Your sacrifice will not be in vain."

He rolls his eyes but lets you fist one of your hands in his sweater and hold onto his arm with the other. You peer around him as the two of you venture inside. 

A radio plays spooky sounds from all directions as you trail behind Joel through the house. Your eyes flit across every crevice, searching for who is going to scare you. Still, you don’t notice everything.

From seemingly nowhere, someone pops out in a Michael Meyers mask with a fake knife. You screech and hold tight to Joel. He hardly even flinches.

“How are you so chill?” you ask with a pout once you’ve recovered. Red lights flash in the hallway. Your voice is shaking. God, you’re a wimp.

“Because I’ve got someone I need to protect. I can’t act all scared, now, can I?”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s just making shit up. He’s not scared at all.

You get closer and closer to him as the house progresses. Your hands are now interlinked, your cheek pressed against the warm muscle of his shoulder blades. You’re practically on top of him, trying to stay as close as possible. 

Even with Joel acting so nonchalant, you’re scared. You get jump scared a few more times as you continue, thankful that your hands are preoccupied with holding onto Joel else you might’ve punched one of the scarers.

Eventually you make it to the end in one piece, your heart racing. You know it’s ridiculous—Ellie probably got through this with a straight face. Still, it’s kind of fun, being scared. You’re giggling into Joel’s sweater by the end of it, and he’s tucked you into his side, hand still interlocked with yours as you meander back to the plaza.

Warmth blossoms in your chest. Is this what it would be like if you were truly together? You feel the urge to push up on your toes to kiss him, but you shove it down. Guilt tugs at the back of your mind at the thought. 

“You’re such a scaredy cat, I guess that costume is fittin’,” he muses, rubbing warmth into your waist.

“Sorry we can’t all be macho men like you."

You go to pull away, to create some distance. You can’t keep getting close to him like this. It weighs too heavily on your heart. But Joel squeezes your hand and tugs you back into his side, and you’re so very weak. You melt into him despite yourself.

“I think you rather like my macho-ness,” he says.

Heat pools in your belly at the smirk on his face, the darkness in his eyes. You avert your gaze with a small smile, warmth coloring your cheeks. “Yeah right.”

He turns toward you, towering over you. His hand splays heavily on your hip, and you shudder. “Playin’ coy now, huh? Where was this yesterday when—“

“Joel!” Ellie screeches, skidding to a stop in front of the two of you. You feel the urge to jerk away, but Joel only shifts so that he’s no longer in your face. He still keeps you close. 

“What’s up kiddo?” 

“There’s a campfire, everyone’s asking us to play a song.” 

That piques your interest. Joel has played guitar for you a couple times, though he’s always very shy about it. You’ve stumbled across him playing on his own with no one to watch. It’s fascinating what the music does to him.

It’s like he’s transported somewhere else, his eyes closed as his fingers pluck the strings of his guitar, his foot tapping to the beat, his head nodding along as his hands tell a story through the notes. 

You’ve never seen him play a whole song like that, he’s always noticed you before he could ever finish. And when you’d ask him to keep playing, there was a bit of stiltedness. You realized it was nervousness… he wanted you to be impressed, to like what he was doing. 

You’re not sure how you ever could dislike his playing. 

“You should do it,” you say. 

Joel’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. “I dunno—“

“What, you’re not scared, are you?” you tease.

“Don't talk to me about being scared. Pretty sure you stretched out my sweater with how hard you were holding onto me,” he counters. 

“Will you two stop bickering like a married couple? Joel, they’re waiting. Come on!” Ellie says and grabs his hand, tugging him along. You laugh as you follow, though her little comment sticks in your mind. 

***

Joel settles down on a log with his guitar in his lap. Ellie sits at his side. You got a spot a couple logs away, so you could get a good view of them. The campfire lights his silver hair copper, reflecting like stars off the wood of his guitar. 

“Any fans of Bread here?” he asks, and a few hoots and hollers sound out. Joel laughs at that, and Ellie rolls her eyes. You've never heard of the band, but you wait with bated breath. They tune their guitars, and then Joel takes a deep breath and counts down. 

One, two, three, four…

Soft strumming fills the air. Ellie keeps the main melody, but Joel plucks more of the details. He sings first.

Baby I’m-a want you

Baby I’m-a need you

You’re the only one I care enough to hurt about

His voice is smooth, a bit shaky from the nerves, but it washes over you like a warm wave of water. Immediately, you’re drawn in. It’s unrealistic, but you still think that Joel could save the world with his voice. It’s scratchy but soft, if one can be both of those things at the same time.

He looks up through his lashes, his gaze catching yours.

Maybe I’m-a crazy, but I just can’t live without

your lovin’ and affection… givin’ me direction

Like a guiding light to help me through my darkest hours

Lately I’m-a prayin’ that you’ll always be-a stayin’

Beside me…

Your breath catches in your throat while he sings.

It’s just a song, you tell yourself. But the way he’s looking at you… it’s as if everyone else has disappeared. As if the words were created specifically for you. As if… as if maybe he chose this song for a reason…

Ellie picks up the prechorus with her angelic voice, and you’re brought back into the present. But then Joel starts the solo, his eyelids fluttering shut as the music takes over him. His head nods along to notes as he plucks each one out with precision and skill. His foot taps in time with the beat, and people cheer, but you can’t stop staring. 

The solo ends all too soon, but Joel’s voice merges beautifully with Ellie’s harmonies back on the prechorus once more. 

Lately I’m-a prayin’ that you’ll always be a stayin’

Beside me…

Used to be my life was just emotions passin’ by. 

Then you came along and made me laugh and made me cry

He gives you a small grin, secret, for no one else but you.

You taught me why…

Baby I’m-a want you. 

Baby I’m-a need you. 

Oh, it took so long to find you baby

Baby I’m-a want you.

Baby I’m-a need you.

Your chest constricts at the sight of him, at the sound of the last few notes being plucked expertly by his fingers. At the blend of his voice with Ellie’s. You can't bear to sit here at this campfire, watching him only as a friend, a fellow neighbor, just like everyone else. You want him to sing this song for you. To know that it’s only you he’s thinking of as the last few strings are plucked by his nimble fingers, ringing out into the dark, cold night. That it’s only you he sees clapping and cheering him on. But you can’t even grant him that, already on your feet the moment the song ends, practically sprinting away from the campfire as your throat grows tight and tears spring to your eyes.

You hope no one has noticed. You hope the footsteps you can hear crunching on crimson leaves are just someone walking past. Of course they’re not though.

“Are you okay?” the familiar timbre of Joel’s voice asks.

God, no! Why! 

You frantically wipe the tears from your eyes, sniffling snot so it doesn’t drip down your lip and betray you. 

“Oh,” you start, and internally curse the way your voice shakes. You turn toward the one who has been unraveling you at the seams with a trembling smile. “Hi, Joel.”

“Christ, what’s wrong, baby?”

“Don’t—don’t call me baby,” you say, and it’s not at all what you mean to say. You mean to just reassure, to just brush this off and bury it deep inside and never let it out. But you don’t. 

Joel’s face hardens, and he steps in closer with a hand stretched out but at the look on your face, thinks better of touching you.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he says. “Why are you crying? What happened?”

Nothing. It was just a pretty song.

Was it for me?

Nothing. I’m just being hormonal.

Do those lyrics mean something to you?

Nothing. 

Enough. Enough with the excuses and the rules and the lies. 

“You happened,” you spit. 

He takes a surprised step back. “What?”

“You and your stupid fucking—your stupid fucking friends with benefits and your stupid fucking big heart and your stupid fucking guitar happened, Joel.”

This is probably the first time you’ve ever rendered Joel speechless outside of sex. He looks so stupid standing there staring at you with his wide eyes and his dropped jaw. And yet all you want to do his pull him in and hug him and tell him how much you love his stupid fucking face. Instead, you take a step back. 

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” he mutters. “You’re freezin’. Let’s head back to my place, we can talk about it there—“

“No. No. I won’t let you just fuck me and then pretend like whatever’s between us doesn’t exist.”

“That’s not—“ he starts, but then must register what you said because his brows furrow over his ice cold gaze. “Me? I pretend like it doesn’t exist?” 

“Yes!”

“No I don’t. You’re the one that told me you didn’t want me to kiss you anymore. You’re the one that’s been keepin’ me at arm's length all this time. You’re the one pretending.”

You go to yell back at him, to deny, but the realization that he’s right kills the words in your throat, and you fall silent. 

Joel steps closer, his voice dropping. “You can act like I’m the one that’s been torturing you as much as you like, but it just ain’t true.” 

His eyes flit across your face wildly, taking in the tears in your eyes, the tremble of your lips, the tint of your cheeks from the cold. He softens.

“Darlin' I... I have been in love with you since the first time I heard you laugh. Since the first time you even glanced my way. Every god damn day is torture wanting all of you when all I can have is some of you.”

You can’t speak, can hardly even breathe. 

“If you don’t want to make this anythin’ other than sex, just tell me,” he whispers, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw. His breath condenses into steam in the cold air. “Tell me you want to keep pretending, and we can keep pretending."

“I…I don’t.” You shake your head. “I don’t want to keep pretending.”

His nose brushes yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Tell me you don’t want more.”

You swallow harshly. “I want more.” 

“Tell me you’re sorry you made me stop kissing you.”

“Please, kiss me, Joel.”

“You’re not very good at followin’ directions, are you?” he says, grinning, and you can’t help but laugh into the kiss when he pulls you in.

His lips are soft, deliberate when they meet yours. He coaxes you open, makes you slow down, pulls you into it so you feel it entirely. Reminds you of what you were missing when you forbade him from kissing you. 

God, you missed it so much. Missed him. 

Joel’s arms wind around your waist, his hands sliding along the fabric of your coat, and it’s so cold but god you wish you had less layers on right now. You’re sure the warmth of his hands could keep you from hypothermia. 

“I’m sorry I forbade you from kissing me,” you say. 

He hums, “I guess I can forgive you. Might need some convincing.”

“Oh shut up,” you grin, and pull him back in again. 

“I hate pretending like I don’t love you,” he murmurs against your lips, hands gripping your waist.

“You… really love me?”

“Did you not hear my speech earlier?” 

“I did. I just… can’t really believe it.”

He pulls you in close and gently grasps your jaw with his large hands. He kisses you again, thumbs brushing against your cheeks. 

His lips find the corner of your mouth. “I love you,” he says. 

A kiss to your cheek. “I love you.”

A kiss to your eyelid. “I love you.” 

When he pulls back, he’s smiling again. It’s strange to see Joel smile. He really doesn’t do it often around anyone. But you guess you’re an exception.

All that time you had spent pushing him away, agonizing over how much you loved him, fearing that he’d leave you if you so much had hinted that you were in love with him, only for him to be in love with you all this time? Holy shit. The world feels like it’s turned upside down. 

“Okay, I think I believe you now,” you say in a laugh. 

“You haven’t said it back, which I guess is alright—“

“I love you too, Joel,” you interrupt. 

He softens again. “I love you,” he murmurs, and pulls you in again for another toe curling kiss. God, you were an idiot for making him stop.

He wipes the tears from your eyes with a calloused thumb. “Your face paint is smudgin’.” 

“It was a stupid costume anyway.”

“No, it's cute. But…” Joel glances about, lips quirking in a smirk. He leans down, and his voice is so low you almost don’t hear it. “I think it would look better on my floor.”

“Well…” you fight the grin on your face, delighting in the heat curling low within you. “I guess since you love me and we’re kissing again and aren’t exactly friends anymore… we could really put that statement to the test.” 

“I think we should,” he says, and leans down to kiss your neck. 

You hum in approval. “What about Ellie?”

“She had plans to go to Dina’s after the festival,” he says, between kisses. “Come over, please? Or do I need to send you a letter with a wax stamp and everythin’?”

“Well… since you said please, I guess that will do.”

The whole walk to his place he has his arm slung about your waist, proudly displaying that you’re his. 

You nuzzle yourself into his side, grateful for his warmth and companionship. Your heart feels so full, so light, as if you might actually drift up into the air. Thank god Joel is holding you to keep you grounded. 

You smile at Maria and Tommy when you pass by them, and they exchange a look that says something like Finally. 

Then you’re at his house, and he’s unlocking the door and letting you go in first. And this time when you’re welcomed inside, you’re no longer worrying about rules or how you feel, or how you might fuck this up. It’s so fucking freeing. 

Joel doesn’t ravish you the moment the door closes. Instead, he kind of just stares at you. 

You squirm under his attention, growing self conscious. “What?”

He smiles, hands gravitating to your hips. “Nothin’. I just love you.” 

You grin. “I love you too.” 

He kisses you again, and you don’t think you could ever get enough of it. You kisses you roughly against the door, hips colliding with yours, over and over, and soon enough you’re shaking with want. Mind muddled, whispering a single word into his ear, “Bedroom.” 

It feels different here this time. All those times in the past had felt restrained, now, everything feels exactly as it should. 

When before you used to strip down quickly just to get him inside you, this time, you both take your time. He carefully unwraps you like a present as he noses kisses down your throat. He peels your thick black sweater off, and slides the straps of your bra down your shoulders, his dark eyes locked with yours. Joel reaches behind you and undoes the clasp with ease. You can hardly hold back your shaky sigh. 

Your hands smooth over his sweater-clad chest before pulling it up and over his head. That jagged scar is there on his stomach, a reminder of everything he’s been through. You run your hand along it, and he shudders. 

“Sit down,” he says. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, and he kneels before you. Then, he grabs your boot-clad foot and sets it on his thigh. He undoes the laces and carefully takes the boot off. He does the other, and then hooks his fingers around your waistband and pulls it and your panties off together. 

“I was right,” he says. “It really does look better on my floor.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, and pull him back into you. His lips catch yours gently, but the kiss intensifies when your mouth parts eagerly as his tongue swipes across the seam of your lips. His tongue slips in, and a moan tumbles out of you as your hands scrabble at his shoulder blades, your nails lightly scratching over thin scars.

His nose squishes against your cheek, and his large, hot hands slide up and down your body, like he just can’t keep them still. Like he wants to catalog all of you right now, remember it forever. 

He rocks against you, still confined in his jeans, but you can feel the hard shape of him brushing against your sensitive core, the friction incredibly delicious. Your hands find his button and zipper, undoing them both with as much concentration as you can muster, though it’s really difficult when he’s kissing you like you contain all of the world’s oxygen. 

Finally, he allows you to breathe, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin of your throat as he mouths hot kisses down your skin. He grips one of your thighs, setting it against his hip, large, rough fingers splaying across the whole of it. God, you love how easily you fit in his palms.

He grinds his hips into you over and over and you moan, aching for the feel of him inside you. You tug at his waistband again. “Joel, please take these off already.” 

“Not yet,” he says, and releases your leg, his hand skating across the skin of your thigh, brushing gently along, making you shudder in his hold. You can feel the warmth of his fingers as he nears where you want him most. 

And then, his fingers are on you, swirling in gentle circles, unraveling you at the seams. Your head hits the mattress and your back arches. He knows exactly what to do to make you putty in his hands, has had so much time to practice. But this time, it feels so much better, knowing now that he loves you. That you’re more than just friends. 

Your palms find his face and you pull him in for a slow, meaningful kiss, trying to tell him just how thankful you are for him. How glad you are that he loves you. How sorry you are for not letting him kiss you. It’s kind of hard to kiss him, though, when he’s making you feel this good. Your fingers curl into his hair, tugging at it, and he moans into your mouth. 

He slips one, two fingers inside you, pumping them at a steady pace that has your hands gripping his hair tightly and your hips scrabbling for that pleasant release dangling in front of you. He urges you on with encouraging, quiet words, his dark eyes boring into yours. Your mind, body, and soul feel hot.

When his thumb finds your clit it’s only moments until you’re shattering against him, warmth flooding your body. Your hips jerk, your legs shaking as he takes you over the edge. 

“Pants off. Now,” you huff between breaths, and he finally listens. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Then, he shifts you up the bed… it reminds you of the first time the two of you had sex again after he was so busy. So much the same yet so different. His hand moves up your body, cups one of your breasts, kneading it gently. When his thumb ghosts over your nipple, you shiver. 

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’,” he murmurs, and grasps your knee, pulling it over his hip. 

And then he’s sliding in, and the stretch is blissful, so welcome, so familiar and yet so new. You hold onto him, keeping him close as he begins to move. You feel full, mind faraway with bliss.

“God, Joel-“ you hiss. 

He groans out your name, and it rumbles through you like rolling thunder. Lightning lights a fuse at the end of your spine. 

You’re out of control. He tends to do that to you. Make you angry, make you sad, draw all the emotions you tend to not want to deal with out of you. Frustrates you, makes you so hungry with want that you throw all semblance of rational thought away. And he likes it. You like it. 

God, you love him so much. 

You move together as one, pushing and pulling. Everything shrinks down to just this. Him. You. Where your bodies meet. 

“More,” you moan, and he huffs out a laugh, but obliges, thrusting into you deeper, harder, and you’re as tight as a bowstring. 

Every anxious thought, every worry, every single doubt dissipates with every movement of his hips. You shift your own to meet his thrusts, and soon he’s gasping into your skin, growling your name. His hand winds into your hair, and he breathes with you, eyes locked with yours. 

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs. “Come for me.” 

Well, who are you to deny him? He pushes you over the edge in an instant, your body going taught, eyes rolling back into your head. His name flows out of you like a mantra.

Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel. 

“I love you,” he says into your throat when he follows you, hips jerking with sloppy thrusts as he comes inside you. 

Joel collapses next to you, pulling you into him, his arm slung heavily across your waist. When you can finally catch your breath, you say, “I love you, too.”

His grin is sated, eyes heavy when he pulls you in for another deep kiss. “We’ve said that a lot, huh?”

“Just making up for lost time. I think it’s alright.” 

“I should’ve said it a lot sooner,” he says, calloused fingers brushing against your cheek as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“Me too. Telling you not to kiss me was really dumb.” 

“Probably not the smartest thing you’ve said.” 

You scoff in mock offense, pushing at his shoulder. “Asshole.” 

“Yeah, but you love me.”

You roll your eyes, but scoot further into him, laying your head on his chest. 

It might have been a risk to fall in love with your best friend, but God, you’re glad you did. 

“Yeah, I really do.”

[istadris]

Bowser: Yes, I know, claiming Peach was Junior's Mama was a bold move.

Bowser: BUT

Bowser: in my defense, I DID lay an egg after sleeping with a human. Happened after that Mario Kart after game party where we all got completely smashed on homemade Kremling booze.

Bowser : all I remember is bright blue eyes, soft pink skin and a cute, round little butt bouncing off my-

Peach: I think we got the idea, thank you very much.

Bowser: so do you see why I was convinced it was you!? Who else would I sleep with?!

Mario & Luigi: *share completely panicked glances*

[winterrsun]

Comfort

Reader x Daryl Dixon

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only

A/n: This is smut but it’s like the fluffiest sappiest smut, it’s meant to be really emotionally gratifying. Also I’ve really kinda half heartedly set it up for a part 2 where they reunite with the group and Rick…let me know if you think I should continue this!

Summary: after the prison fell, you and Daryl start to mourn what you’ve lost and find comfort in each other, both emotional and physical.

————————————————————————

The last couple of weeks had been such a blur. After the prison fell, you were thrown back into survival mode and all sense of security was gone. You never knew where your next meal would come from, or whether you were minutes away from death. You were grateful you’d gotten out in the company of Daryl and Beth; you’d always gotten along with both of them and Daryl was one of the most experienced survivalists. It was nice having Beth to talk to and relate to the experience as well, neither of you being natural outdoorsmen. Even if he was a grumpy ass most of the time, and she was still a bit of a bratty teenager at heart, you’d fast grown extremely reliant on both of them being around you.

You’d all found a small shack to hole up in for a couple of nights, you’d also found a stash of moonshine in the cupboard. Beth had been insistent on trying her first drink. It made you both amused and sad when you compared her experience to your teenage party years, so while Daryl disapproved you thought it was only fair to have your own little party. That’s how the three of you ended up on the living room floor, laughing your heads off.

“Really Y/N, you never been camping?!” Beth questioned incredulously.

“Yer even more a princess than I thought” scoffed Daryl.

“Yeah yeah,” you laughed, “well I suppose my whole life’s a big camping trip now.”

“Alright alright, my turn!” Daryl exclaimed. “I never… bin to a wedding”.

“You what?! Daryl that’s just sad” you said before taking a large swig of the homemade booze.

“Yeah, even I’ve been to a couple. Only other time I drank any liquor, daddy let me have a glass of champagne” said Beth.

“What part of my life was a fucking shit show before all this do you two not get” he grumbled.

You rubbed his arm, “alright we know, just teasing you” you smiled.

Beth’s giggles turned to hiccups, and she eventually lay her head down on the sofa and you realised she’d gone to sleep.

You nudged Daryl and nodded at Beth. He smiled at you, and pointed to the singular bedroom in the shack- suggesting you and he should move into the other room so as not to wake her.

The room was small; a double bed took up almost all the floor space, so you plopped yourself down on it. Daryl followed, carrying the bottle of moonshine with him. He took a sip before passing it to you, who did the same.

“She’ll be right” he gestured to the door, referring to Beth in the other room.

“I know” you replied, “we’ve all been there, she just needs to sleep it off.”

He nodded and you fell into an easy silence, both taking additional sips now and then. You grew pensive, and some of the thoughts you’d been mulling around for days started to come to the surface. The tipsy haze in your brain had your lips moving before you even knew you wanted to share what was on your mind.

“I don’t think I’ve said it,” you said, looking to Daryl, “but I’m so grateful for the two of you. The amount of times I’ve wondered what kind of state I’d be in if I was on my own…”

“Can’t be thinkin like that” he replied gently.

“I know. It’s just, it makes me mad to think about how quickly our circumstances changed. Things were so good Dar, they were finally all coming together. And then…..it’s just nothing in this world can ever really work can it?” You were rambling a little, but Daryl didn’t look like he was going to challenge you or tell you to be quiet. He just looked at you sadly.

“Do you think we’ll ever see any of them again?” You whispered to him. A tear escaped your eye and started to trickle down your cheek.

“I don’t know” he replied, and to your surprise he reached towards your face and softly wiped the tear of your cheek, “but I’m glad we’re here together too”.

He didn’t remove his hand from your face, in fact he gently cupped your chin. You leaned into it, while his head dipped closer to you and he planted a soft kiss on your lips. You closed your eyes and allowed the sweet sensation to wash over you.

When he pulled back away he looked unsure of himself, and mumbled a “sorry” to you.

You shook your head, placed your hands on his chest and leaned back toward him, kissing him more deeply this time. His tongue crept into your mouth and started to dance with yours.

Your hands drew up behind his neck as the two of you continued, and he reached for your waist, pulling you into his lap. The kiss grew needier as you straddled him; it wasn’t a need driven by pure sex and physical desire. It was like all the emotions you’d been feeling since the prison poured into your movements, and Daryl lapped them up and returned them with his own. You could’ve been hugging, or crying in each others arms, but instead you were kissing and writhing against each others bodies and it had the same cathartic effect.

You clung onto him as he pulled his lips away from yours briefly, to gently and slowly peel your dirty shirt up from your body. You allowed him to manoeuvre your arms overhead so he could take it off and toss it aside. He then reached around and unclasped your bra, and took a moment to stare at and admire the sight before him.

“You’re beautiful” he almost whispered, starting to run his hands over your breasts and grope them lightly. “I’m gonna take care of you Y/N, I promise”.

You were almost overwhelmed at this moment of pure bliss. You’d never thought there’d be anything sexual between you and Daryl. He was one of your best friends, with a bond like family. Sure he was hot. You’d notice his biceps peaking out of that winged vest and your heart might’ve quickened slightly every time you saw the way he gripped his motorbike handles. But you’d always just been friends.

Let alone the fact that you actually had a thing with his best friend. You and Rick had never defined whatever it was between you, but there was denying when he snuck into your cell nearly every night who you belonged to.

But Rick was gone. You didn’t know where, or if he was even alive, or if you’d ever see him again. It played on your mind every single day. You missed him so much more than all the others, longed for him. You were sick of it eating at you, and you just wanted to feel good for the first time in weeks.

You clawed at Daryl’s shirt, and he took a break from massaging your breasts to help you remove the black tee from his body. You pressed into him as your lips found his again and you relished the feeling of his skin against yours. It felt warm and unbelievably comforting. He began to rub circles on the small of your back and you arched into his touch.

“Daryl” you breathed against his mouth.

“What do you need baby?” He asked, pulling back and grabbing your face in both of his hands, eyes searching yours.

“You…I just need you” you said pleadingly.

Daryl shifted beneath you and lifted you up to flip you onto your back on the bed.

He slowly pulled your pants down and hovered over your torso, looking at your cotton panties. He dipped down and placed a soft kiss on your abdomen, creeping along your hip line. You hummed and wriggled at the tickling sensation, enjoying it. You felt a warmth envelop you from his touches. Then his fingers hooked into the elastic around your waist and pulled the fabric down from your body.

He ran his hand back up your leg, his eyes following the movements before he flitted them up to your face. You made eye contact and he sought the non verbal confirmation that you were okay. You bit your lip in anticipation as you gazed up at him, allowing yourself to be completely vulnerable under his touch. Now fully naked on the bed.

You gasped as his fingers found their way into your fold, and began to gently stroke around. You flinched slightly as he ran over your clit for the first time, and he placed a kiss back on your lips, then trailing down your neck. He began drawing circles around your sensitive nub at a steady but not too fast pace and he lifted his head back up to study your face again.

“So beautiful” he commented. You arched your back off the bed and moan softly. He picked up the pace a little and your pleasure increased.

“Daryl” you gasped, “I need more. I want all of you”.

He nodded, stroked your hair with his free hand before withdrawing them both to unbutton and remove his pants. You lowered your eyes and watched as he freed his sizeable cock from his underpants. You sat up and leaned forward, glancing up at him with doe eyes before attaching your lips to his member.

He groaned as you took him in your warm, wet mouth. You suckled and licked around it, playing with him while lubing him up for you. His hands found their way into your hair, loosely gripping it while you bobbed your head back and forth. He threw his head back and savoured the sensation.

After a little while you pulled away and he gently pushed your shoulder so you lay back on the bed. He braced himself over you and lined himself up, gazing down into your eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re here” he whispered, hovering outside your entrance. You nudged your head up to plant a kiss on his lips.

“Me too” you said softly.

Then he slowly thrust into you. It ached just a little on the way in, but you quickly adjusted to him. For the first time in weeks you felt whole, and human, and like you were capable of something other than simply just surviving as he sank inside you.

You tensed around him and wrapped your legs around his body, which he took as a signal to start pumping his hips in and out of you. Warmth filled your body, radiating from your core to chest at the feeling of connection and intimacy. To your surprise, tears prickled your eyes as you felt emotionally stimulated as much as physically. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit onto Daryl’s shoulder, allowing his warm skin to absorb the moan that left you.

“Don’t need to keep too quiet pretty girl” he said encouragingly. You smirked and let go, noting the love bite you’d left behind before moaning out into the room this time as his hips continued to pound into you.

He pulled out briefly and you were left feeling empty and disappointed, just for him to gently grab your thigh and push your leg back towards your face, hooked behind his arm. He pushed back in and you relished the new, deeper angle.

“Fuuuck, yesss” you hissed and he smirked down at you.

“Feels good baby?” He cooed before grind his hips in a particularly deep thrust and you nodded, moaning in reply.

He picked up the pace now and you felt the heat grow in your belly, driven more by lust at this point. Your climax was building, and it was as if Daryl could tell. He drove into you faster than before, angling his hips upwards to hit just the right spot.

“Dar! I’m gonna” you began-

“I know baby, let go” he soothed.

With an almost scream you came, it rippled through you in waves and he rode it out with you. In this moment nothing else mattered, not the situation you were in, the home you’d lost, the people you’d been seperated from. It was just bliss for a perfect moment.

As your pleasure subsided Daryl snapped his hips into a few more hard times before grunting himself and moving to pull out of you.

“Don’t!” You cried without thinking, holding his hips to yours with your small hands. You felt his dick pulsate inside you as he painted your walls with his cum. It was the last, comforting gesture you wanted to take from him tonight. The feeling of him filling you up as much he possibly could.

His sweaty forehead met yours as he stopped moving, and you felt his penis jerk inside you one last time before all was still. You panted together for a few seconds, before he slowly rolled over to lay next to you.

You felt his ejaculate trickle out of you onto the bed, and groaned at the mess, grinning at him.

He looked around and grabbed a throw blanket from the end of the bed, using it to roughly wipe up you and the linen beneath you. You both chuckled, and he tossed it aside before throwing an arm around you and pulling you towards him to lay your head on his chest.

With your head on his bare skin and listening to the sound of his heart beat and the sensation of his breath rise and fall, you closed your eyes and fell asleep. He planted once last kiss to the top of your head before doing the same.

You woke with a start to the sound of birds chirping and sunlight beginning to creep in through the window, neck stiff from the angle you slept at. You felt chilly and looked down to see goosebumps over your bare body. Not just yours, you noted the extra limbs tangled with yours and remembered the situation you were in. You smiled to yourself, knowing that the amazing night was a once off for you both.

Daryl had just started to stir at your movements on the bed, before you heard movements in the other room. A female voice groaning, before stomping quick footsteps and the sound of coughing and liquid splashing the metal sink. Beth had arisen, and was experiencing her first hangover. You almost would have giggled, except you realised you had to get dressed quick and decide how to explain the two of spending the night in a small room with one double bed.

You looked back at Daryl, now fully awake and judging by the expression on his face thinking the same thing you were.

“Well, back to reality” you whispered with a shrug.

He pulled you in for one last embrace, planting a kiss firmly to your lips before whispering back “thanks for last night beautiful”.

[alexsoenomel]

Camping Shenanigans

Summary: You like both brothers and you decide to go camping for Sam's birthday.

Pairing: Sam x Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI , implied smut, kissing, fluff

Word count: 4.9k

Note: Not beta read. It has been sitting in my drafts for months. Enjoy!

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

"Camping? Are you serious?" 

"Yes, Dean, it's my birthday," Sam answered. 

"It was my idea," you chimed in as Dean shot you a death stare. "Kinda," You added.

***

It wasn't actually your idea. You just asked Sam a simple question:

“What’s something you always wanted to do but never had a chance to do it?”

He said camping. 

"Why do you ask?"

"Your birthday is coming soon!" You told him and stuffed your face with some scrambled eggs you decided to have that morning.

"So?" Sam was a bit confused. He never really cared much about his birthday. 

"Let's do something fun for your birthday. Every year is the same; Dean celebrates his birthdays hammered and dodging STDs like bullets, my birthdays are depressing because I'm always broke or sad or both, and yours…it's like you don't have birthdays." 

"So,do you wanna go camping for my birthday?" 

"Yes! And we can celebrate in nature with lots of alcohol." 

"I mean sure, but Dean's gonna –"

"Oh fuck what Dean says he's coming too."

***

"Kinda?!"

"It will be fun Dean, besides spending time in nature will be good for you," Sam said.

"Actually, concerning amount of booze and chicks with daddy issues are the only two things that are good for me, not this!" He still kept protesting.

"You're going, Dean!" Sam told him. 

"Fine, but if a snake bites me, I'm shaving your head!" 

"Yeah, yeah! Pack a bag, we're going tomorrow morning!"

"TOMORROW MORNING?!" Dean’s voice went an octave higher.

"Yeah, and I'm driving!" Sam smirked. 

"Not a chance," Dean simply said before taking a sip of beer. 

You and Sam found a wonderful campsite in Greenheart National Park in Wyoming and decided to book it, long before telling Dean. Two nights under the stars in the middle of nowhere sounded wonderful, but Dean still wasn't impressed. Even after telling him, it wasn't a traditional campsite – it had toilets, outdoor showers and all-inclusive breakfast, lunch and dinner – he still wasn't impressed. Dean being Dean - he was protesting and whining, right until you actually sat in his car and he started the engine. He didn't like the idea, but it was Sam's birthday tomorrow and he would go to the ends of the Earth for his little brother. 

The drive was long and seemed endless. Between trying to get comfortable, taking a nap, listening to music and eating snacks because of boredom, you couldn’t wait to spend time in nature and watch the stars. Sam was visibly excited, asking Dean every two hours where you were, explaining how to set up a tent, telling fun statistics about bear attacks which made Dean a bit uneasy. Sam’s inner child was slowly healing and yours was just happy to tag along. Dean's on the other hand…his inner child just wanted to get back to bed.

“This is going to be fun!” You laughed. “Dean, get ready to fight bears!” 

“Shut your mouth!” 

*****

After approximately 13 hours you finally arrived, far away from civilization. Everything was green, the sky was blue and the air was fresh. It was almost 9pm and even though it was May, it was a bit chilly.

"You will all get your tents, feel free to set up anywhere you like, but please don't go far away from the station," The bold man was speaking, aka the owner. He was a middle-aged man, very athletic and taller than Sam. Nice obnoxious smile too. "Dinner is in an hour and if anyone has to shower, showers and toilets are behind the gazebo. We will start the bonfire at 11pm if you wanna join. I'm making some good ol' homemade chips. Hope you enjoy your stay and please if you have any questions, concerns, I'm here."

"He seems nice," You whispered.

"Yeah, and bold," Dean added, clearly trying to sound funny. He tried and failed.

“He might be bold, but next to him you’re just a scrawny little bitch,” you clapped back, hoping it would sting him. 

“Ouch!” It did. 

Sam laughed.

*****

“So, do you want to share a tent?” You asked the brothers as they shared a look of concern. 

“Well…” Sam started, but was unable to finish his thought.

“Mmm..” Dean too.

They didn’t like the idea, so naturally you decided to go with it and ask the owner to give you the biggest tent he could find. “For the three of you?” The guy asked, pointing a finger at Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. You were the last one to get your tent. Some people already found their spot and set up theirs.  

“Yes, the biggest one please. I don’t wanna be suffocated by these two.” 

The guy chuckled. “Roger that!” He then went into the storage room and started rummaging through his things. After a minute he came back holding a large black bag. “Here you go!” He said and tossed it to Sam. “That will do!” He also gave you three sleeping bags and you were off.

“Thank you so much!” You said. 

****

You found your spot far away from people next to a pine tree that was sticking out from the rest of the forest that was behind you. The hill was beautiful, grass perfectly cut, the sky covered in stars like freckles scattered all over, while the air felt colder than an hour ago.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Dean said, trying to see which part of the tent goes where, while you used the flashlight on your phone to guide him. 

“Let me!” Sam said and gathered all the poles in one pile. He read a thing or two about different types of tents and recognized you got the one with a porch aka ‘the fancy one’. 

“Well happy birthday Sammy!” You told him. “Congratulations on being one year closer to death!”

“Wow (Y/N), you sure know how to make a man feel like crap!” Dean scoffed. 

“What’re you talking about Dean? I praise him all the time. Both of you!”

“Yeah, praise my ass!”

“You do have a great ass!” You winked at him. Dean just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms looking offended. 

Sam laughed at your joke. “Thank you, but it’s not midnight yet!”  ***

An hour later, Sam finally set up the tent and Dean was already on his second beer. This campsite was known for having unlimited amounts of booze and Dean was one happy camper when he found that out. Meanwhile Sam was really proud of himself for setting up his first tent. It was spacious and brand new. When you put the sleeping bags in, you realized you were going to get squished by the brothers. The tent was big, but not big enough.

You liked that idea, considering your long history of liking both of them and not being able to decide. It had been over ten years and you still couldn’t decide. They both had qualities you desired in a man and were special in their own way. Sam’s height and intelligence made you want to climb him like a tree and never get down, while Dean’s perfect smile and snarky humor made you want to make him whimper under you. They were childhood friends and lived across the street, and since your parents liked to hang out you would see them almost every weekend.

Once they moved across the country you still stayed in touch - texted and called every once in a while, but your heart was aching for them. You missed them dearly. It all fell into place once you saw Sam one random Monday morning on campus at Stanford and your shenanigans started again. Dean decided more education was too much for his brain, so he opened a small music store in San Diego and was doing surprisingly well. You started hanging out again, going to pubs, having movie nights, game nights…

You and Sam would also visit Dean and everything seemed to make sense once again. You were like three peas in a pod – same but slightly different.

Over the years you learned how to ignore your feelings and push those thoughts away, and yet sometimes you'd catch your stomach flipping every time they would bring up past relationships or flings. They both didn't want to settle down, and while you liked the idea of it, you were picky and hadn’t found someone who was worthy of you to settle down with.

"Shower and alcohol?" You asked Sam, since Dean had already showered and was now on his third beer.

"Yes please."

Showering in nature was a first for you. You thought you were going to freeze but surprisingly even though you did, it felt amazing on your skin. You enjoyed the wind making you shiver. 

“How was it, Sam?” You said, stepping out of the shower in nothing but a towel. Sam actually took the time and got dressed in the wooden shower cabin.

“Cold.” He answered, his voice shivering. His wet hair was slick back, a blue shirt accentuating his muscles, while the gray sweatpants he wore particularly outlined his cock, making it hard to focus.

The things I’d do to that man are ungodly and borderline illegal.

SNAP OUT OF IT!

“And refreshing,” You added. 

“You should get dressed before you get sick.” 

“Okay, mother!” You rolled your eyes and went back to the tent.

Anything for you, handsome!

***

Dinner was delicious – Dutch oven mac and cheese. Everybody got one big full plate and it was better than you could imagine; very salty and cheesy.

It was nice to sit and look at the bonfire while eating your favorite childhood meal but soon you just wanted to get away from the people and loud noise. You stuck around for a few minutes, watching the fire and chatting with a few nice girls you met while waiting for dinner before your social battery completely died. You excused yourself and left. You weren’t in the mood for small talk anymore – Sam and Dean were a lot better at it than you and they were a lot more social too. You decided to watch from afar and sit on the porch swing that was looking directly at the bonfire surrounded by people having a great time. You were sipping your beer watching the fire go wild as the bold guy threw a few branches, making it stable enough to actually start making his homemade chips in the skillet. You felt like a kid again. The beer was just enough to relax you even though the taste wasn't the best. The stars decided to shine that night, while the crescent moon was too shy to show its whole face.

“Having fun over there?” You heard a familiar voice and saw a shadow of a person approaching you. It was Dean. 

“Yeah, just don’t feel like talking to people,” you told him. 

He sat down next to you and put his beer bottle next to yours. You exchanged looks in semi- complete darkness and made a toast. 

“Cheers!”

“Happy birthday to Sam!” You said, looking at Sam who was talking to a guy much shorter than him.

“I swear it was yesterday he was learning how to walk,” Dean told you. 

“You sound like my mother,” You chuckled.

Your mind was getting tired and since the swing was made out of wood, you were struggling to get comfortable. Your head decided to rest on his shoulder as you took a sip of your beer, eyes still on Sam. Your hands wrapped around his arm as you lifted your legs on the swing. His arm was firm and he smelled too good for your own good – something between leather and pines surrounding you. He seemed to be tense though, or at least that was what you thought.

“Dean, I don’t bite, unless you want me to! Relax!”

You couldn’t see but he just rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I’m relaxed!” 

“Well damn, you have been working out then!” You decided to compliment him. As much as you loved roasting him, making him feel good was also important to you. 

“Not so bad for a scrawny little bitch, huh?” 

“Shut up!”

***

The night was growing cold and you were getting tired. You didn't know the time, since your phone was back in the tent, but one thing you knew – it was time to go to sleep. The Winchesters were having a great time lingering in the crowd so you decided to leave them to have their fun and go to sleep. 

"Guys, I'm gonna go hit the sack!" You shouted from afar, since you saw, they were talking to someone – a man you didn't know and didn't want to know.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?" Sam asked.

"Yeah I'm tired! Good night, guys!" 

"Good night!" They said in sync.

You snuggled up in your sleeping bag, shivering from the cold and realized; since you were sleeping on the ground you won't be able to get one hundred percent comfortable so the only logical thing was to take melatonin for sleep. That magic pill could make any surface feel like clouds and on top of that made you actually have nice dreams, since you didn't dream as much.

You took one pill and chugged a good amount of water. You were out in about 45 minutes.

***

Sam's lips were on your neck, kissing, biting, making you shiver; while Dean's lips went lower and lower. You didn't know which name to moan first, hell, you didn't know where you were, but it was blissful and a whole lot of sinful.

Dean's lips reached your panties and before he moved them to the side, he placed a kiss making you squirm. Sam's large hands were playing with your breasts while he couldn't separate his lips from your neck.

As soon as Dean's tongue touched your throbbing clit, you arched your back in pleasure. He was slow, and with the combination of Sam's rough kisses, your body was overwhelmed and feeling nothing but intense pleasure.

"Dean!" You whispered. “Dean!”

"(Y/N)?" Dean mumbled, his eyes half open, even though he couldn't see shit. 

"Sam! Fuck!" This time, a whisper, sounding more like a light moan of his brother's name.

"You kiddin'?" He was now fully awake and fully aware you were in fact not trying to wake him up.

"So good!" 

"I'll be damned!" He whispered, not really sure what to do. Sam wasn't saying a word so he figured he was in a coma since he had too many beers a few hours ago. You were squished between them but somehow ended up being closer to Dean so he decided to snap you back to reality.

"(Y/N)!" He whispered, this time a little bit louder. "Wake the hell up!" He said, trying to shake you to wake you up.

"Huh, what?" You finally mumbled as he violently pulled you back to reality. It took you a couple of seconds to realize it was, all in fact, just a dream.

"You snore like a buzzsaw!" He lied.

"Oh sorry!" 

And without saying anything else, you both went to sleep. It took Dean a couple of minutes though, since he couldn't stop thinking about what he heard.

Dirty girl. 

Was the last thing he thought before passing out.

****

The next morning you woke up well rested but in pain. Your body felt stiff until you stretched and actually got out of the tent. It was cold during the night, the air was fresh, but with the first rays of the sun came the heat, and you weren’t awoken by the sound of your alarm, it was the heat and stuffy air. When you looked at your phone, it was almost eight in the morning and time for breakfast. You were alone in the tent, Sam and Dean were already up. You got your toothbrush and toothpaste and went to do your business. You couldn't stop thinking about the damn dream. It was too vivid for your own good. The way Dean kissed you with his perfect full lips, Sam’s hands on your hot skin, their moans, groans and big girthy co-

“Good morning, princess,” you heard Dean say as you waited in line to get your breakfast sandwich, still sleepy. He wasn’t a morning person whatsoever so hearing him sound this jolly was strange. 

“Morning,” you didn’t even bother to look at him as you turned around and went to find a place to sit. People were already chatting, having their morning coffees and enjoying the fresh air, while you struggled to exist. It was too early to think, too early to speak and too early to be a human. 

Dean followed you after he poured himself another cup of freshly made black coffee. 

You lazily opened your sandwich from the wrapper and took a first bite; ham, cheese, ketchup, lettuce…usual stuff. It was a little dry for your taste buds, but it wasn’t bad. 

“How did you sleep?” Dean asked, sitting next to you. 

“Like a baby,” You mumbled, chewing. You could feel his eyes on you, as you turned to look at him, he was indeed staring back at you with a little smirk on his face. “What?” 

“Oh I bet you slept real good,” he teased. His deep and raspy voice was too close to your left ear, sending shivers down your spine, all over your body. You ignored it.

“What are you implying, Winchester?” You asked, genuinely confused, not really thinking about…oh. OH! You remembered. The dream. Maybe he heard you mumbling in your sleep. Do I sleep talk? You still played dumb.

“Dream a little dream of me and Sammy, eh?” His smirk was still there, you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” You replied. “Where’s Sam?” 

“He went Dora the explorer around the park.” 

Sam was both night and day. He enjoyed both darkness and light. The darkness was for reading and the light was for hiking and jogging.

After you finished breakfast, you poured yourself a cup of coffee that was now lukewarm. It still tasted like coffee when it touched your lips and still gave you that kick you needed. 

Dean was still keeping you company for some reason, he was close, too close and kind of getting on your nerves. You had a feeling he wanted to ask you something but swallowed all the words in the English language. You assumed what he was curious about, you just didn’t want to embarrass yourself. We are our egos after all, and in time we learn how to tame that part of ourselves and not let it control us. You weren’t going to blush and get flustered in front of Dean Winchester.

“What’s the plan for today?” You asked. 

“Did you dream about sleeping with me and Sam?” Dean evidently didn’t register your question. And he finally found the words. You choked on your coffee not expecting to be hit with a question. You didn’t expect that kind of question.

“You did!” He said as his face lit up in a second. 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.” 

He was a child. A man-child. He wasn’t going to let it go, not until you confessed. Sighing in frustration, you calmly put down your coffee-stained mug and looked him in the eyes. They were beautiful, greener than the forest around you.

“I did,” you confessed. 

“Yeah, I know I heard you,” he smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. He was beautiful but you still wanted to punch him in the face. 

“Can I drink my coffee in peace now, please?” 

“Yes, you may, sinner.”

The embarrassment you felt disappeared as soon as you saw Sam coming back from his little, to quote Dean, ‘Dora the Explorer’ adventure, all sweaty and ready for a shower. You weren’t embarrassed, you were horny. 

“Morning!” 

“Morning Sam!” You spoke. 

“Sleep well?” 

“Oh yeah, you bet she did!” Dean told him. You rolled your eyes.

Sam gave him a confused look not getting the joke. He doesn’t know.

“Awful, your brother kept making happy noises all night,” you lied. Figured you would get back at him for being a dick. Dean’s mouth slightly opened. 

“Dude, gross!” Sam’s reaction was more than welcome considering Dean hadn’t stopped annoying you ever since you had a bite of that dry sandwich. Once he left to shower, you turned to his older brother. 

“Don’t fuck with me!”

***

The day was cloudy and cold. Some people were playing board games and listening to music, some were reading their favorite books, while others went to explore the national park. You immersed yourself in the book you were currently reading, while Sam and Dean played Monopoly under the kitchen gazebo that wasn’t just a kitchen, it had a space for everything; space where you could sit and relax, a table, and two couches placed right across each other. A multipurpose gazebo: kitchen, dining room and a living room. Well, Sam was teaching Dean how to play and Dean was losing and cursing every few minutes.

“You were never good with money, Dean!” You chuckled, eyes still on the page you were reading.

“And you’re loud!” He sassed. You lifted your head to look at him and he just gave you a wink. You knew damn well why.

You elected to ignore it. 

Soon enough, it was lunch time: delicious goulash and for dessert, a slice of apple pie. 

“Warrior food!” Dean said, stuffing his mouth. 

He wasn’t wrong. The food was fresh and absolutely delicious. 

“Do you guys want to play volleyball after we eat?” Sam asked. 

“You’re joking?” Dean lifted his eyebrow. “I don’t do sports and I especially don’t do sports after lunch.”

“Grandpa!” You said and told Sam to count you in. 

 A few minutes later, the bald, good-looking dude came to say there was going to be another party, from 7pm to when everybody goes to sleep. He also said there was going to be lots and lots of alcohol considering it was a goodbye party. Dean was excited, you were too busy reading your book and Sam finally bankrupted his older brother. 

You ended up playing volleyball with Sam for almost two hours. He asked the bald guy if they had any volleyballs after lunch and the guy was more than happy to be of service. There was a small chunk of land which they turned into a volleyball court, far away from people who were hanging out around the gazebo and far away from Dean who decided to take a nap after eating too many slices of pie.

“Are you enjoying your birthday so far, Sammy?” You asked as you served him the ball which, he slammed a little too hard and it flew across your head. 

“Oops!” He said with an awkward smile. “Best one so far!” 

“Told you!” You raised your voice going a few steps away from the court to get the ball.

As you were playing and growing tired, you couldn't help but notice how tight his black t-shirt was, perfectly hugging his body as he started to sweat. His hair still a little damp, slick back and tucked behind his ears, his lower lip between his teeth trying to concentrate on the ball in the sky – the man was simply gorgeous. It was hard to concentrate on the damn game when your mind wandered.

How does his lips taste? Does he have a big dick? Probably. The man is huge. FOCUS! 

So many questions and no wins.

After losing 3:0, you decided to take a shower and get ready for the party. You were in the mood to drink and not get nervous around both brothers.

It was getting cold, so after a quick cold shower, you decided to wear your favorite pair of gray sweats and a very old Led Zeppelin hoodie your dad gave you a long time ago.

People already started drinking by the time you finished getting ready. 

"Hey, nice hoodie you got there!" Dean commented as soon as he saw you. One of the things you absolutely adored about Dean was his awesome music taste. You were both old schools. 

"You've seen me in this at least a hundred times Dean!" You chuckled. 

"And every time I'm going to tell you how awesome it is," he said proudly. "Where's Sam?" 

"Showering." 

"Again?" 

"Yeah, you know Dean, after physical activity you get all sweaty and gross," you told him and took a paper cup filled with red wine from the table under the gazebo. Suddenly, the familiar melody of Toxic by Britney Spears blasted through the speakers.

"It was sweaty and gross alright," Dean joked and like always, you rolled your eyes, and took a sip of the wine. It wasn't too sweet and definitely was cheap considering how watered down it was.

***

After three cups, you grabbed your fourth one as your vision started to blur. Your thoughts were scrambled, between being nervous because of Dean's annoying teasing, and not giving a flying fuck about anything and just wanting to let loose, but there was a sense of tranquility in them. You loved the idea of him knowing your dirty thoughts, and you loved even more watching Sam being simultaneously confused and stunning while listening to you two bicker. The alcohol wasn't helping you. The undying need to be in a delicious Winchester sandwich only grew stronger with each sip…

You saw Sam coming from the toilet after the shower and something in you snapped. You swallowed nervously before chugging the rest of the wine and decided to toss all the fucks you had out the window. 

“Hey, handsome!” You said, seeing his face change from content to a little nervous. You'd never called him that. 

“Hey!” Was all he could muster.

“In the mood for a drink?” 

“Sure,” he said. “But only one, and I'm out. I’m tired.” 

“Okie dokie.”

Sam's drink of choice was beer. Dean was somewhere in the crowd, nowhere in your sight. Perfect.

“Cheers!” He said. No matter how big or small his smile was, his dimples would always show on his cheeks and you found it adorable. He was adorable and his lips were much more kissable after almost four cups of wine. 

“Cheers,” you smiled back. “To you Sammy!” 

“I didn't tell you but you're a solid volleyball player.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “A solid player? Really? You won 3:0.” 

“Well, yeah because you're short, and for some reason your focus was nonexistent but your serve was excellent.” 

“I'm short?” You weren't offended by any means, he was in fact much taller than you, but still surprised he said it so bluntly. 

“Short and sweet?” He corrected himself with an awkward smile before taking another sip of his beer. 

“Sweeter than sugar, sugar,” you didn't know where that came from. It sounded kind of lame, you thought, so you quickly changed the subject. “And my focus was nonexistent because of your sorry ass.” You said before playfully tapping him on his shoulder.

“Me?” 

Something about the innocence of that man made you absolutely feral. You had a feeling he wasn't so innocent behind closed doors. The idea of his lips on yours didn't want to leave your mind as your eyes couldn't stop staring at him with pure, drunken adoration. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You wanted to speak but something told you to not use a single word of the English language. Instead, you pulled him by his black hoodie and crashed your lips on his. Surprisingly, he didn't pull away, his body was stiff for a few seconds before letting go and deepening the kiss, making you balance yourself on your tiptoes. You felt him cup your left cheek with his free hand as you bit his lower lip, earning a moan from him. His nose crashed against yours, tasting alcohol mainly from your lips, Sam felt his cock getting hard. It hit him that he was wearing gray sweatpants so naturally that was a sign to pull away. People around you were too busy singing ABBA songs to give a fuck. 

“Well…” Sam said, not knowing where his thoughts were as he instinctively looked down and saw the outline of his cock. “Crap.” 

Your gaze followed and you were happy it did. He was big, bigger than you'd imagined.

"Sammy, is that a gun or you're just happy to see me?” You winked. That was horrible. 

“Shut up,” he sassed back, giving you a bitch face he would always give to Dean.

He covered his groin with his hands, looking around awkwardly to see if anyone was looking. Of course they weren't. Everybody was either drunk or high or both. 

Suddenly Sam's gaze was fixed behind you as he visibly clenched his jaw. You turned around and of course it was Dean.

“Oh there you are!” You said with enthusiasm and kissed him, pulling him closer by his jacket. 

Sam was stunned, while you could feel Dean smiling before kissing you back and letting you put your tongue in his mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck and enjoyed the softness of his puffy lips on yours. He was a lot gentler than Sam – more innocence but still the same amount of passion. 

When you finally broke away, your drunk self just mumbled, “You two are irresistible.” 

Sam was still visibly confused while Dean couldn't stop smiling. 

[ryuichirou]

I saw your recent Riddle x Floyd pic on kofi and I was wondering, what kind of drunks do you think the twst boys are? Like flirty drunk, sleepy drunk, crazy drunk, etc. Also, what do you think their alcohol tolerance is? Like, who’s a lightweight and who can down shots like there’s no tomorrow?

Anon! I’m finally replying to your very fun ask. But actually, even though that comic was posted on kofi ages ago now, it actually makes sense for me to post it today of all days… 👀

Still, sorry for the wait! This is honestly a very good question, and a very interesting one to think about.

Also also, I keep thinking about a series of drawings+hcs that this jp artist drew, and I loved their hcs a lot! But I haven’t looked at it ever since they were posted, so I hope they didn’t influence my own hcs too much lol I don’t think they did, but…

Riddle – surprising no one, he gets drunk instantly even if you just put a drop of whiskey in his tea. He is the lightweight with zero experience with alcohol, and he swore to his mother that he would never drink it, even after he turns 18. But life had other plans for him… I feel like drunk Riddle gets giggly and unexpectedly playful, even slutty, he really is the ultimate “homeschooled virgin goes ham at his first college party and sucks someone’s dick”. He can’t stay awake for a long time though, so he’ll fall asleep somewhere in the corner after half an hour or so. He also won’t remember anything about the next day.

Ace – he gets drunk too easily for his own liking, he really wants to get better at it. He tried drinking a couple of times even before enrolling to NRC: one time he stole his mom’s vanilla liqueur and threw up, the other time he sipped on his brother’s beer while he was in the bathroom, and then got smacked for that. Out of the first years, he is the one that gets the most excited about stealing booze, and whenever he is drunk, he is obnoxious. He yells, fights, pranks, does stupid shit and lives his best life…

Deuce – he also gets drunk easily, but not as easily as Ace. But this is because he already had his “gets drunk and acts obnoxiously” phase: he and his delinquent guys used to drink a lot. Deuce liked drinking more than he liked smoking… He doesn’t want to drink now because he is afraid that his “bad self” will come out, but unless Ace is around to keep him heated, Deuce is likely to just get sleepy and mumble nonsense quietly to himself.

Trey – he is good with alcohol. Well, he feels super drunk whenever he drinks, but you would never guess it: he doesn’t look and act drunk at all. Well… He starts looking scary and intimidating after a certain point. Regardless, he prefers to pull a “well, one of us has to stay sober and make sure everyone is okay, right?” and just sit there watching everyone get drunk.

Cater – a big enjoyer of cocktails (as long as they aren’t extremely sweet). He also likes straight-up whiskey, but never drinks it in front of others. He doesn’t drink often, but he started drinking when he was pretty young. He is very good with alcohol, but sometimes he really wants to get tipsy, relax and have fun, so he is probably the one to drink more than some of the other boys.

Leona – loves alcohol but very capricious about it: it has to be expensive and rich in taste. He doesn’t like mixing stuff, but when it’s mixed with milk he actually doesn’t mind it. He prefers to drink alone, or in a company of one other person. And he would get a bit flirty and provocative, but actually, for the majority of times he’d just suddenly start snoring and purring at the same time.

Ruggie – he doesn’t like drinking, but he loves when others drink because this is an opportunity for him to showcase his cocktail-making skills. He knows a lot of cool cocktails and is very good at identifying expensive booth… not based on taste though, it all tastes the same to him. When it comes to drinking, he would just drink homemade beer that his grandma makes. He doesn’t get too drunk, but he laughs at everything whenever he does. And also starts stealing shit just for the sake of it.

Jack – oh pupper. He doesn’t like drinking at all: he gets hot, sweaty and confused immediately. He starts panting, sometimes even with his tongue out. Then he gets restless and starts pacing around the room, either whining or growling quietly to himself, looking as if he would pounce if someone was to poke him even a little bit at this state. But if he pounces, he’ll just lick that person’s face and neck all over… and maybe get inappropriate?? But he bounces back pretty quickly, after like 2 hours he’ll be completely sober. Keep making him drink!

Azul – he used to dislike the taste of alcohol (and was very self-conscious about it), but now he loves it. As long as it’s good, of course. Unlike Ruggie, Azul can take one sip and tell you everything there is to know about this specific vintage. He is an elitist and hates on a lot of alcohol brands though, even some high-end ones if he doesn’t like the taste. He is absolutely going to have a proper bar once he graduates. If he good with alcohol though? Not really… Azul has stages when he drinks: at first he just gets more talkative, then he gets giggly, then he gets openly aggressive, then he gets very sad. He tries not to drink up to that point…

Jade – another one who prefers to watch people drink rather than to drink himself. He doesn’t get too easily drunk himself, but he gets hiccups sometimes, and it’s embarrassing. He is also extremely good at making cocktails and experiments a lot, making both Azul and Floyd drink his concoctions, and it’s always a gamble whether he’ll make something extraordinary or will make you throw up.

Floyd – he flip-flops. Sometimes he could be that one sour sober face that doesn’t want to drink with everybody, sometimes he randomly drinks a couple of bottles because he wanted to see if it would make him pee harder. He hates the taste of alcohol (any alcohol!), he hates getting headaches and throwing up and feeling like shit in general, he hates not remembering stuff, but he loooves spinning when he is drunk. And causing destruction. He is all over the place when he’s drunk, even more-so than he usually is.

Kalim – he has some experience with alcohol! It’s not like he used to drink all the time when he was a kid, but whenever they had any kind of celebration, his dad would give him one sip of the wine (or any other thing rich friends brought to them that day). So Kalim actually likes wine quite a lot, and was genuinely surprised when he realised that he can’t bring bottles of good wine to NRC to celebrate with Jamil and the other students. All of that doesn’t mean he’s good with alcohol, mind you, because he gets drunk very easily. But it’s like his “kalimness” just enhances, and he gets even more clingy and wants to dance a lot. And also touch and kiss a lot… He is also super lucky and never gets hangovers.

Jamil – now this is someone who always gets hangovers and it always hits him like a truck. In Jamil’s perfect world, if he would have nothing to worry about, if he could just relax for one evening without worrying about doing 1000 things the next day, and if he was in good company (preferably on his own), he would love to have a good drink. But the majority of times he gets drunk it’s because Kalim makes him drink. Or Kalim drinks 5 different kinds of wine, and Jamil has to taste every single one before giving it to him (and also try it from Kalim’s glass every single time because you never know when someone might put something in the bottle). So he just gets gradually more and more drunk… Jamil is surprisingly well-composed even when he is drunk, but he gets hot. Literally and figuratively, he is suddenly more seductive and even horny… but it never ends with anything good.

Vil – he enjoys the taste of good alcohol, sometimes would even have wine mom moments and just pour a glass for himself for no reason, just to unwind. But this is a very rare treat: he is aware that alcohol is bad for your body, so he prefers to drink a smoothie instead. He is a social drinker though, so he would drink sparkling wine on parties. I feel like Vil doesn’t drink too much and is good with alcohol in general, but he does get flirty… and more reckless as well. Wink.

Rook – doesn’t get drunk at all, no matter how much he drinks. It is almost unfair because he doesn’t have to avoid drinking like Trey and Jade do to watch the others get drunk: oh he drinks with them alright, he thinks it’s polite to drink just as much as the other person does. But he doesn’t get drunk miraculously… but if someone would to ask him, he would say that he is very drunk!

Epel – loves alcohol. He is right there with Ace when it comes to the first years that are always excited to drink. He loves to brag about drinking with the men of his village all the time… which is kind of true, but also kind of false: it’s not like he chugs moonshine with them. He is allowed to have apple cider though, so he is actually probably better with alcohol than both Ace and Deuce… he is still bad at it though lol, he gets either clingy or aggressive or aggressively clingy, depending on how much he drinks. His little body punishes him with the biggest hangovers.

Idia – hates it, bad with it, feels like it’s torture. He is one of the most capricious ones because he hates the taste, the smell, the burning feeling, everything, but then again, it’s not like he tried all the options available: he might have actually enjoyed something sweeter or even just whiskey+coke combo (if there isn’t too much whiskey there). His first stage would be to become very talkative and start complaining about everything, having even less filter than usual, but then he would start getting red, breathing heavily, moan quietly and hug his own knees, as if he is in the biggest agony in the world. His hands and legs also start shaking crazily when he is drunk.

Ortho – human!Ortho of course: he is better with alcohol than Idia; in fact, he would be the one to insist that Idia should try different kinds of alcohol just to see if he likes the other ones better. Ortho used to hate booze as well, but as he got a bit older, he got more interested in it, so these days he doesn’t mind a bottle of beer. But he is a social drinker, he never drinks alone. it’s more about hanging out with friends for him. He also doesn’t get super drunk, he is like the opposite of Idia. Maybe he just never drinks too much…

Lilia – this man used to chug gasoline from the car pipe. This man used to shotgun vodka from a glass bottle. This man is a legend and he can outdrink almost everyone in this school. But that doesn’t mean he won’t get drunk because hoo boy will he get drunk. Sometimes he gets as obnoxious as Ace, sometimes he just wants to have fun like Kalim, sometimes he gets aggressive like Floyd… but there is also this secret 4th type of Lilia drunk that is too creepy, hungry and sexual to describe. Also! He used to never get hangovers, but he does now. Getting old sucks.

Silver – it would be funny if Silver was the type of drunk to get energized and more awake, but I feel like he just gets even more sleepy, but also clingy. In terms of stamina, I’d say he’s a 3 out of 5… He doesn’t get drunk immediately, but can’t drink more than two glasses. Also, he was 3 years old when he drank alcohol for the first time, thanks Lilia. Well, it was just a little sip..!

Sebek – he has a big future ahead of him and good potential, but for now he is pretty bad at drinking. He doesn’t like it because the taste is usually too bitter (he’s a baby…), plus, he feels dizzy afterwards. He doesn’t like not being in control of himself, so sometimes he freaks out when he is drunk, but sometimes he just sits there with his head in his hands and tries to concentrate and undrunk himself. When he is drunk he is either aggressive or aggressively horny…

Malleus – it feels like it’s impossible to get him drunk, but in actuality it is possible, it’s just that he has to drink a lot for that. Even if he is very drunk, it’s difficult to tell that he is for anyone other than people who are the closest to him (or someone very perceptive like Rook), but he gets extra playful, pouty and really wants to dance and show off. He is very dangerous when drunk because he can burn down the entire house just for shits and giggles… and if he gets angry while drunk, it’s extra dangerous.

[holylulusworld]

All the pie in the world

Summary: It’s Dean's 45th birthday and you will celebrate it.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of near-death experience, implied naughtiness, fuck canon, Dean is alive for my story

A/N: A short drabble for his 45th birthday. Take this canon. You cannot stop me!

A single moment. One false step and you almost lost him.

You always feared this is how you are going to lose Dean. In a battle, killed by one of the many things that bump in the night.

It was a close call.

Since that day, you have tried to make the best out of every day you can spend with Dean. Especially when the day is his special day.

January the 24th – his birthday.

You are going to celebrate the day as if there is no tomorrow. When you live the life of a hunter, you never know what will happen next.

“What is all of this?” Sam watches you carry another pie inside the library. You decorated the whole room with balloons, a huge banner saying Happy 45th Birthday, and garlands. “Y/N?”

“A pie for Dean’s birthday,” you quip and go back to decorating the library for the surprise party you planned for Dean’s birthday.

Not many of your friends are still alive, and the rest won’t make it in time for the party. But this didn’t keep you from cooking and baking all night to give Dean the best 45th birthday he could imagine.

“There are like ten pies on the table,” Sam furrows his brows. “Why did you bake so many pies? We are three people and an angel.”

“You only live once,” you shrug before going back to decorating the table. “Dean will get as many pies as he can eat. He’ll get all the pie in the world. I made one of every sort he loves. So, stop moping and help me decorate the room. Dean will be back any minute. He wanted to go for a ride and enjoy the snow is gone.”

“I hope he won’t have a heart attack after eating all the pie,” Sam jokes. “You know he won’t be able to stop eating a slice of every pie you baked for his birthday. His stomach will combust.”

You grin. “That’s the plan, Sam. I will feed my man with so much pie he’ll never complain about getting old again. Dean will be busy complaining about his stomach. I’ll give him belly rubs and—”

“STOP!” Sam raises his hands. “I don’t want to know what comes after the belly rubs.” He shudders. “Please don’t tell me more. No one deserves to hear about the things you and Dean do in the dark.”

“Aw, we don’t do it in the dark, sweet Sammy,” you pat Sam’s chest. “We do it in the morning, during lunch. Sometimes even while having lunch.” You smirk and continue. “Dinner is always special. Dean loves having a snack before the main course. Oh, and we leave the light on. I wanna see the stallion I call my boyfriend when I—”

“I didn’t hear a thing.” Sam puts his index fingers in his ears. “I hate you. Both of you!”

“Sammy! Sweetheart!” Dean calls for you and his brother. “I’m back. Damn, the ride was awesome, and Baby purred like a cat for me. I bet she knows it’s my birth—” He stops in his tracks to drink the decoration in. He hums and wrinkles his nose looking at the big forty-five laughing in his face.

“Happy birthday baby,” you jump in Dean’s arms, giggling as he easily lifts you and helps you wrap your legs around his waistline. “You look good today.” You peck his lips. “We have pie, homemade lasagna, beer, booze, and later…” You dip your head to whisper in his ear. “I’m going to put whipped cream on every important part of you and lick it off.”

“Uh-“ he swallows thickly. “Can we go to the whipped cream part first?” Dean grins when you shake your head. “What else do you have to offer.”

“Ten pies,” Sam says. He points at the table. “Your girlfriend lost her mind, but we still love her.” He says. “I’d hug you and wish you a happy birthday too, but you are occupied with cuddling.”

“We are not cuddling,” Dean grunts, and smirks at his brother. “Not yet, bitch!”

“Jerk,” Sam retorts as always. “Happy birthday man, you don’t look bad for your age.” He grins. “How about you open my present before you unpack something else.”

You let go of Dean and wrap him in a bear hug, whispering Happy birthday again. Sam takes your place when you step away. He hugs his brother and holds him for a moment.

They part after a few moments and nod at each other. Sam steps away and watches his brother sit on a chair.

“I want pie first.” You laugh at Dean’s words. “A slice of every sort!” He exclaims while hungrily staring at the pies on the table. “Damnit, I’ll need bigger pants after this birthday…”

Tags in reblog.

[sunkendreams]

asking for some ethan landry smut ,,, I don’t care what you write but I need it! 🧎‍♀️

when the party’s over.

➾ pairing ; ethan landry x fem!reader.

in which you meet a cute boy at a college party and decide to have a little bit of fun behind closed doors.

FORMAT: drabble — requested.

WORD COUNT: 4K.

WARNINGS: SMUT! (mdni), alcohol/drinking, typical college party antics, hooking up, semi-public sex, risk of getting caught, virgin!ethan, making out, hair-pulling, groping, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), extreme horny antics, handjob (m!receiving), fingering, cumming together ;)), ethan has some dark/weird thoughts, cumplay, begging, dirty talk, ambiguous ending

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’m suffering from chronic ethan landry brainrot :’) he’s so cute but unhinged/deranged and I love that !!! I love my men sexy and out for blood !! I am absolutely planning on writing a part two and/or more of him, this was so fun & horny (my favorite). I hope you all enjoy! ❤️

A homemade concoction of various alcohol stung your nose as you strolled past the kitchen, surrounded by a swarm of neon lights — vibrant shades of violet, green, and hot pink. The music blared all around you, bass booming hard enough to make your bones rattle.

Blackmore University was infamous for its chaotic parties and mixers that involved too much to drink and too many people — tonight was no exception. Halloween was right around the corner, and the party was lively with plenty of buzzed college students dressed in costumes.

The rest of your entourage had decided to be the fairies from Pixie Hollow. You hadn’t decided on a particular fairy, but you’d gotten a cute dress and trinkets to look the part. Your wings — cheap gossamer stretched over wire frames — were serviceable at best.

You came along with a group of your friends, but they scattered as soon as they walked through the door. You were left to your own devices, sipping on a hard lemonade with a sour expression. The alcohol tasted decent enough, but you were wary of getting intoxicated in unfamiliar locations.

Some radio-popular hip-hop song provided a steady ambiance as you traipsed through another hallway, narrowly avoiding a collision with a sashaying junior.

The thick, heady scent of marijuana drifted throughout the frat house, accompanied by clouds of hazy smoke. As you passed by the staircase, there was a boy slumped to one side, puffing on a bong that seemed comically large. Typical college party antics, you assumed.

As you rounded the doorway, you slammed right into a boy who seemed just as startled as you were. The drink in your hand smashed into the cardboard chest piece he was wearing, exploding onto your silvery evening dress.

“S—Shit! I’m so sorry,” He stammered, fumbling over his words as he clamored to grab a towel or a rag — anything, really. He hastily decided on a throw blanket draped over the back of a leather couch, tossing it over the puddle of spilled alcohol. “I didn’t see you.”

Before you decided to admonish him for his carelessness, you realized that it wasn’t his fault — more of a joint mistake, really. “No, it’s fine! I should’ve been looking.” You replied, crouching down to help him clean up the mess.

The front of your pretty dress was now coated in a layer of sticky booze, clinging to your chest with an uncomfortable dampness. Unfortunately, you’d left your jacket back at your dormitory, riddled with a stain that would likely stay for the duration of the party.

When you finally got a look at your obstacle, you were delighted to find that he was cute — arguably the most attractive boy in the room. “I’m really sorry about your dress. I ruined your costume.” He frowned, brows furrowing together.

You realized that he was dressed as a Knight, armor meticulously crafted of intricate cardboard cutouts and patterns. “I think we ruined each other’s costumes.” You mused, gesturing toward the splotch of alcohol all over the front of his chest.

“This is going to the dumpster once the party ends, anyway.” He confessed, letting out a soft chuckle. Admittedly, it made you laugh, nose crinkling in amusement as you cleared your throat.

“Really? I think it looks great! You put a lot of effort into it.” That was true — it was a neat costume. You found it amusing that the knight and the fairy had run into one another, as if it were ripped from the pages of some gaudy romance novel.

“Thanks,” The boy chewed at the inside of his cheek, reaching to rub at the back of his neck. “You’re supposed to be a fairy, right? I noticed the wings, and the … Dress. Before I collided with you.” He was in awe of you, truly — you were absolutely gorgeous.

Part of him thought about staking out your dorm for later, but now wasn’t the time.

A familiar wave of heat washed over you, creeping into your features as you playfully spun around. Your glittering dress and cosmetics glistened in the lower light. “The rest of my friends came as the Pixie Hollow fairies. I couldn’t really decide on one, so I made my own.”

“Yeah, well you — You look really pretty.” He swallowed the growing lump within his throat, attempting to kick away that twinge of social anxiety. It was something he struggled with — he wasn’t nearly as outgoing or charismatic as his older brother.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you.” Bristling from his innocuous compliment, you stepped closer, attempting to close some of the distance between the both of you. “What’s your name? I didn’t catch it.” You piped up, leaning against the doorframe.

Unable to keep from smiling, he stayed static, watching as you bridged the gap. “I’m Ethan, Ethan Landry. It’s nice to meet you.” His chest shook with a brief chuckle when you stuck out your hand for an exaggerated handshake.

“Ethan Landry,” You beamed, shaking his hand with excitable energy. After you gave him your name, the conversation only seemed to blossom from there. “It’s nice to meet you, too! What are you studying here at Blakemore?”

Ethan never had the best luck with women, especially ones as pretty as you. Not only that, but you had a whirlwind of charm to you, too. “Uh … I’m still deciding. Leaning toward film, though! What about you?” He asked, unable to keep his eyes off of you.

“I’m also in the process of deciding. I’m trying to get my basic courses out of the way before I commit to something.” You chimed, sidestepping away from the swarm of rancorous students that began to pile into the living room.

With a constant grin, you peered toward the growing crowd of students dancing in the middle of the room. A fast-paced hip-hop song began to thrum over the speakers, filling the frat house with music.

“Do you want to dance?” You asked, motioning toward the gathering in the center of the room. This was the one college party where you’d met a cute boy who seemed to take an interest — you weren’t about to squander it.

He seemed visibly hesitant, making a face that screamed ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea’. Ethan relented, deciding that taking a risk and spending more time with you would be worthwhile. “Just one. It’s getting pretty crazy in here.” He wasn’t much of a dancer, either.

“Just one!” You reaffirmed, snatching ahold of his hand as the two of you joined the mosh pit of students. Somewhere through the chaos, you ended up right against him, chest to chest, swaying and bouncing to the music. It was loud, so loud that it shook the very foundations of the building.

Ethan didn’t want to make a fool out of himself. He simply mimicked some of your movements, entranced by the way you involuntarily pressed against him, a smile on your face, drifting off to the music. You grabbed one of his hands, prompting him to twirl you around.

“So what are you doing at this party? Did you come with friends?” You asked, practically yelling at Ethan as the two of you continued to dance. It was a little awkward, but he seemed engrossed, stooping down to give you an answer.

“Yeah! I came with some friends, and my roommate. They’re around here somewhere.” Ethan replied, grabbing you and pushing you aside to avoid being smacked by flying arms and stray bodies.

As Ethan briefly looked through the crowd, he noticed Chad somewhere on the other side, cheering him on with a toothy grin. It gave him a bit of a confidence boost, no matter how small it seemed to be. You were so beautiful, jubilant and vibrant, moving with the music.

The way he looked at you was mesmerizing, the stare of a charmed, smitten boy. You were the center of gravity, the sun — bright and shining just for him. Admittedly, you weren’t oblivious, and if it weren’t for the sea of people, you might’ve been emboldened enough to kiss him.

The music began to dissipate, song trailing off into the next track. “Do you want to go somewhere else to talk?” Ethan asked, surprising you by being the first to make a move. You wondered if he really meant talking, but either way, you were happy.

“Yeah.” You nodded, reaching for his hand as he escorted you out of the dance room and toward the staircase. The two of you carefully avoided any stragglers slumped on the stairs, slipping past a gaggle of girls stumbling down from the bathroom.

Once you were upstairs, things became more hushed altogether. Even just standing on the balcony provided some relief as he ran a hand through his mop of curly hair, glancing down at you with a smile. “Is this better?” He asked, leaning against the bannister,

An amused chuckle escaped you as you nodded, tilting back against the wooden post at the top of the staircase. “Much better,” You mused, absentmindedly biting at your lower lip. “You know, if you wanted to be alone, all you had to do was ask.”

Ethan’s countenance flushed from ivory to scarlet within the blink of an eye, throat becoming dry as he attempted to come up with some viable excuse. “It’s not that, I just — Shit. This isn’t what it looks like.” He groaned, feeling your hand slip around his.

“Ethan,” You murmured, canting your head to one side. “You need to stop psyching yourself out.” Another giggle left you, enough to reassure him, put his nerves to rest as you coaxed him closer. You tugged on his hand, leading him toward a room somewhere in the back hallway.

Wordlessly, you slipped inside, realizing that this was likely someone else’s room — one that was clearly unoccupied. It was all nondescript and outfitted with the bare essentials of a dorm, lights dimmed as you shut the door behind the both of you.

Your back gently pressed against the uncomfortable wood of the door as you latched it, ensuring that no one would be barging in anytime soon. Ethan appeared both excited and bewildered, chomping at the bit to finally touch a girl. He’d been lonely for so long — and now, fantasy was becoming reality.

“Are you sure? I — What if somebody hears us or comes knocking?” Ethan asked. In all actuality, he didn’t care whatsoever. He was aching, desperate to feel you and be inside of you, if you let him. The idea of losing his virginity to a beautiful girl at a party was enticing.

Neglecting to offer an answer to his constant string of worrying, you decided to change course. “Kiss me.” You whispered, feeling a pang of molten heat hit your stomach when Ethan practically pounced on you, lips messy and inexperienced as he kissed you.

The stiff cardboard of his helmet bumped into your face, causing you to giggle. Ethan became crimson-faced, swiftly tossing it behind him onto the gray carpet. Without hesitation, he grabbed your face, kissing you again with a low groan.

Music blared from downstairs, bass able to eclipse all of the noise emerging from the guest room. Your hands moved toward his shoulders, lips tangling with his as he readjusted his grip. Ethan’s palms sank into your soft curves, clutching at your hips above the dress.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” Ethan mumbled, peering at you through his lashes. “I want to learn, though.” He wasn’t clueless — he’d watched things online before and indulged in the company of his right hand on multiple occasions.

Gentle laughter escaped you, accompanied by a twinge of understanding. “I don’t know if I wanna go all the way in the guest room of a frat house,” You mused, fingers shifting to rake through his hair. “It’s okay, Ethan. I’m not worried about it.”

Ethan relaxed, visibly reassured by your words before you tapped a nail against the cardboard cutout framing his chest. He got the hint, happy to be rid of the ridiculous costume. He didn’t care very much for it — you, on the other hand, looked ethereal.

Instead of you steering him around, he took ahold of your hands, coaxing you toward the unmade mattress. He had a vivid idea of what he wanted to do to you. Ethan watched with wide, desirous eyes as you sat down, flesh crawling with heat when he stood between your legs.

To your complete delight, Ethan sank down onto his knees, all six feet and two inches of him, hands gently caressing your legs. “You’ll tell me if I’m not doing something right, yeah?” He prompted, sucking in a sharp breath when you kissed him.

He was tall, and you didn’t have to stoop very much at all to reach him, feeling his fingertips tease the hem of your dress. Your fingers scraped against the nape of his neck, pushing themselves throughout his mop of curly hair. The soft groan that escaped him made your heart flutter.

“I’ll tell you.” You murmured, watching as he sheepishly tilted inward for another kiss. Ethan’s hands began to creep underneath your dress at a snail’s pace, exploring every inch of you. You felt velveteen beneath his fingertips, like a fine silk.

“Can I take your dress off?” Ethan murmured, peering at you through thick eyelashes. His breath hitched within his throat as you reached toward your back, unzipping the shimmering garment.

You neglected to shimmy out of the snug fabric, letting it pool around your chest, instead. “All yours.” Your hand dipped toward the silvery straps around your ankles as you stepped out of your heels.

Ethan swallowed the lump of excitement that coalesced within the back of his throat, hands curling into the hem of your dress. Sluggishly, he began to coax the fabric down, mesmerized by the way you lifted your hips, wordlessly assisting him.

The thin straps of your lace brassiere clung to your chest, accompanied by a matching pair of panties. Ethan’s sigh was shaky, quivering with a tremor of delight as he grabbed your thighs, body pushing them apart.

“You’re so beautiful.” A low, throaty groan escaped him, lips agape as he pressed a kiss against your thigh. Even your smell was intoxicating, swarming his senses like a heady tidal wave. He didn’t know where to start, but he had an idea of what he wanted.

Swallowing his bout of nervousness, Ethan continued to kiss along your leg, feeling your fingers curl into his hair. The little tugs and motions you made only served to make his heart beat faster, goosebumps coalescing along his spine. His hands curled into the waistband of your panties, inching them down your legs.

You squirmed, chest fluttering with warmth as he looked to you for consent, skin flush with scarlet. “Please, Ethan.” Your hips jolted forward, aching for his mouth, fingers — anything that he was willing to give you. “Please keep going.”

Ethan loved that — he loved hearing you beg.

He wondered what it’d be like to make you cry, perhaps toy with you, knife in-hand, make you writhe. Some sinister part of him wanted to hear you say it again, and without thinking, his mouth moved before he could comprehend anything else.

“Say it again,” Ethan urged, chest rising and falling with soft pants as he clutched at your legs. The doe-eyed expression on your countenance only added fuel to the now-raging fire, and he watched with silent glee as you let out a soft whine. “Please.”

“Ethan, please,” Without hesitation, you pleaded with him, desperate for friction — for any shred of it. Your voice rose an octave, bleeding heat from between your legs. “Please, please,” You moaned, watching the way his pupils expanded with lust. “I want you — want your mouth.”

Despite his inexperience, Ethan was prepared to follow basic instinct, palms smoothing themselves along your thighs until he held your hips. His head dipped between your thighs, tongue sluggishly swiping along your cunt, familiarizing himself with your taste.

Your back arched, stomach swirling with an excitable heat as he took his time. There was something exploratory in-nature, a desire to savor you. His cock strained against the front of his jeans when your nails gently raked themselves over his dark curls.

He shuddered with delight, ministrations lacking any haste. Ethan went slow, almost painfully so, tongue dutifully lapping at your cunt as he kneaded into your hips. The sounds that escaped you were divine — intoxicating, really.

The bass of the music thundered underneath the both of you, and any footsteps that reverberated close by were met with indifference. He was buried between your legs, lips caressing your core as he traced along your slit. Your hips jolted forward, desperate for any scrap of friction he provided.

“Ethan,” You moaned, pleasantly surprised by how eager he was. A surge of molten heat coalesced within the pit of your stomach, churning with excitement and desire. You gingerly tugged at his curls, feeling his tongue sweep over your clit. “A—Ah! Right there!”

He paused, mouth clamoring to find that sweet spot of yours, feeling you steer him in the right direction. He lapped at your clit, cock throbbing with an urgency when you whimpered. Ethan hunched forward, gently placing one of your legs on his shoulder.

Ethan felt a newfound rush of confidence, skin hot and visage flushed as he ate you out, increasing his pace and intensity. It became somewhat sloppy, a mess of tongue and desperation, aroused by the noises that escaped you and the constant pressure of your hand in his hair.

What he wouldn’t give to watch you by yourself — a picture for later, or touching you while you slept. The thought of you beneath him, begging for more, tears in your eyes — he groaned, cock straining against the front of his jeans.

His heart hammered erratically, mirroring your own galloping heartbeat as he kissed your clit, tongue messily lapping wherever he could. You squirmed again whenever he touched that sensitive clutch of nerves, slumping backwards onto the mattress.

“Fuck, you’re addicting,” Ethan groaned, and that was enough to get you to whimper. You’d never been called that before, and the way he half-whined the words himself made your hips buck forward. “So pretty.” He whispered, nearly in disbelief as he lapped at your clit.

Your stomach sloshed with molten heat, lips agape as another moan tore past your mouth. He was working wonders, nails digging into your haunch, causing goosebumps to prickle along your thighs. “I want you to use your hand.” You sighed.

Ethan knew that he wouldn’t last long himself watching you, and when you sat up, he was scarlet-faced and visibly pained. “I—I’m sorry.” It was as if his confidence had shattered completely. He was a little embarrassed about how hard he’d gotten from this, but you seemed understanding.

“Come here,” You gestured toward the empty spot next to you, and Ethan quickly sat down. Without hesitation, your hands flew to his belt, unzipping his jeans as you reached into his boxers. “Together.”

His breath hitched within his throat as he ushered you into his lap, hovering above one of his thighs. Ethan kissed you, swallowing your needy moan in the process — you could taste yourself, the lewdness of it all. He didn’t need any guidance as he slid two fingers against your slick cunt.

It was instantaneous — the both of you were catching fire, succumbing to basic instinct and desire. You began to steadily stroke along his cock, thumb caressing the tip of his erection, oozing with precum. Ethan gasped, hips stuttering as he bucked into your palm.

Your body rolled into his hand, digits sluggishly seeking your entrance. You guided him there, noticing the way his gaze had flickered from your face to your body. You whimpered when he sank his fingers into your tight heat, pistoning in and out.

A string of saliva connected your swollen lips to his, but Ethan didn’t stop kissing you. They turned from gentle and exploratory to rough and wanton, tongue briefly tangling with yours.

Between the dimly-lit, sienna glow of the room and the thrum of the bass downstairs, you were lost in his touch, floating away into the blissful taste of his mouth. He was all around you and in your blood, like the surging of the music.

You didn’t stop whatsoever, palm slick with his precum as you pumped along the length of his cock, mesmerized by that glazed, lovestruck look in his eyes. You were wonderfully naive, oblivious to the hungering darkness and obsession that rested within Ethan’s pretty stare.

“I want you.” Ethan’s voice reverberated in between strings of heated kisses, sending a wave of heat all throughout your body. There was a stark juxtaposition between the meek, inexperienced boy and the darker, deeper tone he had just now.

You felt his desire seep into your very bones, rocking atop his thigh as his digits continued to piston in and out. Ethan was content to finger-fuck you into your orgasm, thumb seeking to toy with your clit. It caused you to gasp and shiver with delight, feeling his teeth momentarily catch your lower lip.

A soft, simpering whine left you, one hand digging into the nape of his neck as the other stroked along his cock. The intensity only continued to mount, rising like the swell of a tide. Ethan’s hips began to stutter as he let out a groan of his own, cumming into your palm.

It was messy, hot and sticky in glistening tendrils across your thigh, and you were right behind him. As you sank forward, he curled his fingers just slightly, sending you into the white-hot explosion of your release. There was a newfound spot on his jeans from where you’d been moments prior.

“Shit,” He huffed, somewhat abashed about making such a mess. His curls were disheveled, flesh shimmering with perspiration, face noticeably flushed. “Ah … Sorry.” Admittedly, Ethan loved the sight of you like this, stained with his seed, but he didn’t want to scare you off.

As you recuperated, you reached for your dress, unable to bite back the smitten smile on your features. “It’s okay,” You giggled. “I thought it was hot.” You confessed, using the spare t-shirt in your purse to clean yourself up. Something to throw in the washer, later.

Ethan blushed, clamoring to zip his jeans up as you shimmied back into your panties and dress. He noticed you struggling with the zipper towards the small of your back. “You need some help?” He asked, voice unusually soft as he stepped closer.

“Thank you,” The gesture was sweet, something that you didn’t expect. Regardless, you let him zip you back up, noticing the way he’d simply lingered close by as you buckled your heels around your ankles. “I should get going. I’m sure my friends are wondering where I am.”

“Wait,” Ethan’s hands involuntarily flew toward your hips, gently pulling you close. “I want to see you again.” Even if he had duplicitous methods of getting your phone number, he wanted this to be organic.

“Okay,” Despite having a hookup in the empty room of a frat house, you did want to see him again, too. He was painfully sweet — and that was hard to come by. “I want to see you again, too. Here.”

You wrote your number down on the cardboard chest-plate of his knight costume. He said he left his phone back at the dormitory — and you came prepared with the half-dried ink pen wasting away in the bottom of your purse.

By the time you and Ethan made it back out to the party, he was being hauled away by his friends, and you had found your group again.

If he had it his way, the next time you’d see him, you’d be at the end of his knife.