#little adam was metal as shit

[adamshallperish]

i will be honest here, discovering the dove cameron genie in a bottle cover when i was naught but the tender age of ten likely did irreparable damage to my psyche

[rafedaddy01]

“You can take it” || rafe x Barry x reader

Summary: you, Barry, and rafe are all best friends, after a night of partying (snorting coke in Barry’s trailer) the three of you end up having a little too much fun.

This night changed everything, the whole dynamic of your friend group has shifted. But, you have to be honest with yourself, you most definitely enjoyed it.

Genre: dark, rough, smut, lots and lots of smut (I mean just look at the request)

Warnings: smut, threesome, anal, but plug, toys, male receiving oral, language, degrading, name calling, p in v, unprotected sex, mentions of drugs (just barely tho)

Authors note: guys. I just saw that I have a little over 2k followers thank you so much (I’m gonna fucking cry rn)

——————————————————————————

You were at home. Well not physically, but home is where the heart is. And as weird and disturbing as it may sound, your home was in Barry’s trailer with your two best friends, Rafe Cameron and Barry.

You honestly don’t even remember how the three of you became friends.

It was at some party, you were trying to buy coke off some prick who kept flirting with you the whole night and withholding the coke from you until you let him hit, and of course that prick ended up being Rafe. You never let him near you though, you simply pretended to be going in for a kiss and when he was too distracted you reached in his pocket and grabbed the little dime bag and booked it.

Rafe had to admit, you were feisty and he respected that, you were also smart and sneaky. So he introduced you to his dealer, Barry.

And ever since then the three of you have been tighter than tighty whiteys.

“Yo, quick hogging that shit man” Barry snatched the dollar bill from Rafes hand before plopping himself on the empty couch cushion next to you.

“You’ve got a fuckin problem, country club” he laughed and shook his head before leaning down and snorting the white powder.

“My turn” your pretty manicured nails snatched the bill from Barry.

“I don’t have a problem. This shit just helps me relax” both you and Barry watched him pull another rolled up doller bill and a little dime bag out of his back pocket.

Laughing you said, “you’ve got a problem Cameron” before leaning down and taking your final line.

You don’t even know how the next events took place. The only thing you remember was laughing so hard you snorted and then laughing some more as the guys laughed at your snort, and then both your hands landed on the thighs on either side of you, rubbing up and down.

“Mmm, wanna do something wild?” Your words were strung together as you leaned your head back on the couch, “what’s that, princess?” Rafes raspy voice brought your eyes to his and you watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. “Let’s all fuck each other”

And that’s how you ended up on your stomach on Barry’s squeaky trailer bed. Rafe pounding into from behind, and Barry stuffing your mouth from the front.

“Such a good fuckin girl, isn’t she Barry?” Rafe praised you as he moved in and out at a rough pace, his palm coming flat against your ass as he spanked you. “She sure is, country club. Letting us use her like this, such a slut” Barry groaned out, his lips curving and his gold tooth shining in the light.

“What do you say we have some more fun” Rafe spoke behind you. You couldn’t turn your head to see what he was holding because of the grip Barry had on your hair and how far down his cock was in your throat, but you knew it wasn’t good when you saw the wicked look in Barry’s eyes. “Go for it, I want this whore stuffed in all her holes” Barry brought his eyes back down to yours, you looked up at him with a pleading look. “Shh, it’s alright princess. You can take it”

He pet your hair back and wiped the tears from your cheeks as you felt the cold metal pushing between your ass, rafe groaned behind you before you felt his spit fall right onto your tight ring, you felt it drip down and onto your pussy where he was still moving in and out in slower strokes. “Are you gonna be a good girl for us, huh princess? You gonna let us use you in any way, be our little sex doll” rafe slapped your ass and you moaned around Barry’s cock, trying to answer.

“What was that?” Rafe smacked you again and again until Barry pulled his cock out. You turned your head and looked rafe right in the eyes as you whined “please”

“That’s what I like to hear” one last slap to your ass before he pushed the metal plug all the way into your tight ass and his hips sped up.

Your mouth flew out and Barry took it as a chance to shove himself right back in.

You were wasted. High off coke, mind fuzzy, body on fire, your mouth was stuffed and the sounds of both men moaning your name and getting pleasure from your body drove you wild.

You couldn’t take it anymore, you needed to come.

Your hand moved down to toy with your clit, moaning louder around Barry, “would you look at that, little slut wants to get off” Barry told rafe. “Should we let her?”

“Not yet” Rafe stopped moving inside you and pulled out, you whined, crying at the empty feeling and desperately rutting against your hand to get any kind of friction. The plug in your ass was removed and that was the last straw, your cheeks had tears streaming down them.

“Shh, come here baby.” Rafe grabbed you and turned you around so you were laying on his chest, straddling his lap. “Why are you crying? Huh?” He grabbed your face and smooshed your cheeks together with one hand as the other wiped away your tears. “You’re the one that wanted this, remember? Begging us to fuck you like a whore”

“I-I just wanna cum, please” you whined like a child, begging for some sort of relief from them.

“And you will” he shushed you, “just when we say you can” and the smile he had on his face was wiped off and replaced with a sadistic smirk.

Your eyes widened as he hugged you against his chest and you felt him slip back inside you as Barry slipped in between your other tight hole, filling you to the brim.

You were so stuffed and full you couldn’t even breathe. Just accepting defeat and laying against Rafes chest as you let them use your body for their pleasure.

It was your idea after all

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover @mema10

[chvoswxtch]

part one: the call

[series masterlist] | [part two]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: a ghost from the past has returned.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of murder, creepy sleazy boss & brief mentions of sexual harassment, billy being the cocky lil shit he is

word count: 3.8k

a/n: ahhhhhhh! i've been working on this for the past few months & i'm so excited to finally put it out. I really really really hope y'all enjoy it. this is only 6 parts, so it will not be a slow burn. it's gonna get intense fast. also, there is an oc name mentioned, but it's just for the backstory of the plot. this is still a self insert, & y/n will be used for the rest of the story! without further ado, let's get this spooky slutty season started. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

This was a bad dream. It had to be. There was no other logical way to explain why you were currently sitting in an interrogation room at a precinct, being questioned by police about a man that you had gone on a blind date with not even twelve hours ago, who had been found stabbed to death in an alley two blocks away from your apartment building.

It was just a nightmare. It wasn’t real. All you had to do was open your eyes, and this would all go away. You knew how to deal with nightmares. You knew how to escape them. You’d been running and hiding from them your whole life. All you had to do was open your eyes, and the sinister shadows wouldn't be able to sink their claws into your subconscious to trap you in the dark. Just open them, and this will all disappear. 

Just open your eyes.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

The detective’s voice swiftly brought you out of the trance of denial your mind had wandered into, and your eyes snapped open. To your dismay, nothing changed. The two detectives were still sitting across the table from you, the metal cold against your sweaty palms, one eying you warily while the other regarded you with a more sympathetic stare. The chair beneath you was still stiff and uncomfortable, the light above was still a harsh shade of artificial brightness, and the large piece of glass to your right that reflected your terrified expression still made you feel unsettled knowing there was someone watching you just on the other side of that two-way pane.

“I…I’m sorry. What was the question?”

The waver in your voice gave away how shaken you were by the whole ordeal. When the police had shown up at your office an hour ago stating they needed to bring you in for questioning regarding the murder of Adam Mercer, shock had instantly shot through your entire nervous system, chilling the very blood in your veins with an icy sense of dread. 

This was the kind of thing you heard about happening in the news. A tragedy that struck someone else’s life. A nameless, faceless person whose existence you were unaware of. It was the kind of thing nobody ever thought could happen to them, until it did.

The older detective, the more commiserating one, had said they thought it was some kind of mugging gone wrong. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in New York City, unfortunately. The dazzling city was also dangerous. But since you were the last person to see Adam alive, they needed as much information as you could give them about the last few hours of his life. For some odd reason, it filled you with a sense of guilt that his final moments had been spent with you, a complete stranger, instead of someone else. 

Adam had been a really nice guy. He’d seemed to enjoy the date. He’d thrown his head back and laughed like a little kid at a stupid joke you’d told. He’d flashed you a charming smile when you’d nearly knocked your glass of wine over into your pasta. He’d animatedly told you about his family’s tradition of selecting a perfect tree together at a local Christmas farm back in his home state of Jersey every holiday season. He’d been sweet and gentle and respectful. But had he been happy? 

Had he succumbed to the inevitable fate of death at his attacker’s hands without a fight? Did he even see it coming? Had he had that moment, where everything flashed before his eyes, all his mistakes, all his regrets, all the would’ve, could’ve, should'ves? 

You knew what that feeling was like. You’d been there, once before. Nothing makes you want to live more than Death deciding to show up at your door and pick the lock with its cold, bony fingers to collect a bounty early. 

Thirteen times. Adam had been brutally stabbed thirteen times. It was excessive for a mugging. It felt more personal, that kind of anger and passion. As morbid as the thought was, you hoped the first one had killed him. You hoped he that went into shock swiftly and bled out just as fast so he hadn’t suffered through the next twelve.

Holding his pen in his right hand, the tip hovering over his worn yellow pocket sized notepad, Detective Craven repeated his question.

“How well did you know Adam?”

“I…I didn’t. I’d never met him until last night. My roommate um…she knew him. She’s the one who set us up.”

“Your roommate being Miss Riley?”

Detective Williamson had his hands clasped together in front of him on the table. He lifted one of his brows while waiting for you to answer his question. Swallowing thickly, you gave a faint nod of your head and dropped your hands to your lap, fidgeting with them under the table anxiously. 

“Yeah, Annie.”

Detective Craven cleared his throat, reading over his notes with his honey brown eyes as he continued his questioning.

“Now, you said he picked you up at your apartment around eight-thirty, the two of you had dinner at Maureen’s, and then he dropped you back off at your place around eleven. He left right after that?”

“Yeah, he…um…we said goodnight, he said he’d like to see me again, and then he told me he’d call me tomorrow.”

“He didn’t come up to your apartment at all?”

Detective Williamson didn’t bother hiding the skepticism in his voice, or the implication behind his words, his icy blue eyes locked on you in an almost unsettling way.

“No, he dropped me off at the front steps of the building.”

“And you didn’t see where he went when he left? Didn’t give him one last look after a goodnight kiss?”

A flash of annoyance broke through your stunned disbelief at the invasive second question. You hadn’t said anything about a kiss. The younger detective seemed to be fishing for a crack in your alibi for some reason, trying to catch you in a lie that didn’t exist. A flicker of defensiveness crept into your voice when you spoke.

“No, after we said goodnight, I went inside.”

Before Detective Williamson could ask another thinly veiled judgmental question, Detective Craven stood up, shooting his partner a silencing look. Glancing down at you with a warmer expression, the older man gestured towards the door with his hand.

“That’s all the questions we have for now. We appreciate you speaking with us. I’ll walk you out.”

The precinct was bustling. Various murmurs of conversation buzzed in your ears. People were breezing past in every direction, but amidst the sea of chaos, you spotted a familiar head of blonde hair. Annie jumped up from the chair she’d been sitting in and forced her way through the waves of people, not once muttering an “excuse me” or waiting for someone to move out of her way. A true New Yorker.

Detective Craven placed his hand on your shoulder to get your attention and held out a white business card that had all of his information on it in embossed black text.

“If you can think of anything else that might be helpful, don’t hesitate to call.”

Taking the card into your hand, you looked up at him and forced a tight smile onto your lips, giving him a faint nod of your head.

“Of course.”

After giving your shoulder a light squeeze, Detective Craven gave Annie a nod of acknowledgement before turning and disappearing back inside the interrogation room. As soon as you turned to face her, Annie’s face contorted into an expression of pity and concern. She immediately pulled you into a hug, and it took everything in you not to crumble under the weight of your own overwhelming emotions.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

»»———　　———««

Annie had swiftly shot down your plan to go back to work before the words could even fully leave your lips. All you wanted to do was dive head first into a distraction, to immerse yourself fully in the piles of paper and black ink sitting on your desk that were waiting to transport you to another universe and into the body of someone else whose world hadn’t just been flipped upside down. Again. 

Instead, she brought you back to your shared apartment, uncorked a bottle of wine for each of you, and did her best to help you sort through the shock and the ripples it caused within you. She didn’t understand that your instinct was to run and hide, and that was because she didn’t understand you, not really. But that wasn’t her fault. She could only understand what you allowed her to, and there were huge pieces of yourself you kept hidden from her and everyone else beneath carefully crafted layers.

Pieces you were not ready to uncover and face yet.

The following morning when you showed up to work at the publishing house, it felt like everyone was looking through you instead of at you. Everyone had heard what happened, had seen the two detectives escorting you out of your office, but none of your coworkers said a word. Not to your face, anyway. You could feel the weight of their lingering stares, their hushed whispers floating past your ear like a cold autumn breeze. It was a familiar territory you’d already escaped once.

To your relief, you hadn’t been harassed by reporters wanting an exclusive on the story. Unfortunately, crimes like what had happened to Adam were a dime a dozen in this city. You felt guilty for feeling grateful for that, but not having cameras shoved in your face to be broadcast on news outlets that circulated on social media worked in your favor. You had come to the city that millions of people called home for a reason. You came here to disappear, to be invisible. The last thing you needed was to be thrust into a spotlight that would attract attention you’d gone to great lengths to avoid.

In the midst of trying to drown out the white noise of suspicious gossip and ignoring the way the stares penetrating the glass windows of your office made your insides twist in dreaded knots, you almost missed the sound of a knock at your door. Lifting your head, you were met with the sight of the last person you ever expected to see standing in the doorway.

Billy Russo.

He was significantly more dressed up than the last time you’d seen him, looking every bit the illustrious CEO, although that signature arrogant smirk of his seemed to be missing for once. His tall frame was covered in a deep navy blue three piece suit with a crisp white dress shirt beneath the matching tie, a dark charcoal gray thick coat layering over top. His raven hair was gelled back perfectly, just like it was that night at the bar, but the gleam of mischief in his dark brown eyes was absent. As he stood in the doorway of your office, nearly taking up the entire frame, he seemed to be looking at you in an expression of something that resembled concern.

“Billy.”

The surprise in your hushed tone rang clear in the quiet of your office. Billy removed the black leather gloves from his hands, slipping them into the pocket of his overcoat.

“This a bad time?”

Your lips parted slightly as your eyes flickered down to the open manuscript on your desk before looking up at him again.

“Um…no. No…I…what are you doing here?”

Billy took a step forward into your office and quietly closed the door behind himself.

“Just came by to check on ya.”

“Check on me?”

“Derek told me what happened.”

Billy kept his eyes locked on you as he explained the reasoning behind his unexpected visit, watching you closely.

Derek Becker was a friend of Billy’s. They had served in the military together, and he now worked for Billy’s private security company, Anvil. Derek also happened to be Annie’s boyfriend. A few months back, the two of them had tried to set you and Billy up. The four of you had gone out to a bar for drinks, but instead of hitting it off with Billy, you’d found him narcissistic, and you’d had no interest in pursuing anything romantic with him. Although, based on how he had interacted with you that night, it had seemed like he hadn’t been looking for anything romantic either, just a night of physical release.

Because Annie was your best friend and roommate, and Derek was often around, you’d seen Billy a few times since then, but it wasn’t like the two of you were friends. Needless to say, the fact that he’d made the trip to your office to check on your mental wellbeing was a bit of a shock.

“I’m fine.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, and the ghost of a smile graced the edge of his lips.

“You almost sounded like you meant that.”

You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, to protest the underlying accusation in his words, but your defense got stuck in your throat. Seeing the look on your face, Billy’s faint amusement quickly disappeared, and he let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few steps closer towards your desk.

“I’m sorry, I’m not here to be a dick. But it’s alright if you’re not fine. Normal people wouldn’t be fine in this situation.”

“Normal people?”

Billy stared down at you for a moment silently before turning his head to look out the glass window of your office, rubbing his large palm over his mouth and perfectly trimmed beard. Looking down at you again, a flicker of amusement was back in his gaze, and there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“I got a real good habit of sayin’ the wrong thing with you, huh?”

The self deprecation you detected in his smooth voice surprised you. You’d never heard him say anything that didn’t have an undertone of superiority or didn’t sound prideful. The guy standing in front of you wasn’t acting like the cocky rich playboy you were used to, and it made you wonder for a second if that’s what it really was; an act. A flicker of newfound curiosity had you wondering if Billy’s persona was as carefully crafted as your own.

“I don’t know if I’d call that a good habit.”

Billy let out a puff of air past his lips, giving a faint shake of his head in faux disapproval.

“Kickin’ a man while he’s down? That’s ruthless, sweetheart.”

“I think your ego can survive being knocked down a few pegs.”

Billy let out a deep chuckle at that, and his lips spread into a wolfish grin.

“Between you and me, it’s a bit more fragile than you think.”

You looked at him in faux shock, an overly dramatic gasp leaving your lips.

“What? You mean the ego you overcompensate for with designer clothes and fancy cars is delicate?”

Billy rolled his eyes and held his hand up in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright. I get it. You’ve kept me humble enough for one day.”

To your surprise, and to Billy’s, you smiled. It was small, but it was real and genuine. Billy’s impromptu visit was the last thing you expected to provide a lighthearted distraction to the whirlwind of chaos that had been plaguing you since yesterday. 

As much as you hadn’t been able to stand him the night you met him, you couldn’t deny that the banter between you came effortlessly. Within the first five minutes of meeting him, you’d called him a ‘self obsessed dumbass’, and instead of getting offended, he’d smiled. It had quickly launched into a battle of wits, who could come up with the more clever retort faster, and it only took half an hour for Derek and Annie to become exhausted, realizing they’d made a huge mistake and miscalculated their match making skills. Billy seemed to enjoy antagonizing you, and you couldn’t resist putting a man like him in his place.

Everytime the two of you were around each other, it was exactly the same. Just an endless cycle of unrequited flirting and unrestrained snark.

“Humble is not exactly a word I’d use to describe you, Russo.”

Before Billy could respond, your office door suddenly opened and your boss walked in, glancing between you and Billy in a mixture of curiosity and barely concealed displeasure. He seemed to size him up before turning his attention towards you, not so subtly letting his eyes roam over your figure sitting behind your desk in a way that made your skin crawl, which wasn’t missed by Billy. John gestured his head in Billy’s direction.

“Another detective?”

There was clear annoyance in John’s voice that didn’t go unnoticed by you. It wasn’t lost on Billy either, and his posture seemed to go rigid.

“No. No, um…friend.”

Friend. Using that word to describe Billy tasted foreign on your tongue, but Billy didn’t appear to react to it. His dark brown eyes sized John up in a similar fashion as your boss had done to him, only Billy didn’t even attempt to hide his judgment and lack of impression.

“You know, most people knock before just walkin’ in.”

Both yours and John’s heads turned towards Billy. You were momentarily stunned by the way Billy had so casually called out John’s abrupt intrusion, and John looked visibly irritated, but he turned to face Billy with a forced smile on his mouth.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m John Altieri. I own this publishing house.”

Unlike John, Billy didn’t plaster a fake smile on his face for politeness, or speak in a faux friendly tone. Maintaining eye contact, he reached out to grasp John’s outstretched hand with more firmness than necessary as he shook it.

“Billy Russo. I own the building.”

That bombshell had you sitting up straighter in your chair and blinking a few times in surprise. Billy owned the building? Since when? That was definitely news to you.

The smile on John’s face faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered and nodded, trying to appear unphased by that revelation.

“Pleasure. If you don’t mind, I have some important things to discuss with Y/N/N. In private.”

Billy outwardly looked calm and collected, but you swore you saw a flicker of anger in his dark brown eyes. He didn’t seem to like hearing your boss refer to you with a nickname that was spoken with too saccharine of a tone for a superior to speak about their employee. Not that you liked it either. John seemed to always maintain a balance on that tightrope of not being inappropriate enough to report him to HR, but being too friendly for you to not feel uncomfortable. 

The bastard was clever, you’d give him that. He knew what he was doing. He was careful and cautious enough that it couldn’t be classified as textbook harassment, and could be argued as a simple misunderstanding. It made you want to stab him with your pen every time you caught him staring at your chest or your legs.

After letting a purposeful uncomfortable moment of silence pass, Billy looked down at John, that signature smirk you were used to seeing on his lips spreading slowly like a sun rising over the skyline.

“Of course.”

Turning his head to look at you again, Billy gave you a faint nod of his head and a wink.

“See ya later, sweetheart.”

Giving John one last final unimpressed and cold side eye, Billy pulled his leather gloves out of his overcoat pocket and turned to leave your office with a confident stride, leaving you and John alone in your office, and your mind swirling with a flurry of questions about Billy Russo.

»»———　　———««

By the time you walked through the front door of yours and Annie’s shared apartment, all you wanted was a hot shower and a few hours of sleep. You’d spent last night tossing and turning, haunted by the nightmare your life had once again turned into, and you felt the exhaustion in every cell of your body. Tossing your keys into the little green bowl on the side table by the front door, your footsteps were slow and sluggish as you headed down the hall on the left towards your bedroom.

Dropping your purse onto your bed, you sat down on the edge of it and slipped off your shoes, letting them drop on the hardwood floor with a soft thud. Letting out a deep exhale, you closed your eyes and hunched over, covering your face with both of your hands. The muffled noise of your ringtone began to sound from your purse. Dragging your palms down your face, you slipped one of your hands into your purse to dig for your phone blindly, absentmindedly hitting the answer button and bringing it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello Y/N.”

The voice that sounded on the other end of the line wasn’t one you recognized. Pulling your phone away from your ear, you looked down at the lit screen and read “unknown caller”. A furrow creased between your brows as you brought your phone back up to your ear, running one of your hands through the roots of your hair to push it back.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“I guess your new boyfriend didn’t make the cut.”

Immediately your hand froze, and your eyes widened. A mix of confusion, disbelief, and anger coursed through you, but the latter won out.

“Excuse me?”

Your tone quickly shifted from one of puzzlement to pure fury as you sat up straighter. A sinister chuckle from the deep mysterious voice on the other end of the line further incensed you.

“Did you really think I’d let anyone else have you, Cassia?”

The phone slipped out of your hand, dropping to the floor below with a harsh sound that didn’t even register in your ears. A pit of dread opened up in your stomach, and fear trickled down your spine as if someone had started to trace the frozen sharp tip of an icicle along the back of your neck. Panic spread through your nervous system like a lit match to a dehydrated forest, and the four walls of your bedroom began to close in around you, squeezing the last breath of oxygen from your lungs.

No one in New York knew that name. 

You’d left it back in California, along with your past. The past that had forced you to run to the other side of the country and bury every trace of who you were before. The past that you tried so hard to forget and cover up with a new identity and a new life. The past that was taunting you from the other end of the line.

The past that had come back, and murdered Adam.

He’d found you.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @ferns-fics @danzer8705 @to-thelakes @simonsgirl @sweetserendipity65 @zomtart @day-dreaming-goddess @caroblogsthings @thomasshelbyswife @snowkestrel @hallowedtangerine @ameliaswife @dreadfulxives18 @ebsmind @lllla717 @slumnit

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»— if you wanna get in the spooky slutty mood, listen here! -> the manhattan murders soundtrack

[deadghosy]

MORE OF TRAILBLAZER!READER PLS PLS PLS PLS PLSSS, WHAT DOES THE ANGELS THINK OF TRAILBLAZER!READER???

HAZBIN HOTEL ANGELS X TRAILBLAZER! READER

prompt: how they viewed you in heaven was something no one excepted an angel like you to act.

I just gotta say. You are a fucking menace.

When you first appeared in heaven as the most beautiful thing with your golden eyes and two pair of wings….you weren’t the most nicest as you were too blunt.

“Is this a flash bang? Why the hell is it so bright here.”

everyone gasped at the H word as if this was kindergarten all over again

*cue you need to leave sound*

Sera had to put a few rules in your face. Literally a whole ass rule book as you sat there with a blank face saying. “Are you effing Fr?” Sera nodded and left leaving you with this HUMONGOUS ASS BOOK THAT REMINDED YOU OF FAIRLY ODD PARENTS

Sera founded you as a troubled youth that needs to see the rules all over again to see the true potential for you to stay in heaven.

Emily didn’t think of you being a troublemaker, she found you quite cool as you explored around heaven having the bravery to speak your mind and not let anything bring you down.

Emily and you got along great and fine as she calls you her little collector as you call her…just Em.

It was a late heavenly night as you stood up from your bed as you did a barrel roll for your balcony as you were starving for some digging. You rummage through the dumpster to find a nice old pearly necklace and a bracelet. “Emily would love this…” you said as you smiled not noticing a blonde haired lady watching you with an asumed smile.

The blonde haired lady from afar found you mysteriously cute and attractive as you roam the streets of heaven. 

ADAM HATES YOUR FUCKING GUTS😭😭

It all started when you was digging in trash. It was basically flirting for you to dig through it. *cue fuck boy face* AND THEN ADAM HAD SNUCK BEHIND YOU READY TO INSULT YOU-

But you kicked him straight in his fucking chin-

That horse ass kick gave him a bruise on his chin for legit 2 weeks

You once blasted music in your apartment…I mean shit it was good music you got from the human world you use to live in. You got so much noise complaints but thanks to Emily, she made it seem like you weren’t causing issues.

Lute has no opinions on you, she just doesn’t have time to even look at you. Even though you sometimes break in her place to eat all her food like the raccoon you are.

One day you actually caused trouble in heaven just because you decided to dig in a lady’s trash bin from outside.

“HEY GET OUT OF MY DARN TRASH BIN YOU RACCOON!” An angel yelled from her window throwing her boom at you as you swung your metal bat at her that you totally didn’t find in the trash nights ago…..

The lady screamed ducking as the bat went back into your grasp like a boomerang. “THATS IT! IM CALLING THE GUARDS!”

And so that was your cue to run as if your life depended on it as you thrown a rotten banana peel you found in your pocket. You still had one in your mouth.

And that’s how your 1 month trial ended because you fought bitches for your trash.

[atimeofyourlife]

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles warm up round: bakery au rated: t | wc: 840 | cw: none | tags: pre-steddie Eddie never got involved in the upside down, he and Steve meet again a few years later in a bakery in Chicago

The bakery was Steve's pride and joy. It was something that he had accomplished and built up by himself, without the input from his parents. No financial assistance from them, no help in learning how to manage a business. It had been a lot of trial and error, and incredible support from his friends, but he had succeeded. He'd brought the small unit in Chicago using most of the hush money payment over the Upside Down. It needed a lot of work doing to it before he was ready to open it, but once it was open it just took off. Constantly selling out of most of the bakes by lunchtime each day, having to take on extra staff to keep up with demand.

After nearly two years, he had a number of very loyal regulars, the ones who would come in at the same times and same days each week, always ordering the same things. The local workers that would always come in before work or on a morning break for a sweet treat everyday. The older couples that would come in twice a week, once for a dessert for their weekly date nights, and once for treats for their grandchildren. The college students that were adamant that Steve's pastries were infinitely better than the ones they could get on campus.

But the newest regular, one his staff had nicknamed 'Mr Metal,' Steve had yet to meet. From the name, Steve assumed that he worked in the new record store that had opened across the street, but the man always managed to be in and out while Steve was still working in the kitchen, setting up the next batch for the oven or decorating what had just finished cooling.

One Friday morning, he was carrying out the boxes ready to restock the counter, when he heard the voice of Zara, one of the cashiers.

"Uh, I'm not sure. Give me a minute, I'll just have to ask the boss."

"Ask me what?" Steve asked as he rounded the counter, the stack of boxes obscuring most of his vision.

"Please tell me that those boxes have lemon cream cheese pastries and apple pie cookies in them." She replied, sounding a little stressed.

"Yeah, lemon are in the top box, apple in the bottom." Steve replied as he put the boxes down on the side, and started unstacking them. He glanced up at the customer, a vaguely familiar, handsome man, and from the long hair, piercings, and the Black Sabbath t-shirt, this had to be the Mr Metal that all the staff kept mentioning. "How many of each did you want?"

"Two of each." The man replied, staring hard at Steve.

"Uh huh." Steve worked quickly to box them up. "Are you aware of our Friday five for four offer? Five bakes for the price of four, so you could get another of your choice at no extra cost."

"I get them for me and my coworkers, theres four of us so I don't think we can split a fifth four ways without fighting over who gets what."

"I can always bag it separately, so you can slip it in your pocket. They don't have to know a thing about it." Steve offered with a wink.

"You drive a hard bargain, Harrington. I'll take another apple pie cookie."

"I-" Steve looked at the man, confused. Unsure how he knew his name. "Did you go to Hawkins, then? I'm sorry, I don't think I remember you."

"You got a table round here? I could climb up and start talking about jocks and conformity." He looked Steve up and down. "Though, you don't seem to conform to the jock image any more, big boy."

It took another moment, but the name hit Steve as he was bagging the extra cookie. "Munson. Used to buy weed off you."

"I don't know if I should be honored that the king remembers me, or wounded that it took so long."

Steve rolled his eyes at the dramatics, it reminding him even more of high school. "I don't remember most people now, too many concussions."

"Shit. But now you're boss of a bakery. How life changes."

"Yeah. It only took three serious concussions, two major disasters in Hawkins, and one disownment after getting caught behind The Hideout with Matty P. But then I realized that this is what I want to be doing."

"What were you doing behind The Hideout with Matty P? Smoking weed or something? I know you never hid about that."

"We had been smoking, but at that point my mouth was, uh, otherwise occupied." Steve admitted.

"Oh, shit." Eddie choked back a laugh, then looked at his watch. "I'd love to hear more about that, but I've got to get back to work."

Steve quickly wrote his number on the bag with the extra cookie, before handing it over. "Call me sometime, maybe we could spend some time together outside of work."

"You're on, Harrington." Eddie winked at Steve, before leaving the bakery.

im not the happiest with the end of this bc it was rushed after my brain turned to mush from migraines

[coryosbaby]

top adam x bottom fem reader? tumblr is lacking 💔

—ᴀᴠᴀ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ !

Adam Stanheight x fem! Bimbo! Reader

✯ Content Warning . semi public sex (in an alley), club scene, choking, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, mild anal, p n v, degradation & praise, creampie, a lil bit of punk Adam with nipple piercings <33

Staring off across the room could not have been as helpful as it is right now.

A man’s hands are grabbing your hair, pressing you between his warm body and a brick wall behind you. He smells good, like some cheap cologne and soap but in the best way possible. He’s got some kind of eyeliner on his lower lashline and a curve hugging t shirt that makes you swoon. You had watched him from across the room under the strobe lights. He had saw you, approached, talked. His name is Adam.

You don’t know him— not really. You know who he is, thanks to a news article you read a few months ago. You know what had happened to him, after he had escaped a viscous serial killer and somehow got out alive. You know that taking a girl in an alleyway is probably his way of blowing off steam. But he was nice enough to strike up conversation before he jumped your bones— even asked to take your picture.

“Trying to remember the scene,” he had said, chuckling nervously. “especially you. You’re the prettiest view here.”

And after that, you had both somehow made your way to the back alley and he had set his camera down and sooner or later you had shoved your tongue down his throat. And okay, so this seems a little trashy, but so what? You would’ve fucked him either way, whether it be at home or at his apartment. And besides— something about this boy has you willing to be fucked like a cheap slut in the middle of an alleyway. And who can blame you, honestly.

If you didn’t know any better, you would ask Adam out.

But you don’t think about that possibility right now— can’t think about that. His crotch is grinding up against yours, his lips consuming you until he pulls away.

“Are you sure this is okay?” He asks. He wants you, but he wants to make sure that being fucked in an alleyway is something you’re into.

Nodding, you ignore the pain in your heels as you lift on your tippy toes in your stilettos. Biting teasingly at his neck, you let out a small breath of air.

“‘S perfect. Now why don’t you shut up and fuck me?”

His eyes are glazed with lust, and his hand reaches down to grab the flesh of your ass.

“Yeah?” He mutters. “Right here?”

At your nod, he shakes his head and chuckles.

“Never met a chick like you before.”

He dives back in for another taste of your lips. His tongue strokes your bottom lip, wet and filthy and oh so delicious. You run your hands up his shirt, feeling the warm skin and the light patch of hair on his chest. Running your hands over his chest, you’re met with the sensation of cold metal.

Nipple rings.

“Been wanting some of these,” you mention to him, and he grins against you.

“Hurt like a bitch. Wouldn’t recommend if you have a low pain tolerance.” Getting shot’ll do that to you— make a needle going through your most sensitive parts seem like child’s play.

“Mmmm..”

You continue to kiss him again, this time flicking over his nipples and playing with the barbells. It drives him crazy, and he becomes more sex crazed and desperate. After a moment he pulls your face away from him. Without warning, he turns you around and shoves your face against the wall. Letting out a tiny gasp, your pussy aches as he pushes your legs apart with one of his own and moves down to his knees. He kneads your ass with his hands, lifting up your pink latex dress to expose your soft ass to him. Groaning, he takes notice of the tiny black thong that’s settling in between your cheeks.

“Shit,” he whispers solely to himself. You smirk. You knew that the lace would come in handy if you got laid tonight.

“Like it?” You say, amused. His hands move up to spread your cheeks. The slightly chilled night air makes your eyes scrunch shut in pleasure.

“So fucking sexy.” Adam praises, and he leans in, using his thumb to move away the thong’s string. Watching your dripping pussy from this angle, his cock is so hard that it hurts. Your little clit is settled between two swollen lips, hole clenching and unclenching. Adam takes sight of you under the street lamp a distance away that serves as your only source of light. He thinks you’re beautiful.

He brings his lips to your clit; pressing a soft kiss there, he lets out a small mewl. He kisses all over you, moving up to the globes of your ass to leave wet ones in a trail. And unexpectedly, his finger finds your puckered asshole, running it along on it. He slips his thumb in, gentle, and with his other hand he reaches around to play with your aching pussy. He finds your hole and he probes it with the tip of his tongue, while his finger slides inside your ass. He thrusts one, in, out, in, out, and it’s not long before he adds a second as he begins to devour your cunt like a man starved. Groaning against you, he makes sure to get your pussy nice and wet, makes sure to drool and spit on it as much as he can. You like boys like this; boys that are desperate and messy but still manage to somehow make you submit. Because this whole time, your mouth is spewing so many vulgar phrases, begging, pleading.

“Please! ‘S good, Adam, it’s so good, wanna be good for you…”

“Want you to make me cum, want your cock…”

And Adam’s got this hunger as he hears these words, as your hole feeds him your delicious arousal. He wants to fuck you until you stop breathing.

It’s not long before he presses down on your clit and rubs while his tongue is still probing your walls. Instantly, white hot heat licks up your spine and you can’t help but cum all over Adam’s pretty mouth. You shove your wrist in your mouth to keep quiet but it’s so hard. You haven’t had your pussy ate like this in a while.

Wiping his mouth, Adam grins from behind you as he lifts himself back up to his feet. He begins to undo his belt, the skull shaped buckle glinting in front of his eyes. He unzips his fly, pulling out his hard cock. He strokes himself as he watches your ass grind back desperately against him.

“Still so needy…” He grunts. “God, you’re a slut, aren’t you?”

You mewl, hands reaching behind to spread your cheeks and present yourself to him again. You’re like a bitch in heat for this perfect stranger. He takes notice, instantly shoving his cock against your clit and tapping a few times. He’s being such a tease.

“Adam, cmon..” you whine, trying to adjust your hips so his mushroomed head can catch on your dripping seam. He just shakes his head, rubbing his cock up and down your folds.

“Beg for it,” he whispers against your neck. “Beg for this cock.”

“Please,” you instantly moan out. “Please fill me up. My pussy needs your cock so bad…”

And Adam isn’t a patient guy, so of course he gives into your demands and slides his throbbing cockhead into your entrance. He tilts his head back, mouth falling open, as he enters your warm canal. You mewl against him. He’s big, not too much that its incredibly painful but just enough to give you that delicious stretch.

Adam’s face buries itself into your neck, small sounds leaving his throat as he finally sinks in to the hilt.

“Fuck,” he moans. “Are you always this tight?”

“Mhmmmm,” you say, feeling confident. Your hands reach behind you to run through his dark hair. “Been needing a cock inside me for weeks.”

He thrusts into you a bit harsher now, nipping at your jugular with his teeth.

“Yeah?” He breathes. “Should’ve met me sooner baby,” and then, with a much darker tone, “Could fill up this pussy every day if you’d let me.”

And now you know you need to ask for his number. Because you’ve never felt this needy and this hot for another human being in your life. Maybe it’s love at first sight— or fuck at first sight. It doesn’t matter. He’s beginning to pummel your guts like you’re a fuck doll, grunting into your ear as his hips slap loudly against yours. His hands wrap around your hair and he pulls you back towards his awaiting thrusts.

“Clenching so tight. Making my dick so wet, baby, fuck.”

Squirming in his grasp, you let out a squeak when he bites down on your neck harshly. Like a fucking vampire, the boy begins to suckle up the blood into his mouth. As he pulls away, his pace speeds up impossibly quick.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” He coos. “Who’s fucking this cute little pussy this good?”

“You!” You gasp. “All you, Adam, ‘m yours— shit!”

You’re about to cum embarrassingly fast once again. Just one little flick to your clit and you’ll be spilling all over his cock. Adam takes your ass in his palms and spreads you again so he can watch as you take him.

“Such a good girl,” he breathes. “Such a good, pretty slut. Gonna make you cum so fuckin’ hard on me.”

Your eyes roll back, and he reaches around to rub your clit with his fingers. You seize up, letting out a choked sound, as you cum all over him. He whimpers as he feels your pussy spasm around him, and his fingers on your hips become bruising. You can’t help but have the desire to be filled up with his spend; it doesn’t matter if he might leave you after this, you want him to leave you used and dripping in his cum. You press your hand to his lower stomach from behind you, working your hips hard against him.

“Cum inside me,” You plead, overstimulated. “Need your cum to fill me up. Please, I need it—“

“Shit!” His hips begin to stutter, and with one last stroke he’s cumming.

He rides out his high until his cum is dripping down his balls, his eyes shut and a montage of delicious praises spilling out of him.

When he finishes he gently pulls out of your gaping pussy. Tucking himself back into his pants, he pulls your underwear up with gentle hands. He turns you around, fixing the straps on your dress.

“Okay?” He asks, and you smile as if you’re doped out and nod.

“Never better.”

He laughs, a light flush caking his cheeks now.

“Good,” he says, then chuckles awkwardly. “Uhm— thanks. For..”

He gestures to your body, fumbling with his hands.

“No problem.” You reply. “It’s late. I should be getting home.”

“I can walk you to your car,” Adam says quickly.“I mean, if you want.”

Something tugs in your chest, wondering how the once rough boy is so shy now. You lean up to him, planting a kiss to his cheek.

“I would love that, Adam. Thank you.”

Adam grins, helping you balance on your shoes as you wobble towards the parking lot.

“So… I was wondering if I could get your number?”

You’re relieved that he asked first. You look up at him, his neck caked in hickeys and bites from your own kiss bitten lips.

“Definitely.”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

John Shelby Vs. Breakfast - A John Shelby/Reader Short.

I haven't written for any of my Peaky lads in a hot minute, so I thought I'd do a little fun, fluffy piece for my fave ginge <3 Enjoy!

Words - 792

Warnings - None, just John being John!

Clattering. Swearing. Burnt toast. Those are what greet you after descending the stairs, coming into the kitchen to see perhaps the most unnatural sight in the world; John cooking. Or rather attempting to.  

“Bastard, bloody thing!” Yes, the cast iron pan handle heats up while cooking eggs and bacon in it, not that he’d realise, being a man. Naturally, he’s had a woman perform these tasks for him all his life, so why would he know that? “Oh, shit, shit, shit, not again!”  

At least this time when he reaches for hot metal, he has the sense to cover the end of the toasting fork with a kitchen towel, pulling the slices of bread from in front of the fire. “Fuckin’ hell!” 

You stand and watch it, the sexy, ginger ball of stress whirling like an agitated tornado around the space, John much too predisposed by messing up the preparation of breakfast to notice you there, his entertained audience of one.  

“Alright, I can save that. Scrape the burnt bit off. Right, kettle’s almost done. Sodding hell! How the fuck do women do this and make it look so bloody easy?” 

“Because we’re magicians,” you finally speak, watching him jump before he spins around, pointing at you through the chaos of his own making. 

“You should be in bed, still!”  

Shrugging, you approach, stroking his bare forearms, his sleeves all rolled up. “I was wide awake, so I thought I’d get up.”  

He bustles, waving his arms. “No, no. Ain’t supposed to be like this. I had a plan! Bring you breakfast in bed and now it’s all bloody going wrong!” 

Casting your gaze over his shoulder, your eyebrow flutters upwards. “I don’t think that has anything to do with me coming down the stairs, John. The pan is smoking, by the way.”  

His face falls. “Fuckin’ hell!”  

“Do you want a hand?” you offer, watching him move it from atop the range, scraping the slightly overdone eggs and bacon out onto two plates. 

He waves his hand towards the table. “No, you sit down.” 

“I can do the teapot, at least?” 

More hand gestures are directed. “Sit down, bab!”  

He’s adamant to do this, so tucking your dress, you take a seat, picking up the morning paper as he butters the toast. Finishing plating up the breakfast and pouring the tea, he brings it to you, everything a little crispy and haphazardly presented, your new husband looking at you from under a few furrowed brow.  

“Don’t look nothing like when you make it, but I hope it tastes alright, at least.” 

Digging your fork in, you take a first mouthful. “It’s lovely, darling. Thank you. What made you want to cook for me in the first place, though? You always denounce it as woman’s work. Not that you should. We’re in the twenties now, us women are to have our equality.” 

“Oh, not you an’ all!” he groans, rolling his eyes. “You and bloody Pol and your women’s lib!” His little wink indicates he isn’t a hundred percent serious, picking up a slice of toast and taking a huge bite, crumbs collecting at the corners of his lips. “And I did it because I wanna make amends. Ain’t proper that we’re married and I can’t take you on honeymoon. Nah. Even a weekend up the seaside would have been nice. Got all this fuckin’ shit round me neck, though.” 

Indeed, he has. You know well who you married, and the life of a prolific gangster is seldom easy. Or, in this case, flexible enough to allow for time away from Birmingham with his new bride.  

Reaching for his hand, you stroke the freckled flesh, cocking your head. “You’ve no amends here to make, love. I know, I understand. It is what it is.” 

“Yeah, but it bloody shouldn’t be, cos’ you deserve more!” he fumes, forehead creasing. “And I can’t give it to ya right now. Feel like a right bloody joke of a husband, I do.” 

“You know what you can give me, though?” you tease, John not immediately picking up on the connotations. “A bloody good seeing to.” 

He pauses his chewing, an eyebrow arching. “Get that scran down your neck sharpish, bab. I might not be able to take you away even for a weekend, but I can take you to bed instead.”  

To be honest, is seeing a lot of time pressed against a mattress beneath your new husband not the point of a honeymoon? You’ve always thought so, at least, therefore it matters not where that mattress happens to be. Whether further afield or Birmingham, as long as John is there, it’s all the honeymoon you need.  

A slightly cremated breakfast is an added bonus, too.  

[fuctacles]

Henderson's-brother-centered misadventures continue [Part IV]

[Part I] [Part II] [Part III]

Eddie screamed. Then, he screamed some more. Then, he got hit with a teddy bear, which bounced off into the floor, barely disturbing his mane of hair.

“You get a drop of spit on my pillow, and you’re washing all my sheets!”

He groaned, like a wounded animal. If animals could be wounded by their best friend’s disloyalty.

“No, dude! You can scream into your own fucking pillow! We can jam if you need, smoke or steal a beer, hell, I can even listen to you. But don’t just come here to stink my room with-” Gareth made a flapping motion in Eddie’s general direction. “Whatever this is.”

Eddie groaned louder before finally rolling onto his back.

“I fucking hate him.”

“I was hoping you’d choose jamming,” Gareth sighed. He threw his leg over his chair and leaned on the back of it. “You mean Big Bro Henderson?”

“Who else?” Eddie threw his hands up into the ceiling. His friend barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “He’s the most annoying person I’ve ever met!”

“Good thing you can’t meet yourself, then.”

Eddie glared at him, but from this angle, it gave him a double chin which severely decreased the look’s efficiency.

“You calling me annoying?”

“Yes.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘lively’. Or ‘charismatic’! Or, or, ‘non-conforming’!”

“No, I’m pretty sure ‘annoying’ is the word. Also, ‘dramatic’.”

Eddie glared again, but since his position has not changed so hasn’t its lack of impact.

“How dare you,” he seethed. Gareth completely ignored it.

“So, what did he do this time? Give you more cookies?”

“No!” He had regretted the decision to tell him about it as soon as it left his mouth, but it was out there now. Well, the price of the blackmail material was listening to it first. “He just…” Eddie trailed off, realizing what he was about to say. ‘He let me sit in his lap for the whole length of Karate Kid’ was so much harder to explain than ‘he gave me an extra cookie for my good work.’ He scrambled to find a better approach. 

“So he’s like a therapy dog,” he started, because painting the scene is important.

“What.”

Wrong approach.

“Okay, so I’ve found out he has some issues, something to do with the Starcourt fire, I think? You know nothing of it, by the way, I probably shouldn't know about it. Henderson, well, the little one, just has a big mouth.”

“And so do you. By telling me,” his friend pointed out.

“Emerson, this isn’t about you,” Eddie scolded him. “So he needs extra physical contact or something. And he might have um…” Wrong turn again. “Engaged me in it?”

“Ok, hold on,” Gareth dropped his forehead on the edge of the chair’s back and rubbed his temples. “What do you mean by that? Because I know it’s not as weird as you make it sound.”

Eddie crossed his arms, which looked extra stupid in his horizontal position. He tapped his socked foot against the mattress.

“We were watching Karate Kid, and the couch wasn’t big enough for four people. Nobody else wanted to sit in his lap and I thought it would be, you know, funny, to offer. And he just said ‘okay’, and did it!” His arms flew up into the air again.

Gareth lifted his head.

“So you sat in his lap.”

“He put me in his lap.”

“Dude, you throw your legs all over me when we watch a movie!”

“Yeah, but that’s different!”

“How?”

“Because we’re friends! We play together and shit!”

Gareth scrunched his nose because while he knew of the wisdom his friend possessed (very selective and rarely occurring in the daylight), admitting him right was painful because the cockiness he possessed was probably far greater.

“Well, maybe he’s giving you signs he wants to be friends?”

Eddie snorted.

"No way. Not possible. No."

"And why is that?" Gareth raised an eyebrow at the adamant negation.

"I'm his younger brother's friend-"

"Who's his age."

"-And we like different things. I'm a freak, I like metal and D&D!"

"So does Dustin, and they get along well."

"They are brothers!" 

"Well, I actually hate my sister, it’s not a rule."

Eddie groaned.

"I don't know," he ended up saying, just to voice his internal frustration. At least he was facing the ceiling now and not Gareth's pillow.

He hummed, considering his friend, trying to understand his problem, to even locate it.

"Okay, so you don't like that he's nice?"

"Yes."

"... You want him to be mean?"

"... Yes? Maybe?"

Gareth hit his head against the chair. 

"This whole conversation is lost on me."

When he looked up he met Eddie's eyes, a storm brewing behind them.

"I don't want to like him. But he makes it hard not to because he's so nice."

‘He treats me like I'm normal, like his equal’, went unspoken but Gareth could hear it anyway. It was time to end the questions for the day because getting any deeper into his friend's psyche could trap him like quicksand. 

"And then I go to apologize and end up talking about BDSM of all things!"

"Nope!" Gareth straightened up and hopped out of his chair. "We're going to the garage, so I can't hear you over the drums."

"What a best friend you are," Eddie grumbled but rolled off the bed regardless. He was secretly glad for an excuse to stop talking about Henderson because he started getting lost in his thoughts and feelings himself.

The next time he sees Steve, he doesn’t make it any easier. They see each other only in passing, and the older brother doesn’t give him more than a weak smile and a "Hi, Eddie. Dustin's upstairs," before leaving.

Eddie walks up to his friend's room thoroughly confused. 

"What was that about?" he asks instead of a greeting. He never greets his friends properly these days, but there are more important things like ‘hi’s and ‘hello’s.

"What was what about?"

"Steve," Eddie frowns like it explains everything. And apparently, it does.

"I think he's still upset after last time."

Eddie blinks.

"I said I was sorry!"

Dustin rolls his eyes.

"Sorry doesn't solve everything. It's like a," he snaps his fingers looking for a good comparison. "Like one of the spell components. It's not gonna work without all of them."

Guess he is casting Charm Person after all.

"Okay, but like. What are the other components?"

Dustin just shrugs.

"Hell if I know."

Eddie was burdened with the most unhelpful friends. 

"What do you do when you upset him?"

Dustin's first instinct is to protest, probably point out what a great little brother he is, but one stern look from Eddie makes him shut his mouth and reconsider his words.

"Well, if I made him upset, I'd help him with dinner, make him coffee or tea, pick a movie I know he'd like. Help out with chores, mostly. He does too much by himself." The frown on his face is deep like the mystery of Steve's adoption and Eddie mirrors it.

"This sounds all great when you're brothers, but I'm not a Henderson, how am I supposed to pull that off?

"You helped with dinner once, you could do it again," 

Eddie sighs, long and suffering.

"I guess…"

"Great! Steve has left to get groceries and is making dinner later, I'm sure he'll appreciate the help!" He grins, knowing full well he just backed his friend into a corner.

Eddie sputters when he realizes that. 

“What? Today?”

“No better time than the present.” Dustin shrugs smugly, like it was a universal law they can’t help but follow.

Eddie bristles, because, yeah, true, but…

“I'm not mentally prepared," he complains. 

"For what?" Dustin raises his brows in this annoying way of his. "Cooking?"

"You ate my mac and cheese, you understand the severity of the situation!" he yells, accusingly pointing a finger at him.

"Ate is a big word, I spat it out. And calling it mac and cheese is also a big word."

"Exactly!" Usually Eddie didn't like his abilities slandered like that but on the rare occasion when it served his purpose… 

"Steve's first casserole was also inedible," Dustin shrugs and Eddie tries to picture Mr. Perfect Housewife fucking up a dish. "You have about an hour to mentally prepare before he's back though. You can spend it finishing your readings."

Ah, right. The mundane purpose of his visit was schoolwork.

Eddie groans. He can only hope the tragic stories of holocaust victims will set him in the right mind for cooking with Steve.

They don’t. He's heavily unprepared for the confrontation when they're running down the stairs to help with the bags. 

When Steve's instructing them which things he needs and which can be put away, Dustin elbows his friend in the ribs, hard. He hisses in pain, attracting Steve's attention.

"You staying for dinner?" he asks before Eddie can say anything. 

"Uh, if I can help with it, then yeah," he says, feeling Dustin’s annoying beady eyes on himself.

Steve frowns at him.

"You don't have to do that, I’ve told you before."

"Yeah, but I'm done with my work for today," Eddie adds under the menacing gaze. "And my cooking skills need some guidance. Wayne is too old to stomach my food, he can't risk another food poisoning,” he babbles, earning himself a snort from Steve. 

“Okay, if it's that bad,” he agrees finally,  the smile Eddie has gotten used to once again on his face. "But you'll be under strict supervision."

"Of course!"

"Okay, you already got yourself a kitchen slave, so I can go finish my work," Dustin speaks up before promptly disappearing, only the sound of his rushed retreating steps left.

"Guess we're alone then," Steve comments, giving Eddie an odd look. He thought he was used to those but Steve's were always hard to decipher. Not the exact kind he usually got.

He clears his throat to dislodge the weird feeling clogging it up.

"So, what are we cooking today?"

Steve hums, looking at the ingredients before him.

"You ever cooked soup?"

"Uh, I assume you don't mean the instant kind?"

Steve makes a disgusted face, fake gags for a good measure too.

"Soup it is then. It's getting colder, and I'm sure Wayne would appreciate it," he says, eyeing Eddie questioningly, and this one he deciphers easily.

"My uncle,” he explains. "I live with him."

To his surprise, Steve smiles warmly.

"Wanna make some extra you can heat up for him?"

"That's-" Eddie's taken aback, which doesn't happen to him often. "That would be very nice, thank you."

"It’s nothing. He should know his nephew is spending his time productively."

"I'm always productive," he mutters back a complete lie. But he's been trying, okay?

"I know," Steve says, surprising him again. "Maybe I want to get on your uncle's good side too."

Eddie doesn't ask why. Doesn't want to know. Doesn't speculate. Just leaves it be, bugging him for the time being.

"I was thinking fritters too? Since they're easy to heat up later."

Eddie nods, watching him sort through the vegetables.

"Whatever you say, chef."

Steve instructs him through the soup preparations first, explaining it needs more time to cook. 

“I hope you don’t mind veggie broth. El didn’t like chicken and we kinda got used to it. Also, it’s cheaper,” he says, watching Eddie pour water over the vegetables arranged in the pot. 

He puts the pot on the burner and looks up.

"Who's El?"

"Dustin's friend. She moved to California though," Steve answers with a frown.

"That's a bit of a drive."

"Yeah," Steve scrunches his nose, then looks back into the pot, before reaching for a box of seasoning.

"Ok, now for the fun part."

Eddie has no idea how seasoning a pot of vegetable water can be fun, but he's not about to argue. He follows instructions and marvels at the amount of weird plants that could be added to food. 

"I feel like a witch," he whispers, tossing dried herbs into his cauldron.

Steve chuckles.

"You kinda look like one."

Eddie side-eyes him from his position over the pot.

"I hope that's a compliment."

"Oh, it is," Steve says in a weird voice and Eddie is too afraid to look at him. He flips through the seasoning packets instead, reading unfamiliar names.

"Okay, so this needs a couple of hours to cook, you'll know when it starts getting together from the smell. Then we'll blanche the onions and garlic, add the tomatoes, blend it all, and it's done. Now we can work on the fritters. Have you done them before?"

Eddie thinks about it for a moment.

"I saw my uncle make them."

"Potato ones?"

"Uh, yeah? Are there more options?" he asks, eyebrows drawn together.

"Apparently, yeah,” Steve rolls his eyes. “A fritter is technically anything you can grate, slap together and fry in a pancake-ish shape."

"Huh. I've learned so much today already."

Steve laughs. 

"So, what do you want in the fritters?" he asks and Eddie is ridiculously giddy about having a choice.

"Can we put meat in them?"

"Yeah, I've made them with bacon before."

Eddie's eyes sparkle.

"Potatoes with bacon and cheese?"

"Holy shit,” Steve groans. “Claudia's gonna kill us, but it sounds so good." He ponders on it for a moment. "We could add corn to pretend there are vegetables in them."

"Ketchup is a vegetable," Eddie points out and Steve bristles. 

"We're not eating them with ketchup!" he protests. "But… we could use some of the tomatoes to make a sauce."

Eddie never thought cooking could be this fun.

"Yesss!"

"You're way more excited than I thought you'd be," Steve observes, grabbing the potatoes to wash.

"I'm a growing boy, of course I'm excited about food. Besides, we're like two alchemists; mixing up stuff to make other stuff."

Steve laughs again.

"Are those the guys who tried turning metals into gold?"

"Precisely!"

He's tasked with peeling the potatoes while Steve puts bacon in the oven. He’s  never good at it, and he huffs angrily when Steve joins him and gets through three potatoes while he peels one. What's worse, he can see him watching and his fingers twitching.

"Okay, I can see you itching to correct me. Just do it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah man, unless you have some disease I could catch, I'll be fine."

Steve winces and Eddie has a lightning-fast memory of a rumour that gays spread a deadly disease. But Steve isn't gay, probably, and it's just a rumour.

Steve is still haste when he rearranges his fingers on the peeler and takes his hand away like touching him burns.

Eddie frowns. Well, that's not gonna cut it.

"Like this?" he asks, making a motion he knows is wrong.

"No, like-" Steve reaches out and hesitates. 

"I don't have cooties, come on."

Steve presses his lips together and wraps his hand around his. He has to move closer too, crowding Eddie's side. 

"Like this," he says, whispers really, pushing his hand in the right motion.

This suddenly feels more obscene than it is, but Eddie’s half tempted to push it further.

"Your hands are weirdly soft. Do you steal Robin's hand cream?" he asks instead.

Steve huffs at the backhanded compliment and retraces his soft, big hands.

"No, I have my own."

"Hmm." Eddie cocks his head, looking him up and down. "Should have guessed."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Steve asks with a frown, but he can tell the anger is played up. 

"Nothing," Eddie shrugs. "You just look like someone taking care of himself." 

Steve keeps looking at him like he is not sure if he should be offended or not so Eddie helps him out by rolling his eyes. 

“Don't worry, I judge you more for your music than your hygiene.”

“Of course,” Steve huffs. “You wouldn't know much about hygiene anyway, would you?” he teases with a smirk.

Eddie gasps.

“Are you implying trailer trash don't clean themselves?” he asks, eyes wide and offended. 

“What? No!” The smile vanishes instantly from his face. “Of course not!” Steve scrambles to defend himself. But then, he cocks his hip and crosses his arms.

“You know what? No. I stand by it. Your hair needs proper care, not whatever 3 in 1 you treat it with,” he says. 

“5 in 1,” Eddie corrects him smugly. 

“Five?”

“Hair, body, face, beard and ass,” he lists on his fingers, earning himself a look of disgust from Steve. 

“For that alone, you’re washing your hands again.”

Eddie knows he doesn't have to, but complies anyway. Whatever makes the big Henderson happy. And consecutively, the little Henderson. And somehow, Eddie himself.

By the time the sun starts setting, he’s gained some valuable culinary knowledge, including the fact that as a cook, he gets to taste the dishes all the time. His growing boy tummy is satiated with a stolen strip of bacon and one of the test fritters he’s munching on, when they hear the door unlock.

“I’m home!” a woman’s voice calls out. Eddie freezes.

“We’re just finishing dinner!” Steve calls back while the man next to him shrinks on himself, looking up at him and wondering why he isn’t being pushed into a closet like a secret paramour. 

“Your mom is here?!” he seethes through his teeth, eyes jumping from Steve to the door. 

“Well, yeah?” Steve raises an eyebrow. “She lives here?” 

“But why am I here?!”

Was Steve this stupid or did he not grasp the severity of the situation?

“You’re cooking? Staying for dinner? Studying? The fuck do you mean man?” he answers, more or less matching his volume.

“Mothers hate me!” Eddie reminds him helpfully, making Steve only roll his eyes with a huff.

“Claudia likes you.”

“She never saw me,” he reminds him. Because as soon as any of the suburban moms caught a whiff of his metal vest, his dark clothes and long hair, he felt disgusted eyes on his back. 

And when the Satanist drug dealer rumours reach them? Things only get worse. 

“Dude-”

“Oh, hi boys!” A tired-looking blond woman enters the kitchen. Her smile doesn’t waver despite Eddie’s presence, meaning she must have seen some shit in her life. “You didn’t tell me we’ll have a guest today.”

Steve steps in before he can put his foot in his mouth, laying his big warm hand on his shoulder. 

“Eddie finished his work early and wanted to help in the kitchen. Hope that’s alright.”

At the mere thought it wouldn’t be, Eddie’s stomach twisted. 

“Of course! The more, the merrier!” Claudia smiled, still seemingly genuine, before stepping closer and extending her hand.

“Nice to finally meet you, Eddie. I’ve heard a lot about you from my boys.”

Steve’s hand is still on him squeezing minutely to remind him to shake Claudia’s hand.

“Likewise.” He smiles to his best ability, unable to remember the last time he was friendly with someone's parents. Except Gareth's, maybe.

“What did boys make?” she asks, sniffing the air and trying to peek over his shoulder.

“Tomato soup, like you asked, and some fritters.”

“With veggies, I hope?” She squints at her oldest (newest?) son.

“There’s corn in them, and we made a tomato sauce.” He smiled brightly and Eddie could tell he was happy to play the good kid role. 

“Good. I’m gonna change and get back to you,” she says before disappearing upstairs, probably to harass the younger Henderson now. 

“Why was she so nice?” Eddie muses, half to Steve, half to himself, half to the universe in general. Wait, that's three halves. Well, he didn’t fail school because of his great math skills.

“She's always nice.” Steve steps away to work on the next batch of fritters.

“Not to me! Mothers hate me! I bet she’s just pretending but as soon as I disappear, you're gonna hear all about it!”

“Hey!” Steve turns back towards him, frowning. And uh-oh, he upset him again. On his reverse-upset mission. “Claudia’s not some uptight bitch like that. She likes all our friends and you're not an exception. Just because you dress differently isn’t gonna ban you from the house or get us in trouble.” He knocks him on the head for good measure. “You’re safe here.”

“Okay,” Eddie simply says, taken aback. Being welcomed somewhere was a feeling he still had to process.

“We're safe here,” was a soft addition he almost missed over his own loud thoughts but made him even more curious about Steve himself. 

User tags: @i-have-three-feelings @mblogs @awkwardgravity1 @imacowboy3 @just-a-tiny-void @clumsiluni @shotgunhallelujah @halfadoginatank @carlprocastinator1000 @irregular-child

[miirohs]

antics [b.c]

pairing: Model!Bang Chan x GN!Reader wc: 0.9k cw: lowkey suggestive. an: oh he wounds me oh how i want this man!!!! jail for bang chan for these, jail for a thousand years!!!

“Stay still, i just wanna see them up close,” you whined, pulling Chan in closer by the delicate chain loosely hanging on his neck as you surveyed it closely.

“Careful, those cost a lot more than you think baby,” He chastised softly, watching through hooded eyes as you fiddled with the necklaces, trying to pull them off his neck, “If you wanted to see them, you could’ve just asked me.”

“Okay, then,” You rolled your eyes playfully, “you should take them off.”

“I should’ve known you were up to no good as soon as you texted me about visiting me,” He groaned, adam’s apple bobbing as he tipped his head back on the chair, closing his eyes, “Wouldn’t have allowed you to come here if you were going to act like a brat.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re on total duty anymore.” You said, cracking a small mischievous smile.

“Well then, what do you want? I know you didn’t just come here making small talk baby.” He tilted his head at you as you shifted in his lap, making yourself more comfortable.

“For you to tell me about your day. I just really missed you, it’s so lonely without you in my mansion.” You giggled, earning a scoff of suspicion from Chan.

“No. You’re going to do something else, I can feel it-“ He tittered, jolting as you leaned down to his face, hands on his chest. The cool metal pressing into your palm had a nice contrast to the heat rolling off him.

“So you can be a top model but not my boyfriend Channie?” You pouted, simpering at him as he attempted to move you off of himself, even if it was to no avail. “Not on the job, it’s unprofessional- baby, stop.” You snickered at his command, landing a quick kiss on his jaw. 

“Watch it.” He warned you carefully, narrowing his eyes at you. “I want you to take a long, hard thought about what’s going to happen if you…” He trailed off, letting out a broken grunt as you kissed his throat.

Leaning against him, you settled your head in the crook of his neck, moving the fabric aside to allow you more access.

“Be gentle Y/n, I-“ Chan jolted as you bit down, a quiet moan slipping from his lips. 

He was flustered, staring at you with glossy eyes as you gave him a quick kiss on the lips, returning back to what you were doing.

He clutched the armrest of the chair as you sucked at the spot, earning a series of soft gasps from him. 

Looping your hand in one of the long forgotten necklaces, you pulled at them as you mindlessly moved from one patch of skin to another, bruises slowly forming around his collarbone and neck from your relentless attacks. 

As you attempted to move to his adam's apple, he pulled you back by the shirt, whining as you ran your fingers through his disheveled hair. “You’re obsessed with seeing my bare neck, aren’t you, you little freak?” He panted, gingerly massaging the spots you had abused. 

"Maybe I am a little obsessed," you admitted, pulling his shirt back up, covering up as many of the bites as you could, “but you're just so...” Still, you could see them peeking over his collar, satisfaction filling you at the thought of what you had done.

“So what?” He challenged, a knowing look in his eyes as you both got closer, nose to nose.

A knock interrupted the both of you, forcing you away from him, eyes on the door as the doorknob jiggled.

“Chan?” He also turned around, a wide eyed look on his face as the knocks on the door started again.

“Who is it?” He forced out, narrowing his eyes at you as you stifled your fit of laughter at his peeved expression.

“Oh I do wonder, who else could it ever be?” The voice outside deadpanned, and you could almost imagine the bored look on the face of Chan's manager, Minho. 

“What is it?” A brief pause, and he sighed. “The photographer wants you to come and review the photos so you can pick which ones you like most for the campaign. Finish up whatever weird shit you’re up to and come out.”

His footsteps led away from the door, and you looked at Chan.

“Now look at what you’ve done!” He gave you a slight stink eye, hand unconsciously reaching up to his neck. “How am i going to go out and explain this?”

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that, you agreed to it!” You exclaimed, yelping as he pulled you closer to him.

“You’re lucky I find your antics cute,” Chan chuckled, his fingers tracing over your face before suddenly gripping it.

“H-hey!” You stuttered, blanking as he pulled you flush against him, kissing you deeper than before. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip and he bit down gently, earning a surprised yelp from you. You grumbled at the sudden lack of contact as he pulled away, pulling you off him before you’d realized it in your blind struggle to get him back in your grasp.

"Fine, leave me here all alone," You mumbled, a mischievous glint still lingering in your eyes, "I guess I'll just have to entertain myself until you get back.”

“If you behave yourself, I might be back sooner than you imagine.” 

You huffed, rolling your eyes at him.

“Fine, I hope you enjoy running around looking like you got burnt on the neck.”

“Acting like you weren’t the one to do this to me baby.”

[cienfleurx]

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄. ⁰⁰¹

✑ GENRE: slowburn. angst. nsfw 18+.

✑ WARNING: explicit language. mature themes. topics of violence and murder. stockholm syndrome (not the reader). sexual tension if you squint. reader is an executive. other bonten stuff. strictly mdni.

✑ SYNOPSIS: platonic love is a type of love that is neither sexual nor romantic; something that the executives have been feeling towards you for the past few years - or so they would like to believe.

(📂) ⇢ masterlist. 〡 (📂) ⇢ next chapter.

CHAPTER ONE | PLATONIC LOVE.

“No, because I’m gonna kill your fucking whore if you don’t give him to me!”

First thing in the morning and it was already a mess.

“Let’s just hope Boss gets here early.” one of the them muttered, as they heard another gunshot followed by the sound of what was most likely an ancient vase shattering. Poor Takeomi, he'll be furious to see his million-dollar vase broken into pieces by the four executives wreaking havoc on the first-floor corridors.

The majority of the personnel in the lobby couldn't help but sigh as they witnessed the present predicament occurring at the headquarters. It was just another day, another round of chaos from the foolish executives who had been attempting to murder each other for the nth time in the preceding years. Supposedly, these individuals were the said top dogs of the syndicate, but seeing all of this happen before their very own eyes had them doubting at the back of their mind, but not to the point of questioning their position as higher-ups.

The reason? Peluda, your Foldie Cat, had been kidnapped by the Bonten Trio yet again, as you chased their tails with a loaded Glock; a sight that did not even surprise them anymore.

“You.” the receptionist flinched when all of a sudden, you called for his attention, his Adams apple bobbing from your nerve-wrecking presence. You darted a glare at him as you motioned your head. “Get that fucking woman here. I’ll sample that son of a bitch why he should never mess with me.”

Sanzu came to a halt as he heard the command. Ran and Rindou, who had been tossing the Foldie Cat back and forth, are in the same boat. His emerald eyes fixated at the receptionist, glowering at his trembling frame when he caught sight of his movement ready to leave as if he was about to heed the woman's order.

“Don’t you dare.”

“You heard me.” you taunted the man, heading towards him with the cold metallic weapon in your grip. “I’ll bury a bullet on your head if you hesitate once more.”

“Goddamn chill, woman. Mikey will be furious if you touch Himari.” Ran tried to alleviate the tension, but you only shot him a look, positioning the pistol towards his direction. 

“Shit wouldn’t happen if you just give him back to me.” you spat.

Rindou rolled his eyes, plopping down the fluffy cat on the floor as its furry self rushed towards you, its paws trotting fast away from the devils that made him undergone the worst traumatic experience so far in order to rest in your arms, its quivering figure calming down a little when you stroke the base of its ears. “Okay, fine. Geez, can't even take a joke.”

You snarled at him, firing a bullet close enough to graze his cheek.

“Fuck!”

“Your dick is coming next if you fuck with me again.”

“No shit sherlock. This is why cats are the only bitches you have.” Rindou retorted, causing Sanzu and Ran to laugh like maniacs when your face contorted into some sort of displeasure before retreating into the endless corridors.

Truly, the executives couldn't go a day without feeling the satisfaction of holding your suffering in their hands.

Shit has been too hard ever since you became one of the notorious executives in Bonten; it didn't help that these jackasses were always picking on you, making you almost regret taking the title that Sano Manjiro had bestowed on you. They made it a thing to annoy you on a daily basis. Either with the ultimate love of your life being thrown in the air; the ball of sunshine disguised as cats, or with the set of difficult tasks they assigned to you, which almost led to a meeting with the grim reaper if it weren’t for luck backing you up.

Not once did they leave your presence alone; always treating you as if you were a toy who amused them each time you retaliated with your renowned Glock 19 in the clutch, and bothering you every day until all you see is red, firing bullets in the corridor until Takeomi scolds you for damaging his invaluable porcelains. 

However, despite the escapades and monkey tricks that they been pulling so far, best believe that there was not an actual bad blood happening between the both of you. This is just a daily occurrence of how the executives showed their love on one another. You, pointing their gun to them, while they made a run for it. You, threatening their lives, while they indulge in the satisfaction at the sound of your furious clicking heels stomping hard against the glistening marbles.

Surely, things would have been easy if only there were a bunch of Kakucho roaming around the organization, or if the other executives shared the same build as him — respectful, well-mannered, and real mature. He was one of the few gentleman who is courteous to women like you despite being a notorious criminal, and he earned your respect for that.

Just like right now, Kakucho Hitto was being a huge help and you couldn’t be anymore thankful to him for existing in this embodiment pit of hell.

“God. That’s the spot, Kaku. Push it more right there.” you groaned at the feeling of his thumb pressed against your shoulder blades, giving your tense muscle a light squeeze now and then as you relished under his massage. Today was one of those days when you and the navy-haired shared paperwork in his office, and as usual, Kakucho would lend a helping hand by massaging your stressed shoulder after too much documentation processing. Didn’t even help the fact when he found you worn-out in his doorstep, knowing the mess that you had probably just encountered with the Bonten Trio, Kakucho knew that you badly needed some relief over your exhaustion.

“Did I do it right?”

“Yeah. Just squeeze it like that.”

Kakucho did what you told, and you couldn’t help but hum.

“What the actual fuck.” Kokonoi exclaimed under his breath, eyes judgy at the scene playing in front of him. “For a second, I thought you guys are doing the thing.”

Kakucho blushed, because he too, agreed that when you moan like that, it sound like he was pleasuring you.

“Shut the fuck up, Hajime.”

“Can’t blame me. You just fucking moan, alright. Moan.”

“Moans doesn’t always need to be sexual.” you grumbled. 

“Whatever. Kakucho,” Kokonoi called out the navy-haired who seemed to be in a trance until the following words of the silver-haired reached his ears. “Himari’s in Sanzu’s office. You joining?”

You inaudibly sighed at what Kokonoi meant.

So, they were at it again.

Himari Ukishima; the poor woman you had threatened to take life earlier was out there, in Sanzu’s office yet again to pleasure all these executives’ dick.

The woman wasn’t even a whore to begin with. Mikey just found her enticing enough when he passed by a university, and decided to let the Bonten Trio kidnapped her and took her into the headquarters, and she’s been here for what? Almost a year now? Fucking and taking care of their cocks like the good girl she was.

She was basically a girl what the executives wanted; someone they wanted to corrupt and strip off their innocence, and they were no doubt successful from it. It’s Bonten — the worst criminal organization in Japan, what can you say? They fucked her dumb enough for her to develop Stockhold Syndrome. Crazy, you must say. She was one of those victims of their sensual gratification who had fallen deep into the lion’s den to bother escape or even ask for you help, which didn’t surprise you anymore as you think she’s also enjoying the feeling of five cocks in her body whenever you heard her pleas and whines.

“Quiet down, or I won’t hold back putting a bullet through her brain this time.”

You threatened, yet Kokonoi merely let out a smug grin, crossing his arms. The type of woman you are; all bark and no bite. He knew you would never do that. Himari Ukishima is Mikey's most-prized possession. Killing her means defying him, and you weren't one to disobey his orders.

Despite portraying the cold demeanor, Kokonoi knows how much of an obedient woman you are to Mikey.

He was your King; much like to how Sanzu worships him.

“Jealous cause you got no bitches?”

You scowled, growing tired of their old joke of teasing how you got no men to pleasure you. “What’s with you and the others flocking over my bitches?”

Sure, there were some of them, particularly from the clubs you own, though they weren’t like like Himari who had remained the longest period with them. Your sex drive was crazy; no man was able to withstand it and had always been the first one to pass out of consciousness before you could. Therefore, as naturally as you would, you had them dispose and let it be a memory of a one-night stand instead of keeping them by your side. 

However, Bonten would like to think you were just bore in bed that’s why you have no whores in your side. Little did they know, though.

“Well, maybe if you find a man who can last with you then we can stop. Though, I doubt you can find anyone as good as us.”

You raised a brow, intrigued.

"You implyin' something, Hajime?"

He hummed, something within his eyes flashing an emotion you couldn’t quite recognize in your years of being so-called friends.

Instead of responding, Kokonoi only brushed off the question with his right hand, leaving you on Kakucho's office to think if he actually meant something behind his words or he was just messing around with you to rattle your emotions — well, that is, until one by one, you heard sinful groans, whines, and skin slapping from the office next door that made you bury your face on your palms, damn interrupted from thinking and even working from the paper works.

"Stupid fucks, I told them to quiet down." 

✑ NOTE: let me know if you wanted to be added on my taglist ! <3

[spaceagebachelormann]

zigmar i come to you humbly on this fine evening with the simple request that you give me some sort of might duck sustenance por favor and muchas gracias

they can be incoherent and stupid and goofy and silly to the max i just need to rotate this little kids like rotisserie chickens in my mind (esp fulton portman and julie)

random miscellaneous tmd thoughts !

✧ warnings: some of them may be ooc ngl

✧ additional info: u got it pookums 😈😈😈🙏 also these can be read as either platonic or romantic (not luis)

✧ m.list — nav.

♡ charlie conway !

the most insane taste in music literally ever

bro goes from madonna to death metal SO FAST

but ngl his playlist is always the best and he always gets to play music whenever u go anywhere

but oh my god he’d love pierce the veil in present day

HES ALSO LIKE SOMEHOW AMAZING AT MATH. but he cannot do science for literal shit

also his clothing style changes js like his music taste

will literally be kurt cobain one day and morrissey the next (hed hate morrissey though)

♡ adam banks !

every team sleepover/event/literally anything could js be a spontaneous hangout is always at his house

it’s because he’s rich and his house is huge as fuck and he has every board game known to man

just do not play uno because a fight always breaks out (charlie is always part of it)

he’s always the one who ends the fight also

he has this very calming presence that’s so nice to be around and him js talking to whoever got into a fight immediately helps calm them down

also weirdly good at comforting in the middle of the night but never during the day??

♡ lester averman !

he would watch full house religiously prove me wrong

his favourite character is obviously joey because they are one in the same

everyone on the team and their mother has been forced to watch full house while he’s been at their house/vice versa

he can also cook like. decently well !! it’s not something he’d prefer to do but he will for his friends if they’re tired or smth

♡ fulton reed !

this little shit

he is so unbelievably competitive over the smallest things it’s actually insane

typa guy to race u to see who can get to one side of the room first and start genuinely tweaking if he doesn’t win

at sleepovers he refuses to fall asleep first even if it’s just by a few minutes

he could be dead to the world but still have his eyes open cause he refuses to let u win (unless ur his s/o cause he might consider it that way)

♡ connie moreau !

she is definitely a theatre kid idc

her favourite musicals are probably grease, hairspray and heathers

she likes female main characters!!

everytime she gets into a new fandom she immediately starts thinking abt what it’d be like a musical and probably wanted to be a composer at some point

would 100% beg to use the aux on a road trip and then blast hamilton loud as balls

she wholeheartedly believes six is a top tier musical and she will DIE on this hill

(fun fact i’ve met andrea macasaet <3)

♡ guy germaine !

modern day guy would’ve loved basic white girl music

“life is too short to pretend to hate taylor swift” —him

also 100% a britney spears girlie. and nsync and every stereotypical white girl artist

but i wholeheartedly believe britney would be his favourite and he has her whole discography on cassette, cd, vinyl, u name it he has a britney spears collection

also his ass is NOT straight 💀 i’ve never met a straight man who listens to britney spears

♡ julie gaffney !

lowkey a regina george multitude if she wasn’t kinda. yk. a bad person

she’s a mix of cher and regina

everyone at the fancy ass boarding school literally loves her because she’s calm, smart pretty nice etc etc she’s just a really great person to be around

shes that one student who has every assignment finisher a week early, all a’s and 100% in every subject WITHOUT being mean abt it!!

her ass is friends with the whole student population and knows every well and knows all the drama but won’t tell everyone if she thinks it’s too personal (it’s it’s random petty nonsense she tells the team)

♡ ken wu !

secretly rlly good friends with julie but nobody knows even though they do not try to hide it at all

literally wander the halls talking abt whatever just for everyone to be like “y’all are friends???”

also this man secretly loves lana del rey

him and julie will sit on his bedroom floor and literally tell him the most insane and jaw dropping gossip she heard that day while lana is playing in the background

everytime someone asks his favourite lana song he says grandfather please stand on the shoulders of my father while he’s deep-sea fishing on did you know that there’s a tunnel under ocean blvd to fuck with them

♡ dean portman !

is actually very very good at math!!

he was a tutor for the 9th/10th graders for a bit to get volunteer hours and also cause he just likes doing math

you’d expect it to be like doing homework with ur dad and the poor kid is in tears while deans like “WHATS NINE. TIMES TWO.” but he’s actually surprisingly patient

if he’s explained something a few times and they still don’t get it he’ll just try it a different way until they get it and work them through the problem

has rlly strong relationships with the 9th and 10th graders cause of this and is essentially their older brother figure

the amount of 14/15 year olds that he’s given relationship advice too is insane (id be one of the 14 year olds probably)

♡ luis mendoza !

his type is secretly quiet girls cause he finds them rlly interesting and likes the thought of them being happy around him but quiet around everyone else

he’s like yes girl be urself with me

it all stemmed from the girl he liked in 8th grade who helped pick up his pencils when she accidentally knocked his pencil case out of his hand (she was a quiet nerdy girl)

like a whole year later and he’s still trying to rizz her up 💀

he’s one of those guys who takes forever to lose feelings

the girl is actually good friends with him btw

♡ dwayne robertson !

i feel like he is fucking AMAZING at baking

his icon is dolly parton and he heard berry pie so he immediately learned how to bake

if someone he knows has a birthday he either bakes the birthday cake or brings them something he made depending on how close he is with them

and holy shit it’s the most amazing thing u will ever taste and nothing will ever compare

yes he’s one of those guys who will go on an 18 minute tangent on how amazing dolly parton is if someone talks shit about her (same i love dolly)

[warnersister]

Show Me The Way Home, Honey

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Simpson!Reader

Summary: The men at top gun love a bit of sweetness, turn out a bit of helicopter honey was just the right amount.

Warnings: mentions of injury, head injury, parental death, angst, allusions to smut, fluff, parental fighting, plane crashes, it's a happy story i promise.

Flashbacks In Italics -> not my gif

All the aviators were gathering by the pool table, each wondering why their peers from years before surrounded them at the Hard Deck. Hangman had just taken a shot against Coyote before standing up, having recognised a familiar head of hair.

“Well if it ain’t Honey!” You stood at the bar, chatting with Penny while sipping on your second beer. You were famous at top gun, being Beau Simpson’s daughter after all. You were training at top gun around the same time as the rest of the pilots in the room, however flying the Air Ambulance and mountain rescue helicopters.

You turned around to the unforgettable voice, the face you were expecting stood before you, smirk adorning his tanned lips. “Hangman, you got old.” A few laughed at your remark but he just chuckled, pulling you into a hug as you embraced him tightly. “Didn’t expect to see you here, darlin’.” He hummed. “Could same the same for you, Jake.”

Your fame here in California wasn’t necessarily due to your father’s rankings, but the name you had made for yourself. It was your own decision to join the Navy, despite your fathers wishes to keep your feet safely planted on terrafirma - away from the dangers of the sky. But after almost a decade of your adamance and training, you were off, deployed on battleships or costal air bases - send to retrieve wounded or stranded fighter pilots when their missions had been unsuccessful.

God it must’ve been a decade since you’ve seen everyone, but these naval aviators couldn’t forget a face that easily - at least not yours.

You were 24, fresh from your required nursing training and now ready to earn your wings. You were accompanied by your father on your first day, getting a prologued lecture that you had yet to start paying attention too. “And watch out for those fast jet pilots. Don’t take no shit off of ‘em.” You raised a brow. “Why what’s wrong with fighter pilots?” You queries, your walk nearing to a close. “Long story short, the think with their dicks.” You scrunched your nose. “Jesus, dad couldn’t you have phrased that better?” He just shrugged and turned your shoulders to face him properly. “But I’m serious, if they try anything come tell me.” You nodded, a small smile on your lips. “Have a great day sweetie, I love you.” He kissed your forehead and gave you a big hug. “I’m starting pilot training, not kindergarten - I’ve been through two years of naval training and six of nursing.” You laughed, just still reciprocated. “I know, but your still my little girl, the only person I got.” Your mum died a while back, it still stung but you both knew you could always rely on the other. “I know, Cyclone.”

You started walking towards the hangar, but heard behind you “it’s admiral to you, lieutenant.” You shook your head, and headed for your first day - the first step into the rest of your life.

The hangar was decorated accordingly, at least ten sparkling and fresh F-18s sat, just waiting for their aviator to fly it. You continued walking, silently passing an ongoing lesson as you spotted your own adjacent to the helipad.

The clicking of boots was loud against the floor, echoing off of the metal of the hangar - the curious minds of the navy’s best fighters looking behind them to find the cause of the sound and god, they weren’t disappointed. There you walked, a stern look on your face, hair trailing gently as a slight breeze blew through the build, aviator glasses sitting atop of your head, and eyes glittering with adoration as you examined the aircraft.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was one of those watching you, a low whistle exerted his lips. “What have we here?” As he said that, Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw lowered his glasses to get a better look than he was already getting. “Now she is mighty fine.” Hangman continued, but Rooster couldn’t say anything, the only thing leaving his mouth was a trail of drool - he wasn’t alone, quite a few of the trainees now distracted, rather than listening to their instructor.

There were three of you training to fly the copter. A girl called Darla and a boy named Simon were both in your shoes. Your first day you were taken for a ride by your own teacher, Hurricane.

You had heard a few of the students mention a nearby bar that was overly friendly to the top gun pilots, so you assumed it wouldn’t hurt giving it a once over that evening. “Penny?” You asked, and the bar hostess turned around at the sound of her name, eyes lighting up when she spotted you. “Oh my god I haven’t seen you since-” She trailed off when she ran over to hug you. “My mum passed, yeah… been off training I’m officially an aviator now.” She raised her brows. “Beau Simpson allowed his daughter to join the navy?” “Not really, but not got much’ve of a say in it now!” You laughed. “Make sure those fast jet pilots keep it in her pants.” She raised her brows. “Damn are they really that bad? Thought my dad was just being dramatic.”

Penny swung back around the busting bar and asked what she could get you. “Just a beer, please.” “Coming up, sweetie!”

You took your drink and headed to the juke box, opting for ‘you've lost that loving feeling’ by The Righteous Brothers. You always loved that song, your dad playing it you when he spoke about when he himself was a top gun graduate. “You lost that lovin’ feeling, sugar?” You heard from beside you. There stood a tanned man, broad shoulders and toned arms that he was definitely flexing, a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of aviators to accompany the moon beyond the windows. “Ain’t lost it just yet.” You replied, taking a drink from your glass. “Names Bradshaw, call sign Rooster.” He offered his hand. “Simpson, call sign Honey.” You took it but instead of shaking it, he brought it to his lips and kissed it gently. “Mhm, sweet light honey, I get the name.” You laughed at the man. “Good to meet you, Bradshaw.” “Whatcha flying?” He asked. “How’d you know I’m flying?” “Saw ya in the hangar.” “Stalking me now?” “Always been drawn to the gorgeous ones.”

You eyed him, before replying. “Helicopters. I’m a nurse, you?” “F-18s, honey.” These were the ones you were warned about, the fighter pilots. But still, you were your fathers daughter - never one for really listening to instructions. “Using my call sign now? Could've at least bought me a drink first.” “Ain’t a call sign more like an observation. PENNY! ANOTHER FOR THIS MIGHTY FINE GAL, PLEASE!”

“How ya been?” He leant his arm against the bar, trapping you slightly. “I’m good hangman, I’m very good, you?” He chuckled and hummed in agreement.

you had been a member of top gun for a few weeks now, and you were enduring a PT session, courtesy of Hurricane. "Up, down." Push ups were gruelling after a full day of strength training, you'd been training so long even some of the fighters were calling it a day. through your peripheral you noticed someone perch beside you and you could only guess who it was when they started doing push ups at double the rate that you were going. "Give it up, Hangman." you huffed, pushing yourself down again. "Come on honey, double time!" and he nudged his hip against your own, sending you off balance. "JAKE! FOR GODS SAKE!" you groaned, keeling over and hitting him.

"Stay away from my pilots, jet boy." Hurricane grunted. "You're dismissed Honey, great work today." "Thank you, captain." Hangman offered his hand once you had gotten your breath back and you took it, heaving you up. he pulled you so close that your chest smashed against his. "Woah if you wanted to kiss you, just had to say darlin' after all, you're looking mighty fine." You rolled your eyes and pushed him off - "In your dreams, Seresin." "You're certainly in my dreams." He slung an arm around your shoulder and winked at you, escorting you to the showers before he had to leave you.

"You finally shake off the leach?" A woman also in the showers asked, a sarcastic smile on her lips. "Only thing stopping him was the female sign on the door." You replied and both shared a laugh, "Phoenix, you must be the famous Honey." "That's my name," You grinned. "You gonna be down at the Hard Deck tonight?" You thought for a moment. "Sure, see you there."

"Well how-howdy little, lil lady!" A voice exclaimed from behind you and you spun around at the voice. A little boy wearing a small pair of western boots, belt wrapped around his waist about three times to hold up the flared jeans he was wearing, vest and a pink Hawaiian shirt hanging open. He tipped his cattleman hat, and lowered his aviator glasses that were about a hundred sizes too big for him, almost falling off of his nose when he moved to rest his hands sassily on his hips. You knelt in front of the boy and gasped, raising your hand and fluttering your eyelashes as you feigned flattery. "Well hello handsome, don't you look nice?" He dropped his facade and giggled, stomping his little feet. you grabbed the boy as you stood up and sat him on the bar, keeping your hands on his waist so he didn't fall.

Hangman cleared his throat. "Who's this?"

you were stood at the pool table playing against Coyote while he was actively trying to flirt with you, just humming when he was bragging about some trip himself and hangman had managed to pull off on their flight today, before you were saved by Phoenix brining you a drink over. 'Life saver' you had mouthed to her, and she just nodded with a wink, pulling you away when you had won the game, Coyote much too busy trying to swoon you to realise the eight ball had already been played. "Hey, darlin'!" You turned to see Rooster, smirk adorning his face as he approached you. "Hey Brad," he began to engage in conversation before everyone's attention was drawn to where Penny's voice directed. "Beau, didn't think I'd see you anytime soon!" He laughed and hugged her, "Still human Pen, just getting better pay." All top gun members throats went dry, their relaxed evening seemingly turning into a drill session within seconds. he looked at the group and waved you over with a smile, everyone's jaws hanging open when he pecked your forehead and started up talk. "Hey dad!"

"Holy shit." Payback groaned. "Simpson, of course." Bradley said. "Well, you know what they say - get the father to like ya, get the daughter." Hangman said as he began approaching the two of you. "No one fucking says that, Bagman." Phoenix remarked, but he was away before he could be stopped.

"Admiral!" Hangman laid a hand on your shoulder and grinned at his superior, your fathers eyebrows shooting up as he looked between the two of you. you did a small eyeroll before shrugging the hand off of your shoulder and looked on, amused as he tried to sweettalk your dad.

you were soon distracted, though by a sweet tune emitting from the bar's ancient piano. you looked to see Bradley playing the starting chords to an infamous Jerry Lee Lewis song and you ran along to join him, pushing across the bench with your hip to simultaneously sing.

"GOODNESS, GRACIOUS, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!"

"What'd I tell you about fighter pilots? They're bad news." Your father grumbled under his breath as he drove you back to your temporary home. "They mean well." you hummed, but turned your head against the head rest to look at him. "I'm also not stupid- humouring Hangman is just funny." There was silence for a moment. "What about Rooster?" "What about him?" "I've seen those eyes he looks at you with." "What eyes, dad?" You scoffed with a laugh. "You know, those ones." You turned back to face the darkened road. "They're the only eyes he's got."

Before you could respond to Hangman, the boy groaned loudly. "Mama, I'm thirsty!" He thumped his boot against the bar slightly with a pout at those quivering lips. "Hey, what'd I tell you about stomping?" You hummed, tone gettng sterner. "Don't stomp the foot unless i want a boot in the but." He giggled at the final word. You smiled at him, glad he listened to you at his little tantrums. "You're just like your daddy." You rolled your eyes. "Now what can i get my little cowboy to drink?" "Orange juice please, mama!"

"Mama?!"

After thirty weeks of aggressive training, you had finally been out on several 'dummy' rescue missions. "So today, pilots we'll be focusing on-" The siren which had laid dormant since you arrived at top gun started bleating loudly with an iterative red beacon, accompanied by a female voice overing the neighbouring intercom. "Requested: lieutenant Simpson, Honey, lieutenant Pierce, bear, lieutenant Shirley, Temple, two F-18 fighter jets down at Toro Canyon Park, immediate medical backup required." The Captain looked at you guys. "Show time pilots, show me what you've got." And before you knew it, you were in the air and navigating your way towards the billowing smoke. You landed just off of the treeline, and managed to find the wreckages rather quickly - but it wasn't the planes you were concerned about, it was the pilots.

Two parachutes 100 feet away from one another, seemig like a collision below the allowed guidelines, you were guessing a mock dog-fight, "I've got this one." You ran towards one of the victims and your peers headed to the other, each carrying your medical bag.

you peeled to parachute away from them, and gasped when you saw a knocked out Rooster laying motionless on the grass. "Bradley!" You shook his shoulders, seeing no signs of response so moving him into the recovery position. After checking there was no obvious nor outstanding damage to his head, you removed his helmet to see a nasty gash bleeding right above where his helmet had cracked. "Brad," You kept talking, attempting to make him conscious. "Stay with me, Bradley." you began to apply pressure to where the bleed was, making a make-shift bandage covering the top of his skull until you could get him back to base.

"Hey Honey" you heard his voice rasp as he attempted to raise to his elbows but you pushed him back down. "Hi Roo, just gotta stay there for me, got a nasty gash on your head here." You explained, resting his head against the ground. "You're fuckin' gorgeous." He giggle, looking at your eyes with a dreamily-dazed expression. "Okay, Brad seems like a concussion." "No, no, you're the prettiest woman I've ever seen, wanna marry ya." He continued to blurt out. you tried to ignore the fluttering of butterflies in your gut, just shaking your head. "You don't know what you're sayin' Brad, just gotta stay still for me." You secured a neck brace. "No i know what i'm saying, i wanna take you out and propose and fuck ya so hard that you scream, then ill make love to ya so we have our own little Bradshaw-" He continued to mumble. you breath faltered and your heart skipped a beat at the thought. "There you go, Bradley. Ready to get you home." You secured him as Temple came over to help you, heaving up the other end of the stretched, and moving back to the helicopter, Bradley shutting his eyes in the meantime.

"Who was the other?" You asked. "Hangman" she replied with a scoff mixed with a laugh as you joined her. "Shocker. He injered too?" You asked and she shook her head no. "Was sat up awake when we got to him, damaged ego but nothing else - still taking him to medical to get a once over though." You nodded in response, giving the thumbs up Bear when Rooster was secured. Hangman took a sip of his complementary water, "Hey, Honey" You nodded. "Hangman" "What's up with Bradshaw?" "Concussion, head trauma, need to get back to medical to confirm anything else." he leant forward and placed a hand on the centre of your back and surveyed Rooster. "Back off, Hangman." He raised his hands with a chuckle, before moving backwards and allowing you to work.

You'd worked some overtime that day to wait with Bradley and make sure he could get discharged that evening so that's why you were sat beside him, having just replaced his glucose drip feeding into his arm. The clocked ticked over to eight but you didn't mind, you were move than happy to watch the sunset outside of the window in silence, especially beside Bradley - even if he's knocked out cold.

A sudden cough withdrew you from your thoughts as Rooster's eyes fluttered open. "Hey, sweetheart." "Don't you dare sit up." You warned with a glare, noticing the way his arms shifted below him and he relaxed again with a small smile. "Now this is a view I could wake up to everyday." He said. "Yeah, the sunset's beautiful-" "No, I mean you, I could wake up to you everyday." He spoke softly and cut you off, looking at you with a gentle stare.

"How are you feeling?" You ignored his statement. "I'm okay, seriously, just a bit tired." You smiled. "I stitched up your head, so no flying because you also suffered a concussion-" "I meant what I said." You stopped talking and gave him a questioning expression. "I'm in love with you." "Bradley-" He reached up and kissed you softly and you relaxed into it. "You been growing a moustache, Bradshaw?" "Do y' like it?" You hummed as you nodded. "Good 'cause it's stayin'."

"Yes, I'm his mom, aren't I baby?" You pinched his cheek and asked Penny for an OJ "Oh my! I didn't realise there was a big scary cowboy in my bar, here's your juice box, sir." Penny curtseyed at your son. "Much obly-obul- oby-lysed obliged, ma'am" He smiled, blowing bubbled into the carton through the small straw.

"Who's his dad-" "Nick! Buddy, what'd I tell ya about running from the truck!?" voice bellowed from the doorway, you turned to your husband, who's eyes softened at the sight of you when he removed the aviator glasses from his face. He walked over and grabbed you waist, pulling you flush against his body and leaning down you kiss you lovingly. "Oh I get it, you saw a mighty fine lady and decided she was more important than sticking with your poor old dad, I get it." He said to your son, nipping at your neck with his teeth.

Hangman gritted his teeth and forced a smile and acknowledged you husband, "Rooster."

You spent the next three months sneaking around with Bradley, hidden winks, ghost-like touches, stolen kisses, and honestly a few on-base fucks. All secret until one day your dad had decided to visit your medical station, where you were laid on the bed against Bradley's shoulder while he left kisses in your hair and drew shapes on your hips. "Hey hon-" You father walked in and the two of you immediately jumped off of one another. He froze in the doorway, "What the fuck!" He about-turned on his heels, slamming the door shut behind him before storming off. "Oh god-" You stood up, but was pulled back by Bradley. "He was gonna find out eventually," "He's gonna disown me, Brad-" You had never seen you father that mad before.

"Bradshaw." The group heard from behind their lesson. "Admiral," Rooster turned to see him, and the group hollered like a group of school-kids teasing the man as he was lead away from the hangar and towards Admiral Simpson's office. They sat in silence momentarily, Cyclone staring out of the window and taking deep breaths, assumingly trying to calm himself.

"What're you playin' at, Bradshaw?" He asked after a while. "Excuse me, sir?" He turned towards Bradley - crossing his arms over his chest. "My daughter, seriously?! My only fucking daughter?" His tone of voice rose with every syllable. "With all due respect, sir-" "No, you do not get to talk. My daughter if the only thing I have in life and the only thing I can really protect her from now she joined the navy is scum like you." "Scum?" "You fast-jet pilots are all the same. Can't keep your dicks in your pants, well I'm telling you now - you stay the fuck away from her-" Bradley cut him off. "If I'm not mistaken, you were once, too a fast-jet pilot and that means you lived up to your own assumptions, and I know she's the only one you got because your wifes's gone," "Shut your mouth Rooster, and listen-" "No-" Rooster stood up, his chair being shoved abck against the wall behind him. "You listen. We may not've been together that long, but I fucking love her and I wanna marry her whether you like it or not, maybe you should look at yourself as a fahter, she's been stayin' with me, balling her eyes out for the past week 'cause the only person she's got left ignores her calls and pretty much disowns her! That's your fuckin' problem, now if you dont mind, Admiral, I'm goin' home to the love of my fuckin' life and you have absolutely no authority to stop me." Bradley spat with venom, slamming the door shut behind him and heading home to you.

Cyclone gained a lot of respect for Rooster, that day.

"Hello," Your dad walked into the hangar where you were with Bradley and the two of yours conversation end quickly as you look towards your father with a blank and unreadable expression. "Sweetheart I'm so sorry," "I don't want your apologies, dad." You grunted. "Want me to leave, hon?" Bradley asked, but your father answered him instead "no, i need you here too." "Look since your mom died your the only thing I have I'd live in rags on the street if it meant you were happy, i couldn't stop you joining the navy and i was so scared, what if something happened to you? And i knew from working here for nearly a decade what the aviator reputation was. When i saw you with Rooster i felt I'd failed the last part of you i could protect. but i know, you're not a little girl anymore and I shouldn't have reacted that way, I'm sorry."

You said nothing, but stood up and hugged him tightly, tears apparent in your eyes. "It's alright, sorry for going against your wishes." You reciprocated, "You are a Simpson after all." You both laughed, and your father held out an arm. "Come on Bradshaw, I can deal with you as a son-in-law, I guess."

"Bagman." You husband nodded, mouth pursing into a thin line. "He yours?" Bradley grinned, cockily. "He sure as hell is, aint ya, Nick?" "Yeah, dad!" The boy giggled.

"Er, I think Coyotes callin' me." And he walked away, to absolutely no one as Bradley chuckled victoriously and snaked his arms around you. "You scared him off, Brad." "Good, shouldn't even be lookin' at ya, you're all mine." He pecked your cheek, pulling yourself and your son along with you, and towards the piano, still sat in its spot in the Hard Deck.

It was graduation day, all the top gun graduated gathered to celebrate, Bradley raising his trophy above his head smugly, showing it off to his fellow pilots and the accompanying civillians.

"Bradshaw, congrats on getting top gun." Cyclone approached him. "Thank you, Admiral." He thought for a moment. "Can I have your blessing?" Cyclone looked at him, confused. "Can I marry her?" He was nervously sweating, gulping on his saliva and pulling at the collar on his neck. Your father immediately smiles and shook Bradley's hand. "Of course you can."

Your wedding day was like no other, a runway close to the ocean, a flyover from Phoenix and a few others from Top Gun, your dress was gorgeous, Bradley cried as you walked down the isle, when your father gave you away, when you said your vows, he never stopped crying. God, he was over the moon happy. "I love you, Honey." "I love you, Rooster."

even your honey moon was pure bliss, although the resort was gorgeous you hardly left the hotel room, Bradley too busy fucking you into the sheets and trying to put a baby to you just like he had promised when you had recovered him from that botched training exercise.

Now here you were, perched on the leg of your husband, your four year old son singing along to the tune as Bradley sang to him, playing the piano simultanous to circling your waist.

"GOODNESS, GRACIOUS, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!"

and Nick had called it a night, you and Bradley said goodbyes to your friends at the bar who had also been called back to top gun, you saying goodbye to Maverick when your husband wasn't looking, you headed to the truck. "How about we get home and I fuck another baby into ya'?" Bradley asked against your lips, between desperate kisses. "Take me to bed or loose me forever, Rooster." "Show me the way home, Honey."

And the men all stood there in silence, sickened to their stomachs, their sweet Honey stolen away by no other than Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw. Damn.

[ultimate-shipper-trash-blog]

Substitute Teacher Steve Au

Delilah felt nervous. She ran into her little brother Paul in the hall because neither of them were looking in the correct direction...too nervous.

She hurried into her English class and grabbed her seat. The class's energy was off the charts. Everyone was chatting and gossiping.

"-sub! Can you believe THE St-"

"I just don't understand? Arent they fam-"

Uh oh. She thinks she understands now and pulls out her flip phone to type out a quick text to Paul to warn him. It's too late. He already texted her first.

"Code purple"

"Fuck."

"Language B!"

"Shit."

He laughs as he walks into the classroom. Someone slaps her shoulder as if they're trying to tell her "Hey! He looked in your direction!!!!"

Sitting on her teacher's desk is retired pop icon Steve Harrington. He lights up when he sees her looking at him and waves to her. He's waving so fast his hand is a blur.

"Del what the hell is happening?" Mandy, her best friend is looking at her expectantly.

"I-"

"Ok class! Attendance time!!"

'Adams'

'Andrews'

'Chase'

'Finch'

"Henderson!"

"..."

"C'mom B," he looks at her disappointed.

"Here," she grumbles.

A girl in the back raises her hand.

"Can this wait until after the attendance is taken?"

"Unfortunately not Mr. Harrington I just have to know, how do you know Delilah? Why do you call her B? I mean out of everyone we were not expecting you to be here for her." She says the last part kind of like a sneer.

Delilah knew she wasn't the most popular but she made a choice to stay out of the spotlight.

"Well...student-"

"Sam."

"Sam, I'm not here for Delilah."

Gasps went around the room.

"I'm also here for Paul!" His famous bright smile is shining bright. "He's getting his braces off today! Isn't that exciting! Gosh I remember when his dad got his off. Brings a tear to my eye."

Delilah sinks lower into her seat.

"As for the nickname-"

She shoots up, ramrod straight.

"Um Uncle Steve you don't really have to-"

"Now B it's nothing to be embarrassed about. When Del's mom was pregnant with Paul we told her that she wouldn't be the baby anymore. She was so frustrated that was the only name she responded to for six months!"

Sam pipes up again, "so B is short for-"

"Baby." Snickers went around the room. Delilah groans. "Obviously we couldn't go around calling her baby that's weird. So we shortened it, nickname. It also helps because she's baby Henderson, helps to distinguish the difference between them all."

Steve gives her a soft smile, like he's still imagining her as a toddler.

"As most of you may know I retired about five years ago along with my boyfriend." (Gay marriage was not legal yet but she's working on it.)

Josh's hand shoots up. "Your boyfriend famous metal musician Eddie Munson?"

"Yes student in the back, we decided it was time to retire and enjoy our time together. Then I got bored. I was always planning on being a teacher if music didn't work out so I became a sub. We have a house here to see the kids and I knew I wanted my first assignment to be one where I could see my favorite Hendersons."

Ok she can't be mad at him. She loves him so much and he obviously is just doing what he can to be closer to her.

"Uncle Steve-"

Uncle is whispered around the room.

"I appreciate you coming here but-"

"Henderson I'd appreciate it if you stayed after school to help me grade papers. I can give you a ride home. Uncle Eds is taking Paul to the orthodontist now so you don't have to worry about driving him."

Conveniently, beeping was heard outside along with the sound of a motor like an engine revving. The students all ran to the window to see what was going on and were shown Paul with his head down running to the convertible.

Poor kid. Everyone would be talking about this for at least a week.

Paul looked over at the window along with Eddie, when he saw Steve he blew him a kiss. As soon as Paul was buckled up he sped off.

Steve sighed wistfully and then headed back to the desk.

"Alright everyone! Let's learn!"

[emstayarmy]

Behind Closed Doors

Sub!Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

Hey there cuties! I’m Em and I’ll be writing some crazy shit here. Hope you guys enjoyed and lmk if y’all want something else. I’ll be sure to post a real about me page so you guys know my limitations.

Warnings are under the cut. Minors pls deny because I know y’all can be nasty sometimes. so ⚠️MINORS DNI THIS POST⚠️

Warnings‼️: Subby Jisung, Dom reader, Rough fuck, pegging, rimming, face sitting (m. receiving), loud + whiney Jisung, mommy kink, riding, Jisung wears a choker, reader calls him a dirty boy, baby girl, pup, spanking, doggy style(Jisung receiving), make out, reverse strength kink… Reader is a bit on the broad and tomboyish side….uh yeah. (ik I’m delulu fight me)

You came home rather late from the office. As soon as you got home you removed your coat and heels, before undoing your hair and plopping on the couch. You sigh, leaning back and closing your eyes. Before you could say or do anything, you feel a weight plop on your lap. Arms rest on your shoulders, making you look up and see your boyfriend, Jisung. He was smiling his usual heart lipped smile.

“Hi, mommy.” he greeted playfully.

You smiled at your dorky boyfriend. Mentally taking note of the black choker with a metal heart in front of his adam’s apple. You blushed a little at seeing him as he sit comfortable on your lap. Jisung was an interesting man— to say the least anyway. Even before you two started dating, you noticed he’d wear crop tops that accent his tiny waist, or chokers along with booty shorts that just made him all the more hot. Today was no different. Your cutie of a boyfriend was plopped on your lap, dressed in nothing execpt someboxers, an oversized sweater he definitely didn’t steal from you, and the leather choker he was sporting oh so perfectly.

“Hi, baby.” you smile back, placing your hands on his tiny waist. “Have a good day today?”

Jisung nods, “I did. The studio wasn’t too busy today.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder, before placing kisses on his exposed collarbones and neck. A shiver runs down Jisug’s spine as he tilts his head back a little.

“I missed you, baby.” You say softly, placing a kiss along the column of his throat.

Jisung shifts a little on your lap. Breathing hitching as he whines softly. “A-Ah…”

You smirked against his soft skin, nipping at his heart shaped adam’s apple, making him gasp.

“Y-Y/n~” he moaned softly.

You felt the heat coil in your stomach when you look down and see a growing bulge in Jisung’s boxers.

“Hard already? I barely touched you, baby.” You tease.

Jisung whines. “I can’t help it…you’re so sexy…”

You simply couldn’t help yourself, his sweet sounds, gorgeous body, you wanted him. Jisung yelps when you stand up abruptly, arms under his legs as he immediately wraps his arms around your neck for security. He doesn’t say anything as you walk to your bedroom. Once you got there, you threw Jisung on the bed. Not with any force or malice behind it. Just a playful toss

“Y/N!” Jisung half giggled half squealed.

You quickly crawl to hover over him, attaching your lips to his in a heated kiss. Jisung moans fervently into the kiss, his hands cupping your face while his legs cage your waist. The make out sesh grew heated and before you knew it, you had Jisung stripped of his(your) sweater and his boxers. His cock pressed against his stomach, leaking a generous amount of precum for you. You growled hungrily into his lips.

“Fuck your so hot, Sungie,” you feel Jisung whine against your mouth. “Makes me wanna eat you up.”

“P-Please….Mommy…” he begged softly as you start moving your lips down his neck, marking him up.

You groaned against his skin while sucking dark hickeys on him. Jisung could only make melodies of whines and pleads as he ruts his hips against your stomach.

“Hah~ Y/n~” he whimpered when you sucked on a particular spot by his collarbone.

Your tongue reached his hips, licking and sucking on his plump skin. Jisung instictively runs his fingers through your hair.

“Mommy?” he asks in a small voice, making you look up at him.

“Yes, my love?”

Jisung’s cheeks flare a shade of pink. “Could you— maybe, eat me out? Please, mommy?” He asks in a cute manner

You smile slyly, who were you to deny your sweet sub his desires. You place a long kiss to his thigh.

“Sure thing, baby girl.” You grinned. “Anything you want~”

Jisung lets out a wanton sound when you say ‘baby girl’. He’s a sucker for nicknames like that. You flip him over so he straddles your lap, and you whisper hotly in his ear.

“How about you ride my face, pretty boy?” You kiss behind his earlobe.

Jisung could feel the goosebumps forming from his neck down after you say that. even though it isn’t the first time he’s done it, it still makes him nervous. He mumbles out little ‘okays’ and ‘oh gosh yes’ as you lay back, head resting on your pillow.

“Get up here, baby girl.” You smirk.

Jisung shimmies his body up your own. He keeps himself up, legs straining a little as he hovers over your face. You took in the sight before you. Jisung balls, full of cum, aching, thick cock hanging, begging for attention. You zeroed in on his puckered hole, clenching and unclenching in anticipation.

“D-Don’t stare…” Jisung muttered shyly.

You snap out of your horny thoughts and lick a stripe over his fluttering ring of muscle, making him gasp and arch his back. Jisung’s thighs quiver and you can tell he wants to sit, but he’s too nervous. You rub his inner thigh soothingly.

“Go ahead, good boy, sit.” Your other hand pats his butt softly.

Jisung nods hesitantly but slowly lowers himself onto your awaiting mouth. You begin lapping and sucking at his hole, lewd sounds escaping as he gasps and whines at your touch

“F-Fuck! So good! Mommy you’re so good!” he begins grinding down on your face.

You hooked your hands over Jisung’s thigshs, pressing him further down on you when you slot your tongue deep in him. Jisung mewls and begins riding your tongue, his head tilted back as he moans loudly.

“Yes!!! Yes— OH!” Jisung looks down at you, feeling your wet muscle deep in his ass. “Yes!! Mommy more, please!”

You suddenly pull him off your face, making him groan out.

“No no no no no! Mommy why!” Jisung pouts.

You shook your head playfully. “So you don’t want my cock?” You asked teasingly.

Jisung’s doe eyes widen. “NO! NO I want it!” he demands cutely.

You laughed. “Oh yeah?”

Jisung nods and lays back on the bed, spreading his legs as he spits on his fingers before stretching his hole with two of them. He whimpers slightly. You smirked once again.

“Look at you my dirty boy.” You taunt while turning away making him keen. “Behave, Jisung. Keep doing that while I prep your reward~”

You quickly got the harness and Jisung’s favorite dildo. A pink 11 inch with a thick girth. You stripped and placed the harness over your soaked underwear. You turn back and faced him. Jisung practically drools when he sees you walking back his way. You sit at the edge of the bed and pat your thigh.

“Here. Now.” You demanded in a calm tone.

Jisung was quick to oblige, rushing over with a bottle of lube as he hands it to you and straddles your sides. You squirted a good amount onto the strap on. Smothering the silicone with every drop. you then rested your weight on your hands as you leaned back and nodded towards your fake dick.

“Go ahead, baby girl.” you said. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Jisung reaches down and grabs hold of the dildo, aligning it with his hole. He lowers himself gradually onto the sex toy. Whimpering due to the delicious stretch he feels as he sinks down further. You placed your hands on his hips, guiding him. Once Jisung was comfortable, he starts bouncing. First, they’re slow and languid. Before you slowly coax his hips to work a little harder.

Soon, he’s practically impaling himself on the silicone cock. His moans and whines falling from his lips as he goes crosseyed.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! Yes, yes!!!” His pitch rises. “M-Mommy your cock is so big!! Filling me so g-good!”

You grip his hips harder. “Yeah?” You grunted as you started meeting his hips half way, making him sob in pleasure. “Is this what you wanted? For me to be so deep you can’t think straight?”

Jisung’s head collides with your shoulder as you place a hard smack to his ass, feeling his cheek sting so good. ‘AH!” He gasped. “Again! Please, mommy!”

You chuckle darkly and flip Jisung over so he lands on his stomach. You pushed back into him roughly, making Jisung’s eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Yes—AH!” He almost screamed. “Mommy yes, yes!!!”

After a particularly hard thrust that met his prostate head on, you pull out and put your hands on his back, pushing lightly so it archs a little more.

Jisung yelps into the mattress.

His abused ass leaks lube onto the sheets below. Face down, ass up, an utter mess. Your mess.

“M-Mommy, harder- fuck me harder,” Jisung whines, wiggling his cute bubble butt.

“You sure, pup?” You ask while readjusting the strap.

“Yes, mommy. I can take it like a good boy should.”

You licked your lips and spanked his ass once more, making Jisung almost cum. With a throbbing cunt you slammed back into Jisung’s tight hole, making him scream out. You set a rougher, more fast pace than earlier. Little ‘Uh’s’ leaving his throat before switching to loud ‘OH’s” as you hit his sweet spot over and over again. Jisung could feel the heat pooling in his lower abdomen as he feels his cock twitch against the sheets

“M-Mommy, g’na cum!” he pleads. “Please! Lemme cum!”

you reached down, panting heavily and with sore hips, grip his neglected member, stroking him fast and rough.

“YES!” Jisung moans loudly for the umpteenth time that night. YES MORE!” You hit his prostate again. “RIGHT THERE! MOMMY I’MNA—“

“Cum for me Jisung” You let go of his cock as his legs shake.

Jisung cums all over his thighs and the sheets. His head smooshed into the pillow as he whimpered, every drop of his cum leaking everywhere while you remained stuffed inside him. You were so caught up in Jisung’s pleasure you didn’t even feel yourself cum. That was until you felt the sticky mess in between your legs. You pulled out slowly, only to watch Jisung rim flutter before clenching onto nothing.

“My good boy, such a good boy.” You praised as you pulled Jisung into your arms. “Did so good for me.”

You made sure to remove the sheet stained with Jisung’s orgasm as you laid him on your chest, You placed soft kisses to his sweaty head. Until Jisung reaches down and removes the harness from you hips, and pulled your underwear down.

“Shit, baby” Jisung purred at the sight of your drenched panties, “You made such a mess.”

You gasped as Jisung slid down to reach your sopping pussy with his lips. “My turn.”

Let’s just say…you had a long night ahead of you.

A/N: This was so filthy omg😭 I personally think this smut fic was absolute shit but let me know what you think. I am taking requests. Again I’ll be sure to make a bio page for my limitations on fics I can write about. Hope you guys liked this and ‘til next time!🤭👋

If you wanna br tagged in my next fic lmk:

@whatdoyouwanttocallmefor

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1

Dustin half-expects the phone to ring in the evening—that maybe Eddie will have said something to Steve about how he’s been a dick to him—but no such call ever comes.

So he pretends like he’s busy with homework, times heading to dinner carefully, so that his mom’s got her back to the stove when he limps over to his seat.

At night, he waits until he hears the click of her lamp going off, then manages to smuggle a bag of peas out of the freezer without being noticed. He wraps it up in a dish towel and places it on his ankle, under the bed covers.

He doesn’t sleep.

-

If the weather’s not bad, he usually rides his bike to school, but he pretends to oversleep and gets the bus instead.

The day drags, but it’s fine.

It’s fine until he decides to go to the bathroom during the tail end of last period—reasons that so long as the receptionist doesn’t catch him, he can head to the bus stop early afterwards.

He thinks he’s alone.

But then as he’s drying his hands, he hears a stall door open lightning fast, and he’s suddenly pinned up against the wall, so close that he can see Aaron’s nostrils flare.

“The thing is, Henderson,” he says, as if they’re just picking up from where they left off; he’s got that tone, Dustin thinks, that ‘good people of Hawkins’ tone. Hiding behind a mask of respectability. “Folks seem to think that the buck stopped with Munson, huh? But I know he would’ve passed his sick shit on.”

It takes a moment for the penny to drop.

“You think I’m leading Hellfire,” Dustin says. He almost laughs. A surge of adrenaline briefly overtakes the fear, and maybe he feels like he’s borrowed a little of Steve’s daring, a little of Eddie’s sharp tongue when he says, “Oh, you’re fucking stupid.”

It happens very quickly.

Cold metal pressed to his throat.

He freezes. Thinks of Sattler Quarry again, of a switchblade, a threat to cut his teeth out.

“They say he took Chrissy’s eyes first,” Aaron says. “Gouged them out.” He presses a little harder. “I could do the same to you.”

Dustin grits his teeth, tries to hold his breath. Feels the ridge of uneven grouting digging into his back.

The school bell shrieks.

And he’s falling.

He only just stops himself from hitting the ground, bangs his knee against a sink. Left alone, he coughs and coughs as the stampede of people leaving class rumbles on outside.

Saved by the bell, says a wry voice in his head. It sounds a bit like Eddie.

Eventually he manages to look in the mirror. There’s a line across his neck, almost touching his Adam’s apple; tiny beads of blood from where the knife was pushed hard against his skin. He cleans it up with paper towels, tries not to gag.

Steve had a mark like this, he thinks; he remembers seeing it when they first discovered the gate in Eddie’s trailer.

Steve never flinched.

-

His mom’s packing for a wedding out of town, which means he’ll be spending an ‘extra long weekend’ at Steve’s, Thursday through to Monday—something he’d ordinarily be looking forward to.

But right now he can only focus on hiding his neck. He keeps his coat zipped up when he enters his house, all casual, then changes into an old sweater that covers the mark if he folds the turtle neck just so.

As his mom triple checks her case, he relies on her distraction and steals an old tube of foundation.

He dabs it on his neck, wincing at the abrasion.

Another sleepless night.

Why is this so hard? After everything that’s happened, this is nothing.

It should be nothing.

-

He almost misses Eddie’s van completely, even though it’s parked obnoxiously at the very front of the parking lot. It takes Eddie honking the horn for an embarrassingly long time until Dustin notices him.

“Steve’s picking me up,” he mumbles.

“He took Robin’s shift, she’s sick. So you get me,” Eddie says, complete with the world’s most passive-aggressive jazz hands. “You know, if that’s okay with you and all.”

Dustin doesn’t have the energy to bite back—sure, Eddie’s snippy, whatever—so he just huffs in acknowledgement and gets in the van. His head aches with fatigue; he can barely even feel relief that the day passed without incident.

Lucas had passed him a piece of paper with a comical stick figure during History: ‘Are you okay? You look like your brain is melting through your ears.’ He didn’t even have time to enjoy the stupid drawing, because the teacher busted them for passing notes soon after.

“What’s up with you?”

Dustin starts at the question—only then realises that he’s been pressing his forehead hard against the window as Eddie makes a turning for Steve’s house.

“Nothing. What’s up with you?”

And it should land on just the right side of petty for Eddie to give him shit about it.

But instead, all he hears is the uneasy drumming of rings against a steering wheel, a soft, “Right, right.”

Eddie isn’t angry anymore; he’s worried. Guilt twists Dustin’s insides.

He heads straight upstairs for the bathroom when they reach Steve’s, uncaring of the fact that Eddie can probably see him limp up every step.

The problem is that he doesn’t think—he just does.

Throws off his coat. Turns on the faucet. Splashes cold water in his face.

It helps, but his eyes still itch. Maybe he can pull out the mountains of homework card again, camp out in the guest room and sleep until Steve—

A faint knock on the other side of the door.

“Hey, uh. Just checking you haven’t died, man.”

And Dustin hates that he’s made Eddie sound hesitant.

“Yeah, I’m so dead. Oooo.”

Eddie chuckles slightly. But then he says, “Listen, did I do something? Like, tell me to fuck off, if so.”

“Fuck off,” Dustin says, not convincing in the slightest.

In the silence, he can practically hear the cogs in Eddie’s brain turning.

“You didn’t run track.”

It’s not a question.

Dustin rubs at his eyes. “I got tripped.”

“…Tripped,” Eddie echoes. “Dustin. Come on.”

“Fine. I… got in a fight.”

“You?”

“What, is that hard to believe?” Dustin snaps.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is, actually.”

There’s something in Eddie’s tone that makes Dustin’s eyes threaten to burn. It sounds like I know you.

“Well, go on. Gimme the details. What, did you place bets in the cafeteria about who would—”

“No-one else saw,” Dustin says, then immediately cringes at the fact that he’s walked right into Eddie’s trap and given answers.

“Oh, well fucking done,” Eddie says, and maybe it’s meant to sound sharp, but Dustin can only hear how it’s tight with anxiety. “So someone started shit, and you decided, in your infinite wisdom, to settle it alone, when anything could’ve—”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do? Just let them keep saying—”

“You run,” Eddie says. “Jesus Christ, Henderson, I don’t give a flying fuck what they were saying. You run like hell out of there, and you don’t look back, do you fucking hear—”

“You didn’t run!” Dustin says.

He hadn’t planned on saying it at all; the words feel like they’ve been ripped out of him, his voice wrecked.

Silence.

The door opens. Eddie looks completely floored.

“Was this about me?” he asks very quietly.

Dustin looks away. “He—he just—you didn’t hear what he was saying. Eddie, it was. Bad.”

And I’ll never repeat it, he thinks. I’m never using that fucking awful word.

“Hey, what’s that on your…?”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, and Dustin realises too late that he’s staring at his neck.

“Are you wearing make-up?” Eddie says, faintly baffled, and Dustin sees the exact moment that he recognises the mark for what it is, because his eyes widen. “Oh, Jesus.”

Dustin uselessly tries to cover it up with his hand. “It’s—it’s fine, it didn’t even—”

But his words die away at the sight of Eddie’s rapidly paling face.

Stop it, Dustin almost wants to say. Between everything that Eddie and Steve have… this is nothing.

He doesn’t expect Eddie bursting into tears.

“Oh God,” Eddie’s saying, and his breathing’s all wrong, “Dustin, please, please don’t—” But it’s like the words are choking him, like he can only stare at Dustin’s neck as if the world is ending.

The front door opening. Steve’s voice echoing, calling out a questioning greeting.

“Hey? You in the kitchen?”

Dustin moves quickly, shoves past Eddie.

“Dustin,” Eddie says again, loud in his panic, “d-don’t go, come on—”

He knows precisely when Steve can hear the fact that Eddie is crying, because his footsteps are rapid on the stairs, speech just as quick and frantic, “What happened, what happened?”

Dustin briefly feels Steve’s hand close around his elbow, “Hey, hey, what’s—?”, but he wrenches himself free. Runs down the stairs as fast as he can, stumbles on the last step.

He feels his ankle give way, and his heart is suddenly pounding like he’s back in The Upside Down—and he lies there, guilt and embarrassment in every heaving breath he takes.

[libby-for-life]

Ok how about yandere Lucifer trying to woo Adam in Hell with presents and Adam’s favorite meals

You are a good idea machine! I am nothing but a humble writer!

Adam sat uncomfortably on the sofa as Lucifer hugged him. His head was on the former archangel's chest and he hummed as he ran his fingers through Adam's hair. The image was probably comical considering how tall he was.

"Adam! I almost forgot! This is for you!" Lucifer let him go and Adam took his chance to sit up and away from the devil's embrace. Adam's jaw dropped. Lucifer was holding an electric guitar made out of red metal. It even had flames on the side.

"That looks fucking sick," Adam said before gazing at the former angel with a frown. "This is for me? What's the catch?"

When Lucifer nodded. "No catch. I mean, I wouldn't be opposed if you played for me, but overall it's for you." Adam couldn't keep the grin off his face as he held the guitar. He could play music now. Lucifer chuckled and gently cupped his face but Adam pulled away with a frown. He may like the gift, but that doesn't mean he liked all the forced proximity.

Lucifer bit his lip sadly but allowed him to stay away from him. "How about we get that all plugged up so you can rock on it?"

Adam sat at the table and squirmed a bit. Lucifer said that he was making dinner but he was a bit skeptical of it all. He had never seen the angel cook so he had no idea if it were good or bad.

Suddenly, Lucifer teleported into the spacious dining room holding a plate of steaming meat. "Ribs!" Adam cried out shocked. He hadn't had a good plate of ribs in a while. It smelled so good. Lucifer smiled as he set the plate down. Adam was well aware he was being stared at as he ate but he couldn't care less about that at the moment.

"Oh, you have a little something right there," Lucifer said pointing to his cheek. Adam shrugged and tried to wipe it off with his hand a few times but he must have kept missing because Lucifer just laughed.

"Let me." Instead of grabbing a napkin, Adam sat frozen as deceptively delicate fingers brushed his cheek and came back with BBQ sauce. A blush exploded on his face as Lucifer licked his thumb obscenely, long tongue wrapping around the appendage and sucking the sauce up slowly.

Adam let out a breath, ribs momentarily forgotten, as he watched the former angel suck on his thumb before letting go with a resounding pop. "Tasty." He said before standing up. His eyes were hooded. "I'll leave you to your meal. Give me a call if you need me."

Adam stood outside on a balcony, watching Hell's lights with a contemplative look. For once, it seemed quiet. Well as quiet as it could be in Hell, but Adam was just reveling in the silence of the night.

"I thought I might find you here," Lucifer said. Adam hummed but didn't say anything as the devil leaned against the railing next to him.

"You know, Hell doesn't look too much like a shit hole right now when we're this high," Adam commented, looking down below with a critical eye.

Lucifer laughed. "It has its moments." Lucifer turned to him with a gentle smile. "You look beautiful in this lighting." Adam blushed at the compliment. "Of course I do. I'm fucking Adam."

Lucifer bit his lip before leaning in closer. A hand found its way to his neck and brought him down to his level. Adam's eyes widened, his breath picked up and he let out an embarrassing whimper when he felt Lucifer's lips at the shell of his ear. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes," he breathed out, and then Lucifer gave a bruising kiss. Tongues intertwined with each other but Lucifer soon took control and Adam moaned as he felt fingers brush his bulge. How was he already hard?

"You have no idea how beautiful you look," Lucifer murmured sweetly as they broke.

Lucifer felt happy. Finally, Adam was returning his touches and kisses. Charlie had suggested the whole wooing Adam. If all else failed, then he would have resorted to drastic measures to make him reciprocate his feelings. He didn't want to force his little lamb, but if it came down to it, a few love potions wouldn't have hurt.

He hugged Adam closer who grumbled in his sleep. It's a good thing he didn't need to use them.