#they are in every sport but god how i wish they would just shut the fuck up

[ross1fum1]

The problem of riders as big as Marc and Vale is that a part of their fans completely lost their mind. Straight up brain dead people. The difference is that most Vale's diehard fans don't hide the fact that they are awful people and they get criticized for it (as they should). But Marc’s diehard fans… Some of the most hypocritical people ever. How can you base your existence on complaining about how Valentino fans treated Marc and then do the exact same thing to the first person who doesn't spend their days bouncing on Marc's dick like you do. I don't give a shit about who you are fan of. If you don’t have critical thinking skills you are automatically a disgrace for the sport.

[hoshifighting]

gym rat roommate!seungcheol

— WARNINGS: smut, seungkwan accidentally catch you naked (seungcheol's fault), oral (f. receiving), seungcheol cums untouched, ''begging'', reader tries to be unbothered as seungcheol eats her out, mentions of anabolics jokes and etc. — WC: 3.2k

you never thought sharing a dorm with a leo would be this damn exhausting. when you both got assigned to the same room, you thought it’d be fine—no big deal, just another dude trying to get through college, right? wrong. seungcheol is the textbook definition of a gym rat, spending half his life lifting weights, and the other half driving you insane.

“can you not leave your towel on the bed?” you huff, staring at the damp mess he’s made.

“it’ll dry,” he shrugs, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

“not the point,” you mutter, tossing the towel into the bathroom.

and then there’s the cabinets. oh god, the cabinets. every time he makes his stupid whey protein shake, it’s like he forgets how to close them. it’s a small thing, but it drives you up the wall.

“are you allergic to shutting doors or something?” you ask, eyebrow raised as you gesture at the open cabinets.

“didn’t realize it bothered you so much,” he says, smirking, which only makes you want to strangle him more.

but the stove? that’s where you draw the line. the dude can wash dishes, sure, but he leaves the stove looking like a battlefield, grease splatters and all.

“seriously, seungcheol, you gonna clean that or what?” you snap, pointing at the mess.

“i’ll get to it,” he replies lazily, which means it’s gonna sit there until you can’t take it anymore and do it yourself.

you two bicker like this all the time, the tension simmering just below the surface. it doesn’t help that he’s constantly complaining about your hair everywhere, or the makeup you leave on the sink when you’re rushing out the door.

“do you shed on purpose?” he grumbles, vacuuming for the third time that week.

“do you have to be such a neat freak?” you shoot back, rolling your eyes.

and don’t even get started on the tv. whenever you switch from his boring sports channels to something decent, like a reality show, he acts like you’ve committed a crime.

“i was watching that,” he says, voice low and annoyed.

“yeah, well, this is more interesting,” you retort, settling in for your dose of drama.

the only time you get any peace is when he’s at the gym, and those hours are like heaven. just pure, blissful silence. and for him? the few hours when you’re at your dance classes must be the only moments he’s not silently cursing your existence.

you always wished for a quiet roommate. not that seungcheol was loud—no, he wasn’t a screamer or anything, but his friends? they never left. you couldn't catch a break from the constant parade of guys stomping through your shared dorm like it was their second home. jihoon, one of seungcheol’s quieter friends, was looking for a new roommate at one point, and you almost packed your bags right then and there. the guy was a dream—silent as a ghost and didn’t have a herd of dudes wandering around the place like it was a frat house.

but nope, you were stuck with seungcheol, who never bothered to warn you before letting his friends take over the living room.

and that’s how you ended up in this mess.

seungcheol had left a few minutes ago for the gym, and you were enjoying the peace, taking a long, hot bath. everything was fine until you realized—you forgot your towel. with no one home, you figured it’d be safe to dash to your room and grab it. big mistake.

thinking the coast is clear, you slip out of the bathroom, water dripping off your skin, and make a dash for your room. just as you reach the hallway, freezing your ass off, you hear it—a rustling from the kitchen. before you can even react, seungkwan rounds the corner, a cup in hand, and both of you freeze.

“AHHHHH!”

you both scream like you’ve just seen a ghost, or, you know, each other naked. you bolt for your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

you can hear the guys in the living room getting startled, their conversation cutting off abruptly as seungkwan yells, “don’t come in here! for the love of god, stay put!” you imagine him standing there, one hand clapped over his eyes, traumatized for life—or not lmao.

from the safety of your room, you yell at the top of your lungs, “CHOI SEUNGFUCKING-CHEOL!”

you don’t leave your bedroom until you’re absolutely sure they’ve all left. you can hear them shuffling around, and then, finally, silence. when seungcheol knocks on your door, you yank it open, eyes burning with rage, and immediately start pounding on his chest.

“what the hell did i do?!” he asks, bewildered, as you keep landing blows on him, your fists connecting with his chest repeatedly.

“what the fuck, seungcheol! i’m going to fucking kill you!” you hiss, your voice barely keeping it together.

the boys who are just leaving freeze at the front door, eyes wide, before they scramble to get out, closing the door behind them in a hurry.

“whoa, whoa, what’s going on?” he stammers, trying to catch your wrists, wincing with each hit.

“what’s going on?! you seriously asking me that right now?” you shout, not giving a damn that he’s confused. his clueless expression only makes your blood boil more.

“i wasn’t even here, what are you talking about?” he says, sounding defensive, and it nearly makes you explode.

“you didn’t even fucking bother to tell me your friends were still here! i thought i was alone, seungcheol!” you scream, your voice reaching that pitch where even he starts to look worried. “and now seungkwan’s seen my fucking ass!”

his eyes go wide, shock written all over his face as he stares at you. “wait, what? seungkwan saw you naked?!”

“yes, you idiot!” you practically screech, your face flushing red with embarrassment. “he saw everything, and you’re to blame!”

“alright, alright, calm down,” he says, though his voice is anything but calm. “just… stop screaming for a sec, will you?”

“don’t tell me to calm down!” you snap back, but your hits start to lose their strength. “i can’t believe this is happening. fuck, i’m never gonna live this down.”

“it’s not that bad,” he tries, but you can hear the strain in his voice, as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

“not that bad? not that bad?!” you glare at him, hands on your hips now, chest heaving. “seungkwan saw my naked ass, seungcheol! you have any idea how fucking mortifying that is?”

he bites his lip, and you can see him holding back something—probably a retort, maybe even an apology. but it doesn’t matter, because deep down, a part of him is seething for a different reason altogether.

“you’re not getting off that easy. i swear, if this ever happens again, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. i don’t care if i have to tattoo a schedule on your forehead, you’re gonna tell me when your damn friends are over!” you snarl, storming back into your room and slamming the door shut, leaving seungcheol standing there, more than a little terrified.

your luck was that seungkwan kept his mouth shut and didn’t tell anyone. he even apologized to you, which, honestly, wasn’t necessary since it wasn’t his fault to begin with. when he showed up at your door, looking sheepish, you waved off his apologies.

“it wasn’t your fault, seungkwan,” you say, sighing. “i don’t even know why you’re apologizing.”

“i know why,” seungkwan mutters, and you catch the way his eyes flicker toward seungcheol, who’s hovering behind him, looking a bit too innocent.

“he made you do this, didn’t he?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at seungcheol.

“are you really gonna scold me in front of my friend?” seungcheol whines, crossing his arms.

“it was your fault,” you and seungkwan say in unison, causing seungcheol to groan dramatically, dragging a hand down his face.

the next few days, you’re still so mad—the embarrassment has lightened, but the irritation lingers. you ignore seungcheol’s existence entirely, which seems to throw him off more than your usual bickering. but the result? the boy falls right into line. cabinets? closed. towels? hung up neatly. the stove? spotless, along with the dishes. it’s like he’s scared to mess up again.

he even starts working out at home, right in the middle of the living room, just so there’s no risk of his friends dropping by when he’s not there. every time you walk by and give him a dismissive huff, he sulks, pouting like a kicked puppy.

“you’re really not gonna talk to me?” he asks one day, mid-push-up, his voice a little too whiny for someone who usually acts so tough.

you don’t even bother to respond, just let out another huff and keep walking.

“come on, y/n, i’m sorry! what do i have to do, beg?” he calls after you, his tone half-joking, half-desperate.

you pause, glancing back at him, his big eyes pleading with you. you almost crack but manage to keep your composure.

you huff, slumping onto the couch, grabbing the remote to turn on the tv. seungcheol scoffs as he watches you, getting up from his spot and kneeling in front of you. you ignore him, your eyes glued to the screen, but you can feel his presence, and it’s hard not to notice how ridiculous he looks, sarcastically begging for forgiveness.

“y/n, come on, forgive me, pleeease,” he drawls out dramatically, hands clasped together like he’s praying, his voice dripping with mockery.

you finally tear your gaze away from the tv, raising an eyebrow at him. “go drink your protein shake, cheol,” you say, your tone dismissive.

he rolls his eyes, placing his hands on your knees, and there’s something in his touch that makes you pause. “okay, okay, for real now. can you please forgive me?”

your eyes drift down to his hands, warm and firm on your kneecaps. he notices the way you’re staring and moves his hands to rest on his thighs, waiting for your response. you stay quiet, taking in the sight of him kneeling in front of you, looking almost vulnerable.

when he thinks you’re going to ignore him again, you finally speak up, your tone dripping with mockery. “do you really want my forgiveness, cheol?”

he hums in frustration, rolling his eyes again, as if he’s bracing himself for another sarcastic remark.

you let a small smirk play on your lips. “then why don’t you make the most of being on your knees, and put that mouth to better use?”

his eyes widen in shock, your unbothered expression leaving him stunned. you can see the gears turning in his head, but before he can even respond, you slowly spread your legs in front of him, your attention casually returning to the tv.

seungcheol nearly freezes on the spot, almost losing his balance as he processes what you just said. but the sight of you, open and inviting, has him swallowing hard, his throat bobbing as he struggles to maintain composure.

he doesn’t know where to start, caught between the shock of your command and the thrill that’s been building up inside him for ages. he hesitates for a moment, then reaches under your dress, his fingers grazing the edge of your panties—the ones he’s already had a peek at earlier. you keep your eyes glued to the tv, acting like you didn’t just ask him to do what he’s been fantasizing about for far too long.

seungcheol’s never been one for preliminaries; that’s just not his style. so instead of teasing, he pushes your dress up, exposing more of your thighs, and hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down. his breath catches when he realizes you weren’t prepared for this—you’re not wearing the usual lacy things he often sees in the laundry, and you’re not wet—yet.

his hands are firm under your legs as he spreads them wider, leaning in closer. the anticipation coils in his gut as he spits on your pussy, watching the wetness slowly glide over your folds. you squirm just a little, the sudden sensation making you shift, but your eyes stay focused on the tv, pretending this isn’t affecting you.

the sight of you like this—so casual, so indifferent—only makes seungcheol more determined. he dips his head down, his tongue dragging a slow, deliberate line along your slit, tasting the mix of his spit and your skin. the thought that seungkwan got to see you naked before he did burns in the back of his mind, fueling his movements.

he starts off slow, almost gentle, but the more you keep ignoring him, the harder he goes. his lips wrap around your clit, sucking it hard enough to make you gasp, though you try to keep it quiet. he can feel your resolve slipping as he works his mouth on you, each stroke of his tongue more focused, more intense.

seungcheol’s goal is clear: make you forget about whatever the hell you’re watching on tv and finally give him the attention he craves. he wants to see you fall apart because of him, to know that he’s the one getting you off like this.

he moves one of his hands to your thigh, squeezing it as he bobs his head, sucking your clit harder with each motion. finally, you can’t take it anymore. your head tilts down, and you meet his gaze—his big, dark eyes looking up at you so fucking needy. the sight of him, lips slick with your arousal, head moving rhythmically between your legs, makes your jaw fall slack.

your hand instinctively reaches for his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you grip him tighter, urging him on. seungcheol hums against your clit, the vibrations making you moan, your focus entirely on him now. the tv is forgotten, the show nothing more than background noise as you finally give him what he’s been aching for—your full, undivided attention.

his tongue flicks over your clit—fast, almost unbelievably so—and your body reacts instantly. your back arches off the couch, toes curling, and your grip on the remote tightens. you squeeze it so hard that buttons are pressed at random, the tv screen flashing through channels, the volume going mute, settings changing. but none of that matters anymore. the only thing you can focus on is the way seungcheol’s tongue works against you, driving you absolutely insane.

he grabs your hips, holding you down because you’re squirming too much, trying to grind against his face despite the overwhelming sensation. every time you move, he digs his fingers into your skin, a low groan vibrating against your pussy. your breath comes out in shaky moans, and even though you can barely string words together, you start talking dirty to him anyway.

“f-fuck, seungcheol—y-you're so fucking good at this, fuck—”

your words are laced with moans, stuttering as you try to form sentences. “y-your tongue... oh my god, i hate you—i fucking hate you,” you gasp, but the way you’re grinding into his face tells him otherwise. “i s-swear, you're gonna make me cum s-so fast, you asshole.”

the filthy words spilling from your mouth only fuel him more. he’s close to losing it, just from the sound of you, from the way you’re cursing him out between moans. his tongue flicks faster, relentless, and he watches the way you react, loving the way your body shakes under his control.

“y-yeah, just like that, don't stop—oh, fuck,” you manage to gasp out, your voice rising as he pushes you closer to the edge. he’s so turned on it’s almost embarrassing, the way you’re unraveling beneath him making him throb painfully in his pants. your filthy and breathless talk, your taste and the way youre wetting his tongue more and more, makes him feel like he could cum right there, just from the way you moan his name.

he’s obsessed with the way you’re falling apart, and when you start tugging at his hair harder, he knows he’s got you right where he wants. your head falls back, the tv now nothing but a silent, blurry background, and all you can focus on is the feeling of his tongue, his mouth, the way he’s devouring you like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

“god, fuck—cheol, i’m so fucking close,” you moan, your body trembling as you teeter on the edge. he flicks his tongue faster, sucking hard on your clit, desperate to make you cum, desperate to feel the way you’ll fall apart completely because of him.

seungcheol’s hips grind against the corner of the sofa, desperately seeking some kind of friction. when he feels your breath catch, your voice going silent, he risks a glance up and sees you—your mouth open, almost like you’re ready to take him in, and your hand gripping his hair with an iron grip, showing no mercy. the way you’re spasming on his tongue, the tension in your body, it all pushes him closer to the edge.

he lets out a long, whiny moan against you, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and then he can’t help it—his mouth slips from your clit, leaving it throbbing and aching, as his hand rushes down to grab his cock. he presses his thumb against his slit through his sweatpants, feeling the dampness already soaking through. he’s so turned on it’s almost painful, his hips bucking against his hand as he lets out a moan into the soft skin of your thigh.

“fuck, seungcheol,” you pant, spreading your legs wider, acting like you’re not just as turned on by the sight of him falling apart in front of you. “you really came that fast? i didn’t think the gym rat would be such a quick shot,” you tease, your voice dripping with mockery. “what, the anabolics making you weak or something?”

his eyes snap up, and he shoots you a glare, knowing damn well he doesn’t use that shit. “shut the fuck up,” he mutters, trying to sound pissed, but the effect is ruined by the way his voice shakes.

you smirk, your gaze mocking as you look down at him. “then stop whining and get back to work,” you command, your tone sharp. “or do i need to find someone else who can actually handle me?”

seungcheol’s jaw clenches, eyes stabbing you as he leans in again. he bites down lightly on one of your folds, making you jolt and laugh, the sound quickly turning into a moan as he resumes his task.

“that’s more like it,” you say, voice breathy, threading your fingers through his hair again, a satisfied smile on your lips as he starts flicking his tongue over your clit once more.

he grins against you, feeling the vibrations of your moan as you finally let go, focusing entirely on the pleasure he’s giving you. it’s a game for him now, teasing you just as much as you’re teasing him, determined to make you lose control all over again. the sound of your laughter + your moans is the only thing he needs, spurring him on as he buries his face between your legs, eager to make you come undone for him, and only him.

[sweetsaladpainterranch]

The Rival (Chapter 2)

(Summary: Alastor sought to possess one of the only does in Pentagram City for the rut season, however, you wanted a mate, not a master. But what happens when a handsome new buck shows up one day and tries to capture your attention away from the Radio Demon. Who will you choose?)

Hey, so here is part two as promised (I rewrote it like 40 times 😅) please continue keep in mind that it's just practice for a beginner's writing class

***

Alastor POV

GOD, DAMN HIM ALL OVER AGAIN! How dare this bastard come into HIS territory and make eyes at HIS adorable doe. And how could Charlie, the naïve ninny, allow this…this interloper into their hotel as a guest? Going as far as to prevent him from watering the front lawn with the other male’s blood (and perhaps impaling his head on the entrance gate) in warning for any other foolish would-be usurper. He felt that the spice garden could use some Canadian reindeer mulch.

 Alastor couldn’t help but feel he was behind the eight ball thanks to his agreement with the Princess to not lay a finger on any who sought the hotel’s services; however, she even placed the rake next to your room. It seemed like she expected you to show him around and ensure he acclimated to the new environment without issue. To be a friend to this new guest. Was there no end to Charlie’s flagrant disrespect?!

You had had to walk him down to breakfast once because he had gotten “lost” in the hallways and ended up “accidentally” darkening your door asking for assistance. However Alastor knew it was intentional on the misguided reindeer’s part. It was as if James thought he could capture your heart within the span of a five-minute walk to the lobby. Nonsense. But, Alastor noticed how you sported a slight blush when you rejoined the others, with the newest guest in tow by the hand, in response to whatever inane attempt at charm he had thrown your way.

If the flannel fiend wished for a duel, Alastor would gladly oblige.

He had made certain that his precious doe’s hotel door frame was properly marked with scoring from his antlers and his shadow insisted on being posted on guard at night in case of any “lost” reindeer. This didn’t seem to bother you, as your instincts most likely told you to let the males fight it out, so he continued his pissing contest. For instance, no matter where you were, so was Alastor. He continuously shirked his hotel duties in favor of gluing himself to you and if he wasn’t (very publicly) rubbing against your neck or hair to leave traces of his heavy musk, and attempting to jump-start your heat with his pheromones, he was feeding you from the same plate as himself or whispering sweet words into your sensitive ears.

Oh yes, he saw with satisfaction how your ears twitched in contact with his warm breath and how you shivered slightly at his honeyed words of love. He also didn’t miss the glare that the Canadian continuously shot towards him, and aimed a shit-eating grin of his own right back, as you once again unconsciously relaxed into Alastor’s side.

***

Oh yes, The Radio Demon was absolutely certain that HIS doe would choose HIM as the superior mating option like she did every season over the trash that begged for a mere glance from her direction. HE was the one who always provided protection for her during this fragile time. HE always saw to her meals and ensured her nutrition as is the responsibility of the courting male. And HE was the one who you harbored romantic feelings for.

…Those same warm feelings that slept within him as well…

Alastor tried to shut the thought down before his mind strangled itself in a black cloud of doubt. To say that he was wholly unfamiliar with genuine romance, even throughout his many decades in Hell, was an understatement.

He huffed heavily through his nose.

Carmilla better have a good reason for dragging him away from his territory at such a time. As he begrudgingly made his way to the overlord meeting, Couldn't look weak during a season now could he? Alastor reflected on the last time he had allowed his heart to open itself for another long ago. It ended in his technological "friend" nearly voiding him to make a quick buck.

 …Never again…

 It certainly didn’t help his mood that the start of the rut season was ever hot on Alastor’s heels, but he could only wait for his pheromones to trigger his doe’s heat so every second away from you felt frustratingly wasted. He wondered if your body was taking longer than usual in response to the multiple suitors.

…What if she’s with him…

He shook his head as if trying to forcefully repel the vision of you accepting the other male’s advances. Laughing at James’s crude sense of humor turning into allowing him to drift ever closer to you and eventually seizing his chance to- no, his doe would never betray him.

...She's not mine...

It felt like a stone had settled in the pit of Alastor’s stomach at the thought of you being moved even emotionally by another. Ok fine! He was not the most romantically inclined during the rest of the year, but it wasn’t like you weren’t well aware of this relationship's transaction.

…What if she throws me away too?...

Alastor’s grip nearly broke his cane in half, but he didn’t notice in his shock at such an intrusive thought. She’d never reject him. He remembered how it felt like the whole of Hell suddenly stopped spinning the moment he found you hunched and bloody from defending yourself after an entire herd of bucks had stalked and cornered you in an alleyway. He normally never went out during a rut (can’t let anyone see his body’s weakness) but, even from the hotel, he had smelled something too alluring to ignore. A doe in heat.

Alastor thought you were magnificent in your demon form; legs bent like an actual cervid, claws sharp as knives, and covered in the blood of those filthy bucks who tried to take you by force. Even now the image continues to take his breath away.  

…I know her heart needs more…what if I …

No, that is not what this agreement is. You used him and he used you. Just like every other lost soul in Hell, you were leveraging your Satan-given circumstance to better your situation under his powerful allowances. Romance was merely a tool at best and a distraction at worst (Alastor tried to convince himself).

…What if her body chooses the other male’s pheromones…

He stopped dead in his tracks, just a short distance from the Carmine compound, as the surrounding windows shattered, and nearby demons fled from the intensity of his sudden static outburst. He felt his antlers grow and his bones shift in the fury that overcame him at the image of you held under the other man. Keening and gasping James’s name in your desperation to find relief from your heat. A loud snarl escaped him. Dammit! He never should have left her!

…What if his name is on her lips right now??!...

 Alastor had never phased through the shadows so fast in his afterlife.

***

Your POV

The kiss ended as quickly as it had begun once you felt yourself suddenly pulled into a suffocating nothingness, you opened your eyes to see that James was being violently shaken around in the air like a ragdoll. Only then did the blood in your ears stop pounding long enough for you to hear the sharp screeching of a ruined record and the overwhelming sensation of staticky pinpricks uncomfortably all over your body. Your instincts kicked in and you immediately scanned the yard for the cause of the disruption though you already knew its source as Alastor’s shadow was winding around your body protectively, but also in a restraining manner.

Your eyes searched for Alastor and found him, standing in between you and the flailing reindeer, to be almost unrecognizable in the most demonic appearance you have ever seen him and it broke your heart. Shit, he must have seen James kiss you and maybe even heard what you two had discussed. His body was completely stretched out and bent at impossible angles as he laughed manically at his rough treatment of James and snarled wildly, “HOW DARE YOU LAY YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON MY MATE!!!!”.

“ALASTOR! STOP IT!”, you cried out in hopes of capturing his attention away from James, but it seemed as though your voice had only made things worse as Alastor flung his prey high into the air with another laugh before turning his attention towards you.

Heavy footsteps rumbled through the air as Alastor stomped towards you menacingly slow like a predator taking his sweet time in devouring its next meal and you pulled at his shadow with all you were worth to free yourself of its confining hold. “Please wait!”, you pleaded with the Radio Demon (this wasn’t Alastor anymore). Surely he was about to kill you just like every other demon who he felt had crossed him and their screams and lifeless eyes danced in your memory, but, until now, you had never felt fear of the same fate. You knew hot tears were pouring down your cheeks and you tried to look as small as possible as the giant deer finally made his way towards you with the most strained smile you had ever seen split his face. It seemed like the green stitches that lined the smile were about to pop and you saw the black void of The Radio Demon’s eyes that were pinpointed by fastmoving golden dials.

You could only continue to sob and whimper out pleas for your life, quickly losing your voice in desperation, as Alastor kneeled down and bent his neck to look into your eyes before growling fiercely in your face. It wasn’t really understandable, but it sounded like the accusation that you could see in his twisted face and your heart sank even further. Of course, he must be feeling betrayed and angry, however, he also looked a bit…hurt? It was only for a moment but you were sure of what you saw and it made you wonder if this was really because he felt mating competition from the other male. You couldn’t ponder this any further, though, because you were suddenly whisked away from the hold of Alastor’s shadow in a vice of muscled arms, a firm chest, and white fur.

The fuck?!

“GIVE HER BACK TO MEEE!!!!”, Alastor roared so loud that your ears began to bleed and tighten even further against your skull.

You were quickly placed onto the safety of the hotel’s nearby back porch and looked up to your new kidnapper, only for your mind to completely blank as you took in James’s transformed body and the eerily powerful aura that radiated from his very soul. He walked in a circling motion towards Alastor as the two sized each other up. James now had two sets of strong, bent deer-like legs that attached to the abdomen of, what you assumed to be, a huge reindeer. His humanoid torso connected to the deer body and his shoulders to his head was adorned with spikes of thick, black antlers that grew more massive and curved as they reached the crown of his hairline. You recognized this form.

Dude was a freaking cervitaur? Wait…are DxD characters actually real??!

You noticed that thin vines lined his antlers with small, colorful flowers growing on them and that with each powerful step he took new plants sprouted from the contact of his hooves with the ground. James’s expression was marred with a threatening look towards Alastor and he began to kick out his back legs into the dirt as he twisted his, now thicc neck, from side to side in a warning display of his impressive but deadly rack.

The Radio Demon didn’t back down, however, returning the gesture as he coiled his body before both demons sprinted directly at each other as two harsh cervid howls rang out through the air like a thunderclap.

***

I really hope that you liked reading this! I enjoyed focusing on Alastor's side of things and James's demon transformation that is actually inspired by a DxD character. The cervidtaur, though James's powers will differ a bit, I believe that the fight of the next part will show off how awesome of a character design it is. 😊(See the pic below) I think I spent like a week researching reindeer aggression signs and how to write in a dude's pov 😂

Taglist: I hope I did this right!

@Xalygatorx , @songbirdpond , @bitter-rabittt, @sakuraluna2468, @cinnamon-galaxies, @speedycoffeedelight, @diffidentphantom, @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this, @eris-norwega, @anngray1369, @ladyadrasteia666, @wends, @prime-in-time-and-space, @supeersimpeer, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @type-ink, @fantasyhopperhea, @martinys-world, @apad-ravya, @galaxywolf3, @thoughfullovercreator, @Boogiemansbitch, @helluva-simper, @alastorsgirl48, @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog, @need-a-life-or-grass, @michi-keinz, @milkissesx, @ari42, @valerie-is-in-the-cupboard, @lil-glum, @amariskygal, @strawberryoverlord1893, @cherry-cola-100, @noellebellq, @lettuce-frog16, @junieshohoho, @phoephan-123, @dreamraven13

[aestherin]

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11: are you my heart?

NOTES Hello! Sorry for the very late update haha this took me way longer than I thought it would?? That's it I have no excuses bahahaha </3 My very first attempt at writing a written chapter (semi?) im so bad at this omg apologies in advance abdhadhaha Anyways, I hope u guys enjoy!! 🤍

"The heck?" You muttered as you saw Ayato waiting for you silently in the lobby.

Aside from his mask and sunglasses, he was wearing almost exactly the same thing as you. Well, except the bottons on the upper half were open, revealing his turtleneck underneath. Your sightseeing was immediately cut short when he walked towards you.

"Good morning, love," he beamed.

As he reached your spot, he leaned in playfully, bringing his mask down using those slender fingers of his. "Missed me?"

"I think you missed me," you smiled sweetly. Attempted to, at least. "Seeing as how you're bringing your face so close to mine."

If Ayato were to be truthful, he really did. However, the prideful Kamisato (albeit a worshipper of even the mere ground you walk on) does not wish to lose a game he started himself.

"Come now, love. Just admit you missed me just as much, seeing as how you're not pulling away from me, hmm?"

"Using my words against me? That's not fair."

He just chuckled as you finally got to distance yourself away from him. With arms crossed, you gave Ayato the eye, scanning him from head to toe. "Are you sure you weren't trying to copy what I'm wearing?"

"I was already at the lobby when you messaged me about your outfit, [name]," the man grinned. "You're really good at assuming things wrong."

It was embarrassing, really. To have Ayato win every single argument. No matter who starts the banter, it's always him who gets the last laugh.

Therefore, you, who shared that prideful trait with him, swore to one day win at least once against him.

For now, you just ignored Ayato and walked straight towards the entrance of the building, but you suddenly felt him tug on your shirt's fabric. "What?"

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Outside?"

"I parked at the back. Less exposure that way, hun."

"Oh."

"Well, fuck."

The back, was in fact, not deserted. No. Not at all.

Contrary to what your companion thought, it was now swarming with... pests.

"When, how, did the media get to the rear parking lot?" Ayato started rambling, keeping you close next to him as his right arm was placed around your waist and the other trying to protect your face from the continuous flashes.

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to fakely mock him. "I can't believe I agreed to be in a fake relationship with someone dumb. If I knew you'd be bringing your flashy sports car again, I would've just called for a taxi."

"Excuse me? Me? Dumb?" He sighed, backing down. "In my defense, I just wanted to give you the most comfortable experience possible."

"Yeah, running from the paparazzi is real comfortable, love."

You heard him laugh, making you smile too despite the situation at hand. "Well, love, I didn't know they'd follow me here. And for that, I apologize."

"By the way, Ayato. Seriously speaking," you poked his side. "I can manage. Prioritize yourself."

"No." Even through his mask, you can note how his expression slightly changed. His jaw. His jaw freaking clenched so fucking attractiv— No. Stop. Oh my God self.' "You're my priority, [name]."

Oh.

Wow.

At that very moment, you wanted to go to the hospital because you were certain that something was very very wrong with both your stomach and your chest. 'I think there's been a glitch. Is my whole system in error? What the heck?'

"You really have a crush on me," you joked as the two of you were still looking like idiots trying to avoid getting drenched by the rain... when really, you were just trying to get past through the nonstop flickering of lights.

"Oh wow. How did you know? Was it that obvious?"

"Shut up."

"What if I really do?"

"No you don't."

"Are you my heart? How would you know my feelings better than mine?"

"Feelings are processed by the brain."

"So? You're not my brain either. My point still stands."

"God, stop."

----------

-----------

"[Name], this is Hirotatsu. Hirotatsu, this is my lover, [name]," Ayato motioned towards the guard standing near the gate.

Hirotatsu bowed his head to you, even going as far as placing his hand over his chest. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, madam. Sir Ayato has been talking about y-"

"Ahaha," your boyfriend started pulling you away from the well-built man and towards the main frontyard. "I think this introduction's been a little too informative." He then guided you towards an old woman, all while muttering something along the lines of how his security personnel should have 'keeping-mouths-shut lessons', or something like that.

He introduced you to everyone outside the estate, every single person there, including the housekeepers, the guards, his staff, as in everyone.

It was as if you really were his girlfriend that he was bringing home to meet the family.

"What about your p-" Flashbacks of the time you saw the articles about this renown actor (also now your fake lover) being an orphan stopped you. "Hmm?"

"Your power bill? How much is it? Your house is so so huge how do you afford to pay the bill?"

The blue-haired man let out a laugh before smirking at you. Suddenly, you felt a light flick on your forehead. "Hey! What -"

"Well, love, it just so happens that my net worth is also so so huge."

You made a face.

And again, he laughed.

"Would you like to tour the inside now?"

"I'm tired."

"Then let's rest first. Inside."

You groaned.

----------

Unbeknownst to you, the people previously introduced to you were enjoying the endearing scene playing in front of them. Who knew their young master would ever be so fond of someone to this extent?

Yes, the people of the Kamisato Estate find banters endearing. Don't ask why, don't judge.

"The lady that Sir Ayato has been talking to me nonstop about is very attractive indeed," Granny Furuta stated. "I really do hope they last and end up together."

privacy — ayato x reader smau

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[writerofadream]

Fortune favors the Bold ⛓

TDI!Duncan x Juvie Bestfriend! Reader ⛓

Chapter Fourteen: She's a maneater (But he loves it)

(^^ Literally Duncan whenever your on your meds)

(In case you would like to know, when the intro music plays each episode, you are holding a bow and arrow and are shooting an apple off of Duncan’s head)

Duncan’s body had a sleeping schedule. Unlike you, Duncan didn’t need a thousand alarms to wake him up.

He didn’t even need one. He woke up at six a.m every day and fell asleep at twelve p.m every night. He’d wait until seven-thirty and wake you up.

Today you were woken up by Chris’s plane’s engine roaring above the cabins. Your eyes flew open instantly and your hands reached under your pillow for your pistol, your fingers going straight for the trigger.

Duncan ran into the girls side of the cabin, his headphones sitting around his neck. He had this cloudy look in his eyes that you didn’t like.

But when he saw that you were there his body relaxed and he helped you out of bed. Bridgette had gone outside to investigate the sounds. You laid a bunch of clothes on your bed and Duncan smothered a laugh once he saw them.

“We both know these aren’t your style. Do you want one of my letterman jackets that Chris bought me?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. “More than anything.” You said with a heave of relief. 

He disappeared before reappearing with a dark green letterman jacket that had ‘Tarun’ stitched to the back.

You slipped out of your nightclothes (much to Duncan’s happiness) and pulled up a pair of jean shorts, a long blue shirt that you were pretty sure was Bridgette’s that you tied at the bottom, and pulled the jacket over your body. You laced up your tennis shoes with a practiced ease and finally asked “How do I look?” Duncan was staring at you.

“...Bad?” You muttered a blush tingling your cheeks. “No, never, you look like a goddess.” Duncan smiled. You blinked before scowling, your cheeks turning a dark shade of pink. “Shush.” You kissed his lips.

“Hmph.” Duncan smiled and you both went outside.

You got there just in time to hear Chris yell “Extreme sports!” before a bunch of interns wheeled out a dusty sofa bed for Chef Hatchet to jump on.

“Of course you’ll be skydiving at five-thousand-feet and using these.” Chris said paying no attention to the groaning man whimpering on the now folded sofa. Chris threw bags out into the open which you were 98.99% sure did not have any parachutes in. 

“I’m going to need a lot of alcohol.” Duncan turned to look at you as you prayed out loud to the sky. “Who are you asking?” he said looking around because everyone was focused on the two men.

“God.”

“Our lucky contestants are Trent and DJ.” Chris said with a bright smile. “Oh shit it’s at random.” Duncan paled. “Oh. So today’s the day I kill myself.” You muttered rubbing your face.

“You wish, baby.” Duncan pecked your cheek, he smiled as your face turned a deep shade of pink. “What?” You grumbled. “You're cute when you're that pink.” He smiled and you wanted to punch him.

“I got a reputation, Tarun.” you hissed. “Maybe I’ll ruin it.” He whispered and your entire body turned pink. “Shut up.” You whispered, embarrassed. 

Chef Hatchet began disclosing the challenges. One involved the sofa-bed, another involved riding an extremely angry moose, and the last involved a jet-ski. So, a typical Saturday to say the least.

You laughed when Chris mentioned the moose. “If he’s as angry as me I think I’d be fine.” You said not really worried. “You're in luck, beautiful. You’ll be riding for the Killer Bass.” Duncan didn’t like the subtle flirting… at all. 

Then they announced what the prize was. A chance at a shower? 

“Really? That’s it?” It wasn’t even a private shower, in reality it wasn’t really a prize, it was just a slightly cleaner place to bathe.

It didn’t even have curtains?

—--

You skipped breakfast. This meal looked like it came right out of a fire pit. Duncan had vanished but not before he made you turn four different shades of pink when he said… “Y/N Tarun. I think I love it.” 

Bridgette, Gwen, and you were talking about the challenges and watching Owen eat with mild disgustion. You watched as Owen burped out… a love note. Chef picked it up and read it to himself. “To the girl with smoldering eyes.” He gagged and dropped the note. Bridgette picked it up.

“Check it out, it's a corny haiku poem.” Gwen laughed into her palm. “Whoah, some dude’s crushing big time.” Bridgette’s eyes scanned the love letter. “Cupid definitely struck.” You laughed quietly.

“It’s probably for you.” Gwen said pointing your way. “Me?” You wanted to laugh. “Obviously?” Bridgette was confused why you didn’t think it was you. “Aren’t you and Duncan a thing now, plus I see the way he looks at you. He’s head over heels.” Gwen said, trying to convince you.

“First of all, that’s not his handwriting, he's borderline dyslexic and writes like a five-year-old on crack. Also he does not look at me like that.” You hissed. “Aw, you know his handwriting.” Gwen cooed at the fact. “Yes, he does? He looks at you like you hung the stars and the moon.” Bidgette laughed.

You blushed. 

The two girls started to bicker over who it could be.

You rolled your eyes. Neither of their boys had the capability to write something that cheesy. It was very clearly Harold, he gushed over girls quite a bit. But you were curious about the mystery chick.

 

—-

Chris had the Screaming Bass gather by the plane as he explained the instructions. Duncan was listening but you had his headphones around your ears as music blasted. Maneater by Nelly Furtado to be precise.

I wanna see you all on your knees, knees.

You both were on the couch, he was sitting up but you had your head in his lap, lightly tapping your thigh in tune to the music. Duncan had his fingers playing in your hair which he knew you found comforting. It reminded you of your mother to be honest.

When you were younger she’d give you braids (A/N: Heavily implied to be cornrow braids, aka implied black!reader but can be seen either way) and her hands would weave throughout your hair.

You either wanna be with me, or be me (come on now)

Duncan tapped your shoulder signaling it was time to get up. You sat up quickly as you shook your head ‘no’, you did not want to give him his headphones back. He scowled playfully. Your team started to push the couch in between Duncan struggling to get his headphones back. 

A maneater, make you work hard.

Bridgette sighed as she watched you too mess around. She watched you trip into the sand as Duncan tackled you and you both rolled around laughing your heads off, before Duncan quickly stole a kiss, then his headphones back. Her eyes flickered to Geoff. Why couldn’t he do something like that? 

“Aw man.” You gave Duncan a playful pouty lip and he stuck his tongue out as you both resumed pushing the sofa. You watched DJ easily fall onto the sofa and he seemed surprised that he survived. 

But he was quickly ‘devoured’ by the couch.

You paled and began whistling and walking away everyone else following in pursuit.

It was your turn next. Duncan followed you next to the moose and helped you climb up. “Just think, the socks don’t smell as bad as my dad, and the moose can’t be as crazy as juvie.” He shrugged, you had been through worse, he had been through worse.

“Fair. Don’t I get a kiss for good luck? It’s tradition right?” You smiled. “Come back alive, baby and we’ll see.” Duncan smiled walking away as the moose flew out of the pen.

You whooped and hollered with joy as the moose bucked around. It was angry all right. But something switched in the animal's head, it wasn’t angry, it was murderous. He bucked twice in a row and he flipped you off of him and onto your back on the ground thankfully missing the socks and he antlers trapped you against the hard ground.

Bridgette watched as Duncan’s eyes widened and his body straightened up. His hands reached for the gun hidden in the waistline of his pants and Bridgette grabbed his wrist. His eyes were clouded over when they met hers. “Let. Go. Of. Me.” He growled but she persisted. “She’ll be okay.” Bridgette hissed at him. 

Its antlers scratched up your face before Chef Hatchet could get the moose under control again.

Duncan shook off his stupor and ripped his wrist away from Bridgette sending her a glare before he helped you up and you coughed into your hand. You couldn’t hear anything. Duncan waved a hand in front of your face saying words but no sound came out. “Huh?” You mumbled. But suddenly there was sound, and there was a LOT.

You covered your ears and Duncan slipped his headphones around them as he switched the white-sound on.

‘Better?’ he mouthed. You nodded. 

He took you away to get your face bandaged. Duncan pointed at a log and you sat down, he knelt in front of you and began butting butterfly bandages on your face which Chef had thrown to him mouthing ‘Don’t tell Chris’.

“Sorry, I lost. Something happened with the moose.” You whispered unsure of the volume of your voice. “Are you okay?” Duncan whispered back, he didn’t care if you lost, honestly he didn’t care if you had gotten the entire team in last place or whatever, he just wanted you to be okay.

You shrugged your shoulders as Duncan put the last bandage on. 

He sat next to you on the log and wrapped an arm around your shoulders kissing the top of your head. You stayed like that until the next challenge.

—-

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#thewaythattheyareperfectcouple?

#SHEWEARSHISCLOTHES-

—--

Duncan had volunteered to drive Lindsay and before he had hopped on the jet ski you mildly threatened him (you still wore his headphones). “If you purposely ruin this I will fight you.” You whispered, jabbing a finger in his chest. His lips found yours. “Maybe I’d like that.” He whispered and you rolled your eyes. 

You both watched Heather drive Harold and much to your surprise Heather’s top flew off. “Well that’s fun.” You whisper-laughed and Duncan smiled bringing you closer towards him as you put a head on his shoulder.

Duncan failed spectacularly at driving Lindsay, so much so he flew into a tree much to your horror. You scaled the tree flipping from branch to branch before you found him near the top.

“Hey sweetheart I might have a concussion… but did you know that there’s this girl I reallllyyyy like her name’s Y/N and she’s super pretty but don’t tell her okay?” you had to stifle your laugh.

“Okay.”

—

You may have lost the challenge but you were as happy as a clam. Duncan was still really out-of-it and Chris did not make it better by antagonizing him. He quickly shut up when you pointed a gun at him.

In other news.

Harold got voted off.

—

“WHAT-” Leshawna and Harold just kissed much to your horror. “I know, I was as surprised as you are, kid.” Chef sighed next to you.

[sweet-demiboi]

Billy Hargrove x Male!Reader (smut)

Warnings: Eddie is your bestie, steddie is a thing, Billy is still a bit of a newbie, you basically fight in sports class lol and fuck afterwards, top!dom!reader and definetly sub!bottom!Billy (he's a bit bitchy at first), hair pulling is mentioned, also m!reader's dick is in his ass, m!reader grabs Billy at the neck like once (not really choking though), many hickeys on Billy, unprotected sex (don't be stupid irl, this is just fiction), also kinda shower sex (also don't be stupid that way irl, if you slip it could end not very well), this can be read by poc Ig, but probably not asexual people or trans guys, sorry :/ (I do have other fics for you on my masterlist though, just read the warnings :)), also this is not proofread (yet) - Enjoy!

No Fem!Readers, please!

Your last lesson of the day was PE. It was okay, you were even good at it. Basketball was one of your favorite school sports although you had decided not to play on the school's team.

The guys there were more than a bit toxic and you really preferred your friendships with Eddie Munson and his group. They were a lot more relaxed and actually quite funny. They didn't like sports.

So, you weren't surprised as to find that Eddie wanted to skip this class again. But as soon as he told you that he would be going on a date with Steve Harrington (who was also skipping), you were all over the place. Excited and happy for him, plus you forced him to meet you afterwards and tell everything.

But now you would have to face the new student alone - Billy Hargrove, the guy who had risen to the top of the popularity scale over night. Not even Steve had done that.

Anyway, you came back from your world of thoughts and tried to focus on the game instead, which was starting right now. The only thing you had noticed was that it was basketball and you would have to play against Billy Hargrove.

God, have mercy. He was on the shirtless team. His body basically had you drooling all over the floor. How could a highschooler manage to be this pumped? You decided not to question it.

His body was about everything that was nice about Billy in this particular class, because he played in a way that made you so damn angry.

He was all grins and chuckles when he got the ball past you, blocked you with his whole body and its weight, would jump up so highly that you couldn't land a single shot and he was provoking you all the time.

"(Y/L/N), huh? They told me you were good at this, and thought to myself: that's nice, finally something that won't be boring around here. Seems like I was wrong"

"Would you just shut up and play?"

"'course"

Then he ran beside you, the ball in his hands. He winked. It was making you furious.

You felt your level of anger rise, your blood boil a little more with every ball he took away from you, with every grin, every comment, and every provocation.

Until you were playing just like him. You would dodge, block him, make comments, and were always visibly annoyed while doing so. Billy seemed as if he was enjoying to see those reactions from you, because he wasn't stopping but played a little harder, laughed a little louder, and smiled a little wider.

The tension between you two was building as well. It got kind of hot, and not because of the temperature, it was rather all the looks you shared, when your bodies pressed against each other or when your breath hit each other's skin.

Then Billy pushed you in hope to get you down, which you did. The adrenaline though gave you enough energy to roll over, get up again, snatch the ball away from him and score.

Now he wasn't as amused as before, which made you grin this time.

"Took your mouth too full, Hargrove?"

"You wish"

At this point you were able to identify the tension as clearly sexual, at least it was for you. Of course, Billy was hot, but also this way he was behaving and playing did something to you. But maybe you were just overinterpreting the whole situation.

At the end of this class you were littered in bruises and scratches. Your teacher wanted to talk to you and Billy as well. He didn't seem quite so happy about how you had played.

"When I said I wanted a fair game, this wasn't what I meant!", he looked furious at both of you "Next time, I want to see none of what happened today! Did you understand that?"

"Yes, coatch", both of you mumbled

"Good! Now apologise to each other!"

You looked Billy in the eyes, which were a nice ocean blue color, and shook his hand "Sorry", you heard a sorry for you as well, but you didn't really care. Teachers should know that their students weren't as serious as they might thought they were in such moments.

When you got back to the changing rooms you were the only one's left behind. You didn't talk, just stripped wordless and got under the shower streams.

When you had your head under water Billy started to talk "Did you really think you were better than me?"

You sighed, not wanting to answer, but you could feel the tension from before bubbling up again. As well as your annoyance. It was the end of the school day after all, you were already exhausted - PE had given you the rest, paired with Billy's rather aggressive way of playing.

"Did you think you could win that game?"

He was really close to you, under the shower right next to your own. You could feel goosebumps spreading over your back, of which you hoped he didn't notice.

Billy let out a low chuckle "Well, (Y/L/N), you will be met by reality-"

You didn't let him finish, but pushed him against the wall, pressing your lips on his, hands already on his waist.

You could feel him getting turned on immediately - he kissed you back roughly, opened his legs, and put his hands in your hair. Also he was moaning into your mouth like a whore.

You let your hands roam his body, his chest, waist, shoulders, back, every bit of skin you could reach. When you started massaging his cock, Billy broke the kiss, and moaned against your neck.

"God, just fuck me already", he demanded.

You grinned at him, at which he just grunted "Don't try tellin' me you didn't notice that tension"

"Oh, I won't", your lips were on his as quickly as your fingers were inside him. He was tensed and thight, but also really warm and already wet from shwoering. After a few minutes you decided that he was ready to take all of you, so you pushed your own dick inside of him.

Billy's moan at that was long and stretched, you slammed your hand against his mouth "Do you want the coach to hear us?", he only looked at you with a lazy gaze and it was clear that he was in another world right now.

You started to rock your hips until you had a steady rhythm. God, he felt so good around you, mentally you were on cloud nine. His skin was so hot against your own and all his moans and whines sounded as if you were doing a really good job.

Except for his comments - he was provocating you again:

"Can't do it harder, (Y/L/N), huh?"

"Wow, I didn't know a guy can go this slow"

"You wanna finish me off, or what is this?"

Something inside you snapped. You gripped him roughly getting Billy to groan, and then fucked him as hard as you could. He had been too bitchy for you to be nice to him. But honestly, you didn't think Billy minded the current circumstances that much considering how loudly he was moaning in pleasure.

He was so submissive right now, you had never seen him like that before, but you absolutely loved it. Hot skin against yours, hair to grip with your hand, an arched back and a boy moaning like a bitch, cockdrunk because of you. What more could you want?

"P-please", he whimpered.

"Please what?", your voice, surprisingly, even to you, was firm and your words clear to understand even though your mind was clouded with lust just as much as Billy's.

"Please, let me come", he sounded so whiny, you almost chuckled.

"No."

And then you let yourself get lost in pleasure, coming inside him, which was what you had wanted all along. This made the whole session much more enjoyable for Billy as well, (he secretly loved it when he could get a top to come inside him, but don't tell him I spilled that).

Now, all he wanted was his own release. His dick almost ached from all the arousal he felt, it was already leaking so much precum. But Billy wouldn't touch it for the life of him. He wanted to be good for you.

"Aw, poor boy", you grabbed his neck, pulling his back into your chest "You wanna come so bad?"

"Y-yes"

"Then beg."

Fine. Then, Billy supposed, he would do that. He really was at your mercy right now, even though he hated it (but not really).

"Please, (Y/N), I wanna come so bad, please let me come"

"God, you're sexy when you beg." - Source for this sentence: TikTok

You were kissing his neck, sucking bright red hickeys into his skin and you could feel and hear how much Billy loved that. He leaned his head to the side, giving you more skin to work with, he moaned, and pushed your head with one hand in your hair.

Slowly, you started to turn him around, his back against the tiles of the locker room's showers to give him more hickeys, this time wandering from his neck to his collar bones, chest and stomach until you were sucking at his hipbone, Billy's moans had gotten weak. Some tears were running over his cheeks from all the stimulation and pleasure.

"I'll make you come.", you said, kneeling before him already.

"God, fuck- yes, please", Billy pressed the back of his hand against his lips when you started to smirk "Good boy" He was, to no surprise, such a slut for praise, you figured when his blue eyes landed on yours in an instant. With your smirk only growing you started to suck on his pink, swollen tip.

At this point, Billy was only capable of groaning, but his hand found its way into your hair, when he came down your throat, a silent plea for you to swallow, which you did. He kind of earned it.

When you got back up again, you grabbed him and you rinsed off together. Billy was still in a headspace, in which he was glad about anything kissing-related, so you guys were basically making out under the water. It was a very nice finish to the rather rough fucking from before, which you both enjoyed.

You dried off and put clothes back on wordlessly, but not missing each other's tired smiles. You shouldered your backpack when Billy got over to the mirror to fix his hair.

He groaned "You're so dead, (Y/L/N)."

There were hickeys EVERYWHERE, on his neck, trailing their way under his shirt and due to Billy never buttoning it up, one could see that they even went under his pants.

You just chuckled, coming up behind him, and pressed your body against his back, closing your arms around his middle. Your eyes met his in the mirror.

"But you look so pretty like this", your hand caressed a bit of the red skin "Now, nobody's gonna snatch you away from me, hun"

You kissed his cheek and got out of the locker room, leaving Billy there. You were already excited to how he would show up tomorrow and how this would continue. You were almost certain that Hargrove wouldn't leave it at that.

[howlingday]

When I met your father, we didn't like each other. To be honest, I couldn't blame him any more than he could blame me. I was the queen bee of the school who treated him like garbage since long before. And him, being the good, little farm boy who saw good in everybody. Except me, of course. I was evil incarnate in his eyes.

Of course, they say love and hate aretwo sides of a very thin coin. If that were true, he and I shared some very special flirtations to show our love.

---------------------------------------------------

Weiss: Good morning, limp dick.

Jaune: Fuck off, washboard.

---------------------------------------------------

In our first year, I decided to show him his place by pouring milk on his head. What can I say? I was a cruel bitch back then.

Do I regret it? Of course.

Would I stop myself? Absolutely.

But time doesn't work that way. We make mistakes, and we pay for them in the future. In my case, your father put a milk carton on top of my locker. An old milk carton, just on the edge so that when I shut my locker with just enough force...

Yeah. If it wasn't for Cinder and her cronies, I would have been called "Spoiled" for the rest of my life.

And oh, yeah, Cinder Fall. If I was the queen bee, she was the god of bitches. She had terrorized that school all the way to her senior year. Everybody hated her, but she looked out for her girls. So long as they were "her girls".

Sleeping around? New body every weekend.

Skipping class? Practically a weekly event.

Bullying the meek and vulnerable? Hourly.

And I was right there next to her. Yup, your mom was on that hell bitch's team for a solid month. I broke pencils, hearts, and stood on top of all the broken pieces. I was on track for a life behind bars until that night everything changed.

---------------------------------------------------

Weiss: Argh! That limp-dicked pile of shit!

Cinder: Something bothering you, hon?

Weiss: Who the hell does he think he is, telling me how to live my life?!

Cinder: Daddy dearest got you down again?

Weiss: I wish. It's that fucking jackass, Jaune, again!

Cinder: Farm boy?

Weiss: He thinks just because we see each other every day, he has a right to tell me who I can and can't hang out with! He said, "Uh, Weiss, you shouldn't be hanging out with Cinder! She's bad news!" Bitch, I AM the bad news!

Cinder: Uh huh...

Weiss: He even said something about you getting Pyrrha arrested with dope in her car!

Cinder: ...Did he now?

Weiss: Yeah, something about how he saw you walk out to her car and picked the lock to slip the drugs under her seat. Who cares, though? It's obviously not true.

Cinder: No. Of course not.

---------------------------------------------------

It definitely was.

The next week, Jaune was getting harassed by all the jocks at the school. Especially Cardin. I didn't care about what jocks did at the time, but if I did just a little more, I would've done something. See, Cardin was like a guy Cinder if Cinder was trying to compensate for something. She wasn't, but he was. I don't listen to gossip, but let's just say none of the girls were singing any praises about him.

Anyway, so Jaune kept his chin up high and ignored everything. He was a good sport about it. Didn't cry or whine about it, from what I'm told. But what he did do was come up to me and say,

---------------------------------------------------

Jaune: Here.

Weiss: ...What?

Jaune: Take it.

Weiss: What is it?

Jaune: My phone number.

Weiss: Why would I want your fucking phone number?

Jaune: To call or text me.

Weiss: And why the fuck would I ever what to do that? I fucking hate you.

Jaune: Just take it. If you want, you can prank me or whatever, but if you need help, don't forget this number.

Weiss: Why are you acting so fucking weird?

Jaune: Just... take it.

Weiss: Ugh! Fine. (Takes slip, Copies number) There, see? I have you as "Limp Dick."

Jaune: ...Anybody ever tell you that it's weird you keep using the same words to describe me?

Weiss: Fuck off! I'm going to a party tonight and I don't need you to ruin my good fucking mood.

Jaune: Be careful, flatbed.

Weiss: Eat my dick, li- soft scrote!

---------------------------------------------------

That party turned out to be the worst night of my life. Shitty music, shittier people, and enough drinking to make an alcoholic put their life into perspective. There was also a lot of groping, grabbing, and touching. Cinder said she wanted to thank me for coming, because she needed me to do one last thing for her.

She... She led me into a dark room, and told me to wait there. I waited, and then the door opened, and there was Cardin, stumbling in. He mumbled something about and easy lay and pulled his pants down. I ran for the door, and... and Cinder stood there. She set me up as a bargaining chip for Cardin. Said she got his help in exchange for "Arc's girlfriend".

I shoved her out of the way and ran as fast as I could out of there. I pulled out my phone and needed to call somebody. In my terror, I didn't think the police would arrive, so I chose the first number I saw.

I called, "Limp Dick".

The next few minutes were cold and quiet. I saw headlights, and I hoped it would be your father. They weren't. But then a pair of headlights came from behind. I thought it was weird for your father to come from the other direction, but I just wanted to be at home.

But the headlights weren't his. Those lights belonged to a sportcar, not a pickup. And there was only one person I knew at the time who drove a sportscar. It was Cinder, and she didn't slow down. I jumped right into a ditch as got closer, and she skidded to a halt a few yards past where I was.

She... She climbed out of the car and started screaming at me. She called me every name in the book. She slapped me. She hit me. Hell, she even clawed at me and tore my dress off. She called me a slut for her to use. As she wrapped her bony hands around my neck, I thought, "This is it, isn't it? This is where I die." The world got dark.

But then...

---------------------------------------------------

Jaune: GET THE HELL OFF OF HER!

Cinder: AGH! You stupid, fucking hick! I'll fucking kill you!

Jaune: Put the knife down, and I won't hurt you as bad as I should.

Cinder: You don't scare me, you limp dick! You're as good as-

Weiss: Whuh... Where... Jaune?

---------------------------------------------------

Apparently, while I wasn't looking, your dad was learning self-defense from your grandpa on the weekends. He pulled some retired army combat move that completely knocked Cinder out long enough for the police to arrive.

She got life in prison for all the horrible shit she pulled, and all her cronies pinned her as the ringleader under questioning. Cardin lost his scholarship and was nearly kicked out of school. And your mommy got a plea deal for community service, since I was also a victim in this case. Every weekend, until graduation, I was "servicing the community" by picking up trash, feeding the homeless, and reading to blind children. That last one was the worst by the way.

But that all happened after I woke up. Before that, I was in a daze, trying piece together whst had happened. The last thing I remembered that night was when I was in your father's pick-up. He drove me home while I slept in his massive hoodie he wore all the time.

When I woke up, the first words I saw were a message on my phone from "Limp Dick," and they almost broke me.

---------------------------------------------------

Jaune: You doin ok Weiss?

[ghostgirl-22]

But after all

18+

Day 14: Romance

Summary: Artashi grand romantic gesture

(A/N: I know Oasis wasn’t having a reunion tour until just recently but needed the drama)

———————————

Patrick knows what he’s for. What he’s always been for. He likes it enough. It’s s not like he needs romance or softness. He’s happy enough that they let him back in at all. He has no delusions about this time being any different than what he did for them before. Still his throat aches a little when he gets to see up close how gentle they can be with each other. How married they really are, sharing looks without speaking a word. Holding each other on the sofa while watching a movie.

Even parenting Lily, like this effortless, wordless, dance of teamwork. Patrick has the gift (and the curse) of being quite perceptive but it’s actually obvious how Art spoils Tashi with gifts and dates. How Tashi spoils him by taking care of what he needs before he has to ask for it. And when they have sex, it’s not even what Patrick would call fucking. That makes him ache most of all.

Patrick tries it sometimes. When Tashi agrees to coach him he gets her a bouquet of flowers. She gives him a weird look as if he’s been abducted and replaced so he smooths it over with a joke. When Art’s shoulder is hurting after practice and his physio is out of town, Patrick brings him pills and water and sits with him in bed. They end up fucking, but Patrick was still there for him. He wonders if maybe he’d been more thoughtful with Tashi while they were dating, if he’d recognized this other side of her… if he’d not pushed Art so much in the spirit of what he thought was friendly competition maybe they wouldn’t have shut him out.

He brings it up in therapy. That’s one of the things they agreed to do if they were going to be together, the three of them. They all had to get therapy both separate and together (Lily too). He doesn’t love it but he wants to be with them so he does it and this feels like something safe to bring up. God forbid his therapist goes back into her tendency to say things like, “I’m worried about you Patrick,” “They had issues but they were together, what did you do when you were all alone?”

That’s when he blows her off, making jokes about spending those years hanging out in the tennis forums betting against Art’s chances at every grand slam. Or sometimes he flirts with her, she’s not exactly his type but he would do anything to get out of that rabbit hole.

He’s talking about Tashi and Art and he complains. “I mean I like our dynamic, I like that they’re both obsessed with my—“ he smiles at her and she rolls her eyes. Hes not her type either. She claims he uses flirting as a defense mechanism. Therapists always have to therapize everything.

“I guess something romantic might be nice every once in a while.” He continues. “I mean… sometimes I wish they’d treat me the way they treat each other.” It’s such a throw away statement but the therapist takes it overboard as he expected and they end up talking about it for the rest of the session. It shakes him… her comments but he shuts it out of his mind after 24 hours especially after a good athletic session with Tashi on the court (and in bed).

Months go by and then one night, the week of Lily’s fall break when she’s away at Art’s parent’s house with her cousins, Tashi tells him to pack a bag.

“What?” He asks, he’s in the middle of watching sports center in the family room with a bowl of cereal.

“Come on pack a bag, our flights in 4 hours.”

“Our what? What flight?”

“To London,” Tashi says.

“London?”

”Yes, London. We’re supposed to be some band. Oasis?”

Patrick nearly drops the bowl in his lap. ”Huh?” He swears he’s hearing things.

“Oasis? Isn’t that your band?” She asks.

”My… Tashi… what?” He’s not sure if she remembers but he got up at 4 am months ago to try and purchase tickets with no luck. He then tried winning them also with no luck. Even the second hand market had proved impossible. He’d complained to Art, who would’ve happily joined him at the concert but didn’t care anywhere near as much about the band reuniting for a tour as Patrick did.

“If you don’t get up now, we’ll miss our flight and these tickets will go to waste,” Tashi says, smirking at him.

“But how did you—? How?”

“I’ll tell you on the plane but go pack. We’ll be there for the week.”

“Ready to go?” Art asks, he’s rolling suitcase into the living room, already packed.

Patrick dumps his cereal and goes upstairs to pack. It turns out she knows someone who works in the music industry who’s a huge tennis fan. She happened to have extra tickets and offered them up for box seats at Roland Garos in the summer. They get to London in the afternoon and nap for about 4 hours. They have dinner at some fancy restaurant. Art pays for it and that night they both seem to give Patrick all of their attention in bed. It actually feels really nice, soft even. They fall asleep by 10:30 and wake up pretty early the next morning.

Tashi says she wants to take him shopping. He thinks she wants his company but she ends up buying things for him. Nice clothes his mom would be happy to see him in. Tashi insists on paying for everything. Even when he wants an ice cream cone she doesn’t complain and say thats not on the diet plan. She even orders two and they eat them on the cab ride back to the hotel.

They have dinner at another fancy restaurant right before the concert. It’s VIP seating and Patrick is genuinely floored. He has to get merch to remember this and Art comes with him… they grab t-shirts and Patrick purchases the albums in vinyl. They also get a couple beers and popcorn. It feels like a birthday gift but it’s not even his birthday. He gets to sing along to songs he loved as a kid. He sends videos to his dad and his siblings. None of them can believe he’s there either.

And when it’s over and they’re in a cab on the way back to the hotel, Tashi resting on his shoulder and Art chatting with him excitedly, his voice hoarse because he loved it almost as much as Patrick did, he feels this pang of relief that they’re here. It doesn’t feel real.

”I love this, Tashi, how did you even think of this?” He asks.

“It was Art’s idea,” Tashi says.

“You both planned this?”

“Yeah,” Art says.

“Why? I know you weren’t as excited as I was when they made the announcement.” Patrick says.

“I know,” Art says. “It was for you… we wanted you to feel…good.”

“Yeah,” Tashi says. “You’re important to us. And maybe sometimes we’re not good at…” she trails off.

“We just want you to feel safe. Taken care of.” Art picks up.

Patrick feels himself getting warm all over.

“Are you okay?” Art asks, his voice sounds so good hoarse.

“Yeah,” Patrick nods, he can’t speak much more than that because he’s so emotional, his heart is pounding in his chest and he’s not a cryer..not really.

He was happy with everything as it was…just to be back in their lives. But this… this dulls the ache inside him just a little bit more. They aren’t gonna say I love you, it’s not how they communicate… especially Tashi. And Patrick doesn’t need to hear that… but that night when they lay down to take care of him… it feels like, for the first time, he gets to experience sex with them in a way that feels soft, like lovemaking.

[whatisreggieshortfor]

Passions

Lewie x MC

Lewie’s favorite thing in the world is to see his best mate talk. So he doesn’t take well to the person that takes it away.

TW: references to sexual harassment

If he had any passion in the world, it would be wrapped in his favorite thing to do.

Because Lewie’s favorite thing to do in the world was listen to his best mate talk about something she loved, something she was zealous about, invested in. From the time they met in a Mum & Me class as children he could sit and listen to her for hours about her interests, even as they changed as they got older.

He would sit in awe as Brylin talked about dinosaurs. Watched mesmerized as she went on tangents about Greek gods and goddesses. Paid every bit of rapt attention as she gushed in detail about whatever stuck her fancy at any given time as they grew older.

The only thing that had ever compared was when he was on the pitch playing the game he loved, but if he had to decide between the two he always knew he’d hang up his footie boots without a second thought.

Brylin spent hours, days, memorizing statistics and strategy as she dived headfirst into the sport he was passionate about, sharing in his enthusiasm like he always shared in hers.

So it killed him when he needed to leave her, his platonic best mate, to go to training.

The longest they had ever spent apart before was one of them had a family trip growing up, and now he was going to be leaving for three months.

But the whole time he was gone, he would think about anything he could remember from her diverse rants and it would bring a smile to his face.

Lewie wasn’t stupid though, as much as his teammates ragged on him about it, he knew why her happiness brought his own to the surface.

His nan and his mum had been on him to just admit his feelings for years.

He was a go the distance guy, pursuing someone only when he felt it would become something with years down the line ahead of them.

So when training ended, he vowed he would finally tell her. He didn’t want to leave for away games without her wearing his jersey number, or have to see her sitting in the regular stands at home games instead of the family section where significant others got to be. He wanted to spend every success and every failure, every win and every loss with her.

Brylin was Lewie’s grand prize win, and she always had been.

But when he came home, he was shocked at what he saw.

Brylin- bright, zealous, beautiful, independent Brylin wasn’t what he remembered.

A coworker she’d been working with in the months he was gone trailed around her at the pub she met him at, never leaving them to have a chat and catch up, like a perpetual shadow.

At first, Lewie thought she found someone while he was gone, but then he actually watched them interact. The man had mentioned something about a movie he’d seen, and Lewie felt his chest swell with affection and anticipation as Brylin geared up to add her own input.

Until the man shut her down.

“Brylin, can’t ya stop gobbing for one bloody minute?”

And in that moment, Lewie saw the flicker die in her eyes. She stopped talking, losing the passion in her voice as she apologized for saying too much. And his heart shattered, wishing she could see the beauty in her eyes when she was raving about what she loved. It was a beauty unmatched by any other he’d ever seen, and this nobody had bullied that out of her.

Lewie gaped, unsure where the confident take-no-shit woman he had grown up with disappeared to be replaced with the one that awkwardly smiled and gestured for the man to continue.

So Lewie cut in, “Sorry, mate, what do you do again?”

He groaned, “I’m stuck interning in the company for now, but won’t be long before I become the new VP.”

“Dad run the place or something?” It’s the only thing he could think to explain how this guy could shut her down. She loved her job, she wouldn’t risk it by talking back to the wrong guy.

“Uncle,” the man smirked, his overly friendly hand reaching out and tugging Lewie’s best mate into his side by her hip- not noticing the way she tensed up.

Oh, bloody hell. From the look on her face, Lewie could tell this was something she’d been dealing with for the months he’d been gone. He remembered her saying she’d be stuck acting as a tour guide for the new person joining the company.

So Lewie ‘spilled’ his drink, sending the beer covering the man’s clothes, “Oh bloody- I am so sorry, mate!”

Brylin but back a smile, he could see it, not caring for the splashes of beer that would no doubt stain her clothes as her coworker glared and stomped his way to the loo. “Thank you so much.” She practically sagged in relief, and he was finally able to give her the hug he’s been itching to give her since he saw her again.

“Bloke needs to keep his hands to himself and his mouth shut.”

Brylin giggled, finally looking like the girl he knew, “I’ve tried to tell him I wasn’t interested, but I don’t actually know how much pull he has.”

“Lucky for you,” Lewie grinned, “I have a solution. My team needs a new PR manager.”

She looked at him incredulously, “Lew, I’m just an assistant.”

He shrugged, “I already gave them your résumé. Planned to tell you that your interview is in two days, but our trainer says it’s a formality.”

Her coworker came back a second later, scowl still present on his face as he grabbed her arm, “Come on, we need to go so I can change.”

Her brow furrowed as she pulled her arm back, “Why do I need to leave?”

“My girl isn’t staying out without me.”

“I’m not your girl!” She snapped back, trusting Lewie, as she always had about everything, that she wouldn’t be screwed out of her career.

“She’s mine.” The footballer offered confidently, but if you knew him as well as she did, you could hear the anxious underpinning of his tone.

The man scoffed, but before he could open his mouth Brylin was jumping into the leap of faith her best mate gave her, “I am. I only agreed to let you meet him so that you’d finally leave me the bloody hell alone!”

Due her raised voice, patrons all over the pub were looking their way, leaving her coworker trying to grasp at how to control the conversation, before he finally smirked, “Hope you enjoyed your job then, cause I’ll make sure you don’t have one.”

“I don’t want to work for a company that would employ someone like you.” She answered defiantly, letting herself lean into Lewie’s side as the man angrily turned and shoved his way out the door. “Ah!” She cheered, looking at her best mate, “I could kiss you!”

Lewie knew a lot of things, but something he knew the most was how to read Brylin. He knew her expressions, her personality, it was like he could read her thoughts at times.

So he mustered up every ounce of courage he ever had in his body, taking hold of her hips and spinning her around to face him.

And then he kissed her.

His fingers shook slightly, a tremor he couldn’t shake from the fear that he made the wrong move.

But then she was pressing back.

Not to push him away like he half expected, but pushing into him. Embracing him, returning the kiss.

As she pulled back, a smile broke out across her face, highlighting the joy and zeal he had always loved to bring out in her eyes, “It’s about time.”

Lewie laughed, holding her tighter, “What can I say? I gotta follow my passions.”

[yoki-doki-then]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Halcyon

"There's too many bloody kids running around."

"Well, of course there are. It's Little Lady's Day."

A maid and butler take a reprieve by one of Ul'dah's larger fountains, seated on its edge. Nearby, their charge, a young lady as Lalafell as them, shows off her newest accessory to a gaggle of her peers. It's a tiara that's far too shiny, most of the appeal being given from glitter and a glossy varnish over cheap metal, but it delights the young ones regardless. For their elders? Gods, it's hard to look at. The sun just seems to hit all its sharp edges in a way designed to blind you.

So the maid continues to whine. "That headpiece is five times what it should cost. Frankly, I could get an authentic tiara for the same. And there's too many perfumes in the air; I can barely breathe! I swear, L-L-D is just an excuse for merchants to prey on everyone who wants to be a princess. I can't tell if Yoki smells of wood, of berry, of ocean, or of flower at this stage. I get hit with every sample she's indulged whenever we pass her."

"Mmm, it makes your sister happy, Toto," says the butler, Aiaika.

Totolili groans as he lays his head on his partner-in-servitude's lap, hoping to feel some of the fountain's succor on his brow. What was meant to be a fun bit of gender-roleplay turned out to be an exercise in finding out just how heavy a petticoat could be. How fragile an untrained gait could be in pumps. How suffocating a collar secured with a bow could be. And every time he tried to adjust this frilly uniform, his beloved was there to swat his hand, as he's no doubt sure hers was swatted when she trained for the job he's been playing at taking.

"Aika. I'm sorry. I need to shut my eyes for a spell. Just keep an eye on Yoki for a minute."

He feels his nose being flicked. "A maid doesn't relinquish her duties, nor a butler for that matter. There are less than human. They are as reliable as furniture." He hears the smile creep into her voice. "Though, a creaking chair does deserve Byregot's tender touch for doing its duty so well."

Toto shoots up, sitting perfectly, hands on his lap. "Yes, sir," he says, doing his best to mimic Aika's normal tone, but can't help but let a mix of way too many feelings on the suggestion turn it into a squeak. She scoots closer to him, and their fingers entwine at their sides, hidden from their charge's sight under the many, many folds of his skirt.

"... I wish I was more a part of her world, sometimes," Toto quietly says, leaning into his woman.

"Well, you could hardly be blamed. More than a decade between you."

"She spent so much time growing up bedridden. Some days I hoped she'd just fade away, finally. Mom and dad spent so much time at her side. I liked to tell myself it was for her sake that I wanted her pain to end, but I was a teenager, I know that I..."

"Everyone has dark thoughts. Good people don't indulge in them."

He sighs, hand reaching over to hold her arm. "Please never coddle me."

"I don't, and I won't."

"I just don't feel like a brother to her. I am. I try. But how do I relate? There's no shared struggle. I think a four-year difference could mean it'd be all right for me to bully her in a sport of some sort, but as many as we have? That's just cruel. It's like having to step back down the ladder of life to play pretend. I'm always wearing a mask around her. It's a happy one. But it is a mask. And I don't think I'll ever take it off."

Aika's fingers weave through his hair, which is long enough that his headdress looks more fitting than she's sure Toto would enjoy. The pads of her fingers weave circles against his scalp, the gentle rustling filling his ears, her thumbs giving the slightest pressure to his temple. "You wore a mask around me when we first met. Are you still wearing it now?"

"... No," Toto says. "I suppose not."

"You don't feel like you need to turn your nose up every time you saw me in the halls?"

"If I didn't, I would have stared."

It's Aika's turn to be quiet. She finds a hand reaching up to her head, coiling her unnaturally colored bob around an index. "... Hush, you," she says, before silencing him with what was meant to be a short kiss. But when Toto sinks back into her, it goes on. It goes on beyond what anyone should see in public. Nothing as sloppy as what desperate teens would do, but it's such a kiss of love that it makes people question their own lot in life. The kind of kiss where time freezes, because the world itself wants to watch.

"What're you doing?" asks their princess, a part of the world.

"G-guh!" says Toto, pulling back sharply. He looks at his little sister with wide eyes, their matching red orbs locking as he sees the princess in an outfit so layered it makes his maid uniform look positively breezy. Her hair is pulled up into two immaculately braided buns, jewels woven in their securing bands. "N-Nothing. Just..."

"My lady," starts Aika. "Your lordly brother was worried his breath would smell. I was inspecting."

"Hehe, bad breath."

"I do no-" Totolili realizes the peril of stockings, as they provide no protection from a silencing stomp. "I do."

"Can we go see the Songstress? I think she's performing soon?"

Yoki's maid and butler look at one another with a smile. They give one hidden squeeze with their entwined hands, and rise with palms demurely against their laps. A curtsey, a bow. Toto, of course, stumbles through the more complicated gesture.

"Okay!" Yoki says. "This way!" Somehow, she makes an eager jog look cute, and her charges call her name in their chase.

[estel-eruantien]

Alphabet Ask

Hunter Bradley/Dustin Brooks

A, F, I,K, M, P, U, V, X

(Now I retreat into the shadows)

A: Aftercare

Dustin believes every form of sex should include at least half an hour to an hour of cuddle time. He could stay in bed all day anyway, but after sex? Hunter is lucky to get him off of him long enough for them to get to the bathroom to clean up. He's beyond clingy, but Hunter enjoys it and uses the time to assure his lover (and himself) that what they have is strong.

---

F: Favorite Position

Hunter loves to be above Dustin, overpowering him. And Dustin eats it up. On his back, on his belly, on his knees -- he doesn't mind; as long as Hunter is all around him.

---

I: Intimacy

Once these two became a couple, no one knew how they were ever not a couple. They never leave the other's side. They are constantly touching. It's not even creepy or controlling; it's just intimate. It's familiar. The two ground each other.

---

K: Kink

These boys are always sporting marks, bites, scratches, ink drawings, etc. on each other. Both of them, but especially Hunter, love showing the world that their partner is for them alone.

Dustin loves being spoiled. And Hunter would end the world if Dustin asked it of him. From random gifts, acts of service like pushing Dustin's motorbike for him, to holding Dustin during a rough debriefing, and even fucking him as hard as he wishes after a tough battle, no matter how much he might beg to stop (safewords previously discussed, obviously).

---

M: Motivation

Both are turned on by teasing, by a good joke, by the right look. These boys read each other so well that they could have each other right where they wanted in an instant.

---

P: Pace

Oh god, two motorheads that don't know how to slow down if their life depended on it -- they both like it fast and rough and rarely slow it down, unless the situation calls for it and the vibes are right.

---

U: Unfair

Both of them tease the shit out of the other, but Dustin has come the closest to almost causing Hunter to crack and fuck in right in front of Blake and Tori. When the teasing gets to be too much, the threats come out, and Hunter's willing to take risks he otherwise normally wouldn't - like sticking his hand in Dustin's pants and fingering him just around the corner of the Ninja Ops, or fucking him out by the waterfall, barely hidden behind the water.

It's Dustin's own fault for being a brat, of course.

---

V: Volume

Hunter has started carrying a bandana around with him specifically to use as a gag for Dustin because the yellow is so damn loud anytime they fuck. From frantic whimpers to repetitive begging, Dustin can't shut up.

---

X: X-ray

Hunter is ripped, and everyone knows it from the way he fights. He's not afraid to show off his body, either, leaving little to the imagination.

Dustin, however, is a smaller build, and, though not always, typically hides under a layer or two of yellow shirts. He's always padded up in his motor gear, too, which leaves a lot to the imagination.

Hunter knows Dustin isn't lacking at all in muscle, though. As a ranger and as a civilian, Dustin can hold his own and look mighty fine doing it. He's full of lean muscle that Hunter loves to admire when they were alone.

AU: Trans!Dustin. That is all <3

---

Thanks so much @regaliasonata <3 I love my boys!

[angel-inked]

~RDR2 Whump/Angst~

Whump/angst Rdr2 fics have been itching my brain lately, so of course I had to write a few of my own

EDIT: this was posted unfinished accidentally 😅 if you saw that, it's completed now lol

Taglist: A/N if you are a red dead fan and like what you see, let me know

Death always comes in early spring.

Most loved the early thaw. Fields were already sporting clusters of wildflowers, and animals were coming out of hiding. Hunting was certainly made easier. Then there was Arthur Morgan, sitting on the edge of the lake that curved around one side of camp. He did not enjoy this time of year, for with it, it brought memories. Trudging back into that cabin with a fistful of dandelions only to find his mother facedown on the floor, same time the next year was when his father got worse, not just the drinking and the beatings, but forcing himself on his child in ways a child should never be forced upon. This became an every year occurrence until the summer Arthur watched the main source of his suffering swing a few feet off the ground. An early spring would kill him one of these times, he concluded, when Eliza and Isaac were taken from him this time of year. He quit looking for something to believe in well before he even reached his teens, but it seemed that whatever forces at be wanted his life, or whatever was left of it, to be some form of cruel joke. The leather bound journal currently clutched tightly to his stomach bore the brunt of everything. He emptied all that he had into it. Writing until his mind went silent, drawing the graphic images that were burned into his head just to escape from them for a few moments until they reared their ugly heads again.

He jumped when a figure came into his vision, a hand adorned in gold rings held a bowl of steaming stew out to him, his eyes followed the arm up to a warm smile and concerned eyes. "You need to eat, son." Dutch's voice was gentle yet frim and as soft as the man could make it. Arthur nodded, taking the bowl as Dutch sat down beside him, digging into his own bowl silently. His stomach lapped up the first spoonful, growling for more and making him realize how hungry he was. He thought back to being fourteen. He had been desperate then. Desperate for food, warmth, and safety. "I wish I knew how to help you." Dutch said, breaking the stifling silence. "You can't." Arthur muttered. "Well," Dutch trialed off, setting his now empty bowl on the ground and turning to Arthur fully, "I'm always here if you need someone." Arthur nodded, thankful that Dutch didn't expect much in the way of verbal answers from him right now, pivoting himself to lean into the older man's side. Dutch's arms came up around his shoulders and hugged him tightly, making him hesitantly think that maybe things would be okay after all.

In a bind.

He couldn't tell you what hurt worse, the rifle stock that clocked him in the side of the head, the rope that was currently cutting into his wrists, or the boot that stomped against his ribs until he practically begged it to stop. Not that he could do much else besides lay there, facedown in the dirt, and try to keep his voice from shaking too much. "Oh, what? Big, bad Dutch Van Der Linde is begging?" One of the three men besmirched, making his pair of friends laugh. It could be worse, he thought. At least they weren't O'Driscolls, but even that wasn't much of a relief. Maybe they were bounty hunters, though he couldn't make out much in the darkness, regardless of what they were, they were still goddamned bastards. A familiar metallic taste filled his mouth, tongue finding the source to be a split bottom lip, no doubt the same liquid was what he felt trickling down from his temple. God, where was Arthur when you needed him?

The three men silenced their laughter at the sound of an approaching horse, accompanied by the infamous click of a gun being cocked. He screwed his eyes shut, not feeling daring enough to attempt a look at his assailants, readying himself for more pain and praying to any deity he could think of to not let him leave his beloved Hosea and sons like this. He flinched with every shot that rang out. There was one, two, three, then silence. The sound of boots and spurs stopped by his head. He couldn't help the hitch in his breath, nor the way he flinched away from the hand that found the back of his ruffled ebony main. Confusion hit when the hand began a gentle petting motion, followed by a soft chuckle. "You got yourself in a bind there, didn't you, Dutchy?" Dutch's eyes snapped open to peer up at the familiar southern draw. "Arthur, thank god!" He exclaimed, breathing heavily with relief. "I hate to break it to you, but I think God abandoned me and you a long time ago." Arthur deadpanned, making Dutch snort a laugh. He felt Arthur move to straddle his thighs and run a hand over his bound wrists, "I thought 'Sea was the only one allowed to do this to you." Arthur teased, making Dutch laugh fully, melting all the tension in his body.

"Hurry up and untie me, you ass!"

I'll pull you through.

Why? A sigh escaped his cracked dry lips at the thought. He could ask why a million times and knew he wouldn't get an answer. The rest of the camp tried to ignore it, act like it never happened, and he supposed that worked for some, but it wasn't working for him. He wasn't so ignorant that he didn't think someone could be driven to do that to themselves for a lot of reasons. Hell, he played witness to it once, but that was a stranger. Arthur is his big brother. Dutch began walking on eggshells around him, like he was a rouge stick of dynamite, and Dutch was a flame, one wrong move, and he'd blow. From what he was told, Dutch drug the man out of camp to talk to a nun of some kind, like that would do any kind of good. Hosea hovered near him more, like he'd vanish into thin air without a watchful set of eyes on him, eventually being snapped at for being overly perinoid and intrusive. Nobody talked about it, as far as he knew anyway, it had been swept under the rug, like some kind of dirty secret that none of them wanted to admit to being real. The scout fire was quickly becoming redundant as the sun broke over the horizon, becoming invaded with another kind of warmth. John's frown grew when his eyes landed on bandages poking out past black shirt sleeves. Did this man not know shame?

"What ya mopin' 'bout, Marston?" Arthur's teasing voice cut through the haze of thoughts that clouded him. John merely looked up at the older male, grey eyes set in a steely gaze that he could only hope was pinning enough. For a moment, Arthur stared back, "So that's how it is.." he mumbled, folding his arms and bowing his head. "Why?" John tried despite himself, making Arthur snap his attention back to him. "Excuse you?" He said flatly, making John shake his head. "Quit playin' dumb, you know damn well what I'm asking." John hissed. Those striking blue orbs seemed to stare through him, something in them either snapped or broken, John couldn't tell which. Arthur moved his gaze back to his lap. "I don't know.." Arthur finally muttered, "I.. I ain't got this bad in.. I don't know." He added, rubbing rough hands over his bandage wrapped forearms. John heaved another sigh, scooting down the log, snaking an arm around Arthur's shoulders, making the older man meet his eyes with something definitely broken in his own. "You're a real asshole sometimes," John started, mimicking Arthur's thick swallow, "but the last thing I want is to lose my big brother to his own hands." He finished. Arthur hung his head again. "I don't understand any more of this psychological bullshit than you do, but I will pull you through this if it's the last thing I do." John said in a cracking voice, Arthur's only response was to lean heavily on the other man, letting someone else take some of the weight he carried for once.

The curious couple and their unruly son.

Dutch Van Der Linde, that man would be the death of him one of these days, he concluded. They were degenerates. Thieves, at best, killers at worst. He'd come to terms with the fact that some parts of him were always longing for the things that he was always told he couldn't have, that longing proved stronger than the other parts of him. Dutch, he was one of those things he longed for. The younger man's touch and deep, joyous belly laughter stirred something in him that no woman ever could. As impulsive and tempered as he could be, Dutch had unknowingly stolen an old man's heart the night they met, and Hosea couldn't find it in himself to want it back. It was only fair. He stole a part of Dutch that night as well, but the raven haired, philosophy spouting fool was more than content to let that part of himself be tucked safety away in that beating vessel in Hosea's chest. An eye for an eye, so to speak, the encounter hadn't left them blind, but opened them up in ways that neither could've ever anticipated.

Speaking of eyes. The prickling feeling running over his skin told him he was being watched and studied. Looking up from his plate, he saw the blue-eyed boy that Dutch insisted on bringing back to camp quickly hide his eyes behind the brim of his beaten leather cowboy hat, his only possession besides the knife hung from his hip. The plate of food Dutch had sat in front of him remained untouched, "You need to eat, son." Dutch's voice broke the silence as he too noticed this fact. The boy shook his head. Anyone could look at this kid and see how underfed he was, Hosea had half expected him to make himself sick from gobbling down whatever food they sat in front of him too quickly, but this boy just sat quietly with his hands clasped in his lap. "Well, why not?" Dutch questioned, his thundering voice as soft as he could make it, the concept of an 'inside voice' was foreign to him. "I'm not allowed." The kid said after a moment, not only shattering Dutch's heart by the look in his eyes, but Hosea's as well. Dutch moved from his seat to kneel next to the boy. "I have no way of knowing rightly what happened to you, but that's in the past." Dutch started, "What matters is that you're here now, 'Sea and I won't let you go hungry and your not going back out in the streets, that chapter of your life is well and truly over." Hosea could practically feel the mistrust radiating off of the kid. Dutch rose from the ground, "You said you were orphaned?" He asked. The boy nodded, "Well, not anymore, you're ours. Alright, son?" Dutch smiled and sat back down, digging back into his own supper. The boy looked between them both before finally hesitantly beginning to eat.

[bobattef]

A third.

You exhale out a long breath of defeat.

The heat inside this apartment is something you’ve never experienced before.

Even the stone design of the balcony you’re stood on is hot underneath your palms as you lean against it, looking down on the streets of Cairo below.

You’ve stripped down to your undershorts and sports bra and you still feel like it’s not enough.

The shower earlier on only made it worse. 

Like the water from the pipes evaporated a little too quickly and replaced themselves with sweat.

“Urgh, where is he!” the sheer intensity of the heat affecting your mood.

You didn’t want to come here. 

Yes, you moan about the weather back in London but you’d kill for a bit of rain right now. 

Closing your eyes you smile weakly at remembering how different your life was back in England.

Working part time in the museum, the most exciting things that would have happened to you back then was to actually catch your bus home on time!

You laugh at the irony of wishing the grey clouds and rain to disappear almost every day.

That’s when you hear the click of the door opening.

“Finally!” you can’t even hide the frustration on your voice.

“Please tell me we’re leaving this lava pit of a city” you say as you make your way back through the bedroom and into the front hall.

That’s when he sees you, properly sees you.

He’s hardly ever in charge of the body as often as the other two are. 

They constantly switch from one to the other but him, he stays put, waiting in the darkness, until the situation arises, usually dire ones! 

You’re breath taking stood there in front of him, the sweat on your skin glistening in the sun that’s pouring through the bedroom.

Just wearing a tiny pair of shorts and a crop top, he can see your cheeks are flushed by the heat also.

You stop in your tracks as you look at the man in front of you.

Somethings different about him, he has a full on feral look on his face right now. 

“Everything ok?” you ask, but barley make a whisper.

He doesn’t answer you.

“Marc?” …silence.

“Steven??” …silence again.

You know something is up but as you go to ask him again, you spot his injury.

Blood has started to seep out onto his shirt through his lower abdomen.

“YOU’RE HURT!!” you don’t mean to screech but it makes him look down at the hand that is now covered in blood from clutching his wound.

“Mierda!” he curses under his breath. Too quiet for you to hear.

“For gods sake!” you storm over to one of your suitcases, emptying out the clothes you had previously packed and finding the first aid box.

“Honestly! Can nothing just go right for 5 sodding minutes!” you don’t mean to snap at him, he’s injured, so you should be sympathetic but he told you he was grabbing something last min, not going out fighting or whatever it was that caused the injury.

“Can I ask or is there no point?” you don’t even look up at his face knowing he won’t tell you anything.

He’s always been this way, they both have.

You know Steven would tell you everything in a heartbeat but Marc keeps him in line.

Making him promise to keep his mouth shut about the antics they get up to being the avatar of Khonsu.

He uses the excuse of keeping quiet means  protecting you.

“Sit!” you tell him and he does what he’s told.

*Maybe this is Steven, Marc protests a lot more* you think to yourself.

You lift his soaked shirt, slowly as the fabric tries to cling to the bloodied wound, he winces.

“Sorry” you mumble to him.

“Hmmm, I need to clean it up a bit first” you say to him as you rummage around the small medi box.

You’re kneeled on the floor in front of him, the contents of the box spread across at his feet.

Grabbing some gauze you start to dab the wound, cleaning up the blood surrounding it.

“Good news” you say to him, still avoiding the glare he has on you right now, “it’s stopped bleeding, but I’ll need to sew you up”

You feel him shuffle underneath the grip you have on his thigh, his muscles flexing under your touch.

“Kay” is all he musters.

“Lay down” you tell him and he slowly leans back onto the bed.

You straddle his legs, your hips resting either side of his thighs.

He lets out a low grunt, in pain? You can’t work out but you have a feeling that somethings up with your Moonknight, and it’s not just this wound.

You’ve patched him up you don’t know how many times before.

His protection from the god of the moon will make this deep gash leave not even a smidgen of a scar tissue behind but for the first few hours after a hit, you need to be the one healing him.

“You ready?” you ask him, looking up at him for his answer as his eyes he had previously shut now fly open.

“Qué?” he answers but then clears his throat “what?” he corrects himself.

You shrug his answer off and apply a piece of gauze directly over the cut you can now see clearly.

“Argh!” he cries out and grabs you by the waist, his fingers digging into your flesh there.

“Sorry, this one had saline on it” you tell him quickly.

His head falls back onto the pillow with a gasp but he doesn’t let go of you.

You start to chew your bottom lip, working out what the man laid beneath you isn’t telling you.

You’ve been in his life for almost 4 months now. Travelling alongside him for the last 2 months.

You know about his personalities, spending just as much time with each of them.

Laughing with each other, crying with each other or even just fucking each other.

You’ve seen this man in all his glory and his vulnerability countless of times but tonight you feel as if you’ve never seen this version he’s putting on.

He bucks his hips into you the first time you pierce his skin with the needle.

You try to ignore the obvious hardness of him that is straining against the denim of jeans as you get to work stitching up the cut.

Honestly this man could fuck you anywhere and every where, he has no qualms about it when the moment takes him but even you are surprised at him being turned on by what is happening right now.

You tie the last bit of stitches into a knot, it’s not your best work but come sunrise, it’ll disappear alongside the rest of the wounds you’ve tended to on the Moonknight previously.

He was a good patient, laying somewhat still whilst you got to work on him but your mind still raced around how he’s acting towards you tonight.

You place a large sticky pad over the stitch, making it look a bit neater.

“There you go, all done” you say to him, looking up to his face, you notice his eyes are trained on yours.

That same feral look spread across his face that he presented to you when he first walked through the door.

A few loose strands of his hair have fallen on his face, sticking there due to the humidity of the room.

His chest is heaving underneath his bunched up shirt, exposing his muscular stomach and chest to you.

You can’t help but drop your gaze as you trial your fingers along the familiar lines and curves of him he sucks in a breath.

You should be chucking him into a shower of some kind, making sure he’s all cleaned up so he can get into bed and get some rest.

But the familiar butterfly feeling he always causes you down below has started to churn up.

He swallows deeply as your hand finds his waistband and you slip two fingers underneath the clothes, stroking the hair there. 

If he wanted to stop you he would.

He’s always been vocal to you, when a certain job hadn’t gone to plan and he returned to you bloodied and bruised.

A simple patch up as he held onto you and you fell asleep would be what he wanted those nights. 

But he hasn’t protested any of your advances so far.

You unbutton his belt as his eyes don’t leave your face, he notices you biting your lip as your eyes drop to where you pull his hard cock free from the restraints of his clothes.

You shuffle yourself further down the bed, using a hand to pump him a few times before you take him in your mouth.

He curses under his breath again as a hand tangles up into your hair. 

You flick your tongue effortlessly over the tip of his head, tasting the pre cum that had leaked there.

Hollowing your cheeks you take him further into your mouth, almost making it to the base of him, his cock practically hitting the back of your throat in one movement. 

“Fuck!” He rasps out at you. The sound sending signals straight to your core.

You’ve always loved knowing just how hot you can get him.

Both of them.

Marc was always a lot more dominating in bed, you loved nothing more than being fucked deeply into the mattress by him as he’d call you all sorts of lewd names with his hands around your throat. 

But you also enjoyed the pining sounds that came from Steven’s mouth as you rode his cock slowly, sensually, telling him how good he was at filling you up.

That’s what you loved about this whole situation.

You had the best of both worlds in the bedroom.

“Mmm Cariño” he mutters quietly, lost in the feelings of pleasure you’re giving him but you hear it. 

*is he speaking Spanish to you?* 

That’s got to be a first…

You use a hand to stroke the part of his cock that’s just out of reach from your mouth.

He’s the biggest you’ve had.

A mixture of your tongue flicking his sensitive spot and the feeling of your lips moving up and down his shaft is bringing him to his high.

You’ve learned to know his clues as to when he’s close.

His muscles tighten.

The tops of his legs flex as his abs almost ripple in ecstasy. 

You love just how well you know his body.

“No” he whispers out to you but you can’t hear him.

Instead, the wet sounds of your mouth moving over the spit coating his length hit your eardrums.

“Mi angel” he mutters as he grabs either side of your face, pulling you up from your task of pleasuring him.

“Everything ok?” you ask him as you swallow the excess salvia that’s built up in your throat.

He smiles at you, nodding slowly his eyes have now drooped in pleasure, sweat has formed across his forehead, turning his loose curls wet.

“I need to be inside you Cariño” the last word of his sentence rolling off his tongue.

You’re quite liking this new pet name he’s given you. 

His hands fall to the top of your undershorts, the heat of the room has caused them to hug your hips so tightly but the Moonknight has no problem rolling them down, you help him get yourself out of them. 

You’re now naked apart from the sports bra you stripped down to earlier.

Kicking off his own trousers and underwear, he leaves his shirt wrapped around him, fearing too much upper body movement would cause you stitch work to pull open. 

You straddle him once more, your now slick cunt hovering above his cock that’s been lubed up by the workings of your mouth.

He settles his hands back into position on your hips, he wants to dig his fingers in, marking you but he also acts like you’re made of glass, being so gentle with you.

Making it even harder for you to work out which avatar of Khonsu you’re with right now.

You grip your hand around his cock, lining it up with the entrance to your cunt. The first feeling of his tip pushing between your folds always makes you moan.

You sink yourself down lower onto him, taking his full size inside you, he fills you up it no time. 

Nothing but a low rumbles comes from his throat as he bottoms out inside you.

You feel perfect for him, like you’re made for him.

You take a few moments whilst you adjust to his size.

But you soon start roll your hips on top of him, causing the MoonKnight to grunt and groan in pleasure.

His hands move up to your sports bra, pulling the fabric down and exposing your breasts. He doesn’t mean to pull you down towards his chest so quickly as the sharp stinging pain from his wound causes him to curse.

“You ok??” You asked him concerned, your face almost touching his as his arms snake around your body, holding you flush against him.

He doesn’t say a word as he starts to fuck up into you.

His cock touching that soft spot deep inside you with perfection.

Now it’s your turn to moan as you rest your forehead against his.

You want to kiss him so badly but the snapping of his hips into you starts to rock your whole body.

You don’t know if you’re being fucked by either Marc or Steven but you don’t care right now.

You focus on the man laid beneath you as the familiar tightening feeling starts to grow in your stomach.

His face is contorted in pleasure also, moans and curses falling from his lips, that have now become swollen, making them look even more kissable.

You can’t help yourself as your lips come crashing down on his.  Your tongue darts inside, turning the kiss more urgent as the thrusts from his cock hit that sweet spot of yours.

He kisses you back feverishly, like he’s tasting you for the first time.

“Mi amor…fuck…you’re perfecto, so so perfect for me” he moans into your mouth.

Sending you towards your high even quicker.

“Mmm gods!” you cry out as you break away from his kiss.

“I’m gunna, I’m going to…ah” you can’t even string a sentence together right now.

You rest your head in the crook of his neck, kissing, sucking and biting him gently there as his hips start to turn sloppy.

You know he’s close also.

“Cariño…look at me” he says to you as he cups your face, pulling your gaze up towards his. 

“I want you to see your pretty face when you come over my cock” 

This has got to be Marc, you start to think to yourself but the thought disappears as you melt into his eye contact.

The coil he wound up deep inside you reaches its limit, you can’t hold back the moans of pleasure that washes over your body as you orgasm.

He follows quickly behind you.

Coming inside you without a 2nd thought.

Your walls contracting around him, milking his cock.

He never lets go of his grasp on you, you sink onto him, forgetting for a moment that you might be hurting him.

He plants a kiss on top of your forehead, more slick with sweat now after your session.

You smile against his skin. Post sex sleepiness starts to creep in.

You wanted to leave this city tonight but for now, you’re right where you want to be.

He rolls slightly onto his side, needing to relieve some of the pressure on his wound.

He pulls himself out of you, choosing to instead wrap one of your legs across his. 

His arm still snaked around you, pulling you closer to him, not caring for the stickiness of both your skin on each other.

*He really is in the mood for hugs tonight* you smile to yourself.

You’re almost fully asleep now, not even trying hard enough to put together a sentence you just mumble his name out:

“Marc?” he lets out a quiet chuckle to himself.

“No bebe” 

Your eyes try to widen but you’re so close to falling asleep that they don’t quite make more than a flicker.

“Steven?” you manage, surprised that your shy, sweet man had these type of bedroom moves in him. 

“Shhh mi angel, sleep” he says to you as he rubs circles on your back with the palm of his calloused hands.

You’re definitely snoozing now, you can barely hear anything that’s being said in that room.

Just as well as the man that you’re wrapped around whispers to you:

“Mi nombre es Jake” 

[kiwiana-writes]

hellooooooo MJ! while I await your return to the future times, please allow me to tell you just how goddamn fucking talented you are ❤️

can you please tell us about the first time you dyed your hair and what colour you did, how you styled it etc??

I’ve been back in the future for a whole 28 hours, but my body hasn’t quite got the memo yet, hence the stupidly early (for me) reply to this ask.

Stop being nice to me, what the fuck. I will NOT allow this. You’ve seen the behind the scenes now; you know it’s all smoke and mirrors 😂

I have been dyeing my hair since I was 11! Literally two thirds of my life. My husband of a decade has only ever seen my natural hair colour at the root because these days I shave my head every four weeks and re-dye it 😅 BUT you’re not asking about now, you’re asking about when I started!

So, yeah. I was eleven, which I know seems wildly young, but my mum struck the deal with me early: I could dye my hair whatever nonsense I wanted, and get whatever piercings I wanted, as long as I didn’t get any tattoos until I was eighteen. Which I am WILDLY grateful for now, because I wanted some tacky-ass ink at fifteen/sixteen. (We did end up negotiating one tattoo at seventeen but that’s because my uncle died and I wanted his initials lol. No regrets about that one.)

Anyway! I started dyeing my hair because I was ginger as fuck and kids are assholes. (This was like… 2001. The Southpark ‘ginger kids have no soul’ ep came out while I was in high school. You’ll be shocked to hear it was also not a supportive environment for baby queer MJ either 😂) And because it was literally twenty-fucking-two years ago, I don't remember what colour it was; some sort of box something, probably just like a basic chestnut hahaha. I had long hair then -- I grew it out until it was down to my hips when I was like 16 and then I had a tantrum and hacked it off into a bob and dyed it a like purpley-black -- so I doubt I styled it or anything.

If you're curious about the bright colours I live in now, that didn't start permanently until I was 25-ish. I went through a pretty extensive goth/punk phase as a teenager so through the back half of school it was always blue-black or red-black or purple-black, those blacks that have a hint of something else in the light. I'd occasionally do bright colours in a very temporary way, those wash out in 2-3 wash spray type things, for like, school sports days and shit, or I'd do bright red streaks or dip dyes or similar (it was the early 2000s shut up). Then after I left school I was working for the government or adjacent for a long time, and they had lots of "natural colours only" rules so I stuck to the chestnuts and the chocolate browns. Then I changed government departments and mentioned this in passing to my boss, in a "ugh wish I could" kinda way, and she was like "that rule is stupid and you're a great employee and I'll back you up if necessary". So... I went and brought two different bright blues and mixed them together and bleached and dyed my hair that weekend. Rocked up to work on Monday and she just high-fived me.

Nothing that's been on my head since is a colour you'll see naturally growing out of someone's head 🤣

It used to be a whole production of stripping out the old dye when I wanted to change colours, but I started rocking the buzz cut a few years ago and now it doesn't matter what was on there before, it's all gone and I can start again from scratch lol. Weirdly, when I shave my head these days the roots come in REALLY dark brown, so idk if my hair colour has shifted over the hairs (when I was born my hair was BLACK, by the time I was 3 it was blonde ringlets, then settled into ginger by the time I started school) or if I would just have dark roots and if I let it grow out it would still be ginger when it was longer... but I fucking love the buzzcut for Gender Euphoria reasons and also Oh God My Hair Is So Thick And Heavy reasons, so... we'll probably never find out 😜

[33max]

Hi beans! I’m sorry you are sad. I’m a big admirer of your talent and TD is one of my absolutely favourite works in existence, the way it makes me feel soothes my aching soul. You don’t know me, but I wish I could hug you 🫂 I never give advises when not asked, but wanted to share few things, but please ignore it darling, if you don’t like nosy people. First part is on you feeling low, second on Max hate part.

1) About the notion that you feel like you are an inconvenience to people, my therapist said one thing that shifted my perspective dramatically. Of course it works only if people around you don’t go around verbalising that you are useless and they’d rather not have you in their life, those are complete and utter knobs, they are unsafe and I want to punch that kind of people in the face. But when no one told you that and it’s your own head working overtime, it could potentially invite some insightful thinking on the subject matter.

She asked me how I know that I’m inconvenience to them. I shared my feelings.

Therapist: did they tell you that? Me: no but I can feel it. Therapist: so you have made decision FOR them on how to feel about you. Do you think it’s fair to them?

I was flabbergasted, shocked and gagging. In time I realised that it applies for everything, making assumptions on how people feel, even if you think you are making them a favour ‘I won’t call my friend and ask for support because it’s their family time and I don’t want to be a bother’ is still counted as taking decision from them. I would be fucking heartbroken if my friend/family didn’t call me while I’m supposedly busy cause she thinks she is being an inconvenience for me. No please god no, I want to take care of you. I started rumbling, sorry I’ll shut up xdxd

2. The Max hate part. I could try and explain my journey. I’m 32 and am a different sports fan from when I was 8. English football, tennis, formula 1, you name it. The football fan community is an absolute joke, I’m never involved in any comments cause they are ridiculous mostly, people leaving unnecessary hateful comments are happen to be not the the type of people I would want to interact with in the first place. I support my guys and girls and don’t really think about their competition. If the competition was unfair to my baby, I might be angry and emotional in the moment but I won’t stalk every single post in every single platform and spread my calculated hate agenda. If my baby is unfair to his competition (which is not the case with Max, he is one of the fairest athletes, I love it so much about him) I can understand the hurt in the heat of the moment, but I draw a line, when they start spreading it it in every single post in every single platform. Those are the same people everywhere, trust me, I can see that in some few communities I am a part of (with hundreds of thousands members) it’s just hard to see patterns in global platforms like IG, Twitter. Certain fans are slowly becoming a laughing stock, when you are being unreasonable, that’s what eventually happens. This kind of fans persistence to throw shit around themselves is astounding, like chill bro. I don’t want to point fingers, but there are mostly 2 drivers limited number of fans who work overtime, but it’s a very small number. If you feel overwhelmed, just don’t go their yet, immediately after they think they found some justification for their hate. They are not kind of people you would want as your friend in real life, they are unreasonable and petty.

For reference, I have a little cozy Formula one community of 15 guys and girls where we discuss races and play fantasy league. So, everyone only cares about racing part of the Formula one, some are biased of course, but Max is only ever mentioned in the context of his driving. And most of the people are his big fans, they think he is crazy, inevitable and absolutely brilliant. They make fun of him cause maybe he is killing his poor competition this season and makes our league boring result wise, but never once I in 3 years I’ve heard hate towards him.

Another reference, I’m going to Baku to attend the formula 1, there will be 5 of my friends including me. 3 independent Max lovers and 2 that really know nothing about formula 1 but have no choice but support Max because we won’t shut up about him xdxdxdx one guy is a nerd and pisses himself in excitement over Max driving skills, I am who is both (I’m also in love with his personality) and another guy liked Seb and Red Bull and transferred his love through to Max as the golden boy.

Anyway, beans. I don’t know why I wrote all that, just please take care of yourself, I don’t know you, but my gut tells me you a the most kind, gentle soul. And my heart aches when you are sad

🥺🥺🥺🥺 honestly I’ve read this so many times and I’m just stunned that you took the time to send me this absolutely lovely message! I almost wanted to save it in my inbox forever so I could look at it whenever I need to, but I thought I would unleash it to the world incase anyone else needs to read your kind words!

I can’t thank you enough for this 🥹♥️

I really hope you enjoy Baku! I am also going so maybe we will somehow cross paths without knowing haha! ♥️

[mmunson86]

“Yes, he's good looking, obviously. No, we aren't a thing, we were never a thing.”

We are not a thing YET gotta look at the bright side eh, lets keep that hope alive that one day we are a thing with our BFF Eddie🙂‍↔️

“In jeans that weren't ripped, with wild hair scooped back into a low bun.”

Yup i am done any time this man is sporting a low bun my mind runs wild i cant handle it🙈

“In the soft wink that loosed a thousand moths within your core.”

and whatever feelings we had for Eddie that “mellowed” are suddenly back and catching fire😩

“That's a load of crap. You, hey, you look amazing. Seriously, smoking hot.”

Please i am begging you Eddie dont make us loose our composure it is taking everything in us not to jump your bones right now

“Hey,” he replied, crowding your space with the confidence he embodies, “you look incredible. Trust me.”

Oh we trust you Eddie what we dont trust is ourselves or our knees , all these compliments are going to make our knees give out🫠

Chrissy fucking Cunningham. 

Alright we get it you have money and you are beautiful, who let this girl in because i am about to kick her ass right out🙃 

“You know, if you wanted me that badly you could have just asked, sweetheart.” He said, as he flashed you a smug grin. 

Shut up Eddie before we smack you on the side of the head, there was no way we were letting Chrissy take you home, & now we have no car money😑

She smiled, and just said, “pretty sure you could have got that date for free.” 

Not the time & place mom please just save it we know you are right but not right now😂

“This felt good. This felt right. You circled his neck within your arms and relaxed for the first time that evening.”  

This is exactly where we have always belonged , we could get lost in this man forever💗

“So, if this was a date, what would we be doing instead?” 

Ohh we are feeling bold BOLD tonight lol okaay lets get it , come on Eddie give us your awnser

“Yeah. Then, I would have taken you back to my place, offered you a cup of coffee”

Coffee ? Okay Eddie lol i mean i guess we need the caffeine to keep up with late night activity’s we would be participating in 😉

“Then, I would kiss you, properly. Like you deserve to be kissed.” 

That is our queue to get the hell out of this place we need to tell this man how we feel FR FR😩

“I feel stupid. I've had… kind of a crush on you, since high school.”

We did it! Oh fuck oh fuck shit okay we did it we finally told him, now we have to see how he reacts, that is the nerve wrecking part😭

“It's not, it's really not. You're in pain, and I know you'd never ask. Plus, I, ha, don't have the balls to say this to your face.” 

We appreciate the back rub but for the love of god what is it Eddie? what cant you seem to be able to say to us i am begging tell us 🫠

“I've got a secret. I've- had a crush, on you, since middle school.” 

Ohh hell yes! We are literally idiots in lovee! My heart is going to explode! The fact that he feels the same?!?🥹💗

“I'm in love with you.” 

Screaming , crying & throwing up! All in a good way of course i am just ahh he said he loves us!

“Sweetheart, there's a thirteen year old boy doing backflips in my head. Let him have a moment.” 

Gosh i love him! He is just so freaking perfect in every way! We cant help ourselves Eddie🙂‍↔️

“Sweetheart, I'd ask you to move in tomorrow.” 

Well you dont have to ask us twice your wish is our command🫠

“Holy shit, Eddie- are you, pierced??” 

This is all yall get i am not giving anything else up lol go read this fic it is soo freaking good , it has me kicking my feet and twirling my hair!

Highest Bidder

Description: When you get Eddie to agree to be on auction for the Valentine’s Ball, you don't count on jealousy affecting you this much. To be fair, you didn’t think Chrissy Cunningham would be there. But maybe, just maybe, he likes you just as much as you like him? 

Warnings: Angst, fluff and smut, my favourite horsemen. NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll shoot you with arrows and not the cupid kind. Slight older, 25 ish Eddie Munson x 23 ish fem reader, confessions, BFFs to lovers, oral fem receiving, p in v unprotected sex (dress before you impress irl) 

A/N: So this was meant for Valentines but I decided to catch Covid instead. Inspired by the auction scene in Groundhog Day. I loved writing this, hopefully you get the desperate pining feeling that I was trying to give off. I love all of you, not only on Valentines but every day. 

Comments and reblogs keep this little paper heart from bursting Into flames. Please, comment and reblog, it makes me so happy you don't even know. 

7k words

Masterlist

“So sweetheart,” Eddie begins, a sly smile creeping over his face as he steeples his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees, “are you gonna tell me why you did it?” He's sitting across from you in his armchair, like this is some sort of bizarre job interview. 

The surroundings are familiar. Eddie's second hand couch, the worn fabric soft under your thighs. The coffee table you helped drag up four flights of stairs, adorned with a coaster placed entirely for your benefit, of course. It's not like Eddie cares about water rings. The comforting smell of the fabric softener Eddie uses intermingled with cigarettes, and incense to cover the smoky aroma. That, and Eddie's aftershave; faint after a night in proximity of it, but there all the same. 

The situation is not familiar. The wayward glances, the lingering touches, the tension filling the air so thick it's like trying to move through cake batter. Wading through some dense, sweet, all consuming feeling that sticks to your ribs and pulls you into its gravity.

Torn between looking at him and shyly stirring your drink with its straw, you think about it. Why did you? The answer wasn't simple. It never was, with Eddie.

It all started with the Valentines Charity Ball your mom roped you into helping to organise. She was a force to be reckoned with, your mom. The human equivalent of a wrecking ball. When she got involved with any good cause, no one and nothing could stop her. Including you. 

So, when she ran to you in desperation last night, you didn't hesitate. One of the guys for the date auction had taken ill and she was stuck for a fourth. So, the first name you could think of spilled out of your mouth. It took some convincing. No, he's not just some freak. Yes, he's doing well for himself. Yes, he's got a steady job, an apartment. No, he doesn't deal anymore. Yes, he's good looking, obviously. No, we aren't a thing, we were never a thing. 

You were never a thing. It was much more complex than that. Affairs of the heart always were. When you'd met Eddie at school you were quiet. A loser, living on the fringes of obscurity; not popular, but not strange enough to be bullied. Eddie was safe. A shield. You'd entered Hellfire without a second thought. And sure, he was handsome, ridiculously so. But at the time, he was seeing some twig called Stacey or Samantha or something, and you bit down on your attraction. Hid it deep within the tissue of your heart. Swallowed it whole. Then, you'd dated Thomas, and after that, he had seen Wendy, and then it was circumstantial. At no point had the pair of you been single together until recently, so it clearly wasn't meant to be. Whatever attraction you'd been harbouring was mellowed, dissolved and disintegrated in yourself. After that, he was just Eddie. 

Convincing Eddie to do the auction had been an entirely different story. It wasn't nerves. He had stood on tables in the cafeteria to speak his mind, after all. He had conveyed his innermost thoughts to almost any who would listen, like some wayward preacher at a bizarre sermon. It could never be nerves, not with him. It was always the fear of not being enough. The fear of himself. After many words of encouragement, he'd agreed. If only to shut you up, but it worked. 

What you hadn't accounted for was the sight of Eddie climbing out of his beat up van in a goddamn button up shirt and fucking dress shoes. In jeans that weren't ripped, with wild hair scooped back into a low bun. You hadn't counted on the easy smile you'd seen a thousand times now winding into your stomach and sending raven wing beats into your heart. In the soft wink that loosed a thousand moths within your core. Moths, they say, live at most, a day, but these seem ancient compared. Alive in an enclosure you had created years ago, set loose suddenly and all at once, their once fixated caretaker ignoring his responsibilities. 

“Hey sweetheart, am I late?” 

When had his voice gained that huskiness, that depth? When had looking into his chocolate brown eyes melted your insides? A twinge in your back brought on by the stress of the night took you back to the here and now. Gazing back at him whilst you attempted to rub it away, you replied.

“N-no, not at all. You, you look really good, Eddie.” 

He scoffed aloud, shaking his head in disbelief, a cascade of loose curls flowing around his face. 

“That's a load of crap. You, hey, you look amazing. Seriously, smoking hot.” 

Your head span with the compliment, as you looked down at your own outfit. It was a ball after all, and for once your mom had insisted on a dress. It was a deep red, cheap satin, low cut, a tasteful hem at the knee, with a slit up the side providing at least a little mobility, and kitten heels. Currently, you felt like an outsider looking into a different world through plexiglass, but the way Eddie looked at you made you feel like you belonged. 

‘It's nothing, just a dress.” 

“Hey,” he replied, crowding your space with the confidence he embodies, “you look incredible. Trust me.”

His knuckles dragged across your flushed cheek, and for a moment all sense of who you were and why this was happening was lost to the feel of his skin on yours. But only for a moment. Dipping your eyes down, you took a tiny step back. 

“We should head inside Eddie. You ready?” 

After a couple of hours of cheesy music and weak as fuck punch, you tapped your fingers on your plastic cup and turned down the latest pensioner who thought you were here for his amusement. Until finally, the host tapped the microphone and asked everyone to gather at the front for the main event. You made your way to the side of the stage in case you were needed, and waited for the bidding to start. 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have the highlight of the night. For one night only, Hawkins’s most eligible bachelors will be yours, to an extent. Be prepared to be wined, dined, and entertained, by our finest gentlemen, all in the name of charity, of course. And first up, is our very own George Heights! Give it up for George everyone!” 

The crowd clapped as George walked onto the stage, an early balding man with just the hint of a pot belly poking through his chequered blue shirt.  

“George is an artist, and an aspiring architect, with a penchant for poetry and an insatiable appetite. Give it up for George, everybody!”

After a lukewarm auction, which ended with George being bought for 65 bucks, the next one was sold. And the next one. Pretty soon, it was Eddie's turn. He stepped forward, and whispers began to float around you. You expected that, to some extent, but there were woops, and even a wolf whistle too. Ever the showman, he bent into a low bow, straightened back up, and winked at the audience. 

“And last, but not least, we have a handsome young man up for your bidding pleasure. Put your hands together for Eddie!” 

As he did a turn on the spot, hands outstretched, the rouse of applause went on for longer than you thought it would. Enthusiastic hands clapped for your man.

No. Your friend. Just a friend. 

“That's it, that's what we're looking for! Eddie is a mechanic, and a talented guitarist, who is looking for your company tonight! So, starting bid, can I hear twenty dollars?” 

“Here! Twenty dollars!” An old lady waved her programme enthusiastically in the air. Eddie's eyes rolled and caught yours momentarily, and you flashed a smile at him. 

“There we go, twenty! Can we go to twenty five?” 

“Thirty!” an equally old lady shouted, earning you yet another look from him that made you laugh. 

“Fifty dollars!” 

The crowd went silent as a man in the back shot his hand in the air. 

“Woah, a high bidder! Anyone want to beat fifty?” 

Before the crowd had a chance to recuperate a young and extremely pretty woman's hand shot upward. 

“One hundred dollars!” 

Everyone fell silent. The only thing not getting the message was your heartbeat. The beautifully manicured and delicate hand belonged to none other than Chrissy fucking Cunningham. 

She looked more beautiful than ever. Hawkins’s sweetheart, all grown up. The popular girl, the pretty girl. Prettier than you, at least to your mind. Prom queen, beauty pageant winner, and the icing on the cake? Actually a nice person. No one could hate her, it would be like kicking a kitten. 

But as your heart dropped like a lead weight into your chest, you thought you wouldn't mind seeing a bit of fur flying across the room, guided by your heels. 

You saw it, you couldn't fail to. The sudden way Eddie stood a little straighter, chest puffed up a little more, as a slow smirk crawled over his face. 

“One hundred? Wowee! Thank you young lady! Anyone for one twenty?” 

The man at the back called out, “right here!” 

Chrissy giggled, small hand held up covering the cute noise, and made another bid. 

“One thirty!” 

It seemed like the entirety of your body's blood had rushed to your head. You felt dizzy and sick, watching this happen, like some slow motion car crash. Again, your damned back hurt. you rubbed it in vain, and gazed back at the ruin in front of you.  

“One fifty!” The man at the back bellowed. Eddie's eyes widened, and he put his hands together, as if in prayer. His gaze was begging, pleading, and directed at Chrissy. 

The frozen spell you seemed to have been under lifted suddenly. This was not going to happen, you wouldn't let it. Chrissy had everything she could possibly need, she didn't need more. She couldn't have him. 

He's yours. 

Through watery eyes, you fiercely trawled through your purse, and came across the little envelope you tucked in there earlier. The money you had scraped together to go towards buying a car. You'd almost forgotten it, intending to drop it home before you came here. 

It looked like you'd have to be a pedestrian for a while longer. 

At the same time Chrissy placed delicate fingers in the air, your whole arm shot up, purse clutched in hand. 

“Two hundred and fifty two dollars and thirty nine cents!” 

Gasps and grunts from the crowd echoed throughout the hall as everyone turned to face you. Even Eddie's jaw hit the floor. It took a moment for it to register, but when it did people were cheering. 

“Well, I think that wraps it up folks! The highest bid of the night, sold to the very eager young lady in red right over here! What a great donation!”

He continued talking, wrapping up the show, and signalled for the music to start once again. Blood was hammering in your ears, making you almost oblivious to everyone around you. All you could focus on in your tunnel vision was Eddie as he walked to the edge of the stage, climbed off in a smooth hop, and started sauntering toward you. 

“You know, if you wanted me that badly you could have just asked, sweetheart.” He said, as he flashed you a smug grin. 

“Hey, I was just saving you from that guy over there, pretty sure he wanted more than a date.” Your words came out calmer than you thought you were capable of as you clenched a fist at your side to hide your shakes. 

“Oh, really?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, “That's what you were saving me from, huh?” 

He knew it was a lie. You knew it was a lie. You're pretty sure the entire hall knew it was a lie. 

“Of course, don't want some old geezer putting his hands all over you. Not a fun Valentines. Plus, I own you now. You've gotta do what I say.” 

Your hands dropped to your hips, holding them as you smiled at him. 

“Kinky,” he replied, stepping closer, making you falter in your confident stance as you’re forced to look up at him, “so, what are your orders, princess?” 

“Can you, get me a drink. A proper drink, from the bar? Please?” 

Taking your hand in both of his, he brought it up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it that turned your insides upside down. 

“Easy. Your wish is my command. Jack and Coke, right?” 

Gormlessly nodding, all you managed to say was a stunted “uh huh.”

He flashed that grin again, and bounced off with more of a spring in his step than usual. 

You turned on your heel, begging yourself to get your head together, and busied yourself with gathering the donations for the auction, including your hefty one, and passed the cash to your mom to be locked away. When you approached, she opened her mouth but you wildly waved a finger at her. 

“I know, I don't want to hear it. Not right now.” 

She smiled, and just said, “pretty sure you could have got that date for free.” 

Rolling your eyes and simultaneously rubbing your back, you passed over the cash and turned quickly, nearly slamming into someone. 

“Easy princess, I know you bought me but I won't stand for full on tackling.” 

He was holding your drink high, arms up to protect it.

“Sorry Eds, just escaping from-” 

You looked over your shoulder, but your mom had disappeared. 

“-nevermind. Thank you.” 

As you grabbed your drink you took a generous gulp in a vain attempt to steady your nerves. 

“So, now you have me, what are you gonna do to me?” 

As he guided a wolfish grin to you, you simply rolled your eyes, trying to hide the fact that several unsavoury thoughts were swimming through your mind. 

“What if I told you to hop on one leg and bark like a dog, huh?” You replied, sending a grin right back. 

“Oh you don't think I would? Don't test me princess.” 

You simply folded your arms and cocked your head, daring him with a look. Eddie nodded, and started fucking bouncing on one leg. 

“Woof! Woo-” 

“OK OK stop you weirdo!” Gasping a laugh, you grabbed him by the crook of his elbow and dragged him away from the curious stares of those around you. 

As the song changed to a slow ballad, Eddie whipped the drink from your hand despite your protests and placed it on a nearby table. 

“What are you doing?” 

Grasping your hand he escorted you to the middle of the dance floor and suddenly pulled you so close that the air expelled from your lungs. There was no air, just music, and feeling, and Eddie. 

“I'm dancing with you. Isn't this what you do on dates?” 

As he held your hips, thumbs rubbing into your sides, your mind cleared. Like a bubble of smoke had popped. This felt good. This felt right. You circled his neck within your arms and relaxed for the first time that evening.  

“This isn't a date, Eds.” 

Your words held some spite, but it was belied by the smirk tugging at your cheeks. 

“You are right. This isn't a date. If it was, well, we wouldn't be surrounded by geriatrics.” he nodded at the crowd around you, eliciting a high pitched giggle from your chest. 

As you swayed in step with him, gazing into his chocolate eyes, the smirk only grew, fuelled by the mischief in his eyes. 

“So, if this was a date, what would we be doing instead?” 

A part of you wants to feel bashful and turn away, but the spell his eyes have you under is in control. No force on earth could tear your gaze asunder. The couples around you could burst into flames and be chalked up to little more than background noise. 

“Well, first, I would have picked you up at your house, bought you some flowers too,” he said as he brought his hand to yours, holding it and pushing you into his frame even more, so you strained your neck up to him. His breath fanned delicately against your ear as he continued his explanation. 

“Probably took you to a fancy restaurant, with fabric napkins,” he said, making you giggle at his understanding of ‘fancy’, “would have paid too. Maybe had some wine. Shared a dessert.” 

“Yeah?” You nearly whisper it, words falling into the exposed skin of his neck. 

“Yeah. Then, I would have taken you back to my place, offered you a cup of coffee,” suddenly he spun you, pressing his lithe front to your waiting back, his fingers scooping the hair from your neck sending comet trails of sensation down your spine. He continued, words making your head dizzy, “Then, I would kiss you, properly. Like you deserve to be kissed.” 

As he spun you back to face him, you held his gaze for a moment, seeing every ounce of honesty etched into those big brown eyes. 

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Let's get out of here.” 

You shake your head, bringing yourself back to the here and now. Here you sit, opposite Eddie, invaded by his scent, debating whether or not to just tell the truth and hang the consequences. 

Taking a gulp of your drink, you set it back down and look Eddie in the eye. 

“Listen, I'm gonna be honest. I saw the way you looked at Chrissy and I… I was jealous. I didn't think, I just kinda acted. I'm sorry if it was weird.” 

Bravery fleeing your bones leaving behind an airy wobble, you look at your own lap, fingers twisting over and over. You're only slightly aware of the shuffle and rustle of Eddie rising to his feet, of footsteps, of the dip in the couch next to you. Then, Eddie's large hand comes to rest over both of yours. 

“Do you know why, sweetheart? Why were you jealous?” 

His hand is steady, fingers stilling your movements confidently, but there's a quaver to his voice that seems entirely unlike him. Grasping his fingers, you absentmindedly play with his heavy rings. 

“I feel stupid. I've had… kind of a crush on you, since high school.”

Of all the reactions, you hadn't expected a deep laugh to reverberate from his chest. Recoiling in horror, you shift your hands away from his and move to stand, your only thought to run, flee. 

“No no no, please, sit,” he asks, hands grasping at your waist to keep you there, as you rub at the twinge in your back again. 

“Turn around,” he says, and you don't find it in you to disobey. Firm hands stroke softly down your back, “you've been rubbing your back all night. Right here?” 

Fingertips circle the spot that's been aching and you nod, confused.

“Eddie, if this is a rejection, it's a really odd one- oh fuck, right there.” 

He chuckles lowly, knuckles working at the knot near your spine. 

“It's not, it's really not. You're in pain, and I know you'd never ask. Plus, I, ha, don't have the balls to say this to your face.” 

You don't say anything in response, you can't. Of course he's noticed you're in pain, he always notices stuff like that. The fact that this isn't a rejection though? It has your head reeling with so many thoughts that you can't express the words. Eddie clears his throat, hands rubbing into your skin through your dress, easing some of the building anxiety. 

“I've got a secret. I've- had a crush, on you, since middle school.” 

“Shut up!” You gasp, mouth hanging open at his confession. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“You didn't even know me in middle school Eds.”

“Yeah I did. Well, sorta. You remember that day I ran into the library? I asked for help?” 

You pick at the scab of a memory, itching it to the forefront of your brain. 

“Oh yeah, you were running from that idiot... Johnny?”

“Jimmy Salinsky. He was gonna beat on me. You, you didn't hesitate. You didn't even know me, but you told me to hide under your chair, you even threw your coat over your lap to hide me.” 

“What else would I do?” 

He snorted derisively, continuing his impromptu massage, “ignore me, tell me to fuck off, just like anybody else. But you, no, you didn't. Jimmy ran in looking for me and you didn't even lie! He asked if a freak had run in and you-” 

“-I said ‘the only freak in here is you’, I remember.” 

“That's right!” He laughs, squeezing your hips appreciatively, “Then he asked if you'd seen the poor kid, Eddie. You said, ‘I've never even met an Eddie’, which was true too. Not like I introduced myself before I dived under your chair. I remember crouching there, trying not to laugh, watching your little legs swinging. You had odd socks on, and you smelled really good. Anyway, I crushed on you hard.” 

Head buzzing over his words, you try to organise your thoughts. 

“Did the guys- did Hellfire know?” 

“Sweetheart, I'm surprised you didn't know, it was common knowledge. I just thought you never liked me like that.” 

Turning to face him again, you stroke hesitant fingers over his knee. 

“Didn't say anything, you were seeing Stacey.” Eddie's face screws in confusion until clarity rings like a bell in his mind. 

“Her? I wasn’t- that wasn't a relationship. I would have stopped in a fucking heartbeat if I'd known.” 

“Oh. I dated Tom to get over you.” 

“I dated Wendy to get over you!” 

Sharing a laugh, you both hold eye contact, giggles dying at the realisation of what this means. 

“So, Eddie, about that kiss…” you inch forward, ever so slightly nearer to him. A pink tongue darts out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip. 

“Yeah, that. That was me, running my mouth,” he says, anxiety wracking his voice as he strokes his neck compulsively, “Not that I don't want to kiss you, I do, just, erm, don't expect fireworks?” 

It's almost like he's back at middle school, the nerves radiating off of him. Smiling sweetly, you take his hand and place it on your jaw, leaning into its touch. The breath he exudes is shaky as he moves closer, eyes darting to your lips as yours flutter shut. 

It's tentative; a brush of his mouth as if he's scared of you running, of some practical joke. When you make no move to pull away his thumb strokes your cheek, lips now moving more confidently against yours. Your heartbeat is echoing inside your head as your hand slips to slither down his chest and around him, circling his side. 

Only then does his tongue slowly snake out to wet your bottom lip; a silent plea which you happily grant. Still, it's delicate, tongues moving leisurely against one another as if you have all the time in the world. It's by no means dispassionate; far from it, it may be the most emotionally  charged kiss of your life, but it feels like he's holding back. 

So, you pull him closer by the front of his shirt, flicking your leg over his knee as your fingers tug hard. It's then that his tongue licks into you in earnest, thick and smooth, filling your insides with need. Just when you feel utterly consumed, whining inside his mouth, he breaks away. After a few pecks to your lips, he presses his forehead to yours, breath uneven, cooling your swollen lips. 

“I'm in love with you.” 

It comes out of his mouth in a rush. All you can do is stare gormlessly. 

“Huh?” 

“I love you. I just needed you to know that. This isn't just a- a thing. I'm in love with you, I have been since forever. I know it's a lot to take in, and I don't expect you to say it back I just need you to-”

You shut him up, pressing a hard kiss to his parted lips.

“Eddie, you lied.” 

“What? I'm telling the truth I-”

“You said don't expect fireworks. You were wrong.” 

Wasting no more time, you force your body onto him, tongue clashing against his teeth as the force of your kiss presses him backwards. His head makes contact with the arm of the couch, hands hot and heavy on your hips, pushing you into his bulge. 

The fabric of your dress is constricting your movements, making you huff into his mouth. 

“Eddie,” you manage in between spit slicked kisses, “unzip me.” 

There's a cross between a grunt and a moan that vibrates from him into you as his hand wanders across your back, groping its way to the zipper. In a few short bursts he manages to unzip it, not once breaking the kiss. 

Cool air hits your skin and you stand up, shimmying the dress to the floor and you straddle him moving in for- 

“Woah, slow down a second, just, just wait.” 

You try to kiss him again but he pushes you back, your ass flush against his crotch as you sit up. His gaze is scrutinising, examining every inch of your form, making you feel more exposed than you've ever felt in your life. 

The desperate urge to shy away works into your arms as you cross them over your chest, but Eddie's having none of it. He tugs at them gently, pulling them to your sides as his thumbs rub encouragement into your skin. 

“Sweetheart, there's a thirteen year old boy doing backflips in my head. Let him have a moment.” 

A little laugh you let out comes out as a snort whilst he gazes up at you in wonder. So, you give him a show, flicking your bra undone in one practised movement and sliding the straps down your arms, eventually letting it fall to the floor. 

“Jesus H Christ and all the angels.” He breathes, grip tightening on your forearms. 

A quivering hand reaches up, and to your surprise, cups your face. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Eyes suddenly watering, you blink twice to will the onslaught of emotion away. 

“Not like Chrissy though,” you shrug, eyes downturned. 

“No, you're not like her. You're beautiful, like you.” 

Tugging you forward, he pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss, the full force of his feelings overflowing and filling your heart with heat. With a nibble to your bottom lip, he lets up for a second. 

“Can we go to my bedroom?” 

Nodding, you clamber off him and stand up. Eddie just makes a noise like you knocked the wind out of him, holding his hand to his heart. 

“What?” You ask, hands on your hips, like it was normal to be standing in front of him in just a pair of panties. 

“Don't look all stern like that, or I'm gonna bust in my pants,” he jokes, standing and crowding your back. 

The journey to the bedroom takes a while. Mostly because you can't keep your hands off of each other. He's grinning, giddy as a school boy, firm hands pressing into your sides, hips, ass. You respond in kind, nearly ripping his shirt in your efforts to remove it, only managing to unbutton the offensive material to expose his lean tattooed torso. 

Eventually, your spine hits Eddie's mattress, the soft furnishing welcoming you, begging you to sink in further. His touches are soft too, almost reverent in their delivery. He stands to remove his shirt and jeans, bulge prominent in his black trunks with little patterns on them. As he coaxes you further up the bed you squint and realise what they are. 

“Eds… are you wearing Star Wars underwear?” 

He chuckles, following your eyeline. “They are Darth Vader pants, to be specific, very manly.” 

The smile you flash him almost hurts your cheeks, the situation feeling so close to normal. Normal adjacent at least. 

“Yeah, very manly. Almost caveman like.” 

“Look, I didn't think I'd have a hot girl watching me undress tonight, let alone the woman of my dreams. Just forget the nerd pants.” 

You're laughing now, even when he's grabbing a pillow and getting you to lay on top of it, positioning you just where he wants you. Your giggles stop however, when he asks a question that steals your breath away. 

“Do I need to put a towel down?” 

“That's very presumptuous of you.” You smile, batting your eyelashes at him. 

“Look, I'm just asking. I don't mind sleeping in a wet patch I just want you to be comfortable.” 

He hovers over you, lips pressed into a line of concern. pressing your mouth to his to will the tightness away, you whisper into his face. 

“You want me to stay?” 

“Sweetheart, I'd ask you to move in tomorrow.” 

The next kiss is a searing heat, all heaving tongue and grinding hips. His hand winds into your hair, tilting your head to get you just where he wants you. No longer the blushing boy, he's the confident man, taking just what he needs and giving you what you crave. It's fire, it's want, it's everything. 

“Eds?” You murmur into his mouth as your hips chase his form. 

“Hmm?”

“Get the towel.” 

Hopping off of you, he practically skips out of the room, leaving you to debate whether or not to take your panties off. As you finally decide to strip them, fingers wedged into the fabric, he returns. 

“Nope, just wait, please?” He asks, propping you up with ease to lay the towel down under you. So, you let go, allowing your arms to fall to your sides.

“Lemme look after you,” he says, climbing on top of you to plant open mouthed kisses to your neck. You nod, gasping when his teeth graze a sensitive spot on your neck. Short nails dig into his back as you whimper at the contact. 

“Right there princess, hmm?” He chuckles, mouthing at your neck. 

“Uh huh- oh fuck,” as he bites softly, tongue flicking out to lather at the spot. 

Moving down, his lips press to your collarbone, then down your chest, until he places a peck to your nipple. 

“I've been dreaming about these tits, but nothing can compare to the real thing,” his tongue darts out, swirling around the pebbled nub, sending goosebumps over your skin, “fuckin’ flawless sweetheart.” 

You want to say a smart remark, shaking your head, but all thoughts fly out the window when he sucks, rough fingers reaching out to rub the other. Back arching, your legs clamp on his little waist, saying their own prayer to keep him there. 

As he releases his mouth with a wet noise, the thoughts flood back, all barriers forgotten. 

“I've been thinking about you too, what you'd do, what it looks like,” you admit, truths flying free in the heat of the moment. 

“Yeah?” He smiles up at you, “been thinking about my dick?” 

“Yeah, how'd it feel in my mouth, how'd it feel inside me,” you breathe out as he continues his worship of you, tonguing and kissing at your tummy. 

“Fuck,” he says, hot air fanning over his wet string of loving kisses, “you're gonna kill me, saying shit like that.” 

“Don't die, I'll never find out,” you joke, breathing unsteady as he falls between your thighs, playfully nipping at the sensitive flesh. 

“Oh we wouldn't want that. How else could you know what this feels like?” 

Lifting your head, he locks eyes with you as he licks thickly over your clothed clit, pressing hard. 

“Oh Eddie, yes,” you wail, wriggling under his touch. 

He merely smiles in response, hooking rough fingertips into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down almost torturously slowly. They stick between your legs so much that your cheeks flush. Eddie doesn't seem to mind in the slightest, working them off your feet and tossing them on his bedside table. You briefly wonder if you're going to get them back, but then his lips are sucking at the soft skin on your ankle and you stop caring. 

Up, up, up he moves, showing each patch of skin just the same amount of love, until he reaches the crease where your thigh meets, tongue rippling over it. You huff in frustration, hips wiggling. 

“I'm getting to it sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to your mound, “I wanna savour this.”

Words of protest dissipate when he laps at you, rooting out your clit without a moment's hesitation. Any clandestine thoughts you had about this very moment are nothing compared to this. To the feel of Eddie sucking at your clit, his pillowy lips wrapped around it. To the sudden roughness of his fingers as they graze your entrance. To the breach of one, slipping deep inside of you, immediately seeking out your sweet spot. 

“Eddie, ri-right there, oh God!” 

He moans into you, vibrations tickling you in the most delicious way. It's an amazing feeling, but you can't help but think about the noises you're making. Maybe they're pathetic, and not what he's used to?  You bet he's heard some beautiful moans in his time. Some pretty blonde things with long legs and big tits. Girls who know what they're doing. Oh God, what if you start feeling him up and he laughs at you? What if- 

“Hey, sweetheart, you here?” 

He gazes up at you between your legs, eyes boring into you with the question. 

“Sorry, so sorry, I'm here I-” 

“Hey. Don't apologise. You in your head?” He asks, head resting on your thigh, “you know we don't have to do this right now.”

“No, no I want to, honest, it's just- I dunno, second guessing myself? I'm just thinking about-” 

“See? That's the problem. Stop thinking. Lie back and enjoy it. Just, get out of your head. No place I'd rather be.” 

His brown eyes are wide, wet with honesty. He was never able to hide his real emotions, at least not with you. 

“OK, I'm so- I'll enjoy it.”

“That's it. Close your eyes princess, and just feel.” 

Eyes fluttering shut, you concentrate on the feel. Of his lips, suckling softly at your clit, tongue running around the hood. Then, fingers slipping inside once again, curling within you. Moans slither out of your hoarse throat as your hips roll up to meet his lips. 

“That's it, so good for me,” he mumbles into you, “doing such a good job. You sound so sweet.” 

Sweet. You sound sweet. 

In that instant, all your hang ups begin to melt away. The pleasure he's giving you is hitting just right, making you forget all your worries. Pressure builds in your tummy; a whirling, winding force hitting you from the inside out. You're squirming, but it's as if someone outside of you is letting you know. It must be Eddie's firm palm, the one that presses into your abdomen, keeping you steady. Keeping you here, in this moment. 

There's no rush. Time loses all meaning. He could be between your thighs for minutes, hours, days. All you know is the ball of desire tightening within you is fit to burst, bubbling over in a melting pot of raw emotion. 

“Eddie, I'm so close, s-so close!” 

He doesn't falter, doesn't deviate in his ministrations. He continues, tongue circling, fingers curling so deep inside you think you can see God. A swirling, cloying heat encapsulates you, winding around that feeling you buried in your heartstrings and tugging it loose. That deep emotion you pushed aside years ago, a healed splinter, set free by the love and care he's pouring out of his flowing tongue.

It reaches its crescendo, vision darkening as every nerve is coddled with an inner fire. You're not even sure what you feel; release, blinding pleasure, pure love? It could be all three as you cry out, fingers tugging at Eddie's hair. 

He rides it out with you, fingers coaxing your orgasm to the very brink and beyond until you flop back into the bed. 

The first clue you have that something different just happened is the wet feeling underneath your ass. It feels damp, and cold? Opening your eyes, you haul yourself onto your elbows to look down. 

“Now are you glad I said about the towel?” 

Never have you seen so much of your own release coated on a man. It's covering his mouth, chin, cheeks, hand. You briefly wonder at how it could have happened, how that much could have come out of you. 

Eddie wipes his mouth and hand on the towel underneath and makes his way to hover over your heaving form, eyes practically shooting hearts at you from deep within.

“You alright princess? We can stop right now if it's too much.” 

Blindly you reach out, clumsy fingers rubbing at the hard swelling of his member inside his underwear. 

“Don't you want me to return the favour?” You ask, confused. 

“Sweetheart, one kiss of those pretty lips on my dick and I'll be done for.” 

“Then- I'm on birth control. Fuck me, please.” 

The groan that he lets out is deep and guttural, moving his limbs for him. He gets up to whip his pants down and you see it for the first time. You see him. 

It's big. Fuck, its the biggest you’ve seen; not just long but thick, even thicker than your fumblings thought. A glint of silver throws you for a loop, almost making you think you imagine it, but there it is again. 

“Holy shit, Eddie- are you, pierced??” 

“Oh yeah,” he chuckles, glancing down to follow your eye line, “you didn't know about that huh.” 

He climbs on top of you, kissing as he goes, plush lips on your skin. Soft, delicate, and warm. Guiding his hardness to your opening, you can't help but rub your thumb over the tip, pre cum slipping on the balls of the piercing. Eddie's breath stutters, nearly panting in your mouth as you smirk. 

“Now that's not fair sweetheart.” 

You continue to smile, gathering your slick to slide him in, but it quickly turns into a wince. 

“Fuck, Eddie, you're too big,” you whimper out as your eyes screw shut. 

“You're fuckin’ flattering me princess.” 

“I'm not, seriously, you're- oh goddamn-” 

He's pushing into you, slowly, but it still burns, the sheer stretch at his girth almost too much. Gnawing at your lips, tears well in your eyes. 

Eddie looks shocked, taken aback by your reaction. 

“Really? Fuck, OK sweetheart, you're OK. Look at me, you can take it, yeah?” 

Trust Eddie to say the hottest thing by accident. He's just trying to check in, but by God it sets your insides on fire. 

“I-I'll try.”

“That's it, atta girl, little more.” 

Reaching down to where you're joined, you wrap your hand loosely around the base, realising he's only halfway in. 

“Eddie, jeez you could- oooh- you could have f-fucking warned me, ah!” 

“Just relax, I've got you princess, you're taking it so well, you can take the rest- oh Jesus H Christ you're tight.”  

A long drawn out cry echoes out of you as he bottoms out, tears loose and running down your temples. He's leaning on his elbows, fingers stroking at your hair, leaving snowflake kisses on your cheeks. 

“Uh- mmmph- Eddie, you've got a pornstar dick.” 

Gritting his teeth, he looks at you almost sternly.

“You can't say that or I'll cum right now, please.” 

Eyes softening, you kiss his lips instead. He envelops you, tongue dancing in your mouth making you forget the dull ache. Nothing can make you forget how full you feel however, your pussy quivering uncontrollably around him even though he's not moving. 

“This is so nice,” he says, entwining his fingers with yours over your head. 

“Eddie, you're literally balls deep in me and it's ‘nice’?” 

Laughing so hard you feel it in your chest, he kisses you again. 

“Sorry, I mean, just being this close with you. It's everything I've ever wanted.” 

Lips quivering, you stare at him, eyes wide and wet. 

“Eddie, I lo-” 

“No, don't. Not like this. Just- can I move?” 

You nod, biting back the words, and he slowly rolls his hips. Eyes nearly hitting the back of your skull, you moan, meeting his movements. He's so deep, it's like he's everywhere. Every pore, every capillary, pulsing with him. 

“Oh my God, baby, oh God!” 

You're rambling words but it doesn't seem to matter, mind filled with fog, with feeling. With him. He links one arm under the fat of your thigh, coaxing you to curl it around him, and everything seems to fall into place all at once. Each rolling movement is pressing into that sweet spot inside of you, that spot he seems to find so easily like a gravitational pull. He smiles, panting in tandem. 

“Right there princess?” 

Nodding like a puppet on a string, he lets out a long groan. 

“Good, I-I’m not gonna last, you feel too fuckin’ good.” 

Pleased at his reaction, you link one arm around him, stroking at the taut skin of his back as he drives into you harder. Grunting with each thrust, he's tensing, holding back. 

“You can come, Eddie,” you say shakily. 

“Not before you sweetheart,” he replies, doubling down on his efforts. 

It all feels so intense, each whirl of feeling sinking deep into your bones and fanning the flames of your heart and desire. 

“Eddie, s-so close, come with me, please.” 

Almost as soon as you say the words your climax springs out, overflowing with every emotion he won't let you say. It fizzes through your nerves, throbbing with each beat of your pulse. 

Eddie groans, releasing at the same time, two bodies with one heart. As you both relax, melding together, you giggle at the same time. A laugh of relief, of pure happiness. 

“Sorry, thought I'd last a little longer.” 

He seems embarrassed, lifting his head enough to look you in the eye. 

“Eddie, that was perfect.” 

He snuggles his head deep in your neck, inhaling your scent as if it were the last time. 

“I'm gonna get you cleaned up, hang on.”

Lifting his head once more, he kisses, and kisses, lips moving against you with pure feeling. 

“OK, now I'm really gonna go.” 

You giggle as he just keeps kissing you, staring up at him with each unspoken word swimming in your mind. 

“Right, now, just hang on.” 

With a final peck, he slips out of you, returning with a warm cloth. Not used to this affection you merely lay there, allowing him, and wriggle out of the way when he takes away the towel. When you move, you see there's still a wet patch, but it's been mitigated at least somewhat. 

“I can change the sheets if you want-” 

“Eddie, I don't care, just hold me.” 

Grinning like a boy he climbs back into bed, pulling blankets over the both of you. Fitting together like you were always supposed to, you sigh with relief. 

“Eddie? Can I say it now?” 

You whisper it into his chest as he holds you close, almost afraid of breaking the spell of the evening. 

“That depends sweetheart,” he says, fingers tracing unknown patterns on the skin of your arm, “you have to mean it. I couldn't take it if you didn't mean it.” 

“I mean it. I love you Eddie, I think I always have.” 

The smile in his voice makes you smile too.

“I love you too. Happy Valentine's Day."

Taglist

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