#and I though oh fuck no that way madness lies

[rapidashrider]

I don’t go here because I don’t have Netflix but fan artists stop slimming Penelope Featherington’s face and jaw challenge for real. Signed, a person with a roundy face.

[beatcroc]

comic planning/roughs on the clock at work 👍 ok. this one's still a few posts out though

[sinning-23]

Calling Them By Their Full Name

OPLA Headcannons! I thought htis was a funny little thing lol. Anyway enjoy

Warnings: slight mentions of nsfw topics but nothing too serious

Sorry for any spelling errors!

Luffy

-ohhhhh that did not sound like your usual happy, loving voice.

-he knows he fucked up and now he’s hiding from your wrath.

-“MONKEY D. LUFFY, GET YOUR ASS IN THIS KITCHEN. NOW.”

-you could hear a pen drop from how quiet the ship got

-ok so maybe he ate that super expensive, super special dessert you had been saving for a while now. And like, it was going to go bad! All he wanted was a little taste! Than a taste turned into accidentally eating the whole thing.

-He was gonna tell you, honest! But it had proven obvious you found out before he could. He seen you round the corner with RAGe on your face and tears in your eyes.

-"TRAITOR!" You yell, throwing a tired punch to his chest.

-“I’m sorry mami, I’ll find you another one. Promise.” He hums, peppering your face with kisses, squeezing your face between his palms when he did.

-There’s no way you could stay mad at him for long

Zoro

-whoa whoa whoa why are you so ANNNGRY

-hated when you call him by his full name like that, makes him feel like a child being reprimanded

-“RORONOA GODDAMN ZORO.” You boom, Nami’s jaw dropping at the sound. Even she could tell you were pissed

-he’s the sassiest mf alive so he’ll probably just be like, “who the hell are talking to woman?!”

-“You’re a real piece of work you know that??” You’re still yelling and he wastes no time rolling his eyes at you and grabbing you by your waist, the action shutting you up.

“Wanna stop yelling and be a big girl and tell me what’s wrong?” He teases, that stupid smirk you love falling over his features at your speechlessness.

-It’s not often you say his full make but when you do he makes sure you’ll never forget it that same night.

-“Say my name baby, real loud.” He groans, a hand around your throat to steady spent body as he slams back into you

Sanji

-I know thats not a cigarette i smell Vinsmoke Sanji."

-awe hell. Yout tone is deadly. he tried he damndest to stomp it out before you rounded the corner but nope.

-You never use his full name like that. Never.

-did he just get chills?

-"Of course not my love!" He lies throigh his teeth but before he can say anything ese you re lips are on his, you fist gripping the fabric of his shirt.

-He knew he was caught, the taste of tobacco mixing with your usual mint. You pull away, smoothing his shirt out with a warning smile.

-"Don’t lie to me again, I’ll always know when you do, Black Leg." You explain , taking the small cardboard box from his pocket and walking off.

-Even though it was ment as a threat, he couldn't help but feel hotter than ususal. God he loved it when you talked all serious to him.

Bonus: Mihawk

-You know better than to use his full name. Orr to even call him anything besides the usual endearing pet name.

-So when he hears his name called with nothing short of rage, hes trying to figure out who you think you’re talking to.

-"Dracule. Mihawk." You spit, holding the empty bottle in your hand

-Ok so your rage was warented cause he managed to drink the entire vintage bottle of wine you'd been saving...it wasn’t like it was on purpose!

-He doesn’t even bother to look up from his book, just barely giving you a slight glance when you were right in front of him, pointing to the bottle.

-"Id watch your tone darling." he warns, smirking at the way you purse your lips and turn away with a fierce attitude he'd be sure to deal with later.

-“Oh shove it up your ass Dracule.” You scoff, trying to quicken your pace but failing when he’s already behind you, his much larger hand holding your wrist as you yelp.

-His look says it all. You’re screwed.

-So now you’re sitting pretty, bent over and counting each time his hand meets the sore and slightly reddened flesh of your ass.

-“Now, what’s my name again darling?”

[foldingfittedsheets]

The Animorphs post where someone referenced their image of me as a child had me spiraling. I was questioning my wife about what their impression of me was as a kid to their increasing hilarity.

Honestly if anyone pictures me as anything other than a tiny feral goblin I have questions. I had moment of high charisma but was largely rabid and wild.

“Like did they get their impression of me from the time I lied about the frog erasers, or pretended I could read? Or when I started swearing? Or when I went feral on my best friend? Or bit that kid on the bus-“

“Wait-“ my beloved interrupted, “You bit a kid on the bus? I haven’t heard this one.”

“Oh.”

“What happened?”

“…I bit a kid. On the bus.” I paused before adding, “Also maybe I scratched him.”

“You scratched him?! How old were you?!”

“…too old.” They stared me down until I admitted, “At least over seven.”

“Jesus Christ, that’s how you get branded as the weird kid!”

I widened my eyes in outrage and opened my mouth in mute appalled fury as they laughed harder and harder. “What. In all our time together. Has ever. Made you think. I wasn’t. The weird kid? What possible story could I have told you that gave you the impression I wasn’t a little weirdo?! I made a kid bleed on the bus! I got blacklisted by several different parents! Of course I was a weird kid!!!”

“You made him bleed?!”

“I was fucking feral! He sat next to me and was mean so I attacked him!”

“Where did you bite him?”

“I have no way of knowing that! I was a barbarian as a child. I might still be, but now I don’t get into fights, so I don’t know. I do know I had to sit at the front of the bus all week.”

“Did your parents get mad?”

“I don’t think anyone told them. That kid sure didn’t. And the bus driver punished me, so.” I paused meditatively while they kept quietly laughing in horror. “No one else tried to sit with me though.”

“No shit! I wouldn’t have wanted to sit with a kid that bit and scratched people!”

“I at least hissed at him in warning before I did it.”

That made them laugh harder and hug my head to their chest. They finally managed to say, “My beautiful freak wife. My feral little goblin.”

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Taste of Sugar, Part 2 (18+)

Here be the smut- proceed with caution if you're over 18 Alastor x reader Rated: E Chapter warnings: Blood Kink, Blood Drinking, Tentacles, Dom Alastor, Restrained Reader, Vaginal Fingering, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Sex. Part 1

AN: Here lies spitesmut, 11k fucking words born out of spite. Nonny, do not tell me what I will and will not do. Enjoy the cartoon smut you didn't want to see. The blood drinking you didn't want to read. The shadow tentacles you didn't want to see. The demon you didn't want to fuck. Cuz, I know you're going to read this- After all, scrolling on is far too fucking complicated for you. Welcome to my "I'll fuck a cartoon serial killer era" Love, Kit. (PS. 3 things published in 48 hours is *never* going to happen again)

~~~~~<3

You were pretty sure he was no longer talking about desserts. You were pretty sure he was talking about another appetite that you’d heard speculation that he didn’t partake in. You were pretty sure you were losing your mind. 

“What circumstances?” You whisper as he dragged his thumb out of your mouth, dragging the pad against your lip again. 

“Should someone catch my eye and sufficiently hold my attention,” Someone, not something. There was no doubt in your mind what you were discussing now. “I may partake.” 

“Do,” You hesitated, before asking the question you hadn’t ever considered yourself. “Do you wish to partake tonight?” 

You hadn’t thought about Alastor in this way before and yet, it was like you were seeing him now, truly for the first time. He was a handsome man in his own terrifying way. Tall and lean, quiet confidence and sheer power radiated off of him. He was chaotic, driving those around him mad. 

“You make me wish to partake,” Alastor said, leaning into your space as you puzzled over what that could mean. Surely it was just for tonight. But if it was just for tonight, why would he have been sending you treats with the hope that you’d share? That you’d think of him? 

What did it all mean?

“Oh?” You whispered as you finally braved meeting his red eyes only to instantly find yourself captured by the way he looked at you, lids heavy and pupils blown. 

“May I?” Alastor’s other hand snaked around your waist, hovering, not quite touching but painfully close to doing so. “Partake, that is?” 

“Okay?” 

As soon as the whispered word left your mouth, his thumb dragged down your lip and chin. His fingers gripped your chin and pulled your face up as he stepped into the last of your space and leaned down. 

His smile never faltered, even as his lips closed and met yours. The miniscule distance between his arm and your waist disappeared in an instant as he held you to him.

Alastor lacked the bulk of muscle but you could feel the power thrumming through his body as your hand reached up, resting against his chest. You were far from a blushing virgin though you were also not the most promiscuous woman in hell and yet touching him felt scandalous. 

The way his tongue snaked out from between his lips, lapping the sticky sweet sugar his thumb left on your lips. Your mind was too preoccupied by the feeling of him licking the sugar up to question it when he took your hand from his chest. 

Shadows flickered, you didn’t know if they were real or a figment of your imagination playing images behind your eyelids. There was a shifting feeling, as if the world itself was somehow moving around you, under you. It felt somewhat like if you had been standing on a moving bus, eyes closed and trusting. Not exactly, that didn’t come close to the feeling but it was a start. It was as close as you would ever come to explaining the feeling.

“Forgive me, my dear. I did not wish to be observed.” He spoke softly, still standing suffocatingly close as you observed the room you found yourself over his shoulder.

A fireplace against the far wall gave off flickering warm light and heat that wasn’t needed yet was relaxing just the same. Thick carpet muffled your shuffling step but in the distance that thick carpet along with the rich red walls gave way to a landscape that looked so hauntingly human and yet was nothing you’d seen before. 

The portion of the room that was still a room was dark, save for the firelight and moonlight from where it gave way to the outdoors. It was magical and yet as disorienting as Alastor’s kiss or the way he had transported you there. 

“Where are we?” You ask, already knowing the answer but not really being able to understand how such a space could exist within the hotel. 

“My room,” Alastor answered, hooking your chin with the backs of the fingers he had wrapped around your hand, drawing your attention back to him, silently demanding once again that you pay attention to him. 

Alastor pulled you to him, pinning you against his body as his sharp teeth nipped at your lips. Reflexively, your tongue darted out, running over the stinging skin. The lingering sweet of the sugar still clings to her lips, mostly gone now.

Alastor guided her as his grinning lips worked down her jaw, tracing the sweet taste of sugar his fingers had left behind as he walked you back toward his bed. Sharp teeth nipped at your throat, leaving stinging lovebites that leaked drops of ruby red. 

No, Alastor didn’t care for desserts or sweets much at all but this was a flavor that had him humming in delight. The hint of sugar on your skin, the salt of you and the coppery taste of your blood made for a treat he would savor.

You weren’t sure when you wrapped your free arm around him, hand snaking up his back and clinging to his shoulder as he moved you through is space. The position you had found yourself could be mistaken for dancing, should anyone peek in on the room. 

The back of your knees hit the soft edge of his bed causing your balance, already teetering, to fail you. Alastor’s hand around your waist allowed him to control your decent, leading your back onto his bed while driving you forward with his lips. 

Reaching up, you ran your hands over his chest before working the buttons of his coat free. If this was going to be the only time you got to have Alastor, you intended to make the best of it. 

Slipping your hands under his coat, you take in the strong planes of his abdomen and chest, the way his muscles defined yet lean, moved as his lips worked down your neck. Slowly, you ran your hands up his shoulder before pushing the coat back, sending it down his back. 

Leaning back, Alastor freed his arms from the coat, tossing it blindly to a chair near by. You were entranced as he reached up, pulling his bowtie from his neck and sending it soaring too. Long fingers worked the first few buttons of his shirt free, exposing a tantalizing amount of his neck. 

It felt scandalous to see Alastor’s high collar undone. The way his chest and clavicles could just be glimpsed as he moved sent fire through you. It was silly, really. The man was still fully dressed and yet it felt to you like he had not a stich of clothing on. 

As he invaded your space again, driving you back with the intensity of his presence, you wanted nothing more than to reach up and touch him. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you from scooting away from him on instinct alone.

Your fingers grazed him before black wrapped around your wrists, pulling your arms up and back as you gasped in shock. 

“I said I wish to partake, not that you may.” Alastor said, wicked grin seeming to glow in the dim room. 

His hands were so strong on you as he resumed his work, nipping down until your soft night shirt blocks his progress. The fact that it was common knowledge that it was a favorite of yours didn’t stop him from gripping the fabric and using his nails to rip it apart. 

You hadn’t left your room with the intention of finding Alastor, or anyone else for that matter, for a romantic tryst and were far from dressed for it. There was no sexy lingerie for him to find under. There was no lacy bra. 

Just you, breasts on full display and core covered in a pair of shorts that would have otherwise been too short to wear around the hotel. You hadn’t intended anyone to see you but he was seeing far more of you than anyone had for a long time. 

You wanted to apologize or make excuses for your lack of preperation for his eyes. He was Alastor, after all, the great and powerful overlord who could have any woman on her knees for him if he showed an interest in having her. Your face was hot with the knowledge that you were so-

“Beautiful,” he said as he looked down at you, running sharp tipped fingers along the curves of your sides. 

You flinched away from the tickling touch, not able to go anywhere with your arms pinned above you. One of your legs was pinned by him when he had climbed up onto the bed, the other hanging limp and unsure what to do, any attempt to squirm away from him would result in you opening your legs up to him more or running your thigh and calf along his leg. 

“Beautiful,” He said again, this time you registered the word, his hands moving lower. Warm palms smoothed down your hips, finding your shorts and making quick work of them as well. 

“Alastor?” You wanted to touch him. You wanted to feel him, to see him like he was seeing you. 

“You have denied me, my dear.” He looked up at you from where he had been nipping his way down your chest, leaving red marks from his sharp teeth along the tender swell of your breasts. “Time and time again, you have denied me your treats. Are you going to deny me again?” 

“No?” Your breath caught in your throat as your head spun.

“Good girl,” He drew out the words, singing them slowly as he nipped the underside of your breast, nose nudging the pebble of your neglected nipple as again, a droplet of blood was lapped up by his tongue. 

His breath ghosted over your nipple, teasing it with the breeze as he exhaled a deep sigh through his nose. You arched into the feeling, his hands gripping around your ribcage, making you aware of just how much bigger than you he was in so many ways. 

He towered over many weaker demons and you were no exception to that. Long fingers caressed your back as the pads of his thumbs ran along the front of your ribs. In an instant, he could break your body if he wanted to, crush your ribcage by simply tightening his grip. 

Your life could be ended by his hand should he change his mind, there wasn’t a single goddamned thing you could do about it. That realization only served to stroke the fire his words had ignited. 

Pain was never something you would have said you were into before. The lovebites stung, sure but his teeth were so sharp that the sting came after each bite, as he licked up the bubbles of blood. As his sharp teeth scratched over the nipple he took into his mouth, you surprised yourself with the gasping moan that slipped from your throat. 

Long, dexterous tongue lapped at the nub, soothing every cutting scratch and erasing every trace of blood. 

“Beautiful and delicious,” Alastor mused as he made his way down your abdomen. 

Something cold and firm wrapped around your free leg, pulling it out from where it was resting against Alastor. A new wave of heat flooded through you as Alastor shifted his position, freeing your trapped leg and nestling his knees between them. A similar force grabbed ahold of the freed ankle and pulled, spreading you open before him. 

“You’re so timid.” He mused, fingers digging into your hips as you were spread even wider by black tentacles you had only ever seen cause carnage before. 

“Tell me what you want,” He ordered, red eyes looking into yours, “Tell me what you want to share with me.”

“Alastor?” You knew he knew, why should you have to say it? 

You’d been dancing around it. you’d been hinting at it. The idea of saying it explicitly terrified you. 

You watched as his eyes traced your face, neck, shoulders. They swept down your chest and up your arms. They were everywhere and yet he seemed unconcerned with taking in your core spread before him.

“Say it. Tell me,” His hands ran up your thighs, thumbs stretching to caress your inner thigh, coming so close to your heat as his fingers wrapped around the exteriors. “And perhaps we can reach a deal?” 

A deal. Alastor was a deal maker. Powerful. You needed to get yourself out of this situation. Whatever the hell was going on here, you needed to run away. You had no business making deals with Alastor, let alone while you were spread naked and wanting on his bed. 

This was a bad position to be in. He had all the power and you had nothing to offer him except what? Some treats? Your body?

His thumb came even closer, caressing the curve where your thighs met your lips. The contact had your heart stopping in your chest and your breath trapped in your lungs. 

“What is it your desire?” Alastor’s voice was thick with static, radio overlay cackling and distorting the sound. Colors seemed to invert, shadows grew and yet you couldn’t look away from him. The antlers atop his head grew, branching out. Colors snapped back to correct but now over saturated. The darkness was too deep. The reds too red. 

“You,” You breathe out, not even fully aware of what you were admitting. You should be terrified but need burned through you as the power, his power, surged around you. 

For all of eternity women have fallen at the feet of powerful men for a sip of what they could offer. For centuries, it had been the only way women could obtain any power for themselves. 

It turns out, you were no different. Sipping at the alter of power seemed to be ingrained in your very DNA. You had no hope of becoming powerful on your own but if you could just taste his power, just for a night, you would give anything. 

“And what will you give me?” Alastor said, joints shifting unnaturally as he towered over you, thumbs still caressing the edge of your lips even as he pulled your thighs further apart by the shadows handling your ankles.

“Me,” You said, fearing it wasn’t going to be enough. You would never be enough for him. There was no power within you that you could give him.

“For eternity.” Alastor said, eyes now black, red dials burning into you, green stichs standing out in vivid contrast to the black and red that made up all of him. “I shall have you for eternity?” 

“If you’ll have me?” You were gasping, feeling like you were being smothered by the raw power in the air as he leaned up your body, somehow doing so without shifting off his knees between your legs, “If you want me.” 

“You will be mine.” Alastor said, terrifying face close to yours’, “Your treats will be mine. Your body, mine. Your heart, mine. Your very soul, mine. You will share it with none. In exchange, you get me. Is it a deal?”

This was insanity. Madness. You knew better. He had asked for your soul. You don’t just sell your soul to get laid. He had asked for your heart. 

Your heart. 

And your soul. 

But, he had asked for your heart. 

“Why do you want my soul?” 

“For safe keeping.” Alastor’s breath washed over you, hot and moist. “To ensure none can take what is mine.”

“Yours?” You twitched, wanting to touch him even as the idea of giving your everything to him for a night terrified you. “Give you everything for eternity just to have you-” You gasped as the thing wrapped around your ankle snaked higher, caressing your knee. “For a night?”

“An eternity for an eternity,” Alastor offered, “That is the terms I am laying out. Do you accept?” 

“Deal,” You whispered and his lips crashed into yours as his expanded form seemed more likely to devour you than kiss you. 

Powered washed over you, flowed through you as the weight of a shackle settled against your neck. The chain attached to it pulled taught, drawing you to Alastor with what little ability you had to move as the back of the collar bit into your neck. 

As he kissed you, his body shifted, pressing you into the mattress before he shrank down to what you considered as his normal size. 

Your leg was pulled up by the knee wrapped in shadows, spreading you out even more. Your other ankle was pushed up, forcing your knee to buckle. As soon as you tried to use the freedom of movement this granted you to preserve any ounce of modesty, black wrapped around that knee as well and you were pulled wide open before red eyes that finally took your most intimint place in. 

“Beautiful,” Alastor remarked as his hands returned to your inner thighs, running up the expanse of exposed skin, savoring the contrast of it against his bloodstained hands. 

Your face was hot as you struggled to breathe through the way his eyes devoured your exposed sex. Slick already coated you, having begun to pool as you had been fed pastry ever so intimately in the kitchen. 

You could feel how much worse the situation was now. With your legs held so far open, there was nothing to obstruct Alastor’s view as you could feel a wave of slick slip from you as muscles clenched. 

His fingers caressed over you weeping hole, scooping up the slick on the pads of his fingers and held them up for you to see the evidence as he asked, “Why are you so wet?” 

You hid your face against your arm, unable to take the power of his eye contact any longer. There was no part of his physical body touching you in that moment and you weren’t sure if that was better or worse. 

“What has your body so excited already? Tell me.” When you failed, instead trying to hide in shame, Alastor demanded you use your words or he would leave you as you were for however long it took. There was not an ounce of doubt in you that he would follwo through with the threat. 

“You,” You tripped over the simple word. 

“But I’ve hardly touched you?” Alastor teased, bringing his hand closer and closer to your face, ensuring you can smell your arousal on his fingertips . 

“You’ve been touching me,” You struggled to force the words out, unsure if he was teasing you, torturing you or actually unaware of the impact his actions had on you. 

“Wonderful,” Alastor said, leaning back and running his long tongue over his slick covered fingers. Could he taste the sugar on his fingers in addition to the taste of you? The question drew a shameful moan from your throat regardless of the fact that he was only touching you with shadows.

“How terribly rude of me!” His voice was bright and cheery, as if wasn’t kneeling between your spread legs, body on display. “I chastise you for not sharing and here I am, keeping a treat all to myself. Where have my manners gone?” 

He shifted, supporting his weight over you with a hand on the mattress close enough to your ribs for you to feel the warmth of him yet not touching you. Bringing his fingers, still coated in the slick he had scooped up to your lips as if he was offering a taste of some treat. 

It was lewd. Never had you found yourself one to even think about tasting yourself. It wasn’t something that interested you in the past. You turned your head as he presented his fingers closer. 

The slippery pad of his fingers ran along your lower lip. When you failed to open to him willingly, cringing away instead, he forced his fingers into your mouth. His sharp nails pinched and cut your lips in the process causing you to gasp and make his task all the more easier. 

“You will take what I offer you.” He said simply as he caressed your tongue with the pads of his first and middle fingers. The taste of you wasn’t terrible. Hesitantly, you ran your tongue over his fingers, twisting around them.

“Good girl.” He praised, voice warm and musical as his fingers pushed deeper into your mouth. “When did it start?”

“Wha?” It was difficult to form the question with his fingers, sweet from sugar and you in your mouth. 

“When did your body start preparing itself for me?” Leaning down, Alastor swept his tongue over your bleeding lips, groaning at the taste after he withdrew his fingers. You had finally been given the ability to clearly speak only to to have him suffocate your ability to think with his presence. 

“Was it my lips on your skin? The feeling of my kiss?” He teased, voice musical. 

“No,” You were not sure where this night was going to go, you couldn’t even be sure what Alastor was going to do with your body as he tormented you. He teased you with his words and his eyes more than anything else. 

“Was it my hands, ripping your pathetic simple clothes?” 

“No,” You couldn’t look away from the red of his eyes. 

“Was it my shadows? Gripping you? Spreading you? Presenting you?”

“No,” Your voice was little more than a whine as you tried and failed to struggle free from his grasp. 

“What was it?” Alastor demanded, stattic growing. “Tell me.”

“From the start.” You whined when he demanded elaboration, “Feeding me. The sugar on your fingers. The look in your eyes. From the start.” 

“Interesting,” Alastor leaned back, pulling the warmth of his body away from you as he seemed to work over the information. 

You flushed under his eyes, unable to read him. You wanted him to want you but fuck, did he even? Was this just a game? A way to pass the night?

The shadows wrapped around your legs crept up your thighs, wrapping around your waist and pulling your lower body up into the air. Blood rushed to your head before your arms were hoisted up as well, leaving you suspended and spread in the air. 

Right in front of Alastor. 

Your hair hung loose from your head as your neck strained to hold your head up to allow you to look down your body and into his eyes. It was impossible to look away as his large palms ran up your inner thighs, long fingers caressing you slowly as he inched forward, eyes locked on yours. 

His hot breath fanned over you, making your heart beat faster in your chest. It felt like it took forever for him to inch forward and then, when the distance was closed it was far too much. Alastor’s tongue swiped up your spread folds, scooping up slick greedily as he groaned at the taste. 

“And to think,” Alastor spoke while making what felt like aggressively violent eye contact, “This was yet another treat you’d been denying me.” 

You moaned at his words as he turned his attention back to your cunt, spread in front of him as if it was an offering placed at an alter. His tongue was dexterous and long as it snaked into your hole, lapping at the source of your slick as if it was a dessert prepared just for him. 

And perhaps it was. 

The weight of your head was too much for your neck to support while distracted by the warm pleasure granted by his mouth as he sipped from the source. His nose bumped against your clit as you struggled against the shadows that held your legs and hips in the air, a sharp gasp fell from your lips before you could stop it.

Alastor hummed as he shifted his attention, tongue leaving your core empty as it sought a new target. He poked at and caressed the sensitive nub that drew such lovely gasps from your lips. Sucking and blowing, he teased the little nub every way he could think of as he studied each of your reactions, searching for the stimulation that would send you soaring under his touch. 

You trembled under his touch as his hands rubbed your thighs, caressing your hips and up your back as if the black tentacle wrapped around you didn’t exist. Lightening and fear lit up your brain as you felt the flat backs of his nails run over your folds before a sharp tipped finger pushed inside. 

You had no doubt that he could rip your inner walls with no effort at all. 

“Trust me,” He demanded and you wanted to. Hell, you had no choice but to and yet it still took time to relax as he worked the finger inside you. 

Warm lips and sharp teeth returned to your clit, making it hard to focus on the threat of his nail and not the pleasure he was drawing from you. A second deadly finger pushed inside, drawing a true moan from you that earned a chuckle from Alastor in return. 

Your neck hurt from the weight of your head hanging limply. Muscles tensed and bunched as you fought to chase the stimulation. Every touch felt sharp and pushed you closer to that cliff within you. 

And then there was nothing. 

No fingers. 

No tongue.

No touch.

Nothing. 

Alastor leaned back and watched as you clenched around nothing at all, smile wide as he asked, “What do you want?” 

You groaned, struggling as the shadows lowered you. 

“Please?” You didn’t want to beg. Hell, you shouldn’t have to beg. It was a part of the deal. He said you could have him. In your eagerness, you had failed to iron out the details of what having him meant. His idea of giving himself to you may not have anything in common with yours, you realized with a cold shock. 

“Please what?” Alastor hummed, wiping your slick from his face with the palm of the hand that hadn’t been bullying your walls. 

“I want you.” Fuck it, you’d beg. How could you not when he looked at you so intently, palm hiding the smile you knew lived on his face. “Please. You said I could have you.”

“You’ve had me.” Alastor chuckled as he continued to not touch you. “You’ve had my mouth. You’ve had my fingers even! That’s more than anyone’s had in a rather long time.” 

“I want-” 

“You didn’t stipulate what you wanted me to give you, my darling.” Alastor grinned wider as you whined. “It appears that it’s your lucky night however!” 

Alastor’s belt clinked as the shadow’s lowered you the rest of the way to the bed. He whipped the belt free from the loops with such force that it snapped as he sent it flying with a dramatic swing of his arm. 

Your fingers twitched as you watched him unbutton his pants. Freeing him from his clothes was a task you wanted to see to. You wanted to indulge in the process of stripping him as bare as you were. You wanted to feel his skin under your hands as you pushed the shirt from his shoulders, as you freed his cock from the confines of his pants. 

“Something the matter?” You hadn’t realized you were whining, whimpering soft pleas of ‘please’ as you watched him. 

“I want to touch you.” You admitted shamelessly.

He hummed for a moment, eyes cast toward where the ceiling gave way to the illusion of a night sky before snapping down to yours, “No.”

“No?” You were sure you had to have heard him wrong. You had to have heard him wrong. 

“No,” He said as if that explained everything as he pulled his straining cock from where his pants had been strangling it. 

Alastor climbed over you, cock in hand as he drew his face closer to yours. Arching your back, you tried to touch him in any way you could with what little movement you could manage as he slowly stroked a dark hand along his length, thumb swiping over the red tip. Not one part of you was able to touch him. 

“Please? Please, Alastor. Please?” 

“You beg so prettily.” Alastor said, red eyes drowning you in a sea of fire. “Do you need me?” 

“Yes.” Shame was long gone, you didn’t know her anymore. 

“I should make you wait.” He threatened, kissing you softly in contrast. “I should make you long for a taste of what I can offer you as you have had the gall to do to me. I should make you mad with longing, as you did to me. I should drive you to the edges of sanity for a simple consideration, as you did to me.”

“I need you,” You begged, terrified that he would leave you unfulfilled as you had been unknowingly doing to him. You whimpered it with ever accusation, a pea of need and a longing for mercy.

God, what did his words mean? You hadn’t intended to do that to him. Fuck, you couldn’t even begin to say how you had done it. How had you captured his gaze? His attention? His longing? 

His words sounded dangerously close to obsession. 

“Good,” He said, grinning down at you. 

“I want to see you,” A gasp slipped from you as he ran the head of his cock along your slit, head of his cock bulling your clit as he swiped up, coating himself in slick with each pass. 

“You are seeing me,” Alastor knew damn well what you meant, “You’re seeing as much of me as you need to.” 

“I want more,” Tears gathered in your eyes and one had the audacity to trace a path slowly down your face.

“No,” Leaning into you, he licked up the salty trail from your face as he pushed himself inside painfully slowly. The feeling of his soft tongue on your face contrasted with the silky steel of his cock as he inched deeper and deeper inside. 

He didn’t give you time to adjust. There was no teasing. Alastor didn’t hesitate or pause to see how much of him your smaller body could take.

He simply kept pushing forward even as he grinned down at you, demanding you take all of him. You moaned, arching as he filled you, stretching to try and somehow make room for his considerable length as pain tinged the pleasure. Your teeth bit at your lip as you tried to choke off the sound of your whimpered moans. 

You wanted more contact. You needed it. Yet there was nothing you could do to obtain anymore. The only point of contact between you and Alastor was his cock pushing inside one inch at a time. 

He was long and thick, not overly so but fitting his body well. That worried you. His body was larger than yours by a good amount and that looked perfectly reasonable on him felt monstrous inside you. 

Tentacles shifted, pulling your body taught as you neared the end of what you thought you could take. He kept giving though until his hips kissed your body and a delicious pain tinged the stretch.

“Good girl,” Alastor praised, smile tight. “I knew you could take all of me,” He said as if he had given you a choice. 

He bumped his hips against yours hard, taking delight in the moan that fell from your lips at the harsh nudge of his head against your cervix. Pulling out just as slowly as he had pushed in, you squirmed as you tried to get more. 

He paused, head just kissing your soaked opening and admired the shine of your slick coating him. It was a mess and he found the way it spread onto his trousers to be distasteful but that was alright, for now. They could be cleaned. 

“So needy,” He mused as he leaned over you again, bracing for a moment before slamming into you only to pause, fully seated in your warmth. 

“Am I touching you enough yet?” Alastor loomed over you again, fucking you and yet not. 

“More,” You wanted to scream from the frustration.

“I’ve got you stretched around me,” He pulled out slowly as he spoke, only to once again harshly slam his way home. “So tightly. There’s nowhere I am not reaching.” 

He was right but still, you begged for more.

“So greedy,” Alastor tsked in mock disappointment as he fell into a slow rhythm.

Shadows lifted your hips as he rose up onto his knees, changing the angle of his trusts. Strong hands wrapped around your hips as he picked up his pace, each thrust punctuated with the harsh slam of his hips into you. 

“Are you happy now?” He teased, running his hands along your sides as he fucked into you still too slowly. “I’m touching you more.” 

More. You wanted more. You needed more.

“Well?” His eyes burned into you. “Use your pretty little words and tell me.” 

“More?” You wanted to hate how pathetic you sounded, whining for more of his touch, to be granted more pleasure by him but you couldn’t manage to draw the shame to the surface. 

“More?” Alastor laughed, his body shifting to fold over you as he blocked out your view of the ceiling, not that you’d been able to take your eyes from him for more then fleeting moments. “More what?”

“More touch,” You moaned as he thrust into you harder. “Please, touch me more. Let me,” 

Alastor’s shadows let go of your legs and hips. He thrust into you as your hips fell to the bed with the force of his hips hitting yours. You struggled against the shadows around your wrists but gained no ground there. 

At least your legs had been freed. You ran them up and down his hips and legs. It was maddening how good it felt to feel him under the smoothe fabric of his trousers. Greedy, that’s what you knew he’d call you as you squeezed at his hips with your thighs, trying to expose some more of him, desperate for the feel of his skin.

“You are a naughty one, aren’t you?” Alastor leaned back and wrapped one of your thighs in his strong hand. 

As if it took no effort at all, he pulled your leg up to stretch up his torso, ankle hooking over his shoulder near his neck. You could feel the flex of his muscles with each thrust. 

He allowed his grip on your thigh to slacken as he pulled from you, cock dragging against your walls each time. His hand not clutching your leg rested on your abdomen and fuck, you could feel the pressure of his hand from inside with each thrust.

“Greedy little doll,” Alastor ran his tongue along your calf as he pushed harder down against your soft body. 

The pressure made every punishing thrust of his cock into you all the more intense. Your arms hurt from how they were stretched out over your head, joints pulled tight every time he pulled you to match his thrusts.

“I give you an ounce of freedom and what do you do with it?” Teeth scraped against your calf, “You try to take more even as I’m giving your cunt exactly what you need.”

“Need,” You parroted the only word that made sense to you as he drove you closer to the edge. “Need to touch you. Need more.” 

“I’ll give you more,” Alastor’s teeth sank into your calf, cutting deep.

Oh, that shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. You should have been screaming out in pain as blood gushed into Alastor’s mouth, spilling from the corners as he drank greedily from the wound. 

You didn’t scream though. No, what came spilling from your lips pulled Alastor’s into a bloody smile, smearing red against your skin. 

Ultimately, it was the look in his eyes and your blood on his lips that pushed you to the edge of the cliff. You were so wet. The sound of wet squelching was the music your moans sang along to. 

Alastor groaned, adding his voice to the chorus of carnal music your bodies danced to. Slapping skin was the beat he played your body to and now, the greatest part of your song was approaching. 

“Alastor,” His name was stuttered, broken as it fell from your mouth and oh, how he liked the way that sounded as you repeated it.

“Yes?” He looked down at you with eyes that you would have sworn was lit from within. You couldn’t look away, “You’re close, I can feel you.” 

Red eyes. Blood smeared lips. His hand pushed harder into you, ensuring the head of his cock bullied your sweet spot with each sharp thrust in. The bed creaked under you with the increasing force of his thrusts. 

“Didn’t I tell you?” He chuckled, “That I’d give you exactly what you need? I’d touch you, just how you need to come undone on my cock?” 

“Oh fuck,” You struggled to keep focus anywhere. Your eyes roamed him, hardly under your control. Red lips. Bloodstained hand gripping your thigh, nails cutting trails you didn’t even feel as you were driven closer and closer to the edge. 

“What do you need?” He said, filter flickering in and out of his voice as static grew around you. If asked, you’d say the static was caressing your skin though how that was possible, you’d have no idea. 

“You,” He felt so good, it was hard to think. 

“Fuck,” you pulled against the shadows as he laughed at you.

“Need to touch,” You begged as static seemed to rise and fall around you with every brutal thrust. “Please. Please, Al- Alastor, Please. I want to, I need to touch you. Please.” 

Tears were falling from your eyes, sparkling in the dim light of the room as Alastor leaned in, pushing your leg toward your chest. He reached deeper with each of his thrusts now, the head of his cock bullying your cervix harshly.

Blood dripped onto your chest from the wound on your calf but you didn’t care. You couldn’t care. He was so close now, folding you in half. You could feel the warmth of his body, so close and yet you could only touch him how he allowed, where he pressed his body into you. 

“I suppose,” He said after a hum, broken by nearly inaudible groan as your core fluttered around him with promise, “Since you’ve begged so prettily.” 

The shadows around your body dematerialized, turning to smoke as your arms sagged. The joints ached, from wrist to shoulder, it felt like they creaked as they moved. Yet you didn’t hesitate for a moment as your palms went to his arms.

Strong arms covered in well worn, soft fabric supported him. The muscles hidden from view felt strong as steel under your touch. 

“Is that what you wanted?” Alastor’s face was so close to yours now, you were drowning in him. 

“Yes, God, yes.” Close. You were so close now. His chest was firm and you wanted so badly to slip the buttons free. The idea of exposing more of him alone was near enough to send you feral, not that you had enough space or power to act on it. 

“I am your God here.” Blasphemous words fell from his blood tinged lips. “I am your God now. Only me.” 

He shifted his weight to one arm, large palm freed to run up your chest, smearing the spilled blood, only to wrap frighteningly tight around your throat. This shouldn’t turn you on as much as it did. The moan that spilled from your lips felt like it was born in your core, the sound rich and deep.

“Say it.” He shifted, rubbing his pubic bone and the hair that cushioned his cock against your clit, providing stimulation that had been missing for so long. “Say it and I’ll let you cum undone on my cock. Say it and I’ll give you the privilege of touching me while I...” 

Radio filter dropped in and out as he spoke, each dip in the filter was met with a caressing rise of the static, as if to try and distract you from the sound of his naked voice. 

“Oh my G-” You choked the word off even as his hand tightened around your throat. “Fuck, Alastor.” 

Lips kissed your shoulder as he leaned into you more, folding you even tighter. Sharp nips and soft kisses traced your jaw, just above where his fingers gripped. 

“Again,” He demanded, nipping your jaw as you tightened around him, dancing on the edge of a loaded spring. 

You ran your hands up his chest, along his shoulders as he demanded you say his name, that you call him a God. You held onto his shoulder for dear life- dear afterlife? Fuck, you couldn’t think. 

Finally, as your hand trailed up the back of his neck, you were rewarded with the feeling of skin under your hand. Soft skin burned under your fingers. The short hairs of his undercut were soft under your finger tips.

“Please, Alastor. Fuck, my god. You, you’re my god. Whatever you want. Please, please.”

You hadn’t expected him to kiss you but he cut your pleas off with his lips. He fucked you hard and fast, pounding you into the mattress without mercy as you tasted your blood on his tongue. 

Each time his hips slammed into you, he ground himself into your clit. 

“Mine,” He whispered as a perfectly placed thrust sent you flying off the cliff. 

You moaned deeply as you fluttered around him. Your legs pushed against the immovable wall that was Alastor as his name fell from your lips in a unholy prayer. 

“Mine.” He said again, voice naked as his power swelled around him. Shadows danced. Static swelled as dim lights flickered then died, leaving them cast in firelight alone. 

You could feel him twitch inside you as he slammed home with such force as to knock the air right out of your lungs. His grip flexed around your neck as he bit down on your lip, spilling blood into your mouth that he eagerly lapped up. 

“Mine,” He whispered, a look you could only describe as insane dancing in his eyes as he looked down at you. You struggled to take a breath as he twitched, the last spurts of his seed deposited deep inside of you. 

You gasped his name as he licked up the trail of blood that had run down your lip and jaw. 

“Mine and, ma chérie-” He said again. For the first time, true fear that you had made a deadly mistake in your hasty deal, “I do not share.” 

~~~~~<3

Tag list: @the-shark-named-sharon, @intensityofchaos, @xalygator, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @chibistar45

[slytherinslut0]

THEODORE NOTT- Little Star

Theodore Nott is an absolute fucking daddy👅 (Those eyes like if you don’t let me syd rn I s2g)

Tags: fluff, fwb, heartbreak, lovestory, passionate kissing, first time saying i love you, angst

“Theodore fucking Nott…”

His eyes darkened, transitioning to a shade of obsidian so intense they singlehandedly put the stormy midnight skies to ineffable shame; stoically crossing his arms over his chest as he mentally prepared to be torn to absolute fucking shambles after you’d found yet another reason to be mad at him.

“Are you out of your ever-loving mind?” You hissed, trying to hide the pain in your tone and replace it with some form of sarcasm. “Pansy Parkinson?”

Your throat was dry, anger flowing through your veins like fire as you paced the sparse length of his dorm room, the echoes of your shoes scuffing off the hardwood floor being the only sounds bouncing off the walls in the tension filled silence as you remained quiet for a moment, hands threading through your hair and scraping against your scalp as though you were trying to make it bleed.

“I can’t believe you almost canceled on me for Pansy Parkinson…”

Theo remained silent, letting out a slow breath from his lungs as he shifted his weight onto his other foot, leaning against the edge of his desk as he watched you pace, choosing to remain silent until you’d at least somewhat tired yourself of your anger towards him.

Theo knows you well enough by this point to know that when you’re like this, it’s absolutely pointless to try and intervene. He knows that if anything, all it would do is make matters worse.

“I’m tired, Theo…” you finally said, halting your pacing and shifting to face him. “I’m tried of this…the games, the fights, the pain…I’m tired of holding a candle for someone who doesn’t do the same for me…I’m tired of always feeling like I’m not good enough for you, like I need to always be looking over my shoulder, wondering what your next move is going to be…”

Theo’s near emotionless expression never faltered, his hardened demeanour staying set like stone as he stared at you; dark eyes piercing through your very soul as though he was seemingly seeing right past you. Part of you knew he was.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” You sighed, expressions softening. “I mean…I can’t be the only one that feels this way, Theo…aren’t you tired of this? Are you tired of me?”

“Oh, Bella Mia…I’m tired of this, certainly.” His voice was a deliciously slow drawl, sparking heat in your veins with every syllable. You immediately cursed yourself for near-instantly crumbling, merely at his use of Italian. “But tired of you, never.”

You felt your stomach twist, your chest constrict with emotion. You wanted to believe him, you wished those words were true; but you simply knew him too well at this point, knowing that this was an endless cycle of heartbreak, one that you were all-too-determined to finally bring to an end.

“Don’t bullshit me, Theo…”

you said, planting your feet firm in place, crossing your own arms over your chest now as you stared at him, silently admiring his features; the ones that have near-effortlessly made you fold so many fucking times before--his dark hair tousled and messy as it fell naturally over his forehead, the curly strands framing his sharp and intense eyes that have hardly even blinked once as he watched you--seemingly still emotionless.

“We’ve been here before…it’s never ending…you call me up when you’re bored, when you need someone, tell me pretty lies that keep me wrapped around your finger, only to ditch me until you need me again. I’m tired of being your little toy, Theo. I’m tired of being loved with the wrong intentions.”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Stellina…you know you’re so much more than that…”

Your entire body tensed at the nickname he called you, the word fluttering from his lips like a breathless sin, drowning you in the holy water that was your desire for him as you remembered the night he’d given you that name. The first night you’d hooked up under the stars in the Astronomy tower. Little Star.

He wet his lips, pushing up from his desk as he took a few strides toward you. “If you were just my toy, why would I cuddle you to sleep every weekend? Help you study for exams? Ensure you’re eating and drinking enough?”

His words rushed you, slamming your chest like a fifty pound cement brick. Gods, how you wanted to fold. How you wanted to drop down to his feet and beg him to love you, beg him to see you for more than just a quick fuck, but you knew it would do absolutely nothing. It’d been almost two years of begging to be more, and for all your efforts, you’ve gotten no where except for the pits of Theo’s bed, only to be kicked out in the morning.

It was an endless, heart wrenching cycle that you knew you needed to put an end to, now.

“Please, Theo…stop…” you said, your voice a trembling plea in the air; and as if on command, he did.

You shook your head, collecting yourself, taking a few steps back to keep the distance between your bodies--watching Theo’s expressions as his hardened facade slowly cracked, his eyebrows pinching and his throat bobbing as he swallowed, dark eyes scanning your features; flicking from your eyes to your lips and back up to meet your eyes.

“You’ve given me something I can’t live without, something I don’t think I’ll ever find in anyone else…but I can’t keep playing this little game with you, I can’t keep going on like everything is fine when it’s not…I love having you in my life but it hurts too much…I want to live, not just survive...” you whispered, voice dropping with every single word. “You have no intentions of being with me, after all this time, and I can’t keep doing it…I can’t keep acting like it doesn’t affect me.”

Theo’s jaw tensed, so tight it looked like it hurt, and he swallowed again. “That’s-“

You cut him off. “The truth.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, blanketing over the room, thick and sticky like cobwebs in a cave--clogging the channels of communication between your bodies. Theo’s eye twitched, a nearly impenetrable movement, but one you knew you’d never, ever miss--you’d simply stared into those dark eyes way too many times to not notice even the subtlest of changes.

“But is it, though?” Theo said, voice low and cautious, not daring to move even an inch closer as he stared at you. “Is it really the truth, or are you just letting this little misunderstanding fuel your emotions...you know I’ve only been with you…”

Your body vibrated. Anger creeping in. “Don’t you dare patronize me right now.”

He lifted his hands in surrender, large palms facing you as he raised them up against his shoulders.

“I’m not.” He said, gently. “Just think on it, for a second, Bella…please…you’re the only one…”

Please. He’d just fucking said please. You weren’t sure if you’d even heard him correctly.

“Don’t try to change my mind, Theo…” you whispered, voice unsteady and fingers trembling at your sides as you watched his expressions falter even further, his original confidence now entirely dissipating from his face. “There’s so much space between us, we were doomed for failure before we even began…and it’s entirely your fucking fault.”

His eyes narrowed, his eye twitching with increased intensity. “How the fuck is it my fault that you got attached?”

The room seemingly paused at his words, even his own expressions hardened as his brain registered what he’d just fucking said; but you, you hardly even flinched. Admittedly, you were just happy you’d finally got a sliver of his true thoughts, and not just the sweet, charming words he knew you’d want to hear.

“Are you really going to fucking stand there and blame me?” You hissed, unable to control your emotions as the energy and tension between your bodies continued to build. “After everything you’ve done?”

His face fell into a scowl. “You knew how I was before we started this-“

“Yes, I did, but stupid me for hoping that maybe one day you’d fucking change…” your voice cracked, your heart slamming your sternum. “I can’t keep loving you in the dark and then acting like a stranger in the light. Maybe you don’t see it but you’re fucking destroying me...sometimes I wish I’d never fucking met you…”

Everything paused. His breathing, his movement, his blinking. Fury crawled its way into his dark irises, shading them the colour of crimson; his fingers curling in against his palms, the tendons in his hands tightening like a noose prepared specifically for your neck. As fear gripped you, you swallowed.

His eyes narrowed. “You fucking what?”

Your lungs stalled, oxygen missing you. “I-“

Your words were cut short as Theo advanced on you, backing you up against the wall, two strong hands slamming against the wood next to your head, your heart racing so hard in your chest you were certain it would crack your sternum and threaten the integrity of your ribcage as Theo brought his face so dangerously close to yours you had to turn your head slightly to stop your lips from touching.

His breath was fire against your flesh, his exhales leaving his mouth in a low growl, brows furrowed in frustration.

“Do you want to say that again?”

You flinched, his body so close to yours you could taste the anger radiating off of him. “I didn’t-“

“No, you didn’t.” He hissed, shoulders crowding as he pressed against you. “Look at me.”

When you hesitated, one large hand slipped from the wood beside your head and latched on to your jaw, pinching your cheeks together as he directed your eyes to meet his--his once stoic and emotionless gaze now set ablaze with fury, singlehandedly searing through your soul with one single glance.

“Do you love me?”

Your heart leapt into your throat at the question, your nails digging into the wall behind you as you melted into it, your body slowly surrendering to his intoxicating touch, his fingers gripping your jaw with just enough force to illicit a burning desire between your thighs. You didn’t really need to process your response, knowing that lying to him right now would serve you absolutely no purpose.

Your voice was a mere breath as it left your lips. “Yes.”

“You love me.” It was more of a statement, not necessarily a question, and your entire body shuddered, the intensity of his eyes melting you from the inside out. “You fucking love me.”

You couldn’t find merely a single breath of air. “I-I do-“

His eyes flicked over your lips. “And if I told you I love you?”

The room spun, everything fading to black around you. “Y-you don’t-“

“I do.” He hissed, tugging you closer. “I do and I have for way too fucking long and it’s made me a coward--it’s made me so fucking scared to lose you that I push you away, I-I pretend like I don’t need you but I do. I fucking need you, principessa…”

Earth turned beneath your feet, yet everything in the room remained still. As though time had frozen in place. “Theo-“

“I fucking love you.”

He murmured; nothing but raw, untethered passion behind his words; freezing every single red millimetre of your bloodstream and turning it into nothing more than a cold blue system of ice.

Your chest swelled, fighting every urge in your body that wanted to kiss him. You almost couldn’t fucking believe your ears. “Say it again…”

“I love you.” He retorted almost instantly, meeting your eyes. “I’ve loved you since I watched you goto the Yule Ball with Malfoy and kiss him under the mistletoe in that beautiful emerald dress. I’ve loved you since the first time we kissed, the first time we hooked up in Astronomy Tower--hell, I’ve loved you since the fucking first year when you stole my seat in Potions and then stuck your tongue out at me just to spite me. I’ve loved you for so fucking long that I don’t remember what it feels like not to love you; and it terrifies me. Loving you is the scariest thing I’ve ever done.”

You couldn’t find words, couldn’t find breath, could only mutter the one fucking word that you knew you’d never forget, the one word that would never leave your mind even if you had stormed out of this dorm and never looked back.

“Theo…”

His jaw tensed, his nose practically brushing against yours as he stared down into your eyes; gaze so intense it diminished all of the oxygen within your lungs. “But yet you wish you’d never met me, huh?”

You stammered. “No, I-“

“Look into my fucking eyes and tell me that you meant it. Tell me that I mean fucking nothing to you, that all of this has been nothing.” He tugged you closer by the hold on your jaw, your collective exhales mingling as one, your lips so close they were practically brushing. “Go on, fucking tell me.”

You yelped as he tightened his grip. “I-I can’t, Theo…”

He leaned closer, seemingly holding his breath, his soft lips grazing over yours once, twice, three times before he pressed the full plush entirety of his mouth to yours--his lips working to devour, to kiss you as though he’d never kiss you again. His tongue was rough, insistent, slipping past your teeth without effort as he worked to devour you, tightening his grip on your jaw as his free hand gripped your hip with enough force to inflict a bruise. You mewled against him, melting into the kiss, fighting to pull away and catch your breath but he was relentless, breathing you in like he could inhale you; map the entirety of your taste into memory.

When he finally broke the kiss, panting mouth falling to your jawline, you gasped; sucking in lungfuls of air.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Tesoro mio…I’m so sorry for ever making you feel like you aren’t enough for me. You are enough, fuck you’re too much; I don’t fucking deserve you.”

As he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you tight to his frame, you melted, feeling yourself become one with his strength, his warmth, his adoration.

“Theo…I-I don’t…”

He thrust a hand through your hair, pulling your head against his chest, his chin resting gently on the top of it. “I’m going to make it up to you…everything I’ve done, I’ll remedy it, I promise I will…Bella Mia…”

You exhaled, sinking against his firm hold. “I love you, Theo…”

“And I love you, Bella..”

[slasherscream]

Wash Day

pairing:  jordan li x fem black!reader

"You wanna go out to dinner tonight? Know I've been busy this week. Feel like I've barely seen you." Jordan mutters against the shell of your ear. You shiver as he gives the skin a teasing kiss.

Already you're pouting, knowing what your answer has to be even though you wish so desperately that you could give a different response. "Wish I could, Jordan. But my night is already spoken for."

You're spun around by a hand on your hip, playful and fast so that you can't stop yourself from falling into his chest. Your hands grip his jacket for balance, and he reaches up to hold one of them with his own. "You got plans? With who? Cate? Cancel them."

"Brat." You laugh.

How demanding Jordan is would be less cute if they ever asked you to do something they themselves wouldn't. As it stands, with the way they do anything you ask at the drop of a hat, all you can do is roll your eyes and pretend to be exasperated instead of smitten.

"Fine, don't cancel. I'll just come with." Jordan sighs, as if seeing his best friend is a great tragedy (Which it is. Cate being there means you'll smack Jordan's hand away when he tries to sneak it up your skirt at dinner.)

"What if we want a girls' night?" You shoot back, grinning.

Jordan shifts. The hands on your waist are smaller now, but pull you in closer, "You're the one who's feeling bratty. Really have been neglecting you this week, huh baby?" Jordan smirks, in that condescending way she does when she realizes you're trying to get a certain reaction out of her.

"The plans aren't with Cate, and they aren't cancellable." You sigh, deciding not to rise to the bait of her tone, smirk, or the little circles she's rubbing into your skin.

"What are these oh so important plans?" Jordan asks.

"Do you know how many white boys have complimented my hair today, Jordan?" You ask.

"Pardon?" Jordan blinks at what seems to be a completely unrelated topic.

"Six! Six white boys complimented my braids today. I'm about to kill myself, if we're being honest. I must looked fucked up, and you didn't even say anything." You pout.

You've been having a bit of a rough day, to say the least.

"You look beautiful. What are you talking about?" Jordan asks, confused but nonetheless, wanting to make you feel better. "If you didn't look good I'd very politely... have Cate tell you. But you look great! You've been getting compliments all day, you just said it yourself!"

"Wow, you'd throw Cate under the bus, huh coward?"

"Cate isn't interested in making out with you every spare second of the day. I am. You can be mad at her. I've got stuff I wanna do." Jordan's grin is downright salacious. You smack her arm, trying not to smile.

"Ah. You are operating under the same delusions of the white man. I see that now, I'll let go of the anger." You say, sighing and kissing Jordan on the cheek.

"First of all, don't you ever fucking insult me like that again.... Second of all, what particular delusion am I sharing with the white man?" Jordan asks.

"White men only compliment a black woman's hairstyle at two points in time. When it's brand spanking, fresh off the lot new. Or when it's started to look like shit. I've had these braids in for longer than... is your business. So guess which compliment I'm getting right now?"

"I fucking refuse to say your hair looks like shit, and this conversation feels like a trap. You're always beautiful to me." Jordan says.

"Thank you, baby. But we live on a campus where the diversity win photographers lurk around every corner trying to get pictures of 'The Diversity Win Couple' in our most natural state. I need to take out my braids tonight before I talk crazy in the group chat, and Andre sends me a 'this you?' pic that will devastate my argument." You shake your head somberly, already imagining the fate that lies before you.

"You could stop talking crazy in the group chat." Jordan teases.

"You know damn well I'm not capable of that."

The two of you burst into laughter, unable to keep it together. Jordan has always been obsessed with how easy it is for you to make them laugh.

"Is that gonna take up your whole night, though, baby? We don't have to go to dinner early! We'll go wherever you want." Jordan insists, tone bordering on begging.

Whenever they come out of a particularly busy week, they spend the next two weeks glued to you. As if to make up for it. The clinginess is a stark difference from how they acted before you made things official.

"Jordan, look at the braids on my head."

"I'm looking at them."

"Are you seeing them with your eyes?"

"Yes, and my eyes are sending the image to my brain, which I assure you is working. What's your point here, baby?"

"How long do you think it will take me to undo these, detangle my hair, wash it, deep condition it, and then wash it again?"

Jordan squints at you for a long moment, analyzing your hairstyle and the utter displeasure on your face. "I dunno? Maybe... four hours?"

"I should fucking murder you. Just for that, you're helping me with wash day now."

Jordan's face breaks into a grin like sunlight breaking through clouds, "So I do get to spend the day with you, is what you're saying?"

"Yeah, baby, you get to spend the day with me." You click your tongue at them. Pitying them for the ache in their fingers they're about to feel. They complain about curling their God damn hair a couple of times a week. You suspect you'll be ready to kill one another by hour two.

But you also missed them a lot. Or whatever.

"Don't cut too high up, Jordie. " You whine, shifting his grip lower on your braid, to an acceptable cutting length of the hair extension.

"Baby... can I ask you a very serious question right now?" Jordan hums, obediently cutting where you instructed.

"What?" You ask, already starting to unbraid the piece.

"How... long... do you think your hair is?" Jordan, to be fair to him, does ask the question quietly and with the proper amount of hesitation.

"How dare you! Are you calling me bald?" You gasp, stifling a laugh.

"Don't do this to me. You are prolonging the process. We can cut these braids at least four inches higher than what we're doing right now." Jordan says, you can't see his face but you can tell he's also trying not to laugh. Bastard.

"My hair grew!"

"From the top of your head. It did not magically lower itself further into the fucking braid extension." Jordan loses the battle and laughs.

"Jordan Li do not fucking cut off any of my hair or I'll cry and then blow up this school."

"Of course, princess." Jordan kisses the top of your head and gives in to your terrorist demands because you're cute.

"So how am I supposed to do it, baby?" Jordan claps her hands and you smile at how eager she sounds to help.

"You're gonna want to section it off. Do like... eight parts of hair. That'll make literally every step after this easier. Then you're gonna comb the hair from the bottom, 'kay?"

"Got it."

Jordan starts the process of parting your hair, careful and slow. Fingers sectioning off eight chunks of hair that she keeps apart with the silky hair ties you hand her over your shoulder.

"You sure you don't want me to comb it, Jordie?" You ask Jordan.

"I'll be gentle, don't worry. You always say your shoulders hurt at the end of wash day. Which is crazy, because I've seen what you can bench. I've got you, baby." She spritzes extra detangler spray on each of the parts she just made.

You move around slightly, a little sore already from sitting still between her legs for so long, but smiling to yourself nonetheless. A pillow is suddenly shoved into your face and you lean away, confused.

"Sit on this one instead. It'll be better." Jordan says.

You switch out the pillows and tilt your head back to look at her. "Why're you always right? Is that your kink?"

"No, my kink is bossing you around." Jordan smirks and leans down to give you a kiss. Despite the awkward angle you can't help trying to deepen the contact. The feeling of her soft lips sliding against yours, firm but gentle, is always irresistible.

She hums and gives you a playful nip before pulling away. "Don't start something we can't finish."

"Who says we can't?" You shoot back, staring up at her.

"You will be pissed an hour from now if you glance at your phone and we haven't made any progress." Jordan runs her thumb along your bottom lip before pushing your head forward.

"Who says it will take an hour?"

"I do. If we start, I'm not stopping." Jordan's voice dips seductively and a line of tension runs up the length of your spine.

You smack her thigh for teasing you, "Shut up."

"Is this comfortable?" Jordan frowns, staring at the angle your head has to be at to fit in the bowl of the sink.

"No, but this is the best angle this chair can get me to." You say. Usually you just wash in the shower, but since Jordan is helping the sink makes more sense.

Jordan stands, scowling at how uncomfortable you seem. Suddenly he grins, "Baby! Make a chair with your shields. Something that leans."

You were getting a lot better with being able to make complex shapes, with less concentration. You stand up from the chair you'd dragged from the common room. Jordan pulls it out of the way and gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

It takes you a minute, but you conjure a shield that resembles a salon chair and the both of you let out identical cries of delight.

Jordan pushes you to sit down with a kiss on your forehead. "That's my fucking girl. Tell me if the temperature is too hot."

Jordan washes your hair with the perfect amount of pressure and thoroughness. He's nearly rhythmic in his methodical cleaning. You didn't realize your eyes had fluttered closed until you hear him laugh. You open one eye to glare at him playfully, knowing he won't get soap in them.

"What's so funny?"

"You're like a cat. You gonna purr for me, baby?" He smirks.

"If you keep going like that, yeah. Or I'll fall asleep. Please don't make me fall asleep. I'll fall on my ass." You say.

"I'll endeavor to make the rest of the wash as unpleasant as possible."

He does not do that. And at one point you do fall asleep. Jordan catches you before you can actually fall. 'Thank God for Supe reflexes', you both think. You spend the rest of the wash with your eyes wide open and Jordan laughing at you.

"Did we put too much?" Jordan asks, dabbing at another drip of oil and conditioner down your brow.

"No, this is typical. The hair has to be saturated. It's dripping because the oil is you know... getting hot and even more liquid-y." You say, eyeing the episode of Property Brother's you'd both decided on. "Hm. I think that woman should be put to death."

Jordan was keeping vigilant about dabbing at the sides of your face. You'd been in charge of one side, at first. But Jordan seemed to have a sixth sense for when the other side was dripping as well, and kept interrupting you before you could get to any trickles of oil. You'd given up and just started narrating the show for her as she wasn't taking her eyes off the line of your brow.

"Why? What did she do?" Jordan dabs again.

"She wants to put up a fence that blocks the view of the historical house that she did not have to buy if she wanted a fence so bad." You roll your eyes.

"Is the city gonna let her?"

"No."

"Haha. 500k down the drain." Jordan cackles.

"Anti-gentrification win!" You hold out your fist for a fist-bump and Jordan obediently obliges, oil soaked rag still held in her fist.

A comfortable silence falls over you two, besides the noise of the portable hair dryer.

"I really think we put too much, baby." Jordan mutters, dabbing again.

"I have been doing this since I was twelve, Jordan!"

"Play the video again, one speed slower this time." Jordan's eyes are glued to your phone.

You're sitting between his legs again, cushioned by the (superior) pillow of his choosing. You were trying to decide on a simple hair style when Jordan saw a picture of Mini Twists and got excited to see you in them.

("You've already seen me in mini twists, Jordie. What are you talking about?"

"You weren't my girlfriend the last time you wore them though! Now you are, and I get to look at you as much as I want."

So that had decided that.)

"Okay, I think I got it. 'M gonna start with a braid base, without making the parts too big, then start twisting the hair with two strands, and that will make it last longer, right?"

"Right." You smile at how focused Jordan sounds.

They're hot when they're in the zone. You just didn't think they'd get so into helping you with your hair. But you should have known, really. Acts of service paired with their inner perfectionist? You're completely relaxed at this point. You know Jordan won't have you walking out of your room looking crazy, come hell or high water.

"Is this okay?" Jordan shows you a picture of the back of your head, three rows of twists done.

You gasp, snatching the phone, "That's my head?"

"Uh... yes?" Jordan answers slowly.

"The back of my head? The head on my body?"

"Should I start over?"

"Fuck you! These are almost better than mine. Who's hair are you playing around in when I'm not here, Jordan LI?"

"Stop using my fucking government name." Jordan tilts your head back to look at him with a gentle grip on your neck, grinning down at you. "You play too fucking much. You sure they're good, princess? It's okay if I need to redo them."

"I'm gonna give you orgasms that will make you lose brain cells."

"Baby!" Jordan laughs, rolling his eyes. "I'm serious. Do any of them need redoing?"

"The first row is really fucking good for a beginner but the second row is damn near perfect." You say.

"I'll redo the first row then." Jordan kisses your temple before moving you to face forward again.

"I said they were good!" You protest.

"But the second row is better. I want the whole thing to look good. Don't want you feeling self conscious cause I fucked up the style, y'know." Jordan mumbles.

You tilt your head back to look at him, ignoring him sucking his teeth (a habit he picked up from you) at you moving.

"I love you, Jordie. Thank you for helping me today." You coo.

You watch his face go red with a grin. He grins back, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss. When he tries to pull away too soon you whine, holding him close by the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Wanna kiss you. You're sweet." You breathe the words against his lips, insistently continuing the caress.

He sighs, smitten, and let's you lead for a moment. Hand finding it's way back to your neck and tightening just enough to make you gasp. Still, he pulls away too quickly.

"I'm gonna fuck you up." You scowl at him.

"The only thing you're gonna fuck up is your neck, brat. This is a horrible angle for you." Jordan's smile is so soft at the edges it's your turn to blush.

"Speak for yourself."

"No, I'm too busy speaking on behalf of your neck."

"Well, I'm speaking on behalf of my-"

"Pussy?"

"I was going to say raging hormones but that's a lot more to the point, yeah. Or maybe I was going to say something romantic. You ever think of that, Jordie? Huh?"

"Were you going to say something romantic?" Jordan hums.

"No."

"Let me do your hair in peace." Jordan turns you forward again with a laugh.

"Turn this way." Jordan instructs, snapping another picture.

"I don't know whether you're worse than an Instagram hair stylist or a Mom." You ponder, words barely audible because your girlfriend is scary.

"Shut up and smile." Jordan scowls.

As if engraved into your genetic code the words make you do just that. You suffer through another 20 pictures being taken before you say enough is enough.

Jordan happily shows you the pictures, as if you hadn't seen yourself in the mirror just a minute ago. Or ever. The grin on her face so wide it looks like it hurts.

"You like it, baby?" Jordan asks again.

"It looks so good, Jordie. It looks like I paid someone honestly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You drape your arms around her shoulders. "How's this angle?"

"For what?" Jordan tilts her head to the side, puzzled.

"For kissing. Since you were so worried about the angle before."

Jordan scoffs, but she's the one to pull you in. She doesn't pull away this time.

A/N: i needed reader to have a goofball vibe because i have a goofball vibe. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anonymous ask saying you enjoyed it! a writers fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | delicate

friend group shenanigans | set after pink skies | series masterlist

song: delicate by taylor swift

“good morning,” you yawned, rubbing your eyes as you exited your room. travis was taking up the entire couch, doubled over in pain. “woah, what happened to you?” 

“food poisoning,” he replied, wincing. he had a blanket draped over him, acting like he was on his deathbed. 

connor walked in with a bowl of chicken soup for his brother, rolling his eyes as he shoved travis’ feet off the couch to have somewhere to sit, “and whose fault is that?” 

clarisse was sitting next to chris on the love seat, shaking her head, “told you not to get a hot dog from the gas station.” 

“rookie mistake, babe,” chris chimed in, “whenever you tell trav not to do something, he does it. it’s in his dna.” 

“connor shares the same dna as him and he’s not like that,” you called out from the kitchen, making yourself a bowl of cereal. the dining hall was already closed for breakfast since you woke up so late, thanks to the boy who was still passed out on your bed.

you couldn’t remember the last time you slept so well. you felt bad for leaving him alone, sleep in your room but your stomach was growling and if you didn't get some food in your system soon, you were bound to catch an attitude.

“that’s because i got the brains between the two of us,” connor joked, scoffing, “i let him borrow some brain cells once in a while.” 

“fuck you guys,” travis complained, sitting up. “i’m dying here and you’re making fun of me?!” 

you walked out into the living room, pulling one of the bar stools to sit closer to the group. your eyes darted to the screen in front of you, internally cheering at the familiar scene. they were watching barbie. the five of you watched in silence, letting out little laughs at the jokes, until the door of your room opened. 

luke walked out, half-asleep, and made his way over to you. he kissed your lips, mumbling, “g’mornin, five star.” 

“mornin’, pretty boy,” you squeezed the arm he wrapped around your waist. he sent you a lazy smile, nuzzling his face in your neck before disappearing into his bedroom. you turned your attention back to the screen, shoving a spoonful of fruit loops in your mouth, “oh, i love this part!” 

when you were the only one who burst out laughing at ken’s “sublime!” you turned to look at your friends, wondering why none of them were laughing. they were staring at you with wide-eyes, jaws ajar. their eyes were bright, lips breaking out into teasing smiles. oh. oh. 

“castellan get your ass in here, now!” 

luke walked out of his room with his eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why chris was screaming his name like bloody fucking murder at 12 pm on a sunday. surely, he hadn’t done anything wrong yet– he just woke up! he put his glasses on, finally able to see the looks on everyone’s faces, including your red cheeks and sheepish smile. 

luke didn’t even realize what he did until that moment. it just felt natural for him to greet you good morning, like he always did anyway, but it’s just sweeter this time around because he’s allowed to kiss you now, at least he thinks he’s allowed to. he was a little butthurt that he woke up alone on your bed this morning so when he walked out and was only able to make out your silhouette, he didn’t think twice before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. he got a taste of what it was like to kiss you and he couldn’t help himself to do it again.

he thinks now, though, that perhaps he should’ve thought twice because there was no way your friends would let the two of you leave until you explained. luke’s face paled at the sight of his friends. were you mad at him for kissing you in front of people? if his head wasn't spinning with all the negative thoughts he was having, he would see your face and understand that you were happy your friends knew about the two of you.

clarisse clicked on the remote to pause the movie, “soooo… seems like we skipped a few chapters.” 

“more like we finally got to the next chapter,” travis snorted, earning a smack on the back of his head from connor. the older stoll hissed, “don’t act like y’all weren’t tired of their pining.” 

chris rolled his eyes, eyes darting between you and luke. he was trying to fight the smile threatening to show on his features, “so care to enlighten us, guys?”

"luke?"

luke's head snapped to the sound of your voice, pulling him out of his head. you had an arm outstretched, beckoning him over to where you stood. it made luke feel giddy inside as he trotted over to you, finding comfort in standing behind you and placing his chin on top of your head. he swung an arm around you, hoping that you wouldn't see the thumbs-up he sent to the boys.

"yeaaaaahhhh castellan's got the girl!"

"oh my god," you whispered, turning around to bury your head in luke's chest. you were blushing furiously at the cheers from your friends. you think you might've even heard travis complaining about losing a bet to connor. clarisse and chris were babbling about how double dates would be fun, though clar mentioned that luke and chris would end up third and fourth-wheeling the two of you more than anything. "our friends are crazy."

the arm he had wrapped around you pulled you in tighter. you felt the rumbling of his chest, "they are."

"you guys are so fucking cute," clarisse said, a hand over her heart. "y/n, he finally made a move!"

you turned back around to face clarisse and the group, "actually i made the move!"

luke scoffed, "you did not. i kissed you."

"i asked you to come in last night."

"yeah i believe, y/n," connor piped in, shrugging. "luke was not gonna make a move."

clarisse gasped, placing a hand on chris' bicep, "we should compare notes."

your eyes widened, "do not compare notes."

"wait, what do you mean notes?" luke asked quizzically. "was five star talking about me?"

"clarisse i will never forgive you if you tell him anything."

"i'm not gonna tell him directly," she hummed, lacing her fingers with chris', "but if i told my boyfriend who happens to be his best friend and he tells luke, then, technically, i haven't done anything wrong."

"y/n, i assure you, you should not be embarrassed," travis said, snickering. it was luke's turn to panic. "whatever you said to clarisse about lover boy here, i'm sure it can't be any worse than what he's said about you to us over the last two months."

chris cleared his throat, putting on his best luke impression, "five star is so pretty. i don't think i've ever seen anyone so beautiful."

"five star is so funny. i can listen to her talk about anything for hours." this was travis.

"oh, luke where were you today? we haven't seen you all day," connor said in his regular voice before deepening his voice a tad bit to match luke's, "oh, i was hanging out with five star and we accidentally fell asleep by the lake."

"not to mention the dozens of songs he wrote about you," chris teased, "thanks for inspiring the second album, but bro was like alexander hamilton writing those songs."

luke whined, tugging on his hood to cover his face, "guys, stoppp."

"oh my god, y/n, you should see his tweets."

"do not show her my tweets!"

you burst out in laughter, getting up from your seat. you wrapped your arms around luke and he took the opportunity to hide his face in the crook of your neck. you could feel the heat on his cheeks against your skin. you played with the hair on the nape of his neck, "all right, guys, enough."

"can we go back to your room?" luke whispered in your ear, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"mhm," you couldn't deny him of anything if you tried, "come on, pretty boy."

you couldn't help but laugh and throw up the middle finger to your friends as they called out jokes and kissing noises as you and luke went off. it was funny, really, how they all knew there was something between you and luke before the two of you did. it was nice to know that your friends were supportive, regardless of how annoying they would be now that you and luke were together.

luke collapsed on his side of your bed, unable to wipe the dopey smile on his face. you sat on his lap, leaning over to press kisses on his cheeks, "just so we're clear, i wanna see the tweets. and hear the songs."

"well you can't ask me that while you're sitting on top of me because i'll fold."

you giggled, kissing his lips passionately. his hands gripped your waist as he sat up, getting in a more comfortable position, "that's the point, castellan."

luke pinched your side, chuckling when you squealed, "you're evil."

"uh huh," you mumbled, "you know we're never gonna catch a break with our friends now right?"

"honestly, i haven't caught a break from the boys since i met you," he admitted, "but at least i get to kiss you now, so it's really a win."

you couldn't agree more.

[dvrcos]

more mic’d up andrew minyard when?? mic’d up AARON minyard when?? other mic’d up fox when??

Aaron Minyard Mic’d up

Hes reluctant to do it for a long fucking time

He thinks its kinda dumb

But he mostly doesn’t wanna get scolded for what his mic would pick up

Because my boy is a shit talker

He’s saying everything and anything he can to rile up the other team

He’s even trying to rile up the other foxes tbh

So when he finally agrees he makes coach promise he won’t get in trouble

He body slams the opposing striker (because if there’s one thing Aaron’s gonna do it’s put his all into a body check)

And the opposing striker is mad like visibly fuming

He’s all up in Aaron’s space, a moment away from starting a fight

And Aaron thinks it’s the funniest thing ever

He’s laughing his ass off while loudly crashing their raquets against each other

‘What you’re upset I hit you? I’m five foot nothing dude sounds like a you problem’

And he’s lucky the striker gets pulled away by his teammates cause he’s over 6 foot

And Aaron is all bark, no bite

*whispering into the mic as he walks away* ‘I’ll be honest guys, he would’ve kicked my ass but that was to good of an opportunity to pass up’

His best moments come from when he trips up a striker

*sends the striker sprawling onto their ass* ‘womp womp’

*body slams one into the wall* ‘maybe next time man’

*slams the ball out of their racquet* ‘that’s not yours cmon now’

He flirts with the opposing team but in German

Because he’s discovered that when they can’t understand what he’s saying it really gets to them

And he’ll slip in a word in English so they figure out he’s flirting

And they’re even more pissed and distracted that they mess up what would’ve been a solid play

‘What the fuck did you just say to me!?’

‘Hey, hey sorry just trying to have a nice conversation’ *winks and walks away to start up play again*

*Opposing striker, absolutely baffled and fuming*

His striker accidentally trips him up and gets past to Andrew

And Aaron doesn’t even have to look at Andrew to see the heavy bored expression he’s giving him

Aaron knows he’s probably plotting where to hide his body if he does it again

*Andrew, shaking his head in disappointment as he smacks the ball away*

*Aaron rolling onto his knees and pleading for mercy while laughing* ‘my bad, let’s just talk this out I promise it won’t happen again it was Nicky’s fault’

This happens a lot whenever they’re both on the court

Because making a joke out of Exy is one of the only ways they both actually enjoy it sometimes

And it’s something they can actually bond over

But oh god forbid if someone on the other team says something about Andrew

That’s when Aaron just looses it

Doesn’t matter if the player is ten times his size, he becomes all bite

‘Put your psycho pet brother on a leash already’

And Aaron’s helmets already off and he’s going for his gloves next

*Matt grabbing him and holding him back* ‘cmon Matt it’ll be good, he asked for it, it’ll be good’

‘No Aaron, no red cards’

‘But it’ll be fun’ *tries to throw his helmet at the other player*

He gets a yellow card for it but he proudly displays it by tucking it into the front of his jersey

‘I’m gonna frame this one coach’ he tells Wymack as he sits on the bench for his penalty

Kevin’s always the most annoyed by Aaron’s shit talking because it threatens the game and Aaron’s wellbeing

And he also gets the most riled up whenever Aaron’s turns it onto him

*Kevin storming over to Aaron after he almost gets ejected* ‘Stop saying shit that’ll get you kicked out of the game you idiot’

‘Oh cmon Day I know you like em a little feisty, I’m just trying to make you happy my Queen,’

And Kevin just smacks the top of his helmet and turns to walk away

‘I can get on my knees to apologize if you want, I know you like me on my knees’

And Kevin just has to tune him out cause Aaron won’t stop if he feeds into it

He gets really into the game sometimes though (because he’s competitive and he can’t help it)

Like he’s screaming and cheering so loud at certain points the mic is crackling

*Kevin and Neil scoring the goal that pulls them into the lead* ‘LETS FUCKING GO’

When he’s on the bench he’s the one banging on the plexi glass

He’s screaming at them to get their heads out of their asses or cheering them on even though they can’t hear him

And then he gets out of his competitive streak and he’s lowkey embarrassed

‘If that gets posted online I will never recover’ he mutters after he’s just jumped into Matt’s arms in celebration

When the foxes listen to his recording later they’re shocked by how creative Aaron gets with all of it

And they find it hilarious

And endearing

And they like that they’re getting to see a new part of Aaron as he gets more comfortable with the team

He is by far one of the most aggressive of the foxes when he’s on the court, both physically and verbally

And the fans absolutely eat it the fuck up

But Wymack doesn’t mic him up often because he is lowkey a liability because of what he says

[eggyrocks]

bruised part eighteen -> three times

m. list

♪ now playing: space song by beach house ♪

Iwaizumi almost caves three times.

1: That night. In Bokuto’s apartment.

Their position on the couch is uncomfortable and slightly awkward. A clumsy entanglement of numb limbs. She lies on top of him, delicate arm outstretched and resting on the cushion above them and her cheek flat against his chest.

He’s not even pretending to pay attention to the show that plays. His hand is lightly cupping the back of her head, dragging it down to her neck and smoothing out the frizzy ends of her hair. And he’s looking at her, completely focused on her. Enamored with her. Consumed by her. “That guy’s such a fucking dick,” she commentates on the show, voice muffled by the way her cheek is pressed into his chest. “Hope he dies.”

Iwaizumi chuckles lowly. “You can’t wish death on every single person that pisses you off.”

“Why not?” she counters. “It’s not like it’s ever worked. Oh, and by the way,” she says, lifting her head and turning to face Iwaizumi, her chin now sitting just below his neck, “those Etsy witches are scammers. You still have a full head of hair.”

He tries not to be distracted by her sudden increase in proximity or insecure about the details of his face and how well she can probably see them. Iwaizumi quirks an eyebrow at her. “And you’re mad about that?”

She makes a little humming noise of contemplation, and then raises a hand to run through the ends of his hair. Iwaizumi tenses at once, in an attempt not to react, and is hyperaware of where exactly his gaze lands, and is careful not to let it wander. “Nah, I guess not,” she decides, dropping her hand back down. He mourns the loss of it. “You look handsome as is. But I want my money back.”

Iwaizumi thinks, for a second, about reaching into his pocket and fishing whatever compensation she was looking for out of his own wallet. A form of apology for his hairline not receding.

Instead, he sort of just stares, still in awe that their closeness, on how it doesn't even seem to make her flinch. So much in awe that Iwaizumi can't even think of anything to say. She blinks at him, as if waiting for something, and he's sure, then, that he's going to kiss her.

Waiting be damned. He's waited long enough.

The universe doesn't seem to agree, though, and decides to force Iwaizumi to keep his word. Because the front door slams open, hitting the wall behind it with such a force that Iwaizumi is sure there's going to be a hole in the wall. And through it comes Bokuto and Akaashi, attached at the mouth and hands wandering. So entranced in each other they don't even seem to notice that they have witnesess.

"Well damn," she mumbles, looking past Iwaizumi to see them, "took them long enough."

Iwaizumi looks away. It feels too intimate, for him to witness. "He totally forgot you're here."

"Yeah," she agrees, and then yells out, "Oi!"

They break apart at once, Bokuto standing up proudly with a bright grin and Akaashi flushed red and unable to make eye contact. She's still in Iwaizumi's arms when she says, "Date went well?"

2: When Oikawa left, two weeks later.

He was honestly almost surprised to see how it affected her. Especially given the amount of threats she had made on his life and his face for the duration of his stay. But she had hugged him for so long and told him she didn't want him to leave and Iwaizumi could hear in her voice the way she held back tears.

She didn't hold them back on the car ride home.

"Ugh," she groaned, wiping away tears with the sleeve of her hoodie. "God, I can't believe I'm crying over fucking Oikawa Tooru."

Iwaizumi can't believe it either. It's rare to see her cry over anything. He feels oddly and uncomfortably jealous, and pretends that he does not. He pulls up in front of their apartment, feeling grateful he doesn't have to drop her off at Bokuto's now that her arm's clear of a sling, and places the car in park. "Wanna fly to Argentina?" he offers, half-joking.

She sniffles, trying to calm herself, and gives a weary smile. "Only if you're coming with me."

And fuck, it's there again. That feeling, that urge to lean in and kiss her. It hits him hard, so hard he feels momentarily dizzy. She looks at him from across the center console with big, wet eyes and god, it's all that he wants.

And then, there is a slight tremble to her lower lip, and tears begins to rapidly pool in her eyes. And before Iwaizumi has the chance to say anything else, she's crying again.

He settles for holding her. It wasn't the right time, anyways, he reasons.

3: A month later, at her gym.

"Keep your elbows up Izumi," she calls from the outside the ring, standing next to Iwaziumi with her arms crossed. Inside of the ring are two sparring thirteen-year-olds, who fight with a tenacity that almost scares Iwaizumi.

It's the same way she fought, when she was that age.

She leans in closer to Iwaizumi and whispers, "They never fucking listen to me. Good thing I'm not their goddamn coach, or anything."

"Yeah, well when you were thirteen, you punched your coach in the dick, so," Iwaizumi reminds her, grinning at the incident. He remembers it so clearly. At the time he was amazed he got to witness it, and he took the first opportunity he had to tell everyone at school about it.

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever, that dickhead totally deserved it. He was hitting on my gross mom," she insists, as if the incident isn't over ten years old at this point, and she still has to defend herself. "And he like, totally sucked as a coach. He offered me a beer for every win I got."

Iwaizumi whips his head around at this information. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, and I won a lot when I was thirteen. It was before my slump."

He scoffs. "God, no wonder you're like this. Every adult figure in your life was negligent at best."

There's a gentle elbow nudging into his side. "What the hell do you mean 'no wonder you turned out like this'? I thought you were supposed to be in love with me or something."

The reminder brings a bit of heat to his cheeks, but Iwaizumi grins either way. "Of course I'm in love with you," he says. "I was in love with you back then, too. I like that you're a little insane," he teases lightly.

And she looks up at him with this big, admiring gaze and Iwaizumi can see it, then, how much she loves him. He doesn't know how he hasn't seen it before. He can almost feel it rolling off of her in waves.

He wants to kiss her then, too. That same, overwhelming feeling. He would, if not for the two thirteen-year-olds punching each other in the face, trying to draw blood.

It happens when he thinks it won't.

Iwaizumi is getting home from work, muscles tight and eyes strained from staring at a screen for longer than he's used to.

She's in the kitchen when he gets home, and she is fighting a losing battle. The first thing he sees as he abandons his work bag on the ground and clears the threshold is her, standing in front of an oven, holding a plate of what he assumes to be brownies. But it's soupy and chunky and steams like they were just pulled from the oven.

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. "What the fuck is that?"

She groans. "I tried to make you brownies," she whines, and is quick to abandon the pan on top of the stove. "But, obviously, my skills lie elsewhere."

"Why were you trying to make me brownies?" he questions, entering further into the kitchen to try and get a better look at them. He winces. There's oily looking puddles on the surface. He would try it, just show some appreciation, but he thinks it might kill him.

She leans up against the kitchen counter and crosses her arms over her chest. "Because I'm in love with you, obviously."

And it's just something about the way she says it. So casually. So matter-of-fact. She loves him. It's plain, it's simple, it's true. She's in love with him. The same way that he's in love with her.

So really, Iwaizumi can't be blamed. He really just can't hold it back, anymore.

Iwaziumi turns from the hot mess of a dessert she tried to make for him, and faces her. And in a second, he has her face pressed gently between each of his hands. There's no time, really, for him to think about what he's doing. He just does it.

He just kisses her.

And she kisses him back.

Standing there, in their kitchen, Iwaizumi kisses her, and she kisses back, and something in his chest explodes.

-> fun facts!

only one chapter left! ahhhhh!

yachi may have walked into the kitchen shortly after this and screamed

she immediately texted her gc with oikawa and hinata

and now no one will know peace

i changed the song from hypernight to space song bc it felt more fitting

highly recommend reading while listening

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @rinheartshyunlix @causenessus @makkir0ll @cr4yolaas @k8nicole @cannibalsrider @bookworm-center @frootloopscos @ekeio @michivrse @phoenix-eclipses @hermaeusmorax @milkwithspiceyicecubes @anonnreader777 @mehreya @kmwife @rrosiitas @riousluvs @atsumou @ryeyeyer @faesix @milesmoralesluvs @bae-ashlynn @um-no-ok @kozuskitten @ncthourss @ms-downhill @bellamsby @karasyuu @k0z3me @blamemef0rit

[rizsu]

“later,” he said—no, he promised. later he promised to apologize. later he promised it'll be alright. later gojo promised to talk it out yet again meaningless promises are meant to be broken. like a jigsaw puzzle piece to its board, they fit in well. no one cares about promises that were spat out to ease the fuel, is what he thinks. at the end of the day, if it's not important it'll end up passing like a leaf floating through the wind. to bother and not be bothered: the rules by which gojo carries on his life.

he bothers with the quests that are deemed important and alarming to him. if such fails to pass this, they will be discarded—much like the “argument” that took place last night. he doesn't recall anything that happened. other than meeting heads with the couch, there really isn't any details from the prior night that sticks out to him.

much to his disappointment, there's the prickling feeling that he did something wrong and has yet to make ends meet for it. did i fuck up somewhere? he wonders. a pout and furrowed eyebrows welcome themselves as he takes his precious time trying to figure out what or who he wronged.

he's yet to find the answer. not bothering with it any longer, he pops two painkillers dry and makes his way to your shared bedroom, unaware of you who's been in a horrible mood ever since. scratching the back of his head, he walks around confused. in his front view is you, who looks stressed even though you're asleep. the dried trails of tears deepen his confusion. just how hungover was i? he questions, oblivious to the blunt fact that it's him who caused it all.

“hey,” gojo whispers, softly shaking your body to jerk you awake. it doesn't work, so he continues until you're conscious. as soon as he sees movement from you, he stops, placing his hand stationary on your hip. watching you twist and turn, he's caught by surprise when you flick his hand away. are you mad? upset? sick? he has no knowledge of what or why you're like this.

“baby? did i do something? what's wrong?” throwing questions at you, his face contorts into confusion and worry. what's going on with you? why won't you communicate? he has many questions that only fuel your anger. does he really not remember? was it truly just like a fly buzzing around his food? is he really that self-centered? no—you know he's not but was your so called “argument” that useless to him? unbelievable.

you try your best to ignore him, really, but his bothersome behavior will either make him see his deity or see the life of being single once again. your tolerance level lowers each time you hear his voice. at this moment, you truly dislike this man. whoever wants to call you sensitive can kiss your ass. you rightfully have every right to seethe with dislike towards gojo.

“can you STOP?!” emerging from under the covers, you look at gojo. oh, how sweet he looks. so sweet yet so rotten.

taken back, gojo raises his hands in defense. if you don't at least hint to him what happened, he's going to go insane.

“what demon possessed you today?” “fuck you.”

you give no more than two words and a middle finger to him. you're too salty at the truth—the truth of him not remembering anything. not even what happened moments before he fell asleep. you're kind of sad, honestly. you love him a lot and it does hurt.

“do you not recall..?” it's your turn to question him. with the softest voice possible, you look at him, eyes wavering to observe his reaction. you hope he at least lies. the truth hurts and you're definitely not in the mood to accept it.

“... recall what?”

oh, alright. you knew he was drunk, but not that drunk. can't blame him but that's exactly what you're going to do. he just cannot act so innocently. he can't. who does that?! not anyone with a sense shame, that's for sure—but who is gojo satoru to feel such tiny things?

sighing, you turn your back to him, making sure to cover your entire body with the duvet. the longer you acknowledge him, the faster your violent tendecies will take over. although you're disturbed, you still have to speak to him, it's a habit, unfortunately, “do not bother me, gojo.”

offended and shocked being his two most dominant emotions today, he raises an eyebrow, ready to drop another question as if it's a pop-up quiz, “what do you mean by that?”

—

minutes and hours pass by and gojo's still hosting that offended expression. really, it's the only emotion he's been feeling ever since he graced the house with his presence. today might just be the day he buries himself in search for eternal rest. when it comes to others' problems, he will be there as if he's a superhero, but his? oh, his new name might just be master deflector three thousand. gojo has a complex—it's not a god complex, rather, it's a how-do-i-face-my-emotional-demons complex. he masks everything with a joke and confidence but never permit that to steer you away from who he truly is. not a god, just gojo satoru.

gojo's alone now, sinking into his thoughts as he remembers how you left earlier. another argument occurred and just like last night, he mirrored his actions—though completely unknown to him, you clearly remember it all. the same nonchalant way he waved you off, the way he oozed of attitude as he rolled his eyes, the same way his voice dominated when he finally reaches his limit.

sipping on his glass, he pokes his inner cheek with his tongue, salty at the scene replaying in his mind. unable to contain your violent tendecies, your eyes took over as tears overflowed from the rims. you didn't shout, didn't hit, didn't throw anything—just took a deep breathe in and walked away with a sour smile.

gojo's eyes trailed your figure, watching your figure disappear without care. like always, he believes it'll be alright. he's sure that all you need is space and you'll come back. gojo believes in a simple apology being the bandaid to the injury, which is why his eyes bulged when you came into view with a bag or two.

gojo's body immediately dashed to yours from his position almost leaving a cartoonish dust trail behind him. his hand grips against yours, pulling your body closer to his. clenching his jaw, he questions—no, demands, “where are you going?”

a stuttering breath escapes from you, too exhausted to have anything else to say, you give him an acceptable answer, “away from you, obviously.”

his grip tightens, the same feeling from the moment he woke up swirls arounds. his stomach feels like a bottomless pit, the sick feeling just never ends. annoyed at your constant deflecting, the tone of his voice changes but he never raises the volume.

“fucking stop it and tell me.”

no response. he doesn't get the response he wants, but he does receive you wriggling your arm out from his grip. holding your arm to your chest, it stings as his fingerprints disappear within a blink. gojo hates it. he hates the look of disgust in your eyes. he despises what's happening. he despises that something happened before all this and he can't, for the love of him, remember anything.

uncomfortable silence dominates. you're avoiding every attempt of eye contact and gojo's eyes scan your features. she's uncomfortable, he thinks. his heart may as well shatter into separated atoms. his eyes dull in color, slowly backing away from you as he turns his back to you again. dumping his body on the couch, he rests his head on his palm, waving you off with simple words, “go if you want, leave as you wish. i'm done.”

oh okay, a bitter taste envelops your cells, he's done. loosely holding your bags, you drag your feet to the door, looking back at him for one more, one more chance to confirm if you should leave or not. his slumped figure gives you all the confirmation you need. with that, you leave. taking two steps out, you speak with a low voice, praying that he'll hear it.

“bye-bye, satoru.”

gojo raises two fingers, showing you that he heard you well. waiting for the door to click, he leans his head back on the couch, finally allowing himself to succumb to his feelings. every negative emotion and its synonym engulfs him, feeding off of his body and draining him clean of any optimism. is it over? he doesn't know. he hopes it's not. never did he ever want to let you slip through that door but what could he have done? it was more than evident that you were uncomfortable with him. he just can't be selfish and keep you.

maybe he's malfunctioning but there's very much little beads of tears forming in his eyes. it's been a rather long day so why not let it out? comforting in the feeling of the liquid sliding down the sides of his face, he forces back any vocal sound of his cries. he'll rather sink into silence than to do anything else.

[huskersbooze]

Part 3 to Who's In Control?

Better Than This

Alastor x Reader

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3(here!) |

Summary : After the fight and spending time apart, you and Alastor finally come to realise your mutual feelings for one another, but before that, a more important matter needs to be discussed.. will Alastor finally tell the truth?

Warnings : This is where we go off track and not all of this is canon, swearing/cuss words, Angel jokes about sex(?)

Pairings : Alastor x F!Reader (M!Reader here)

Additional Tags : Lore, world building kinda, angst, fluff, Alastor learns to talk about feelings

Ib : Better Than This by Set It Off

Word count : 1.4k

Wide awake on the couch, you stare up at the ceiling of the hotel.

“I’m closing for the night, kid. You gonna be alright?” Husk asks from the bar.

“I’ll manage. Goodnight, Husk.”

“Night, kid.” He heads towards the staircase, but just before leaving for good, he turns to face you one last time. “Take care. And don’t stay up too late.”

“Mhm. You too.”

After a while, it was quiet. Just an empty hotel with the dim hallway lights and nothing else.

You weren’t really sure why you were here. You could’ve gone back to your room after Husk left, or before, for that matter. Maybe your heart just has desires you couldn’t avoid.

“Shit, stop thinking about him! C’mon, brain! Stop it, now.” You aggressively started to blink, trying to find anything else to distract your mind, but everything seemed to be tied to his existence.

There was no denying you missed him.

“What the hell is happening.. I’m supposed to be mad and angry, not missing him..” You sigh.

Poor Alastor, though.. Maybe I should hear him out? No. Fuck, no! He lied to you! No way.

You groan and cover your eyes with the back of your hand. There was this uneasy churn in your stomach.

Am I.. am I in love with Alastor?

-----

“Alastor, you can’t keep this up forever. You need to fix this.” Rosie sighs, walking Alastor back to the Hotel. 

“What use is there, dear, Rosie?” Alastor’s voice is audibly tired-out, though his smile still etched high and proud. “I was so close.”

“You need to tell the poor thing and let her fend for herself.”

“She wouldn’t listen.”

“Alastor, please. This is no longer about your silly little crush.” Rosie stops in her tracks, catching sight of the Hotel a few streets away. “It’s about her soul.”

“Crush?” Alastor asks, oblivious.

“A crush, someone you have feelings for and want to be with.”

“Ridiculous, Rosie. I don’t do.. Feelings.” It pains him to utter such word.

“Whatever ya’ say. Just.. think about what I said, alright?”

Alastor nods, parting ways with Rosie.

Feelings..? Did he have feelings? Feelings for you?

-----

The door creeks, making you turn your head.

Who would be here this late at night? Was it a guest? No, why would a guest come in at 1am?

But then who would it be..?

You got off the couch and eyed the corner which led to the main entrance. A threat, perhaps.

You simply stayed put, saw a glimpse of a shadow, pounced and tackled whatever had made itself welcome in the hotel until the two of you tumbled onto the ground.

Prepared for the worst, you were surprised to hear.. Radio static?

“Alastor..?” You ask.

The Demon looks up at you, his neck wrapped tightly around your hand.

“Oh shit! Sorry, I thought you were an intruder.” You immediately let go and backed up, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Whatever gave you that idea, my dear?” He questions, sitting on the floor opposite of you.

“It's 1am.”

Alastor tilts his head.

“I wouldn't expect you to be out at 1am.”

“You know I don't sleep, dear.” He says, wincing at the fact he's repeated this multiple times in the past.

“Doesn’t mean you’d be out at 1am.” You mutter.

“Valid point.” He says, the tension in the air starting to grow thick.

“So.. uh.” You trail, “Why exactly are you out at 1am, exactly?”

“Ah, just simply visiting Rosie is all.”

“Oh, I see.”

Alastor looks away, his gaze glued to the hotel floors.

“And you, darling?”

“Huh?”

“Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Oh. I was helping Husk with the bar.” You tell him, which, ultimately, was a lie. Husk was doing all the work while you were drinking away your feelings. But you weren’t about to admit that to Alastor.

“Yes, I see. How nice.”

“Yep.” Damn, this was so awkward.

You got up from the floor, turning your back, “Well, uh.. Goodnight, then.. Alastor.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

You start hesitantly walking towards the staircase leading to the staff rooms, feeling Alastor watching your back as you left.

“Darling.”

You stop in your tracks. Actually, no, you freeze. Though you made it evident you had no intention in facing him.

“Yes?”

“We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Alastor.”

“You don’t understand, dear. I fear I may regret keeping this from you any sooner in the future.”

“Uh huh..?”

“You’re aware of overlords, I assume?”

“Yes, but what does tha-” Before you could continue, you catch sight of Husk by the top of the stairs.

“Hey, you said you’d sleep, kid-” He tries to joke, but realises you’re not alone. “Oh. Hey, boss.”

“Husker.” He acknowledges. 

“Uh.. am I interruptin’ something?”

“Well, actually-”

“No, of course not.” Alastor cuts you off, passing by and giving you a small pat on the head.

God you missed those.

“We’ll discuss this another time, darling. You need your rest.” Alastor gives the small of your back a little push forward, urging you to go to bed. “I hope to see you tomorrow morning?”

“Y-Yeah.. Sure.” You reply, stepping forward, already missing the contact from Alastor’s hand. “Goodnight.”

“Indeed. Sleep well, my dear.”

You reach the top of the steps and Husk accompanies you back to your room, leaving Alastor still in the lobby by himself.

He returns to his broadcasting studios, a gut feeling in his chest telling him to just be honest with you about the contract. He hums a tune as he returns back.

He’ll fix this. He has to.

-----

“Good morning, Al.” You reached the table where everyone was gathered, and was somewhat pleased to find Alastor already sitting in his normal seat.

“How was sleep, my dear?”

“Good. Did you have your daily dose of venison yet?”

“Not quite. You don’t seem to have your breakfast either.”

“Gotta have my priorities.” You shrug. “Shall we discuss this somewhere else?”

“Let’s.”

You leave alongside Alastor, and the rest of the crew can only stare at each other in shock.

“Did I miss something?” Charlie is first to speak up.

Husk smiles, Sir pentious shrugs, Vaggie asks the same thing.

“Who thinks they’re fuckin’?”

“Angel!”

“Joking, jeez!”

-----

“You wanted to say something?” You take a seat on the floor next to Alastor’s chair.

“By all means, you’re welcome to sit on the chair.”

“I’m good. Your broadcasting panel scares me. You sit.”

“If you insist.” He takes a seat, ruffling your hair. “You’re familiar with overlords, correct?”

“Mhm.”

“Have you ever heard of Azrael?”

“The Legend of the Dark Arts Overlord?”

“Precisely.”

“I’ve heard of it, yes.”

“Well, dear, he’s not a legend. He was the most powerful overlord of us all.”

You weren’t sure what reaction to be giving so you nodded along, waiting for him to continue.

“7 years ago, us overlords were experimenting with power and magic. Azrael formed an experiment, inheriting part of his magic to a human.” He says, meanwhile you still had no idea what this had to do with you.

“This human would be protected, and would only die when Azrael himself gets killed, thus sending the experiment to hell, whether they deserved it or not. 7 years ago, some of us overlords had ‘matters’ to attend to and Azrael had died in the process during the last 2 years.” Alastor proceeds to drop multiple history facts on you at 9 in the morning.

“2 years ago,” He states. “The human was sent to hell with locked up dark magic they weren’t aware of. The overlords are now gambling for this soul as whoever owns the soul owns the power and magic, but on one condition.”

“One condition?”

“Yes, my dear. You see, to own the soul is one thing, but to own the magic.. The soul has to be killed.”

“That’s terrible! And complete bullshit.”

“Exactly, darling. And I own this very soul.” He sighs. “As long as I can own her soul for long enough and find a backdoor, her soul won’t be gambled any longer by the current overlords. But you see, dear, I’m on a time limit here.”

“Is there anything I can do to help? Who’s soul is it?” You desperately question, completely forgetting you were supposed to be still mad at Alastor.

Alastor sighs, looking at you with compassionate eyes as a hand comes to cup your cheek.“2 years ago, this soul entered hell. 2 years ago, another soul that entered hell.. was you.”

———/ TBC. /———

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If you want to be on this fics taglist leave a comment! Please specify you want to be tagged or else I won't tag blogs that ask for another part cuz it doesn't seem polite- Thanks in advance <3

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Oh to be a fly next to Daniel when he received the news about her pregnancy

His Best Man || DR3 {Daniel’s Reaction}

A/N: quick 700 words written on my phone 💕 F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Daniel’s Reaction

Daniel wouldn’t normally have his phone with him when he was meant to be listening to the debrief. His entire concentration should have been on the technicians reading the data from the free practice he had just completed. But since you hadn’t been feeling the best you decided to stay home instead of going to the paddock, and it had left him feeling a little unsettled. He missed your company.

Like a teenager in class, he had his phone on his lap hidden under the table and the moment it lit up he snatched it. His thumb froze over the green icon as his brain registered the name on the screen wasn’t yours.

“Excuse me, guys, I need to take this,” he interrupted as he abruptly stood up and left the room. He and James hadn’t spoken since the phone call in Portland nearly two months ago and if the biometric monitor was still attached from the practice it would have caught the sudden spike in his heart rate.

For a second Daniel thought about letting the call go to voicemail but he wasn’t a coward, so he took a deep breath and answered the call. “Hello, mate, it’s been a while,” he greeted with a confidence he didn’t feel.

Immediately James’ laugh set him on edge and he closed the door to his driver room since there were still a lot of people loitering around. “Tends to happen when you fuck someone’s wife.”

“Ex-wife, which tends to happen when you’re a cheating piece of shit,” Daniel shot back.

“Hmm, I don’t remember signing any court documents.”

Daniel was usually patient by nature but his patience for this man had run out on the side of a highway in Perth. “Why did you call me, James?”

“I just thought we could celebrate the wonderful news together, since my wife is pregnant. I’m assuming you’re the father but considering she’s a whore, who knows?”

“Shut your fucking mouth, James,” Daniel growled as his hands threatened to crush the phone with the grip he had. “You don’t talk about her like that, ever, you understand!”

“That she’s a whore or that she’s pregnant? Because both are true.”

“You’re a fucking liar, and she can’t have kids, she already told me.”

James’ laugh sent Daniel’s stomach dropping and a cold fissure running down his spine. “Who's the liar now…”

The phone went dead before he could respond and he stared at his phone as it returned to his home screen. The image was one of his favourites, though every photo of you was technically a favourite, this one was perfect. You weren’t even paying attention to the camera as he snapped the shot, all of your focus was on the tiny joey cradled in your arms as you bottle fed it.

He already knew about your fertility struggles, it was no secret, but it was clear you would have been a great mother had you been given the chance. It was why he was struggling so much to digest James’ words. You wouldn’t have lied about that, he couldn’t believe it.

Needing the reassurance only you could provide, he tied the arms of his race suit around his waist and started to run. It wasn’t far to his apartment block from the paddock but it felt longer as he sprinted full pelt through the busy streets.

Daniel hadn’t even thought to bring his keys and after a few attempts at knocking loudly he went back to the front desk to borrow a spare one. The knots in his stomach had twisted into a noose by the time he unlocked the door and walked into the silent apartment.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his spine as he heard a soft sob come from the bathroom. The sound penetrated his heart and spurred him to close the distance in a mad dash to fix whatever had caused you pain but he never expected to find you the way he did. Pregnancy tests littered the floor, three bold plus signs staring him in the face as he stumbled back against the wall and let it take his weight and he slid down to the floor.

“You said you couldn’t have kids.”

[seraphmeraph]

HO the things that you lied about even pretending to your mom

Geto‘s just helping you :)

JJK smut with zaddy Suguru Geto

TW: sex(+18), afab reader, dom geto, sub reader

A/N: Bro it kept auto-correcting to Ghetto LMAO. Also I wasn't sure exactly how to write him so I hope I did good pookies!

You were having a situation with your family that stressed out way more than it should. Geto knew exactly how to help you. 

He found you in the kitchen, arguing with your family member. Geto just simply took the phone out of your hand and ended the call, placing your phone on the counter.

“Geto-!” You exclaimed, rightfully mad at him for doing that, but it all disappeared when you saw his handsome face smile at you. 

Geto cupped your cheek. “Let me help you relax, okay?” He practically whispered. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against yours before deepening it. His tongue flickering against yours. 

His hands moved downwards, cupping your ass, squeezing it softly before he lifted you up onto the countertop. Placing you gently, he stepped between your legs. Drawing his lips away from yours, he traced a trail down your neck, stopping at your collarbone.

His hands went between your legs, pulling your pants off. Once he saw how wet you were, he couldn’t help but chuckle. His thumb rubbed against your clit through your panties. 

“Do you want me to make you cum, pretty girl?” He teased, his fingers pulling your panties aside. He teased your entrance before slipping inside you. His fingers beginning to thrust in and out of you.

“Yes~ Mmgh~” You moaned, biting down on your lip. 

“That’s a good girl,” He praised. His pace picked up, his fingers moving faster and harder. After a moment, he suddenly stopped, pulling his hand away from your pussy. “Let’s get rid of these annoying clothes,” He mumbled. 

He first placed his fingers in his mouth, licking your juices clean off his fingers. Finally, he pulled your pants off your legs, next moving to your shirt, taking it off, and finally removing your bra, leaving you naked in front of him. 

“Fuck me, Suguru,” You pleased, your voice shaking with desire. “Please~”

Geto couldn’t resist your plea, pulling down his pants and freeing his cock.

Without waiting any longer, he positioned himself at your entrance and thrusted deep into you, filling you. You cried out in pleasure, your tightness around him causing his cock to twitch.

His hand went to your back. Pulling your chest forward, he leaned forward and caught one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and nibbling on your soft bud.

You had completely forgotten about that call you had earlier. That was until you heard your phone ring. Geto stopped momentarily to look over at your phone. When you looked over, you saw it was the same family member from earlier that you were fighting with.

“Suguru, I need to-” You began speaking, getting cut off with a harsh thrust. “Suguru no~!” You moaned out.

Geto ignored the call, continuing to fuck you relentlessly. His thrusts became faster and harder, each one hitting just the right place. “Shh, shh, don’t worry about them my love,” He whispered into your ear, his hot breath hitting it. 

As he spoke, he reached down with his free hand to fondle your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples. His pace didn’t falter, his cock pounding into you. 

You couldn’t even form coherent words, only moans and whimpers escaped your lips as he continued to pleasure you. You could feel your orgasm building up, getting closer and closer. 

“Ah~ Oh~! Suguru,” You cried out, your body trembling as you climaxed, your pussy contracting tightly around his dick. He groaned in satisfaction, continuing to thrust into you, his hips slapping against yours. 

After several more thrusts, he finally came himself, cumming inside of you. “So pretty,” He panted. 

Even though your phone was still ringing, he continued fucking you dumb the whole day.

[abigail-pent]

Thoughts on HTN Act Four on my ??th reread:

- Harrow says "You cannot build in the River. It is a dimension of perpetual flux. Defined space is nonsense here. You might as well try to wall off Time with bricks and mortar." Which hits VERY DIFFERENT after Nona when we physically see a Tower rising from the River - this is way more like bricks and mortar than Pal's bubble even! IS THIS A CHEEKY LITTLE FORESHADOW OF WHAT THE TOWER IS???

- I think it's so fucking funny that Harrow tells her lobotomized self to silence Judith, like she knew Judith was going to speak her inconvenient mind no matter what

- There are 24 total letters. One for Harrow, one for Ianthe, one for Ianthe to give to Gideon Nav if met, one for Cam, one in case Harrow met Judith, one in case Harrow met Corona .... so like most of the letters went unopened. What happened to them? They went into the River but did anyone pick them up?

- Teacher says: "When the work was done, when I was finished and so were they, and the new Lyctors found out the price, they bade him kill the saltwater creature before she could do them harm." This still makes no sense.

We know (from Chapter 37) that "the price" is one of a set of John's lies - that the RBs would chase them and destroy them for the indelible sin of Lyctorhood. But that only explains why they thought Alecto would harm them if they knew Alecto was an RB (truth), and they thought RBs hunt Lyctors (lie). Throughout HTN, Augustine and Mercy both appear to know a lot more about John's motives than John tells Harrow, but we don't actually know if they learned this, or the history of the ten billion, from John or from BoE. When they had Alecto locked into the Tomb, they certainly didn't know that Alecto is John's cavalier, or else the big reveal about Alecto's and John's eyes would not have been such a big deal ten thousand years later. What did John tell them at the time? "Oh hey RBs kill Lyctors and we've been hanging out with one this whole time?" I don't think so! Did they just randomly guess there was an RB in their midst? Seems unlikely! So why did they suddenly turn on Alecto?

- When Augustine says Harrow's call sign is H, just H - is that him taking pity on her (knowing what her cavalier's name should be and choosing not to use the initial G), or him condescending to her because she is not a complete Lyctor?

- When Alecto learns that Varun is coming and she's astonished that it's happening... this is very interesting. She shouldn't be surprised if she already knows the RBs are chasing her and trying to get to her, but her astonishment makes it seem like she doesn't actually know this.

- the way Harrow prays that Ianthe isn't the traitor.... hmmmmmmm

- Cytherea tried to bodily go to the surface of an RB and failed, having gone "mad for weeks"

- Cyrus died before Ulysses and Cassiopeia. When he drove the corpus into a black hole, Ulysses drove the brain through the stoma and Cassy dropped the body into the River alongside the brain; which means Cyrus was the first to go. (Though obviously Cassy's death was faked.)

- The way Mercy describes the RBs: #2 sounds like Mercury (quicksilver), #6 sounds like Uranus (sphincters), #4 sounds like Venus (a humanoid creature with a beautiful face) #1 sounds like ... I don't know, maybe Mars (looked to Mercy like a great and incoherent machine, with a great tail and a thousand broken pillars on its back; looked to Cassy like a mechanical monster with swords for wings and great horns, tesselated over with graves; both of these say "war machine" to me), #8 sounds like either Jupiter or Neptune (a giant head, finned like a fish, teeth protruding from its own skull - fish suggests ocean/Neptune; red with a big green eye - eye suggests Jupiter), #7 looks like Neptune because it's blue but I think it's actually Saturn (who is classed as a Varunian god, who ate his children, and of course we know from NTN that #7 is named Varun the Eater), whatever number Alecto is is Earth, and that leaves Pluto and either Jupiter or Neptune unnumbered and undescribed. I'd guess Alecto is #9, which leaves #3 and #5.

- Augustine says Mercy's House "suckles at the stoma like a damned teat." We know the Second House drains thanergy to turn it into thalergy and the Eighth House is the opposite of the Second in that way; so it drains - or sucks - thalergy. Which is hella fucking curious because it suggests that the power on the other side of the stoma may actually be **thalergy**. But when you think about it, that actually starts to make sense. John says that the other side of the stoma is "a genuinely chaotic space," "a portal to the place I cannot touch, somewhere I don't fully comprehend, where my power and my authority are utterly meaningless," and that "no ghosts venture deeper than the bathyrhoic layer." What could be more chaotic than a fount of pure life energy - afterlife energy, even? What could take the wind out of John's sails more, or contradict his power more, than a source of actual, eternal life? We know from GTN that death has to connect to life, and life to death; death can't be linked up to death like that, the opposites call to one another. And we know for certain that the force on the other side of the stoma calls to John, who is a great conduit of thanergy, and the Resurrection Beasts, who are massive, planet sized pools of thanergy. I think the stoma opens for them because they're Big Thanergy and the stoma is the gate to Big Thalergy.

Also: we don't actually know that no ghosts get all the way down to the bottom of the River except if they're like really evil, which is what John posits. We know we do not see ghosts at the bottom of the River. It doesn't follow that ghosts just choose not to go there. This fact could also be explained if the Big Thalergy on the other side of the stoma is pulling all the nearby ghosts through. Classic causal inference fail - John has the direction of the causal relationship backwards.

- John can't project his soul into the River and enter the "senseless state" because then Alecto would come to the fore and take over his body.

- Harrowhark has never had a father figure - or a figure who wanted to be her father - except he tried to kill her.

- Harrow saying she's not a person because she's a chimera or a war crime... ohh... 😭😭😭

- John says he designed the Tomb *with* Anastasia and never wanted it opened from either end, yet at the end of NTN we find Anastasia's body in there with Alecto... so either the Tomb was always openable by Anastasia or John knew she would die in there.

[maxwapan]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ Good Times for a Change

title from ‘Please Please Please Let me Get What I Want’ by Deftones

Summary: Leon wants his bestfriend’s attention, but you’re too busy gaming.

cw: Reader has male body parts and is referred to as he/him, smut but no penetration, praise/degradation, Leon is a little condescending, dry humping, porn and very little plot lol, very causal so little to no sweetness/fluff. Maybe if you squint.

wc: 2,086

note: This is my second time writing smut, first time with a masc reader. So please excuse any shitty writing or accidental jumps LOL. Anyone can read this btw, just more masc leaning is all. Also, Leon and reader have that ‘it’s not gay I swear’ type of relationship LMAO. They’re in denial.

It’s been hours already. Hours of you and Leon playing some random ass game you found online. You thought it would be fun, and it is! But you didn’t expect the levels to get progressively harder.

“ugh, fuck,” you grunt after losing yet again. Refraining from biting your tongue or screaming, you try again, clicking the ‘respawn’ option on the big red screen that taunts you with the words ‘YOU DIED’.

Leon huffed out a chuckle, “You’ve died like twenty times already. Give it a rest and just accept the fact that you suck.” he rolled his eyes good naturedly. Though, the twenty times comment was an exaggeration and he damn well knew it. Fucker is projecting.

“Shut up,” you groaned, thumbs mashing on the buttons of your controller, the noise almost obnoxious with how hard you’re going at it. “You’re just mad.” you add childishly, lips pursing into a pout and brows furrowing in concentration.

Leon scoffed, corner of his lips threatening to twitch into a smirk. Really, he loves when you get like this. All huffy and puffy over some stupid game. What’s not to like? Leaning back into the couch, he crosses his arms over his chest.

His eyes examined you intently, icy blues trailing over every feature on your frame. From the top of your hair to the shoes you were wearing. Unconsciously, he bites his bottom lip, unable to fight off the surge of desire that had his cock twitching in his pants.

You’re an attractive guy, and Leon knows that very well. Oh, he knows alright. After many years of friendship, he’d never think that he would harbor these intense feelings of lust for you. In fact, if someone told him years ago that he would have feelings for his best friend, he’d laugh his ass off.

Look at him now.

He inched closer, ignoring all your complaints about how the game is rigged. “Why don’t you just take a break?” he grumbles, eyes flickering back towards the TV screen, pretending to be just as engrossed in the game as you were. Without giving it much thought, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. The mere contact enough to make his cock jump in his pants yet again.

You narrowed your eyes at him, because how dare he even consider taking a break? Not thinking much of his sudden closeness, “No way, dude,” you scoff, “I’m not taking a break until I win.” It’s a stubborn declaration, one that Leon knows you’ll stick too.

You’re stubborn as hell, and it makes his brows furrow in slight irritation. But it amuses him nonetheless. His hand starts rubbing your shoulder gently, his skin rough yet somehow incredibly comforting. And suggestive.

“C’mon, just a small break,” he insists, “Please? Before your brain begins to seep out of your ears.” he teases with a light smirk, nudging you playfully with his shoulder. His hand starts to trail lower, subtly gliding down your arm.

You don’t notice. “Just, gimme like five minutes,” you mutter. Your posture is shitty as hell and your back is starting to hurt, but finishing this level is more important. Yes, very important.

Leon hums absentmindedly, his eyes focused on your face, watching for any awareness or reaction. His hand trails lower, fingertips grazing your skin with a feathery touch. His hand now lies on your lap, inching closer to the crotch of your pants.

That’s when you start to notice. Your brows twitch, nervously glancing towards Leon and then back at the TV screen. “What are you doing?” you mumbled warily, not thinking much of it. But still definitely nervous.

Before you could even process anything though, the heel of his palm pressed down onto your clothed cock, eliciting a choked noise from you. “L-leon,” you grunted, “not funny, dude.”

“I’m not trying to be funny.” Came his casual response, lips twitching into a knowing smirk. Asshole, yeah. Fucking knows what he’s doing. Knows you won’t do anything about it.

A grunt escaped your lips, cheeks heating up in a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. Damn, you don’t want to give him a reaction. Surely he’s trying to distract you. But the friction on your dick has it chubbing in your pants already, meaty shaft twitching in response to the heat emanating from Leon’s hand.

Leon briefly studies your reaction, liking what he sees. It’s intoxicating; makes him want more. Slowly, oh so slowly, he starts to grind his hand down, fingers searching the fabric of your pants until he finds what he’s been seeking. Which leads to him tracing the tip of your cock while his palm rubs on the rest.

Heat starts to trickle into your tummy, coiling up and fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “Stop,” you try to grumble, but it comes off as more of a whine. Shit, he’s getting to you. Your hold on the controller falters, thumbs now just lazily gliding across the buttons.

You’re not even focused on the game anymore, unable to process the characters on the screen. Subtly, you start to roll your hips forward, soft noises escaping you. Though you try to be quiet to keep the rest of your dignity, you’re sure that’s long gone.

“Mhh, having fun on the game?” Leon chuckles lightly, eyes drifting back to the TV screen while still rubbing one out of you. God, sometimes you wish you could smack him upside the head, maybe then he’d stop being such an idiot.

“Looks like you’re losing.” He says, tone indicating that he’s amused. You huffed, brows furrowing in frustration. “No— ugh, fuck off…” you mumble, eyes hooded and head lolling back onto the couch. Fuck, you can’t do it. Can’t play this stupid game anymore.

Your grip falters completely, controller falling onto the floor with a loud clatter. Your hips buck forward freely, lazily rutting onto Leon’s hand. So needy. It’s like Leon’s seeing a whole new side of you, one that gets his dick going and his heart racing.

“Leon,” you whine, voice breathy and so, so, goddamn desperate. “Please,” you plead and beg shamelessly, bangs falling over your eyes, some strands sticking to your forehead. Precum lazily drools from the rosy slit on your cock, staining the front of your boxers and making them feel warm and sticky.

Craving more, you scooted closer to Leon, limbs feeling like jello. You almost fall on top of him, but you manage. Leon finds it all so cute. It’s like watching a puppy stumble and struggle getting to where it wants to be. Pathetically cute. Makes him want to deny you.

But that’d be mean. So his smirk turns into a soft smile, hand momentarily leaving your needy cock to help pull you onto his lap. You mewl delightedly, head dipping to bury your face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling into him like a lost little kitten seeking guidance.

Your hips undulate, seeking friction on the hard meat of Leon’s thigh. Whining and moaning like a needy mutt. Leon hums softly, enjoying just seeing you like this. It’s cute. Fucking pathetic. But it’s you. And he loves you. Loves how sloppy and clumsy you are when it comes to intimacy.

Deciding to help you out before you end up tuckering out, he rolls his hips forward, angling himself just right so that your crotches are aligned. You reward him with a whimper, eyes drooping with desire and heat. “God, please… more…”

“mhm,” he hums, lost in the look in your eyes. His hands hold onto your hips, firmly keeping you in place so that you don’t end up falling over. He starts to manipulate your movements, guiding your hips down in a continuous motion.

Your bodies lock together, rocking in a steady rhythm that has the both of you groaning out loud. Your tongue seeps out from your mouth, flattening against the soft skin on Leon’s neck to start lapping at it lazily. Your lips latch on, gently suckling and leaving pretty rose colored love marks. Ones that wouldn’t fade easily.

Leon grunts in response, eyes fluttering shut to focus on all the pretty noises that you made. “Fuck, yeah… that’s a good boy,” he murmured huskily, hips snapping forward greedily. Shamelessly moaning, you mewed and whimpered with each receiving thrust, attempting to match his pace and ferocity, but it’s sloppy at best.

“Leon, uhn.. uhn.. oh fuck, gonna make me cum,” You whine pathetically, so lost in a daze that you fail to notice the drool that trailed down the corners of your mouth. Leon notices though. Of course he does. It’s the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes again: the shiny saliva coating your pretty lips.

He hunched forward a little, lips locking onto yours. His slick tongue darted out to lick into your mouth, making loud lapping noises. He grazed the outlines of your teeth; the inside of your cheeks, memorizing it all. Suckling on your tongue, you both exchanged a mess of drool and spit. You swallowed all you could.

“Messy fucking boy,” Leon groaned, panting softly. Sweat and heat covered the both of you, making you both breathless. You only mew in response, too fucking dumb and horny to even think or say anything remotely coherent. How could you? The only head you’re thinking with is your dick’s.

Yeah, you’re really messy.

That rubber band feels just about ready to snap, the coil getting tighter and tighter. It spots your vision, stars exploding behind your eyelids. “Ohhh fuck, Leon! Leon! m’gonna cum,” you whined, noises becoming louder and needier. Could give a porno chick a run for her money.

Leon’s gonna cum too. Can feel it, the way his cock juts forward and leaks precum steadily. It hurts, with how tight his pants feel and all, but that only makes it so much better. He bets you would agree. He tries to speed up, but he’s already going as fast and as hard he can.

You’re too sloppy and slow, so he’s the one doing all the work. But that’s okay. You’re too dumb to try harder. Luckily, he’s okay with doing all the thinking for you. Instead, you press yourself harder into him until your bodies are flush together, cock to cock and chest to chest.

His hips rabbit into yours, until finally, your climax rams into you like a truck. With a loud yelp that devolves into a drawn out whiny moan, you cum hard, all into your pants. It stains the fabric, gradually creating one big, dark, sticky moist spot. All you can do is whimper and whine throughout it all.

Leon keeps going, “Fuck, fuck, yeah, take it,” he groans, grip tightening on your hips in a way that would surely leave some pretty bruises. He slams into you again and again, even as you start to slacken against him.

Finally, he growls, gritting his teeth as his own sweet release snaps, making him cream his pants in steady spurts. He slows down, grunting softly into the last few thrusts until he eventually comes to a stop, leaving the two of you heavily panting in exhaustion.

“So,” he speaks in between pants, voice breathless yet satisfied, “you ready to take a break yet?” he chuckles hoarsely, a grin gracing his handsome features.

“Shut up,” you mumble, voice muffled and face buried into his chest. There’s laughter in your voice, an almost giddy feeling that makes you feel light and spacey despite how tired you are. “You suck.”

“Says you,” Leon huffs, pausing briefly to check you out. “Should freshen up and probably change soon. It looks like you just pissed yourself.” he teases, eyes focused on the huge fucking wet spot on your pants. Looks like you were backed up, huh?

“Fuck you,” You laugh, rolling your eyes. Finally mustering up enough strength and energy to sit up, you reluctantly peel yourself away from his lap, deciding to sit besides him instead. “You’re no better.” you glare halfheartedly. As if he didn’t have a cum stain on his pants too. Sure does love to put you on the spot now does he?

“Yeah yeah,” Leon rumbles, “Let’s just shower now, it’s starting to stick.” he grimaces, shifting uncomfortably as he struggles to get up, pulling you along with him forcibly. Glancing back at you, he smirks. “Maybe a round two in there?”

“Absolutely not.” You laugh, elbowing his side playfully and speeding up to walk in front of him.

What a fucking lie.