#gonna look for something to raise my spirits

[seariii]

It's 3am I should be asleep... But instead I'm over here crying over a song

[deadsetobsessions]

“I can’t believe you’re squatting in an occupied house, Danny. That’s… actually isn’t that also breaking and entering? That’s a crime, isn’t it?”

“One, at least I don’t have to pay rent and/or utilities. Two, Tim let me stay. And three, I’m a vigilante. Breaking and entering is like the basics of being one. Also, they’re paying me now. This is a legit job now!”

Jazz sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Whatever, dumbass. Where is Tim, anyways?”

“He’s in bed.”

“Really?” Jazz raised an eyebrow and rested a hand on her hip. “Then what’s that?”

Danny whirled around, making eye contact with a frozen Tim.

“Ahah-”

Danny groaned, cutting Tim’s awkward laughter and no-doubt bullshit excuse.

“Kid, Tim, we talked about this.”

“It’s for the aesthetics!” Tim protested, the argument well worn, but obligingly stepping away from the window sill.

Danny shot Jazz a disgruntled look when she muttered, “Well, doesn’t that sound familiar.”

“It’s a school night, Tim.” Danny crossed the room, ushering Tim away from the door. The halfa could probably put down professional babysitter on his resume. If he could handle Tim “climb out of windows” Drake and Tim “sleeps in hard to reach places” Drake in the same day, he could handle anything.

Tim puffed up, like a disgruntled kitten. “Robin gets to go out on a school night! And he’s my age! Kinda! And at least I’m not fighting criminals!”

Again, this is an argument they’ve had multiple times.

“Not for a lack of trying,” Danny muttered, rolling his eyes when Jazz snickered. He made the mistake of looking down at Tim’s convincing little sad kitten act and sighed. “Alright, alright. We get two hours of batwatching, then you go to sleep.”

“Deal!” Tim cheered. Jazz grinned, mouthing ‘weak’ at Danny, who promptly made like his high school self and ignored her.

“Go get your jacket. And some thicker socks, you’re gonna freezing out there.”

“Okay!!”

When Tim was out of earshot, excitedly thundering down the lavish hallway, Jazz tilted her head back and laughed.

“Oh, shut up.”

“How the tables have tabled, huh, Danny?” Jazz snickered.

“You think you got jokes,” Danny pointed at her with a new mug of coffee. “Laugh it up, but don’t forget that you’re his older sister now too.”

Jazz paled. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Now you gotta deal with two of us!”

“Two of who?” Tim returned, bundled up in a fancy puffy jacket. Jazz cooed at him, kneeling down to zip his jacket up. Danny, echoing her, magically grabbed a scarf and wrapped around Tim.

“Us, her little brothers. Unfortunately, you’re now our little brother and that means Jazz is gonna mother you like you’re a baby duck.”

Danny ducked the half hearted smack Jazz sent his way, grinning at Tim. The kid had a self conscious smile on his face, bashful at the unprecedented (for him) attention and affection. Danny’s smile tightened when Tim looked at Jazz for confirmation (which she gave). If it weren’t for the fact that Tim loved his parents, Danny would have spirited (hah!) the kid away. He’s like a textbook case of neglect. It’s why he keeps trying to sneak out in ways that’ll easily get him caught. He’s trying to test if Danny would get mad and leave-

“Oh my god. I’m turning into you, Jazz.” Danny said, horrified.

“What?” Jazz narrowed her eyes once the statement sunk in. “What’s wrong with being more like me? I can actually process my emotions in a timely manner, thanks.”

Danny, stuck in the horror of understanding someone’s motivations and processing some of his own trauma, shuddered.

Danny picked up Tim and swung him onto his shoulders. “C’mon, Timmy. Let’s get out of here before Jazz gives us germs.”

“Oh, that’s real rich coming from the greasiest vigilante this side of the river.”

“Not true! Green Arrow’s greasier!”

“Eh, he doesn’t count. He’s in Oregon or something, right?”

“Who cares? I wanna see Robin!” Tim wriggled, placing his heavy ass camera on Danny’s head. “He’s a new Robin! The first one moved to Blüdhaven!”

“To be a cop, right?” Danny asked.

“Yeah. It’s… not great. And kinda ironic.”

“ACAB.”

——

Batman snuck closer to the glowing green figure that was glancing around the rooftops. He’s glad he sent Robin home hours ago, because variables in Gotham tended to be dangerous.

He dropped to a crouch behind the figure, who turned around as soon as he did, looking unsurprised. The being had enhanced hearing then, if not enhanced everything else.

“There you are!” The being scowled at him, but Bruce couldn’t detect any actual hostility. Only weariness. “I’ve been looking for you for ages.”

Nevertheless, he hadn’t survived this long by being careless.

“What is your business in Gotham?” He deepened his voice, adding enough gravel to sound mildly threatening.

The being shook their head, white hair unnaturally waving in the air. Like it was under water.

“I live here. I have a bone to pick with you.” Batman loosened his stance, readying to move.

“Can you keep Robin in on school nights?! If you can’t, can’t you make him go home sooner? My kid brother keeps trying to sneak out of the house to imitate Robin and it’s killing me! Do you know how many times I’ve had to stop him from climbing out of the window? We live on the third floor, man!”

A frazzled older brother. Batman-Bruce grimaced. He couldn’t stop Jason anymore than this being could. Also, “You live here?”

The being scowled, looking defensive. “Why, I can’t? Are you being discriminatory? Because I refuse to take shit from a grown man in a bat-sona.”

“…A bat-what?”

The being sighed. “Nevermind. Yes. I live here. My name is Phantom.”

“Don’t cause any trouble.” Batman warned before hesitating. The being was young, that was clear. He kind of reminded Bruce of Dick, and it made Batman’s tone soften. “And I will try. Robin is resolute.”

Phantom dropped his glowing face into his hands, a move Bruce often wanted to mirror.

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

——

Sorry guys I really like tired babysitter brother Danny and unnecessarily jumping out of windows Tim. This is before Tim decided to be a vigilante. This is after Dick moves out.

[fbfh]

makey makeover - rodrick x hyperfeminine reader

wc: 1.5k

pairing: rodrick x gn hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: rodrick isn't used to being taken care of but only briefly mentioned at the end, rodrick does not know what hyaluronic acid is

summary: rodrick can never say no to you, but if it means having you straddle his lap while you use all your skincare products on him and listen to music together, he wouldn't want to say no anyway.

song recs: makey makeover - crazy ex girlfriend cast, jesus of suburbia - green day, perfect day - hoku

a/n: I started writing a kids book yesterday?? like I finished the first chapter and outline in one sitting???? it wasn't at all planned but when the muse strikes yk. Anyway I don't think it will take me as long to write so if you wanna read a chapter book about magic and girlhood and unicorns and other mythical creatures with bella sara vibes that's probs gonna be ready reasonably soon lol

tags: @yesv01 @magcon7280 @dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @kiara7777 @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @Maggzsworld @xiaos_crustytoenails @ionlymadethisaccountbcihadto @strawberryjen124 @Isaentremundos @hxnbah

Rodrick likes to think he's a pretty tough guy. Between being born and raised on the rebellious messages of pop punk music, and the nonconforming ideologies of emo and other alt subcultures, Rodrick knows in his bones that he'll never let the man break his spirit. He'll never bow down to someone just because they want him to do something. He's had countless opportunities to stand by these beliefs at school and at home, and he has never - not once - come close to doing anything for someone simply because they want him to. Rodrick has been confident in his ability to never give into other people’s orders, no matter how much they demand of him. 

Until now.

“Pretty please, Roddy…?” You pout your glossy lips at him, blinking up at him and batting your doll like eyelashes, and that’s all it takes to make him fold.

“...I guess, if you really-” He’s cut off by an excited squeal from you, and he’s glad that you’re too distracted to notice him blush. Rodrick has never felt his willpower give in so fast, but as he watches you rush around your room and smile, delighted that he’d agreed, he realizes that he’d do pretty much anything you tell him too. Ben and Chris would call him a pussywhipped simp, but… no, that’s pretty much it. He chuckles a little at the thought, watching the pile of stuff grow. He recognizes nail polish and tweezers, but that’s about it.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” You say, rambling happily as you settle down on your bed across from him. “I’ve been wanting to do self care stuff but I’ve done so many everything showers and self care nights there’s nothing left for me to do on myself. But you…”

You take his face in your manicured hands, moving him around to inspect more closely.

“You are in serious need of a facial.”

Rodrick doesn’t really process what you’re saying, he just loves when you touch his face like that. 

“...Uh, yeah totally.” He mutters absentmindedly, distracted by your sweet smell. After a moment, he processes what you said, and chuckles, leaning back into your silky pink pillows. “Babe, you can do anything to me, anywhere, anytime.” 

You giggle, feeling your face flush a little as you get all your stuff organized. Rodrick runs his hands up and down your waist, fidgeting with your soft fluffy pajama shorts and big loded diper shirt you wear all the time. He sees the little burn marks and worn out hems and realizes it’s the one you stole from him. He smiles softly, loving the way you look in it even more now. His attention is pulled back to you when you push something over his face, brushing his hair back. You adjust the fluffy cat ears on the headband, making sure you have access to his whole face. Rodrick giggles a little, knowing he must look a little out of place wearing a pierce the veil shirt and fluffy kitty cat headband. 

“I don’t think my forehead has been this exposed since like, 4th grade…” he chuckles.

“That’s good, you’ll have less sun damage that way.” You smile, putting some micellar water on a cotton pad. It’s a little cold to the touch, but after a moment, the feeling of you gently wiping over his face and neck ends up being way more relaxing than he had expected it to. You throw it away, and he hears it land in your trash can with a crinkle. 

“I’m gonna mist your face now, okay?” You say, and he nods. You spray rose water on his face, and Rodrick can’t get over how considerate you are to give him a heads up like that. Rodrick smiles a little as he adjusts to the subtle floral smelling facial spray he’s used to smelling on you. He basks in the quietness of your room, opening his eyes as he watches you sitting on his stomach and looking for the next product. You hesitate for a moment. You feel like something’s missing, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“Oh,” you say, reaching for your phone as you remember. You open up Spotify, and put your favorite playlist on shuffle - the one you and Roddy share. It’s full of both your favorite songs, mostly boiling down to early 2000’s pop punk and trashy pop. It’s chaotic but really does suit you both perfectly.  Rodrick smiles suddenly as he instantly recognizes the opening notes of Jesus of Suburbia begin to play. You take out your favorite serum, jasmine and blackberry hydrating jelly, and place a few drops around his face. 

“What’s that one?” Rodrick asks, picking up another bottle. 

“Hyaluronic acid.”

Rodrick looks at the little dropper bottle.

“Does it, like, melt the flesh right off your bones?” 

“No…?” You chuckle, massaging his cheekbones and jawline with your fingertips.

“Then why is it called hydroponic acid?” He asks rhetorically, “Acid is supposed to melt shit.”

You laugh again, and he makes a mental note to sample your laughter for a song at some point in the future. He doesn’t know which one yet, but he knows it will be his best one yet. 

You rub some cooling aloe vera gel into his skin, then take out your rose quartz gua sha stone. You tap your fingertips against his chest, and he looks at you with an amused smile.

“What does that do?”

He watches you work, eyes locked on you. He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed and peaceful. 

“I’m prepping your lymphatic drainage system.” 

That clarified absolutely nothing for Rodrick, but he trusts you implicitly. You’re so good at so many things, but Christ, you could write a book on all that girly beauty stuff. It’s way more hardcore than people think it is. You know about all these acids and drainage systems and the pink rock thing, and even though he’s impressed, he’s not at all surprised by how good you are at all this stuff.

You begin gently gliding your gua sha over Roddy’s skin, working from his forehead down to his neck and jawline. He stops talking as you work, and it’s like you melt all of the stress out of his body through his face. He could fall asleep with you touching him so gently like this. After a while you rub some more cream into his face, then place something under his eyes that feels like thinly sliced jello.

“What the fuck?” He asks, bringing another laugh out of you. He watches you take two more of the weird jelly things and put them under your own eyes.

“They’re under eye masks.” You answer with a chuckle. “They hydrate your skin, depuff, and get rid of dark circles.”

“Huh…” he hums in response, playing with the patches as they sit on his face. 

Once you’ve used half your arsenal of skincare products on him, you peel off his sheet mask and let him sit up. You hand him a mirror, and as he sits up and stretches a little, kind of wishing you had more to do, he feels like he just woke up from the best sleep of his life. 

“So? What do you think?” You ask excitedly. He can’t help but crack a smile at how cute you are. Rodrick takes the mirror you offer him. When he sees his reflection, he almost doesn’t recognize himself. 

“Oh my god…” he says with a soft smile. He’s glowing. He doesn’t think he’s ever looked this soft and moisturized and… cared for before. He doesn’t even have any crusty eyeliner from yesterday smudged around his eyes. He can never get it off all the way, but one wave of your magic wand, and it’s gone. He laughs again, touching his cheek. He looks up at you in surprise.

“My face is so smooth…” “I know!” You exclaim in delight. “So, do you like facials after all?”

You have a feeling you already know the answer, but Rodrick looks up at you anyway.

“Yeah,” he states, pulling you in for a kiss, his lips soft and exfoliated, topped with your favorite strawberry lip balm. You think Rodrick is right, it does taste better in a kiss. After he pulls away, it takes him a minute for his brain to stop short circuiting. 

“So… uh, are we doing this again next weekend?” 

You laugh at his hopeful tone of voice, how he raises his eyebrows a little. 

“Yeah.” You nod, taking him in for another kiss. You take his hands in yours, looking at the stick and poke tattoo he got of the heart you drew on his hand in chemistry class, his little calluses from drumming. “Next week I can do something about your cuticles.”

[strang3lov3]

Halloween Special

Summary: You dress up as Joel for Halloween, and Tommy helps you enhance your costume. Joel fucking hates your costume. God, you're annoying.

Warnings: smut, arguing, oral (f receiving) male masturbation, joel jerks himself off while eating u out, southern phrases, unprotected piv, rough sex, Joel stuffs your mouth with part of his costume to shut you up, creampie, secret Ron Swanson (Joel dresses up like a pirate the way Ron Swanson does), yee haw mothafuckas

A/N: This story absolutely can be read as a standalone, but if you like these two and would like to see more of their antics, they the Mall Rats and you can read more about them in my masterlist ! thank you @papipascalispunk for editing ❤️❤️ btw it is my birthday🎂🎉��i'm 21 today! And if you were feeling so inclined i wouldn't say no to some birthday wishes <3

“Why do all of these women’s costumes look like they’re from Victoria’s Secret?”, you ask as you and Joel rifle through the pile of twenty year old Halloween costumes. You’ve just gotten back from an old Spirit Halloween store with Joel, and now you’re sorting through costumes for the people of Jackson at his house. Some are salvageable and in good condition, some are old and moldy. 

Halloween doesn’t make much sense post-apocalypse. If there’s any candy left, it’s all rotten. It’s not practical for kids to trick-or-treat for baked goods and apples, the few sweets Jackson has to offer. So instead, Maria and Tommy are hosting a Halloween potluck at their home. All are invited and encouraged to dress up, bring food. The party’s tonight.

“Who knows,” Joel mumbles, “Just how it was.”

“Did you dress all slutty too?”

“‘Course I did. Turned all kinds of tricks back in my prime.”

“Then here–”, you toss Joel a nurse costume, “Be a slutty nurse for the party.”

“Yeah, no thanks.”

You snicker to yourself as you sort the piles. You’ve got girls’ and boys’ costumes sorted by size, and along with mens’ and women’s. “What are you gonna dress up as, then?”

“I dunno. Do I have to?”, Joel asks, “I don’t even wanna go.”

“Too bad, you have to. And you have to dress up, too. It’s mandatory.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “What are you going as, then?” you shrug in response. Joel tosses you a costume, the guy in the picture seemingly wearing a sort of hat shaped like a thumb. “Knucklehead’, it reads. So fucking stupid. “Get it?”

“Ha-ha,” you throw the costume back in his direction. The costumes are all sorted now, so Joel bags up each pile to take to Maria. “Do you want any help with those bags?” you ask. 

“Nah, I got it. Thanks, though.” 

“Will I see you tonight?”

“Depends. How slutty you dressin’?”  Joel opens the door and grabs the bags of costumes.

“You know, the usual. Lingerie and cat ears.”

“Mmm. Definitely stayin’ home, then. Get the door for me?” Joel asks as he’s standing in the doorway with the bags in his hands. 

“Sure,” you nod. And as Joel leaves and you shut his door, his flannel draped over a chair catches your eye. You have the best costume idea. 

–

You get to Maria and Tommy’s around six. Tommy greets you at the door, hair slicked back and wearing a cape, his usual toothy grin enhanced by plastic fangs. There’s red makeup resembling dripping blood from the corners of his mouth. “Hey you,” he says. “What do we have here?”

You clear your throat and speak in a lower affectation, “Shut up and quit smilin’,” before breaking into a fit of giggles. 

Tommy laughs too. “Joel?”

“Bingo,” you reply. You’re wearing Joel’s flannel and a simple pair of jeans, with an exaggerated scowl. 

“Costume is spot on, ‘cept for one thing,” you raise your eyebrows and Tommy continues, “You’re much easier on the eyes than he is.”

“Oh, stop it,” you blush and smack his arm. “Speaking of, Joel here yet?”

“Oh, yeah. Off in the kitchen or something. He’s gonna hate your costume, darlin’. Absolutely fuckin’ hate it.” 

“Good, that was the plan,” you smile mischievously. 

“I like how you roll, sister,” Tommy drawls. “An’ in fact…” Tommy looks around himself before moving a hand to your waist and stealthily guiding you to a nearby bedroom, his baby’s nursery. 

“What are we doing, Tommy?”

“Shh, be cool, be cool,” Tommy tells you. He loves your costume, but he’s got an idea. A great idea, a way to improve it. He picks up a bottle of baby powder from the changing table and sits you down, then sprinkles some in your hair and combs it through with his fingers. “Now we’re cookin’,” he says. “Gotta get you that silver fox look, like Joel.” 

 “Ahh,” you hum in agreement. Should have thought of that one. That’s good.

“And–” Tommy continues, “You gotta talk like him too. You know how to do that?” 

“Sure,” you clear your throat and speak in a low tone again, mocking Joel. “Fuck this, fuck that, fuck you–”

“Oh, very close,” Tommy laughs, “Nah, you gotta get southern on his ass, sweetheart. You know what I’m sayin’?” you shake your head no. “That’s okay. M’gonna teach ya.”

Tommy spends the next ten minutes running through a list of southern words and phrases, teaching you how to speak in a southern accent. At the end, you’re both in a fit of giggles. “God, sweetheart, I love ya. Joel’s gonna shit a brick.” 

You come out of the nursery with Tommy and make your way into the kitchen where Joel’s sitting. He’s at the counter, alone, snacking on some carrot cake. You’re still trying to compose yourself, biting your lip to hide your smile. “Howdy, pardner.”

“Uh, hi,” Joel eyes you and Tommy suspiciously. He does not like the way you’re both smiling, definitely causing trouble. “The hell are you two so happy about?”

“Nothin’.” you say, looking at Tommy. He subtly nods in approval. Don’t pronounce the ‘ing’ at the end of those words. It’s ‘In’. Nothing, nothin’. Fucking, fuckin’. Something, somethin’. “Uh, Joel, what’s your costume?”

“What’s it look like? I’m a pirate,” he grumbles. He’s got an…interesting take on a pirate costume. He’s wearing a plain button down shirt, striped pajama bottoms, and a long red tie tied around his tummy. You’re pretty sure there was a men’s pirate costume in the pile that you had sorted from earlier. 

Tommy brushes your hair from your ear and whispers something. You smile, then speak to Joel. “Well, don’t you look cuter than a dimple on a bug’s ass.” 

“Did you just have a stroke?” Joel squints at you, “Wait a fuckin’ second–that’s my shirt.”

You look down at your shirt in mock surprise, “Well slap butter on my ass and call me a biscuit! I guess it is your shirt, Joel!”

Joel’s blushing, redder than a tomato. His flannel is ill fitting, but to Joel, it looks perfect on you. He swallows thickly. You’ve got one less button closed than what he wears, and he’s fighting the urge to let his eyes fall lower. “Where did you even–never mind. You - I told you - God dammit, this ain’t–”

“This ain’t funny,” you interrupt, matching his tone perfectly. 

Tommy’s giggling like an idiot next to you, then faces his palm up by his hip for a high five. You slap his palm and this enrages Joel, who glares at Tommy. “Don’t encourage this. The fuck is the matter with you?” Goddamn little brothers. 

“What, don’t y’all like my costume? I’m you.” 

“‘Course you are,” Joel grumbles. “Though a witch would be more fitting,” He looks at you closer, “What the hell is wrong with your hair?”

“I’m a silver fox just like you, Joel.”

Joel rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do not call me that. I can’t even look at you right now. Jesus Christ.” He eats the last of his cake, then stomps off, away from you and Tommy. 

“You,” a voice interrupts. It’s Maria, dressed as a black cat. She’s so cute. “You two are playing with fire. Tommy, leave this girl alone. Joel’s gonna wring her neck.”

Tommy shrugs. “It was her idea.” 

Maria doesn’t care. She smacks Tommy upside the head and ushers him towards the living room leaving you all by yourself. Tommy turns back to you, busted, he mouths. So you look for Joel. 

You make your way through the living room, check the porch. It’s only when you’re in a hallway that you feel a strong hand grip your forearm and drag you to the guest bedroom that you realize where Joel stormed off to. “What in tarnation?” you exclaim, and Joel locks the door. “This bedroom ain’t big enough for the two of us.” 

Joel rolls his eyes. “Shut up and take off your pants. Do it now,” he grunts. You smirk and begin unbuttoning your - Joel’s - shirt. “Pants,” he scolds you, annoyed. “You keep my shirt on for this.” 

You quit unbuttoning the shirt, “Thought you don’t like my costume?”

“I don’t,” Joel replies. You can see the tent in his pants, how achingly hard he is. You smirk. He’s all pissed off and worked up, a brutal combination. Your favorite combination. All because you’re wearing his shirt. Not really, though. You know the gray hair and the southern accent are what’s really pissing him off. You wearing his shirt is just fine. 

In a fit of giggles, you can barely get the words out, “You’re hard as a match–wait,” you pause, unable to control your laughter. You catch your breath before continuing, “Shit fire and save matches, you’re hard as a r–”

“Don’t have time for this,” Joel grumbles. In one fell swoop, he unbuttons your jeans and pulls them and your panties down your legs, tossing them elsewhere. He shoves you on the bed before kneeling at the edge, pulling you by your hips. The cold air has your skin erupting in goosebumps that are then soothed by his hot breath on your thighs, as he presses sloppy kisses into your skin. “You have no–” he kisses your other thigh, “Fuckin’ idea,” then drags his tongue up your soft flesh, “What you’re doin’ to me, wearin’ my shirt like that. M’gonna devour you, sweetheart.”

Joel startles you by licking a long, fat stripe right up your hot and slick core, groaning as he tastes you, “Fuck,” you moan, fingers carding through Joel’s hair. You know this is getting tired. Seriously. Time and place. But even with his head between your thighs, you can’t stop. You struck gold. “Heaven to Betsy, it seems I have a visitor!” 

Joel sighs as he pulls away from your core and stares at you, unimpressed. “You done yet?”

“Darn tootin’,” You get no reaction from Joel. “Yes...I’m done.” 

“So fuckin’ sick of you. S’not funny. I don’t talk like that.”

And he’s right back where he was. First he’s inhaling you, your sweet scent, he licks another long stripe up your pussy, his tongue soft and firm against your core. He drags his tongue through your folds, moaning into your skin and savoring the way you taste.  He keeps one arm wrapped around your thigh while the other is pulling down his striped pajama bottoms just over his cock, the waistband resting beneath his balls. Joel spits on your pussy, then drags his thumb up and down your core, collecting the mixture on his fingertips before spreading it on his cock. He grips himself tight, stroking himself up and down as his tongue teases your entrance, exploring your sex.

You can feel his shoulder jerk with every movement of his hand on his cock. You wish you could see it, his shaft shiny with your slick and the head red and swollen.

“Good lord,” Joel whispers against you. He eats you like he’s starved, eyes closed and lips wrapped around your clit. His fingertips dig into your thighs at a bruising pressure, his nose is buried in the coarse hair that covers your mound. “Fuckin’ good…so fuckin’ good,” Your skin, your musk, your arousal. He’s addicted to it, addicted to the taste of your pleasure. And Christ, the way his flannel drapes over your stomach, peeking over the tops of your thighs. He could die a happy man right here, between your thighs. 

“Joel,” you cry, rocking your hips against his face. You’re moving too much. He bites your thigh and holds you firmer, his bicep flexing against you under the soft fabric of his shirt.

He alternates between lapping at your dripping core, sucking your sensitive clit, and fucking you on his tongue. Whatever he wants to do to you, because this is his treat. His.

“Yeah Joel, right there,” you whimper. You can feel it in your thighs, your gut, that familiar closeness is back. Under Joel’s tongue, you’re unraveling, coming undone for him. “M’so close.”

“This ain’t about you,” he growls. “Y’got yer kicks already, didn’t you? Teasin’ me in your little getup. Pokin’ fun and bein’ mean t’me.” 

“No, Joel, I wasn’t–”

“I don’t care, sweetheart,” Joel says softly as he works himself. You hear the slick sounds of his fist slapping against his skin. “I don’t care. This ain’t about you. M’doin’ this f’me. Don’t you dare come.” 

But you do. Not out of defiance, not to piss him off further. You just can’t help yourself. The way he purrs and growls into your skin, the way his arm holds you in place so firm. And his tongue, working pure fucking magic against you. Your orgasm ripples through you violently, taking you by storm. It feels hot and electric, intense and overpowering. Generously, he works you through it, licking and lapping at you, pulling every ounce of pleasure from your body that he can get. Static rings in your ears and you’re limp, pliant on the bed, eyes closed in pure bliss.

When you finally open your eyes, you realize Joel is standing above you, breathing heavily. Cock still achingly hard in his fist. “You weren’t supposed to do that,” he breathes.

“It was an accident,” you reply.

“Accident, my ass.” You bite your lip to hide your smirk. Joel knows that look on your face. Mischief. He reads you like a book, knows that you’re not done with your little act as you pull him onto the bed, flip him on his back and mount him. He knows exactly what you’re planning. Something about saving a horse, riding a cowboy. Of course you are. God, you’re exhausting.

You reach between your bodies and line his head up with your entrance, then sink down on him. Slowly, savoring the way he stretches you out. It hurts. He didn’t use his fingers on you. But you’re committed to what you have planned.

“Joel,” you breathe, rocking your hips slowly against him. “I have something to tell you.”

“What could you possibly need to tell me now, motormouth?” That devious smirk on your face…he knows what you’re about to say, answering his own question. He rolls his eyes, exasperated, “For the love of god…Go on, then. Get it out of your system, numb nuts.”

“YEEEE HAWWW!” you squeal, and Joel lunges forward to wrap a hand over your mouth. He did not think you were gonna be that loud. The party’s loud, but not that loud. “Jesus Christ,” he hisses. “The fuck is the matter with you? You cannot scream like that…Christ almighty.”

He flips you over, pulls out of you and rips the tie off of his belly. “My fuckin’ turn, now. Drivin’ me to drink,” He stuffs it into in your mouth, “Can you breathe?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he retaliates. He wraps your legs around his waist and lines up with your entrance once more, burying himself to the hilt in a quick shove with his hips. You gasp, your voice muffled by his tie.

He finds his pace quickly, pistoning into you at a devastating pace. Hard and fast and deep, like you love. “Fuckin’ ridiculous,” he pants. “You’re impossible. You know that? Impossible.”

You can’t smile, can’t speak. With your mouth stuffed full you can do is look at him with wide eyes, and all Joel can think is god, you have no business being so pretty and so fucking irritating at the same time. Joel’s shirt is buttoned halfway up your body and he watches your tits bounce under the fabric with every thrust of his hips. Your nipples taut and hard, the shirt falling away from your torso and framing your body just so, like you’re a painting, just for him.

“God,” Joel grunts. You wrap your legs tighter around him, hold his forearms that cage your head. You look into his eyes as he fucks you, his usual sparkling brown eyes nearly black with lust. And it might get you into trouble, but you need more. Need to feel him, taste him. Pulling the tie out of your mouth, you lift your head, kissing and sucking up his neck and all the way to his jaw and his cheek still slick with your own arousal. You taste yourself on his skin as you kiss his face, lips just centimeters away from meeting his own.

Joel makes all sorts of strangled noises as he pounds into you. His muscles tense and you can feel his cock twitch and stiffen inside you, and with his last few strong and deep thrusts, he spills into you. He comes hard, painting your walls with rope after rope of his hot seed.

He catches his breath on top of you as you trace lazy patterns into his back and his scalp, his head resting against the mattress. Completely drained of his energy. You can feel him going soft. “Joel, I need a rag or something before I make a mess on this bed.”

“Oh, yeah,” He looks up, raising his eyebrows when he sees his tie in his peripheral vision. He takes it, 

“You weren’t s’posed to take this out of your mouth,” he says, “Least you stayed quiet for once. Maybe you could be quiet the rest of the night, hm?” he mumbles as he pulls out of you, wiping you down gently with the tie. He folds it up to keep the mess of his spend contained. “You do that for me?”

You smile. If only you weren’t all out of the sayings that Tommy taught you anyway. Joel helps dress you in your pants and underwear again, straightens out the buttons on your flannel. He tells you that you don’t have to give it back to him as you comb your fingers through his hair, taming it. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“You really didn’t like my costume?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel smiles for the first time tonight, and exaggerates his own southern accent. “Bless your heart.”

You tilt your head, confused, “What’s that one?”

 “What, Tommy didn’t teach you that one?” You mumble a no and Joel hums. “S’a classic.”

“What’s it mean?”

“Well, I’d tell you to ask Tommy but you’re not allowed to hang out with him anymore,” Joel says. “Fuckin’ corrupted you. An’ it’s a shame, ‘cause I was startin’ to like you. God, he’s an asshole,” he complains, “And you are too, for that matter.”

You smile to yourself, then kiss Joel’s cheek before getting up to leave. Before you open the door, you turn to Joel, “Your costume sucks, by the way. Not even close to a pirate.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he replies. “Now get lost, you.”

When you leave, Joel adjusts his clothes. He clutches his tie in his hand, then leaves the bedroom, crashing into someone. It’s Tommy, wearing a shit-eating grin. Joel sighs, “What’d you teach her now?”

Tommy smirks. “Nothin’,” then slaps Joel on the ass, and Joel turns beet red. “Yee-haw, cowboy.”

Please please please reblog, send me asks, comment, let me know what you thought! Love your thoughts. It keeps me going and motivated to write for you all.

[sodaabaa]

shadows and spirits, part one

azriel x reader reader is azriel's mate but she hasn't accepted the bond yet due to her fear of azriel himself.

tw: slightly nsfw, brief mentions of illyrian misogyny, suggestions of edging and arousal

part two

Bells rang as the door to the bar opened, signaling the arrival of the day’s first customers – or so Y/N thought. She walked to the bar counter, leaving behind the half opened crates of newly shipped wines and spirits. She’d deal with those later. 

“Y/N! How’s my favorite bartender?” Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court walked in with his arms raised and a friendly, welcoming smile on his face. 

She fought the urge to smile at the sight of her friend, “I’m only your favorite because I give you discounts and secrets,” she whispered the last part as he approached.

Y/N ran one of the most popular bars in Velaris, being a favored spot for many because of its proximity to the Sidra River and the spectacular view it offered (and of course, the variety of top-shelf liquor favored by Rhysand himself). Y/N knew everyone and anyone that frequented her bar. She often provided a shoulder to cry on and a few shots of tequila to mend broken hearts. Because of this, she gathered vast amounts of information from the citizens of the beautiful city and when needed, she reported back to Rhys. 

Rhys smiled, leaning his elbows on the counter. She swatted at him with a towel, “I just cleaned that.” Rhys chuckled but didn’t remove himself from the dark wood counter.

She opened her mouth to ask Rhys why he was here when something pricked at the back of her neck. Her eyes darted to the man trailing behind Rhys like a shadow, and then back to the High Lord. She stood a little taller, back straightening as she steeled herself. 

“Here on business, I guess?” She asked him. His smile faded as he nodded. She poured herself and the High Lord a drink to avoid any more eye contact with the man who’d just entered. They clinked their glasses and downed their drinks. With a sigh, Rhys pulled something out of his back pocket.

“Have you seen these men?” He placed a few pictures on the counter and waited for Y/N to recognize them. 

“I may have seen them, they look familiar. I can ask the girls, maybe they’d have more luck identifying them,” she replied. 

Rhys nodded, “Alright, be on the lookout for these guys. They’ve been stirring up some trouble and I’m gonna need to put an end to that before it gets worse.” “Are they Illyrian?” “Unfortunately,” Rhys replied with a sigh.

“I’ll keep an eye out for them,” she gave him a curt nod. 

“Take care, Y/N,” and with that, Rhys turned to leave. Azriel on the other hand, stayed behind. Y/N quickly busied herself with wiping down the counter and tidying up in hopes he’d get the signal and leave.

“You can’t avoid this forever, Y/N,” he finally broke the silence, his voice deep and flat – it rumbled through her, causing the hairs on her arms to raise. 

She threw the towel onto the counter, “Watch me,” she spat back. Big mistake. His hazel eyes darkened, shadows coming to life around him; twisting and flaring with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. He exhaled, silently making his way out the same door he arrived in. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You could at least try being less hostile towards him, the poor man is in a constant state of sulking these days,” Feyre said as she swirled the glass of ruby-colored wine in her hands.

Y/N rolled her eyes at her friend’s attempt at getting her to talk to Azriel. Feyre frequently visited the bar since it was closeby to her art studio. The two had hit it off quickly, becoming close friends and bonding over art, music, and men. Feyre had found out about Y/N’s mating bond issue and because she was biased (being friends with Azriel), she constantly pestered Y/N about it. 

“Feyre, I already told you. I don’t want anything to do with Illyrians – they’re possessive, violent, and they view women as breeding machines,” she looked at the High Lady, “and I mean this with all due respect to Rhys, I don’t want to be mated to an Illyrian.” 

“He’s really a big softie, I promise. Just get to know him, he has the same complaints about Illyrians as you do!” Of course she would defend him, they’d been close friends ever since Feyre first arrived at the Night Court. But she overlooked the innate instincts of the warrior species. 

Y/N sighed. She tried to repress the memories of her parents – her mother, like Y/N, was mated to an Illyrian. She knew the culture they were raised in, the way they looked down on women, the violence they were accustomed to. To top it all off, Azriel was the Spymaster of the Night Court – the rumors about his cruelty and power were enough to keep Y/N away from him in fear. Luckily, she knew he’d stay away until she accepted the bond.

“I somehow doubt a man who tortures people for a living could be a 'big softie',” she replied with a scoff. 

Feyre sighed, “He doesn’t hurt the innocent – in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him hurt a fly even,” she took Y/N hands in hers, “He’s a good man, Y/N. Give him a chance.” 

Y/N huffed, “I’ll think about it.” 

Feyre squealed, an uncharacteristic sound for a High Lady to make, and pulled Y/N in for a hug. 

“You won’t regret this!” 

I somehow doubt that, she thought to herself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As the sun began to set, the bar came alive with people ready to unwind after a long day of work. The air hummed with laughter and conversation, glasses clinking in the air while soft melodies floated about. Y/N looked around the bar for the men Rhys was looking for, taking in the lively atmosphere – a jolt of pride running through her as she surveyed the place she built up from the bottom.

Despite the bustling noise of the bar, she felt that damned prickle on the back of her neck, her eyes catching on the shadows in the corner. He did this every so often – lurked in the corners, watching her. She rolled her eyes, returning to the customers at the counter asking for drinks. 

“Hey sweetie, give us a smile!” One of her unfortunately regular customers called out. He leaned forward, trying to get in Y/N’s way.

“Find someone else to bother tonight, Devon,” she replied, topping his glass with more liquor avoiding eye contact with the sleazy man who constantly vyed for her attention. 

“Oh, but I wanna bother you,” his hand grabbed hers. 

“Devon, I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit tonight, let go,” She said as she tried wriggling her wrist out of his grip. The nuisance of a customer pulled her closer but stopped in his tracks, abruptly letting her hand go and backing away from the bar. He all but scurried away and Y/N sighed. She knew there was only one man who could make people shit their pants in fear like that. 

“You could’ve at least let him pay before he left,” She said without even bothering to turn around as she picked up the abandoned glass of whiskey.

The man behind her dramatically placed a few coins on the counter. She braced herself for the brooding face and shadows as she turned around. She glared up at him, the height difference between them all the more prominent as he stood not even a foot away.

“Stop sending Feyre to do the dirty work of convincing me to accept the bond,” she tried to sound intimidating – or at least serious but she found it difficult when faced with his presence, it consumed all of her confidence and left her feeling small, defenseless against the Spymaster.

“I didn’t send her,” he replied rather monotonous but she could see the tinge of amusement on his face at the sight of her trying to put up a confident front.

“Well if you’re done playing savior, can I get back to work?” 

“Would it kill you to say 'thank you?'” He blocked her from passing by with his aggravatingly large obsidian wings. 

She put her hands on her hips and mustered up all the vitriol she could, “Yes, actually, it would. Now get out of my way before I kick you out.” 

He let out a breathy laugh, a laugh. Y/N, now fuming at the man before her, shoved him in the chest, knowing it wouldn’t amount to much but it helped relieve her annoyance.

This time, he chuckled, a sound that resonated through her, only serving to fuel the fire that was Y/N’s anger. She grabbed one of the soda guns under the counter and aimed it at the nuisance before her. His brows lifted in surprise and he lifted his hands in a mock surrender. Her eyes fell to his scarred hands and her stomach dropped as her hands gripped the soda gun tighter.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded, “I’ll be around.” With that, he returned to the shadows and Y/N let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

At the end of the night, the final few customers stumbled their way out of the bar and Y/N took a seat at one of the tables, exhausted from the day’s work. She poured herself a drink, relishing in the quiet – though her relief was short lived when she sensed the shadows in the corners. She squinted, grabbing a towel from her apron and threw it at the corner. He caught it, revealing himself from the shadows. 

“If you wanna lurk here after hours, the least you could do is help me clean up.” Amusement once again danced over his dark features. No doubt thinking about all the ways he’d make her pay for her rude behavior. He didn’t say anything as he started wiping down the tables, eyes occasionally finding their way back to Y/N, shadows brushing her skin when she walked past him.

They cleaned in silence, Y/N taking a mop to the floors while Azriel put up the chairs and collected stray items off the tables. Something clicked in her then, she felt almost at ease with his presence. Almost. 

“Do you know what happens when accepting the mating bond is delayed?” He said, breaking the silence.

She looked at him from across the room as he put up the last few chairs.

“What happens?”

His eyes darkened, narrowing at her, “There are reports of males being unable to stop themselves from taking their mate, over and over," he paused, giving her a moment to process, "I like to think I have more restraint than my dimwitted brothers but even I cannot control nature,” his voice was dangerously low as he spoke. It made Y/N stomach flutter in ways she couldn’t contain. Her skin prickled as she took in his words. Her chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm, suddenly realizing she was at a crossroads. 

She’d been putting off accepting the bond for years now. They had first met at the grand opening of the bar. Rhys had come to congratulate her and survey the bar and of course, he had brought the inner circle. They became her first customers. A feeling of dread welled in her stomach when she first laid eyes on Azriel and somehow she knew it was him, her mate. She cursed the Cauldron for pairing her with the deadliest Illyrian in Prythian. 

“You won’t be able to delay it forever, Y/N,” he stalked closer to her, massive wings dragging behind him, a predator approaching its prey.

She took a step back, stumbling into the table behind her and she flinched. He smirked at her clumsiness. 

“Eventually, you’ll feel it. The primal, unavoidable need. The raw desire,” he drawled. 

She swallowed, looking up at the man who now stood too close to her for comfort. She leaned back, her weight shifted to her hands gripping the table behind her to put as much distance between them as she could. He only looked down at her, his intense gaze raking over her body, sensing her fear. He leaned down, she could feel his breath tickle her ear as he said, “That’s not fear, Y/N. It’s arousal.” Her breath got caught in her throat at the show of his abilities. He straightened and stepped back, giving her room to breathe. 

“Good night, mate.” 

He disappeared into the night, leaving her dazed and flustered.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Y/N entered the bar, grumbling at Daisy, one of the bartenders, as she passed by the bubbly girl.

“Woah, what’s got you all crabby this morning?” She glared at Daisy, prompting her to find some task to tend to as Y/N slouched on the counter. She couldn’t get a wink of sleep the last few nights. Azriel’s words echoed in her mind, keeping her up.

It’s not fear, it’s arousal. 

After he left the bar that night, she found herself almost constantly in an aggravating state of arousal. Despite this, she couldn’t find any relief no matter what she did. She tried pleasing herself but when all she could think about was Azriel and his dominating presence, she decided to erase the memory of him through a string of one night stands. To her utter dismay, none of it worked. It nearly drove her mad. She hadn’t seen Azriel in the past few weeks since that night and she realized he was giving her space on purpose, to heighten her need to see him again. Asshole, she thought.

She poured herself a drink, hoping it’d dull the throbbing in her head (and in other places she deigned to acknowledge). 

“Day drinking? Is there something bothering you, Y/N?” 

Great. As if the day couldn’t get any better.

The velvety, deep voice rang through her, causing damned butterflies in her stomach. He stood before her, dressed in his fighting leathers, blue siphons pulsing with power. He gave her a knowing smirk.

“I can’t deal with this today,” she said as she walked off.

“You could give in, you know. It would provide you with the much needed relief you’re so desperately trying to seek,” he taunted.

“No thanks, there’s bound to be some half witted man that can satisfy me plenty,” she shot back.

The shadows around him flared, reaching out towards her but not quite touching her. Azriel’s eyes were dark. Maybe it was stupid of Y/N to taunt him, dangerous even, but she'd spent the last few days in sleepless agony because of him. He could suck it.

“Aw, is the big bad Spymaster jealous?” She teased.

“Don’t play games with me, Y/N.” She walked back over to him, lifting her chin in defiance. 

“Or what? We both know you won’t touch me until I accept the bond.” 

He smirked, “You will accept the bond. And when you do, you are going to be at my mercy. Begging for relief,” he gripped her chin with a hand, sending a chill down her spine, “And I’ll take that as an opportunity to remind you of your obstinance.” 

“I bet you’re just as pent up as I am. It gives me peace knowing you can only find relief with me. Maybe it’ll give me the strength I need to continue denying you.” 

He let out a breathy laugh, “I have centuries of experience on you, little girl.” 

Her stomach dropped at the degrading title. The reminder of his age dawned on her. He fought in the first war against Hybern, Y/N hadn’t even been born then. She was a mere century and half to his five centuries. 

“Cat’s got your tongue?” He taunted with a smile.

She shoved him off in a sudden movement. Grateful to be away from him. 

“Fine, I’ll give you some room to breathe. Cauldron knows you’ll be needing it.” 

He left as fast as he had appeared, once again leaving Y/N off-centered for the rest of the day. What have I gotten myself into?

[cottonlemonade]

hi! can i take menu b with a drink of strawberry and mochi and sit next to ushijima?

Marking His Territory

request: fluffy, jealous boyfriend Ushijima, as manager

____________________________________________

“How are you so calm?”

“Shouldn’t I be?”

Tendou frowned, then looked in your direction again, watching with simmering anger how some guy from Inarizaki obviously flirted as you laughed politely.

Ushijima studied the situation from afar for a moment, then went back to stretching.

“She has everything under control.”, he noted, letting out a long breath as he raised his knee to his chest.

“But- aren’t you gonna go over there and … I dunno, mark your territory? He is clearly flirting with her!”

“Mark my territory?”

“Metaphorically.”, Tendou quickly added, “You know? Put your arm around her or even give her a kiss.”

“But we’re in public.”

“So?”

“So, she told me she gets shy when I kiss her in public.”

The red haired boy sighed and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“You are so lucky you have me.”

“I know.”

Blinking for a moment at his earnest response, Tendou went on, “I mean, yes, she may have said she gets shy when you do PDA - uhm, public displays of affection”, he explained, “but getting shy is a good thing. As cool as she is when she pulls the manager card on us, it’s adorable when such a bossy girl gets all shy.”

“Y/n is not bossy.”, Ushijima cut in immediately and this was probably the first time ever Tendou experienced his friend glaring at him.

“You know what I mean. Not bossy but… competent! In charge.”

Ushijima nodded slowly.

Sensing he was getting closer, Tendou continued, “So go over there and be the jealous boyfriend. Kiss her and tell the other dude to back off.”

With a spirited pat on his back Tendou sent his friend on his way, crossing his arms, watching from a distance. And well, Ushijima did exactly as instructed. He put his arm around the chubby waist of his very surprised girlfriend and pulled her in for a kiss. Both y/n and the Inarizaki player looked at the captain in shock. A moment later Ushijima said something to the other player who hastened to bow apologetically and skedaddled. Goshiki joined Tendou just as Ushijima turned around and looked to his best friend for approval. Tendou nodded, satisfied, and raised two thumbs.

Even from here it was evident that your face was beet red.

“What’s going on?”, Goshiki asked, rolling his shoulders and turning his torso from left to right, warming up, but not taking his eyes off the ace.

“Just single-handedly saved a relationship. No big deal.”, Tendou beamed, watching as his friend said something to you before bending way down to give you another kiss. This one a lot longer. Goshiki started to blush and clear his throat repeatedly but Tendou enjoyed the show. The middle blocker felt a panicked tug on his jersey when Ushijima dipped his head lower to kiss your neck.

“Shouldn’t we stop him?!”

The red head shrugged, grinning proudly. “No, why? He’s just marking his territory.”

____________________________________________

a/n: I love all of them - Tendou sure is a great teacher. Thank you so much for the request! Please enjoy 🌟

[slutsssphobia]

'𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄!'

This request is just so mwah 🌹

Request!:""here me out,,,,, nsfw of douma and afab!reader of overstim, public(in front of Muzan), while the reader is a hashira but like he has to keep going, and temp play with ice?????"" Muzan could join to

Warnings!: Dom!douma,sub!fem!reader,Dom! muzan,mean!douma,mean!muzan,size kink,belly bulge,monster fucking,slight non con?(reader got kidnapped) dubious con, double penetration,blowjob mention, ice play, temperature play

A/n:this is my longest work so far 🍷

(little backround)

You had been out on a mission to seek out a location by the name of "internal paradise cult'' It was led by a demon you had to hunt down. 'Douma'. "Are you sure you can go alone?" Shinobu asked you while preparing your med kit in case you injure yourself on the journey. "There's no demon I can't take!" You said proudly. You've worked your ass off to claim your spot as a hashira, shinobu left you some extra food in case. She secured your basket and sent you off, your journey awaited you as you stepped into the forest. You had your head up high, your mind was set on this journey.

You grew to become tired and slumped yourself on a log and opened your prepared basket. You took a sip of water from your small jug. As you twisted the lid shut you heard something in the far distance.

Snap!

You quickly rose in defense and scanned the area for any threat. To your surprise it was just a small animal passing by. You sighed and placed your sword back on your side, you were about to depart but you sensed the presence of something behind you. Your head snapped to look at what was behind and your eyes widened.

"hello there.."

There stood a shadow looming over your small form, you immediately charged towards it and raised your sword to strike an attack but to your disadvantage your ankle had been grabbed by a strong force. You helped as the shadow revealed itself as the one and only.

Douma.

"looking for something? You seem puzzled dear!"

The demon let a stifled laugh, you struggled against his grip. You tried kicking him, you reached for your sword it was just out of reach. The demon noticed you reaching for your sword and smiled. "Aww you want this?"

Douma took your sword and threw it almost as far as a yard away. You were in a fit of fear, you fought for your release but the demon only sat you on his lap and toyed with your uniform. "Let me go!"

You cried as the demon unbuttoned your uniform slowly, the demon only ignored your pleas and continued. He licked his pale lips as your laced bra was revealed. You shuddered at the cold air hitting your warm skin, you hated how the demon had so much control over you. "Not so feisty now huh?"

Douma teased as he removed your black laced bra and freed your breasts from the confinement, you tried to cover your breast but your arms were put behind your back in order to restrain you. Douma took your hardened nipple in his mouth rolling the bud against his tongue. His warm tongue was making you go feral, he switched to your other nipple releasing with a small pop!

He gave the same treatment to the other and grinned at your reactions. Douma lifted your chin with his index and placed his lips on your warm ones. You tried to pull away but douma held you in place keeping you still. He bit your bottom lip harshly demanding entrance into your mouth. You refused. You kept your fighting spirit, you couldn't give in.

Douma saw right through you and bit harsher, it made you whimper and leave your mouth agape for doumas tongue to slip in. He moaned into your mouth sending a warm fuzzy feeling to your core. You felt a wetness form in your panties. Your body was failing you, you couldn't be aroused! This a demon we are talking about for crying out loud!

Douma smirked and pulled away from the steamy kiss. "Someone's excited..you're gonna have to wait darling~"

Douma pecked your lips once more before your vision went black.

"did you find her?" Muzan asked douma as he was sitting on his throne head titled down.

"yes Lord muzan" douma replied bowing before the demon king, douma had brought you in due to muzan's orders. Of course douma found you fascinating and wanted you all to himself but it was his master's order.

"bring her in"

Douma rose from his knees and exited the room to retrieve you from your so called "room" douma had given you. You were still fast asleep when douma carried you in. You had taken a harsh blow to the head.

After five minutes had passed by you had awoken from your slumber, your vision was blurry and your leg had been wounded from what seemed nails. You rubbed your eye lids and opened your eyes to see from what it seemed the demon king. You were terrified at this point, you would have never thought you would come across muzan. Well not now in time at least, you were trembling at this point. Your lips quivered, "why am I here..?" You dared to question muzan. "No one gave you permission to speak."

Muzan spoke and glared at you with those red beaming eyes. His eye intimidated you, just a glare made you shiver.

"give her a punishment douma."

Muzan sat still in his chair eyes directed at you never leaving your body. "With pleasure~"

Douma purred as he got closer to you. He picked you up from the cold hard floor and placed you on the bed. You pleaded for him not to hurt you but your pleas went on deaf ears as douma harshly discarded your clothing leaving you on full display.

Douma kneeled at the edge of the bed and gripped your thighs and scooted you more towards the edge. Douma blew cold air against your wet fold making you gasp. Douma used his blood demon art and made a small icicle. "W-wait no please!" You begged him not to put it in you. He stroked your thigh and kissed the soft flesh. "It won't hurt dear""

At this point you didn't have anyone to believe so you stopped complaining hoping all of this would end. He slowly inserted the icicle into your sopping hole. The coldness made you shriek, douma used his tongue to push it farther in. He used this advantage and started licking fat stripes along your cold pussy.

Muzan sat and watched douma toy with you. He had a growing bulge in his pants from just the sight of you. Douma lifted his head from in between your legs and removed his pants and boxers. You were in a trance unable to think or say. The only thing that made it out of your mouth was only short babbles and moans.

Douma slapped his dick against your pussy and smiled, he leaned close to your ear and whispered sweet nothings. He slowly slipped it in not giving you time to adjust.

You screamed out loud and clawed at his back, he moaned out from the feeling and thrusted faster into you. The sound of slapping ringed in muzan's ears. He smirked at the faces you were making as douma harshly pounded into your tight pussy.

After about 15 minutes douma let out his fifth load into you. You already had two orgasms already your body was shaking from the overwhelming pleasure. Doumas thrusts were becoming sloppy, the bulge on your stomach was showing as he let out one last thrust.

"so pretty ~"

Douma cooed as he pulled out of you watching his cum ooze out your pussy. Soon after you didn't realize muzan was now sitting at the edge of the bed as well. "Douma fuck her mouth"

Muzan ordered. Douma scooted over to where your head rested and smiled sweetly masking his lewd intentions. Muzan already had his pants removed and lined himself at your entrance. He slammed without warning which made you yelp. "Fucking whore"

Muzan spat as douma plunged his cock in your mouth closing your airway. You gagged in his size. You couldn't help but swirl your tongue against him. His tip hit your throat many times but to doumas surprise your gag reflex was impressive. Muzan's pace was godly he had no intention of stopping. He was rearranging your insides at this point. He hit your cervix which made you go over the edge. You squirted all over his cock which made him harden.

Douma moaned as you sent vibrations to his cock from your own moans. He finally came in your mouth which you immediately swallowed.

Muzan pulled out of you and sat on the edge of the bed.

"douma get over here"

Muzan ordered. Douma sat on his knees before muzan and fanned himself. "You completed your mission bringing the hashira to me. I'll pity you and give you some of my blood in return." Muzan stopped for a moment.

"at one cost." Muzan started. Douma looked at muzan with doe eyes. "Please me."

They are just so augh- 🍷

Ty for requesting love 🌺

[moonlightspencie]

i would adore if you wrote a one shot about james potter being like absolutely obsessed with his gf and always doing cute things for her and looking after her

okay this is just a widdle drabble with our baby boy, but he is so soft in this. also: reader doesn’t have pronouns in this :)

pairing: james potter x gn!reader

warnings: fluffy fluff with one little suggestive reference

—————

You were sitting in the library studying with Remus after a long day of classes. You didn’t necessarily want to do more work, but you needed to be prepared for your next test. Besides, the subject wasn’t horrible and Remus made a great study partner. It was going well, too, until Remus snorted a laugh, looking over your shoulder.

“Incoming,” Remus said, smiling down at his book.

“Hi, darling,” James said quietly in your ear, his arms wrapping around your shoulders.

You laugh lightly, leaning your head back against him as he kissed your cheek a few times in a row. You made eye contact with Remus as he raised a brow at you and James, still finding it funny how overly-affectionate James was with you, even after more than a year of dating. You sighed softly.

“Hi, Jamie. What are you up to?”

You felt him shrug behind you. “Just wanted to say hello to my love. Moony told me you had a study date today, and I just came to interrupt so you didn’t bore yourself to death.”

“You know, I actually don’t mind advanced arithmancy,” you point out.

“Boooring,” he sang out, kissing your cheek again.

“Prongs, I’m gonna get sick if I have to watch you keep kissing,” Remus laughed, looking up from his book.

“You’re just jealous I have somebody to love and cuddle.”

“Right,” Remus snorted, not paying James any mind.

“I brought you something,” James whispered in your ear.

“Yeah?” you respond, interested.

“Mhm. Close your eyes.”

You follow his command, feeling him tear himself away from you long enough to pull a chair up to your side, his leg brushing yours as he sat next to you. You felt him grab your hand, pulling it towards him and dropping a little something in it.

“Can I open now?”

“Yeah,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice before you heard it.

You opened your eyes, smiling when you saw a new quill and a chocolate frog. You looked up at him questioningly, and he smiled back at you, looking utterly love struck.

“Thought you could use the chocolate as fuel to keep your spirits up, and the quill to make sure you were comfortable writing for so long.”

“Aww. Thank you, angel,” you cooed softly, leaning forward to kiss his lips.

He smiled into the kiss, proud to have made you happy. You only broke apart once Remus sighed loudly. You looked at him with a small smile still on your lips.

“Come on, Moony. It’s not so bad.”

“It is when I’ve been watching it for a year straight.”

“Year and three months,” James corrected him quickly.

Remus didn’t look amused at his friend. He rolled his eyes, though he smiled a little despite himself.

“Alright, wrap it up,” Remus said, wanting to get back to studying.

“I always do,” James retorted quickly.

You smacked his chest lightly, laughing. Remus scoffed a laugh, making a bit of a sour face at that unwanted mental image.

“Don’t be gross,” you chided your boyfriend.

He merely shrugged, kissing your cheek again before he stood up.

“I’ll see you at dinner, my love,” he said to you with another little grin. “I’ll miss you.”

“I know you will,” you smiled back.

[www-jungwon]

in which roommate!heeseung insists on decorating, and you're sure he's up to something (why has he got so much mistletoe?) ୨୧

tw. yellinggg, kissing, idk what rlly went through my head when writing this its kinda cringe bro wc. 887

“ok, i give up.” heeseung looks over in confusion, holding a box of christmas decorations in his hand.

“just tell me! i give up.”

“what are you talking about?” he squints, shifting the box in his arm.

you shift on the couch agitatedly, pausing your tv show. “why are you hanging all these up? like, do you want my room, or you feel bad because you broke something that’s mine, or you’re trying to hint you want-”

“it’s for christmas spirit!”

you roll your eyes. you’ve been trying to figure out your roommate’s obsession with decorating the apartment for the last week, but every time he’s answered with the same response. ‘christmas spirit.’ christmas spirit your ass. you’ll figure it out, you just need a couple more days.

“sure.”

he raises his eyebrows innocently. “i don’t know why you don’t believe me.”

“maybe because in the 3 years we’ve lived together you haven’t ever even lifted a finger to help me put decorations up?”

he shrugs. “change of heart.”

definitely up to something.

–

heeseung is being weird. he keeps trying to hide his decorations when you walk in on him, like he’s scared of you seeing them. even though you’ll see them anyway, because it’s your apartment.

after seeing him drop his box for the third time in two days, it clicks. a party. that explains his controlling of the decorations to look his way, and the secret phone calls he’s been making. you absolutely hate crowds, and your one rule the only time you’ve lived here has been no parties. he’s never complained before, but you suppose he’s finally gotten tired.

you’ve never felt more betrayed. heeseung, the most considerate roommate you’ve ever had, heeseung who keeps track of the amount of chocolate in your storage, heeseung who buys you things just because they reminded him of you, heeseung who is in charge of all the groceries, no discussion. heeseung, who you think you might be in love with, that heeseung, trying to throw a holiday party in your apartment without your permission when you leave tomorrow.

and as you see him emerge from the doorway, his head brushing the mistletoe he hung, fiery anger builds up inside you. how dare he hum, act all normal like you didn’t just watch him try to hide his decorations, how dare he do this secretly, how dare he make you love him while he’s betraying you like this?

so when he asks what you want him to make for dinner, you want to hit him in the face.

“you what?” he asks, and the way his nose scrunches in confusion only makes you angrier, and you snap.

“lee heeseung, i hate you!”

his doe eyes widen in surprise.

“what? i-”

“you’re so stupid! i can’t believe you would do all this just for a stupid holiday party! over me!”

you’ve stepped up to him, him backing up slightly as you walk forward.

“i don't know what-”

“and i wouldn’t have cared if you just asked! i’m not even gonna be here! but i thought that you at least cared about me enough to ask instead of sneaking around.”

“y/n, i-”

“and you find it so amusing when i ask you why, and this whole time it’s been for a party? you’ve been lying to me, sneaking around, just so you can throw a party without my permission? do i mean that little to you,” your words are choked by a sob, “that little, that-”

“y/n, i promise i-”

“that little, that a party is more important to you than me.” tears cross down your cheeks, tracing over the edges of your face.

heeseung’s brows are furrowed now, a concerned frown pushed onto his face. “y/n, i swear-”

how dare he act concerned, when it’s his fault. 

a yell rips out of you, “you don’t get to care about me now! not after, not after this, not after i’ve spent three years loving you and you’ve just thrown all my trust away for a party.”

he’s broken now, you can see it on his face in the way his brows are drawn in and you know you’ve hurt him, and you feel awful. he watches you carefully, taking a deep breath before he moves almost imperceptibly closer.

“y/n.”

you sniff weakly, “yeah?”

his voice is soft with hurt. “i love you, too. and i’d never throw a party without your permission, and it wasn’t that, and i’m sorry i was being so secretive but i promise it wasn’t because of that and i think- i think you should look up.”

you hadn’t realized how close you were to him now, your hands brushing his. you turn your head up slowly, your lips almost pressing against his, and you see it.

the mistletoe.

“i love you, y/n. and i thought- i wanted to tell you, before you left and i didn’t know how, but since you were always decorating instead of me doing anything i wanted to do something nice for you, and then i realized maybe if i could put mistletoe up then you would get the hint and i wouldn’t have to say anything.”

his arms slide around your waist tentatively, pulling you into him, and you look down, falling into him as your lips push into his.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

part of winters of us, an advent calendar : day 009 prev

extremely late sry

comment or send an ask to be added to the taglist !

general @bucketofhiros @addictedtohobi @ariadores enhypen @cutesiepatootsie @sammm5225 @eupherbia

[mokulule]

A Pinch of Salt - snippet 2

Okay, so I have been reminded by @clockwayswrites that I could post some things instead of just hoarding them like the dragon in my icon. So here ya go. Maybe I'll even get around to updating Catnip in the coming days who knows. Previous

Fuck, Danny cursed internally as he struggled to keep up with the long-legged stride of Trenchcoat. Whatever had happened to that ghost to make it into something like that was not good, he needed to do something! But as long as Trenchcoat was here he couldn’t exactly do as he usually would: transform and punch it. The man had seemed very ready to do something to Danny and the unspeakable soul situation going on had Danny extremely leery of finding out what that something was.

At least getting eaten seemed unlikely from the man’s earlier horrified response.

So running.

They went down a hallway, up a staircase, down another hallway and into a would have been shop. They stopped for a moment in the square space catching their breath. Trenchcoat let go of him to go peek back around the corner. Finally Trenchcoat’s shoulders relaxed.

“We lost it for now.” Actually it was more like the ghost lost interest in them; as they’d gotten further and further away from the central plaza of the mall the ghost had stopped following them. Not that Danny was going to tell Trenchcoat that. He had no idea how he’d explain it in a way that didn’t make him extremely suspicious. His hair was dripping salty water making it hard to forget he’d already been assaulted twice - he did not wanna know what else the man stored up his sleeves.

Preferably, somehow he’d get Trenchcoat to leave.

The moment of inattention cost him as he was grabbed once again by Trenchcoat and towed through the would-maybe-someday be a store to a door in the back. This led to a store room and a door to the outside. It was unlocked it turned out and Danny realized this was probably how the man had gotten in.

“Alright, kiddo, time to leave.”

Trenchcoat opened the door and pushed at Danny’s back.

“No way!” Danny exclaimed digging his heels in.

“Yes way,” Trenchcoat mocked, “go home kid, I’m a professional.”



 There was no way Danny was leaving, not at this point. Ghosts were his area of expertise - or well, Danny couldn’t really claim to be an expert, but they were his responsibility at least! He had a unique skillset and no matter what Trenchcoat claimed, he did not look any sort of professional. He made his opinion of his claim known by giving the man his most dubious look.
 - 
John hated teenagers and this teenager in particular.

He didn’t know what it was about teenagers, but they were just merciless in their judgment in a way adults were probably usually too polite to be. In any case that little up and down there, with the slightly raised eyebrow made him feel like he’d worn a clown costume to an accounting job.

“Bloody Hell, will you just leave before I decide to feed you to the specter!”

The boy crossed his arms, standing his ground. “You can try.”

John dragged a hand down his face, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“What are you even doing here?” “I’m here for the ghost.” Plain, even, said with not a smidge of hesitation. “You’re here for the-“ John cut himself off, hands opening and closing, inwardly cursing children and their stupid dares. “And what pray tell where ya gonna do when you found the ghost?”“I figured I’d try talking to them.”“You what?!” John spluttered. He’d expected him to say he hadn’t expected to find a ghost, there went his theory of this being a dare.

“There is no talking to that!” He pointed vaguely in the direction they’d lost the spectral storm. “Of all the sodden-“

“Them.”

John’s thoughts screeched to a halt. “What?” “Them. They are a them, not an it or a that.”

John opened and closed his mouth. Was he really getting a lecture on pronouns?

“It is a spectral storm. Whatever poor spirit it used to be, is not there anymore. There’s no mind there, it’s pure emotion out of control. There’s no way back from that.”

The boy scowled at him, clearly disagreeing. It didn’t matter. 
John pointed at the door.

“Leave.” “No.” They stared at each other neither giving an inch.

Urgh, this had to be why Batman was so grumpy all the time. John could not do this. He threw up his hands and turned around. He worked around things, not through them and here he was engaging in the folly of arguing with a bloody teenager.

“Suit yourself.”

Gods, he needed a smoke. He’d hardly finished the thought before he was pulling the package of smokes out of its pocket with practiced ease. He was lighting the smoke by the time he noticed the unimpressed look he was getting. Satisfied, he took a deep drag and slowly breathed out the smoke. The kid grimaced and John smirked.

“Those are gonna kill you.” “As opposed to the rest of my lifestyle?” He returned with a nod in the direction of the Storm that probably couldn’t kill him, but the kid didn’t know that. Satisfied at the way the kid’s nose scrunched, he walked back the way they came from.

“And what are you supposed to be?” Kid asked falling in step with him, and John just knew he was being annoying on purpose with that tone of voice. He was not gonna bite. He was an adult. He kept his gaze straight ahead as the kid started guessing.

“Excorcist? Ghostbusters wannabe?”

There was a pause, then a flash of a sly smirk John only caught because he’d stopped to look down the hallway.

“Ectologist?” The suggestion hit John like a metaphysical sledgehammer and he recoiled in disgust.

“Fuck. No.” He shuddered an extra time as if that would remove the oily feeling. “I’m an occult detective. You happy now? Shit kid, you don’t pull your punches do you?”

-

“So what’s the plan, Trenchcoat?”

“Trenchcoat,” John mouthed to himself before shaking his head. “The plan is you keep out of the way and I deal with the raging ghostie.”

“Yeah, no, you’re gonna do better than that. This is not my first time dealing with a ghost. But I don’t know what occult detectives do.”

John pondered the statement about this not being the first time he’d dealt with a ghost, and maybe there was something to the death magics he gave off after all. He groaned internally, why was he doing this?

“Standard practice, kid. Contain and banish.” He held up first one finger then two.

Danny rolled his eyes. It didn’t sound too different from his approach to ghosts, he caught them and sent them back to the ghost zone, but Mr Occult Detective didn’t exactly carry around a Fenton thermos.

“And how do you contain? No,” he offset the clearly sarcastic response. “I mean what are your requirements?”

Trenchcoat rolled his eyes, but humored him.

“I need a large enough open space and a small moment of preparation, then just gotta lure it in and do a binding spell.”

Danny narrowed his eyes and looked towards where he felt the raging storm of ghost energy. “Like the plaza.”

“Ideally yes.”

“So you need a distraction.” Danny started walking. A hand fell on his shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going? If you’re so insistent to stay, you’re not leaving my sight.”

Danny shrugged off the hand and turned around.

“The plaza is the center of the their power. You need someone to lure them away.” Danny watched the emotions flash across the man’s face with a small bit of amusement. He really didn’t want Danny involved if he could help it. Finally the man’s face settled on exasperation.

“I will figure something out.”

Danny smiled, taking a step backwards.

“No, you will give me a ten minutes headstart to lure our ghost friend far enough away they won’t immediately notice your stench so close to the heart of their haunt.”

As if sensing his intentions Trenchcoat made another grab for him which he dodged. And then he ran. He was sure it was only the threat of the ghost that prevented the man from yelling after him.

He just hoped he’d listened, because Danny was about to go piss off an already raging spirit. Trenchcoat better be ready.

Fun times.

[rayshippouuchiha]

MHA Au where Izuku’s quirk let’s him see spirits/monsters but instead of befriending them like usual, he becomes a whole ass monster hunter. I’m talking full on spn salt and burns, illegal fire arms in his backpack, monster journals, etc.

Hmm gonna switch it up a bit but:

Izuku's neighbor is a monster.

Hands fisted tightly in the length of his Mama's skirt, Izuku watches, wide-eyed and trembling, as his Mama chats softly with the thing in the elevator with them.

"Say goodbye to Akuhara-san, Izu-kun," Mama prompts gently.

But all Izuku can do is clutch tighter to her and whimper.

"I-I'm sorry," Mama frets softly as she ushers him out of the elevator. "He's not normally this shy."

"Adorable little thing," the thing called Akuhara croons, voice whispery and soft in a way that makes the hair on the back of Izuku's neck stand on end. "Could just ,,, eat him up."

When Izuku manages to peek around his Mama's leg and look Akuhara-san grins at him with too many teeth, one spindly hand raising to wiggle long gnarled fingers in Izuku's direction.

Izuku squeaks and hides his face again.

But even after he's back in the safety of the apartment he can't help but wonder just how someone with antlers as big as that thing's had been could fit inside the elevator.

~~~ Later, when it's time for bed, Izuku tries to tell his Mama about what he saw.

"Scary," Izuku manages to whimper, remembered terror tracing down his spine.

"Izuku!" Mama gasps, one hand coming up to press against her chest. "What a rude thing to say, young man! I don't want to hear anything like that out of you again, you hear me?"

"Y-Yes," Izuku whispers, unsure of what, exactly, he's done wrong.

The kiss Mama presses to his forehead is a bit shorter than normal.

Sleep is a long time coming for him that night.

~~~

He tries again though, after another run in with the monster.

Tries to tell her about how wrong Akuhara really is.

How that thing, whatever it is, is dangerous.

But ,,,

It doesn't go well.

~~~

Izuku looks at Akuhara and he sees something more than a man, something twisted and wrong, staring back at him.

But the problem is ,,,

Izuku's not the only one looking.

~~~

"I see you, little morsel," Akuhara whispers to Izuku, mouth split wide in a vicious grin as a long, black tongue slides out to flick almost teasingly in Izuku's direction.

Izuku can't help it ,,,

He screams.

~~~

"-ever been more humiliated in my life!" Mama says, hand tight around Izuku's wrist as she drags him into the apartment.

Izuku cowers just a bit when she finally releases him, shoulders hunched and head bowed.

Mama is never really angry with him, not like everyone else, so for Izuku this is just ,,,

Bad.

So much worse than Kacchan or the sensei at school being mean to him. So much worse than anything and everything the other kids have ever said or done to him.

"You will apologize to Akuhara-san," Mama finally huffs, hands planted on her hips and face flushed.

And Izuku ,,,

"No," It's a whisper but in the tense silence of the apartment, it might as well have been a shout.

"What did you say?" Mama blinks, obviously shocked.

He just can't anymore.

He's tried so hard to tell her, to make her see, and she still won't ,,,

"I-I'm not saying s-sorry to that, that thing," Izuku manages to shove the words out. "It's a m-monster. It's ugly and scary and you shouldn-"

The slap catches him off guard.

He yelps, hands flying up to clutch at the familiar throb of his cheek.

He's been hit before, gets hit often really these days, but never here, never at home where he's always been safe, and never by her.

"Y-You can't say things like that," Mama whispers, expression stricken as she clutches the hand she'd hit him with to her chest. "Y-You, Izuku, you can't just," she heaves in a shuddering breath, "just because you don't have a quirk doesn't mean you can say things like that about people who do."

Izuku's hands fall down to his sides as he stares up at her in horror.

And then he turns on his heel and runs to his bedroom.

Inko doesn't follow.

~~~

That night, with the bedroom door locked, his cheek still throbbing, and his chest heaving from the force of his sobs, Izuku tucks himself down in the darkest corner of his closet and cries himself almost sick.

~~~

It's not a quirk.

Izuku knows that.

Whatever it is about Akuhara-san that sets Izuku off so deeply isn't a quirk.

Izuku might only be nine years old and he might be quirkless but he knows quirks.

Whatever Akuhara-san is?

It's not natural.

~~~

Except, as Izuku learns through hours of research, hours of study and computer time when his Mama isn't home, maybe it is.

Maybe whatever it is that's pretending to be a regular man named Akuhara-san is actually very very natural.

And maybe that's not a good thing at all.

~~~

Izuku kills his first monster at 9 years old.

He comes out of the encounter bruised and bloody but alive and satisfied.

Come to find out, no matter how big a Jubokko's branches, not antlers as he'd first thought, are they're still vulnerable to salt and fire just like any other tree.

Inko never looks at him the same, never actually asks the questions Izuku can see lingering in her mouth but, well, she's alive and well and really that's all Izuku wanted in the first place.

~~~

Teeth gritted against the pain and careful of his bandaged arm, Izuku pulls a black-covered notebook from his desk and grabs a fresh pen.

Monster Analysis Vol 1 he scrawls across the front cover before he flips it open.

Akuhara-san might be gone but Izuku refuses to be caught unaware and vulnerable ever again.

[plush-rabbit]

The One Where Adam Steals Lucifer's Babe

Word Count: 4.9K A/N: I had an idea about this, but I wanted to get it out. This was supposed to be headcanons, but it turned into a story!! woo(•_•)  This is also not done. Like I wanted it to be be headcanons so bad, but i need to establish a plot line because im like dumb. um, so yeah. if this does become anything more, i think max three chapter Its written as if Adam is a sinner so yeah!! -

Dating the King of Hell should be easy- nothing short of bliss and love. And it is easy being with the King of Hell, when he has to make appearances, and he has to put up a front. But being with Lucifer is much more difficult. You know he’s not over Lilith, and you aren’t even close to being a replacement for her. And yet, he keeps you around. You can trick yourself that he still wants you, that maybe he does enjoy being with you. But lying to yourself doesn't make anything easier. You walk out of the castle without a word to Lucifer, childishly hoping that he’d figure out that you weren’t there on his own. On your stroll to nowhere in particular, you check your phone constantly, hoping to see a missed message or call from him- some type of form that he still takes notice of you. You have to silence your phone when you feel tears prick your eyes at the empty screen.

You wind up in some sleazy bar, a bit too tipsy, and far too melancholic  to do anything more than swirl a glass of alcohol with melting ice. You watch the condensation drip down the side of the glass, creating a ring over the coaster. Beside you, the chair scrapes, and your spirits are lifted. It’s Lucifer! He’s chased you down and now he’s going to apologize and proclaim his- your shoulders fall when you realize that it’s not Lucifer. The realization leaves you cold and far lonelier than you initially were. Instead, it’s Adam- the First Man. You wonder for a brief moment if he even still calls himself that.

“Mind your fuckin’ business,” he sneers, sitting beside you. He lifts his hand, and the bartender pushes a glass and a bottle towards him, muttering something about a tab under his breath before turning his attention elsewhere. 

You heard he had become a Sinner- the very thing he sought to kill for entertainment not that long ago. However, you had yet to see him since he was stabbed by Niffty. You wonder if his new form has a hole in his back now.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he tells you, malice tinged at his words, but he makes no real motion to actively wave you off. You’re sure he would have if he was still divine.

A closer inspection reveals that he’s in far worse shape than you could have imagined. A beard that’s in the awkward phase of growing out, deep bags under his eyes, and gaunt cheeks. Hell has not been kind to him. But, what else could you have expected? He was an exorcist- the exorcist- and now, he’s stuck in Hell. Honestly, you should be surprised that his head isn’t mounted somewhere.

You turn back to your drink, and wipe a line of condensation off. “I’m surprised you’d even show your face around these parts,” you mumble, taking a swig of your drink. It burns going down, and you try to hide your displeased expression.

“Fuck you,” he hisses out, taking a long drink from the bottle.

“You know, as a former exorcist, I’d suggest being nice to demons around these parts.” You raise your hand at the bartender, and he walks over, and places the tab in front of you. “You never know who you’re gonna piss off next.” You leave a hefty amount, enough to cover your drinks and leave a pretty tip. 

“What? You’re gonna sick Lucifer on me?” You turn to him, embarrassment hot on your cheeks, and he wears a crooked smile. “Your face and his are plastered everywhere I look.”

With a sigh, you push the check away from you. “Must suck for you,” you mumble. His response is to take a drink from the bottle. “I hated having my picture taken before,” you tell him, unsure if he’s even listening or not. “I felt that they never really got my good side.”

“I’d get photographed all the time in Heaven,” he says in a low tone after a moment of silence. “Bitches could never get enough of me.” You scrunch your nose at the word, and fold the straw wrapper into squares. “Fucking loved it.”

“Wish I loved the camera.” You cross your ankles together, tucking them under the seat of the stool. “I hated being looked at.”

There's a pause in the conversation, long enough that you believe the small talk has ended. You could go back to the castle but if Lucifer hadn't taken notice of your absence, you'd surely have a breakdown. Maybe you could go to the hotel. Charlie would understand. “You still get your picture taken?” Adam asks, his voice startling you. 

You tilt your head to the side, underneath the seat, your legs twist around themselves. “Not as often as I used to. I think it was more like uh-” you wave your hand around and the folded wrapper unfurls itself- “shock value? I think. Like the King of Hell downgrading to some resident.” You smile bitterly. “Not even a Goetia or anything.”

“A Goetia?”

“These magical birds.” You look at him. “You’ve been in Hell for a bit, haven’t you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard or seen them.”

“I don’t get out a lot.”

“‘Cause you’re hated?” You ask, a wicked tone laced in your words. Adam responds by  mocking your voice with the same question. You scoff with a smile on your face. “I wonder why, if you’re such a peach.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

It’s silent. And you watch as the bartender grabs your drink, leaving the coaster behind. A memory of drinking with Lucifer pops into your head- his honeyed smile as he pours you a glass of wine that you would have never been able to afford, to even be aware of such a delicacy that existed in Hell. Never would he have taken you to some dingy bar where less than savory individuals reside. 

You’ve been taken care of. Pampered and adored for a considerable amount of time, before all the light had dimmed. You should have never allowed yourself to get used to such treasures. You glance over at Adam, and wonder if he can understand. “Do you come here often?” You ask him, crossing your arms over the bar. He chokes on his drink and slams the bottle down. He gives you a bewildered stare and you raise your shoulders defensively. “What? I’m just asking,” you say. “The bartender looks like he knows you.” You catch the bartender’s eyes and he quickly looks away. “Or at least enough to keep a tab open.”

“There’s not much to do around here,” he answers.

You fill your cheeks with air and let it slowly blow out through pursed lips. There's plenty to do- sort of. Minus the drugs and sex, most of Hell's greatest features are stuck in other rings. “There’s the Cannibal Sector,” you offer. “You gotta be careful but Rosie is nice and she sells pretty things. I have this hairpin in the shape of a human hand.” Adam gives you a look. “It might be a real hand, huh.”

“The fuck are you even doing out of your castle.”

You deflate. “Rough night,” you say with a sigh. “What about you?”

“Rough night,” he answers

You nod in solidarity. “I’m not usually a drinker,” you confess. “The taste is a bit too bitter for my liking. But being at the castle just wasn’t-” it’s not for you, the pampered life, acting as a placeholder, the King- “I didn’t want to be there.”

When Adam fails to say anything else, you feel embarrassed to even say something like that to the former angel beside you. He wouldn’t care. He shouldn’t care. Why would he ever worry himself over the likes of you, when your supposed partner couldn’t. He sniffs, and places the bottle down. It’s nearly empty. 

“Where do you want to be then?” His eyes are still golden, unblinking as he stares. 

Gold meets your own eyes, and you flicker to the horns over his head, curling overhead much like his former exorcist mask. You look back at his eyes, at the way he holds the bottle loosely. “I don’t know,” you confess. 

There’s a moment of silence, and he finishes the last bit of alcohol. You wonder how many he usually drinks before he goes back home. “You wanna come over?” He asks, and there’s a shade darker that brushes against his cheeks, and he tries to ask nonchalantly, but he toys with the words, and he swallows too harshly for him to not be worried about your answer. As if he’s asking some forbidden question. But, you’re lonely, and you don’t want to be alone in a bar longer than you already have been. 

You look at the exit, half-hoping that Lucifer would be there, ready to take you to his home, and a part of you is glad that he isn’t there. You look back at Adam, and nod your head. “Lead the way,” you tell him.

The sound of the bartender yelling behind you about a tab, has you smiling, feeling as if you’re dining and dashing despite you having paid for your portion. Adam doesn’t seem to care, walking without breaking a stride, just waving his hand without looking back. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re climbing up steps that need to be looked at, rust falling off with each bounce. You’re sure that you can hear something unsavory going on in a room, but a whistle from Adam has you scurrying along. There’s no reason that you should know anything more than you already do. 

You enter his apartment, and take a careful look around. It’s messy- clothes strewn across, dishes left out, and you feel pity for him. A single couch is close enough to the rather small television, a coffee table that has paint chipping and dents is one of the few pieces of furniture in the rooms. A sliding door is closed, a few broken blinds giving you just a glimpse into the outside. “You certainly,” you pause, trying to find something nice to say, “have a place,” you end defeatedly. You stand near the door, clicking the lock into place, as if that would protect you from any dangers out in the world. Perhaps you should be worried about Adam, about the angel who would bear his fangs and be drenched in blood, too excited about senseless murder. But you catch him kicking things under the couch, trying to spruce up the place even if just by a smidge.

“Fuck you,” he says without conviction. He grabs at a pile of clothes and tosses it on top of a chair, leaving the couch clear for you and him to sit. Smiling softly, you take a seat. He places himself close to the arm rest, and watches as you look around. “I uh, I clean- sometimes.” He sounds unsure of himself.

“I like cleaning,” you tell him, grabbing at a magazine on the worn out coffee table. It’s some tabloid, and you see a snippet of you and Lucifer in the corner. You turn to the page where you two are supposed to be. It’s titled as “Issues at Home?” You frown, and turn to another page. “I like organizing and stuff. Um, it helps uh, Lucifer. He does a lot of projects.”

“You don’t got any?”

“I have hobbies, but they come and go.” Your eyes skim the page, talking about Velvette’s new clothing line. You pull your lips into a thin line, a part of you wants to wear her outfits, but you aren’t sure you could pull them off. “It’s all just-” you flutter a hand in the air- “you know, stuff.” You place the magazine back on the table. “What about you?”

He smiles and leans back on the couch, the cushion creasing under his weight. “I like to play the guitar.” You perk at the mention, and watch as he rests his hands over his stomach. “I was in a band. Played the guitar, got all the chicks that I wanted.”

“Were you good at the guitar?”

He nods his head. “Oh, you should’ve fucking seen me. I was like a fucking god on stage.” He holds his hands out and mimics a guitar. You huff out a laugh, and watch as he lets his hands fall. “I got to fuck whoever I wanted. And I mean, who wouldn’t want to fuck me? Look at me.” he tosses you a lazy look, matched with a sly smile, and you can see how people would be attracted to him. “I was the first dick– of course, everyone wanted me.”

“What songs would you perform?”

“Rock mostly.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Crowd went wild.”

“You’d perform in heaven?”

He shrugs. “Most of the time. If I felt bold, sometimes the band and I would do a show on Earth. I’m telling you humans would just throw themselves at you, begging to be fucked in some grimy ass restroom.”

You scrunch your nose. “Sounds gross.”

“It was,” he says with a faltering smile. He cocks his head to the side, and there’s a softness to his words. “Gross as shit, but the girls were hot.” 

You cross your ankles together, and turn to face him. Your arm cushions itself between the couch and your head to watch him. “Do you not play anymore?” you ask hesitantly,

He sucks on his bottom lip, teething at the skin, before letting it go. “I haven’t tried to summon my harp- guitar- shit, thing, since I’ve been here.” He closes his hands into a loose fist and kicks his legs up on the beaten coffee table. “There’s this pawn shop a few streets down, and they have this guitar for sale.”

“Are you thinking about buying it?”

“I have other shit to worry about.” He gives you a look, a fleeting sense of  exhaustion and acceptance that washes over him, that makes him feel a bit more real, a bit more like you. “It isn’t even that good.” He sounds like a child, trying to justify something to themselves. “It’s beat up, and the strings are probably worn-” he shakes his head- “it's not worth it.” You open your mouth to reassure him that it probably is worth it. That despite the condition that it’s in and the price for it, if he wants it, it's worth it. Even if he could never play it, even if it’ll never be restored to its original beauty, it would be his. You only manage to suck in a gulp of air, when a knocking at the balcony door grabs your attention. “Some fucking bird that keeps bothering me.” He looks over at you, and glances back to the door, and back at you. “I have a balcony. Wanna sit outside?”

You nod quickly, closing your mouth. “Yeah.” 

He walks past the door, and leaves it open for you. Just like when you entered, you close the door behind you, half-heartedly hoping that it won’t lock behind you. His balcony holds two chairs- both different kinds and both equally as rough looking. A part of you wonders where exactly he got this furniture. There’s a dying plant shoved in the corner, the leaves brown and stem wilting under the weight of the dying leaves. 

“Quit judging,” he snips. 

You scoff, a smile teasing at the corner of your lips. The air of Hell is cool, wind breezing over your skin and you stare down into the streets, watching as Imps and Sinners live their lives, peacefully uninterrupted. Sitting down, your breath hitches when the chair dips under your weight. It’s quiet between the two of you, silence in each other’s company where you both just stare at the world in front of you. 

You can see the holy light from the embassy, and you can see Heaven’s light- the rings that are protected by wings. It lights up the night sky far better than the pentagram ever has, and sitting under the light of it, makes you wonder if anything is different in Heaven since Adam’s death- or rather, reincarnation. “Do you miss Heaven?” You ask, before you can register the weight of the words that it holds. You turn to him, almost scared of any answer that he would give.

“That’s a stupid question,” he spits out. You don’t respond, and you stay looking at him. He turns his head to avoid your gaze, his legs stretching out in front of him. After a beat of silence, he looks ahead of him. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “I do.”

“What do you miss about it?”

“Full of fucking questions, aren’t ya?” He stays silent, and after a moment, he lets out a soft sigh. “Everything.”

“There’s not many stories about Heaven down here. You know, minus the ones that we all know. The golden gates-”

“Pearly gates,” he corrects. You look at him, and he has his eyes casted down. “They’re pearly.”

“The pearly gates,” you correct, “the clouds, the happiness and peace. I just- Other than that, there’s nothing else to go off of. But I guess, why would I know. Heaven seems so far away, like some mythical place.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t talk about it?” Adam asks with a sneer.

“No,” you answer without hesitation. “He doesn’t like talking about Heaven. Sometimes-” you lick your lips- “Sometimes it feels like he hates everything and everyone down here. Like he can’t stand the idea that he’s stuck here.” You scratch your neck, and pinch your legs together. “It’s like the memories of Heaven are too painful.”

“That magazine said y’all were breaking up.”

“Maybe,” you answer.

“You can talk about it if you want. Would make this night a helluva lot more interesting.” You look at him. “I’m all ears.”

“And horns,” you tease.

“Fuck you,” he says with an impish tone.

You smile, and kick out your legs. Your phone buzzes, and with hope, you believe that it’ll be Lucifer. Your heart sinks when it’s only a notification from Sinstagram. With a frown, you silence your phone. “In the beginning, it was easy to forget that he was married. I mean, I always knew. He has her portraits hanging, and he talks about Charlie constantly.” You smile bitterly and scratch at your phone case. “I don’t blame him for that, but-” you shrug- “it hurts knowing that he still clings to her.” When Adam stays silent, you continue. “He can be kind- real attentive and sweet. But sometimes, when he’s had a uh-” you struggle to find a word- “a bad day, he gets real low. And I hate to admit it, but he gets clingy and it’s nice to know that I can still serve him in some way.”  Your fingers pinch at the bridge of your nose, and you let your hand cover your mouth. “But then, there are moments, where it feels like he’s actually looking at me- where he’s just everything,” you say wistfully, your hand stretching out in front of you, clasping around the night air. You glance at Adam, who watches your hand as you pull it back to yourself. “Sorry, I uh, I didn’t mean to ramble.”

“So why’d you leave then?”

Perhaps you’d get a biased opinion- you’re aware of how Adam feels over Lucifer, and practically every other inhabitant of Hell. He thinks of himself above any other, his own pride being the very thing that made him unaware of Niffty running towards him. You chew on your lip, your hand scratching over your neck. You need to speak to someone. No one else at the hotel will ever give you a straight answer- or at least the answer that you want to hear.

With a sigh, you kick your legs out in front of you. “I like Lucifer.” You can feel his eyes on you. “But, sometimes,” you drag the word, and your body feels hot, “it’s like he’s not present in the relationship. He gives a lot, but he hardly ever asks for anything.”

There’s a pause. “What could you even give him?” he asks in sincerity. 

There’s a pang in your chest, wrapping tightly, threatening to crush your bones, and leaving you a battered and broken mess on Adam’s balcony. You can’t give him anything that he doesn’t want. He has his daughter, he had his wife, he has his title for better or for worse. All you can offer is a moment of content, and even then it seems that you can no longer do that.

You shrug your shoulders at an attempt of a weak answer. “I know that he’s still not over his wife. Or ex-wife. I'm not too sure of the title and I hate to ask. He gets all mopey and deflective.” You kick at the ground, and insecurity hugs you tightly, and drips into your words. “He stares at portraits of her, and well, it’s hard to compete with the literal Queen of Hell, when I’m just-” your jaw stiffens, and you look at the ground through blurring eyes- “me.” You stand in her shadow without even having met her. “Even when I dress up, I feel like a child playing pretend. I don’t- I’m not like her.” You’ve stared at her portraits that still hang in the palace, and they consume you. Her smile, her delicate hands, and the elegance that is so evident in portraits.  It feels childish to compare yourself to someone so regal and poised. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “My ex was pretty hot.” Your eyes widen, and you turn to him. “They both were.” He lets out a sigh, and keeps his eyes fixed in front of him.

“Adam,” you squeak out. “I’m sorry.” You shake your head, blood rushing to your face, making your body uncomfortably warm. “I hadn’t meant- I didn’t mean to talk about her with you. I’m so sorry.”

“The fuck are you apologizing for?” He asks, eyes narrowed and mouth twisting to an ugly sneer.

You cross your arms over your chest, bringing them to an ‘X’ where your hands curve over your biceps. “It’s just that I’m talking about Lucifer and your ex-wife.” You frown when he gives you an ugly look. “I just- I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He gives a shrug of his shoulders, his gaze still focused elsewhere. “Lucifer already talked shit about how he banged both of them. It's whatever.”

Your brows furrow, and you watch as Adam pats his pockets, fisting a hand into one of his pants pockets. He fishes out a pack of cigarettes, grabbing on and sticking the tan end of it into his mouth. He motions the carton at you, and you pull your mouth into a thin line. 

“If you're gonna bitch about smoking, you're one lame sinner.”

“Eve? He slept with Eve, too?”

“Oh shit.” The cigarette hangs between his teeth, until pulls it back into his mouth. “You didn't know.” He almost sounds apologetic. He grabs at a lighter and it takes a few clicks to light the white of the stick.

“He doesn't really talk about his sex life before me.” You slump further into yourself, your nails scratching over your skin. “It's in the past. I know I shouldn't be hurt over what he's chosen to share with me, but-” you toss your head back, and in the red sky, the stars are dim. “I don’t know. It just feels like another kick on a shitty night, ya know?”

“I’m shitty?” He almost sounds offended. 

“No, no” you shake your head. “If anything, you’re like the one good thing out of this night.”

“Yeah, well, you ain’t so bad yourself.” You turn to him, your head cocked to the side. “You got a nice body. If you weren’t stuck here, I would’ve bagged you already.” You stretch your lips thin, and Adam shrugs, blowing out a puff of smoke.  “You’re easy on the eyes.”

“Thanks Adam,” you say hesitantly. He holds out the cigarette towards you and you wave your hand. “I’m good.”

“So what now? You gonna go back to him?”

“I don’t even think he knows that I’m gone,” you say honestly. The confession makes you feel lighter than you thought it would. “It’s comfortable with him. It’s easy- I don’t have to worry about things, but, I also don’t have to worry about anything. And sometimes, I want to worry. I want him and I to argue about dumb shit, and I want to worry if he’s coming to bed or not, and not being resigned to the fact that I know he won’t.”

The silence is broken by the scraping of the chair, and you watch as he rises, stretching his arms above him, the cigarette pinched between his fingers. “Eve tolerated me,” he says quietly, letting out a breath of smoke. You look at him, biting at the inside of your cheeks. “She loved me for a while. She was devoted to me. But I uh- I’m pretty sure that was because she was made from me.” A hand cups over his side. “Blind loyalty or whatever. But when she bit that apple, whatever she felt for me was gone.” He speaks quietly, and slowly, as if the words and the thoughts of it were slowly piecing themselves together, a puzzle that he had long put away in order for it to never make sense. “She didn’t care what I did as long as I left her and the-'' someone below lets out a scream, and Adam turns to you, his face flashing a moment of vulnerability before he looks away and puts out the cigarette under his boot. “Well, Eve was Eve.” His brows soften, and he looks tired. “I didn’t tolerate her.”

“Meaning?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “I did love her. She had a part of me after all.” He looks over at you, and his hand tightens over his side, pulling at the fabric. “But that’s not important anymore.” He turns away, and walks back inside. You scurry after him, making sure to lock the balcony door behind you.

You stand awkwardly in the room, unsure of what to do next. Truth be told, you had planned to spend the night in some dingy motel if Adam hadn’t sat beside you. But now you’re here, in his dingy apartment, truths and insecurities laid out for the two of you to bear witness. A part of you wants to bid him goodnight, and maybe when you’d see him out in the streets, you’d give him a  cordial nod, and remember how he listened and talked about his ex-wife, and he’d remember you in positive light, despite you only being a mess of insecurities wrapped in sin. 

But now, you don’t want to leave. At least a part of you wants to continue this conversation, to keep the comfort wrapped tight around you. You tap your foot against the ground and Adam looks at you, his eyes staring at yours, unwavering from yours. You hadn’t realized just how powerful he stood beforehand. 

“You can stay if you want,” he says slowly, unsure of the words that he’s saying. “Take the couch or whatever,” he attempts to sound indifferent, but you can hear the sincerity in the words, uncomfortable, but sincere. “I got a spare blanket you can use.” His teeth are sharp, and they peek out to tease at his bottom lip.

“Really?” You ask, eyes wide and you take a step forward, and he looks away. “I can?”

His mouth thins into a grimace, and he gives a forced shrug. “Do whatever you want.”

You look at the couch. It wasn’t uncomfortable to sit on, but you’re sure you’ll wake up with a sore back. However, you don’t want to go back to Lucifer, and you don’t want to go to some dingy motel where you’re sure you’ll drink until you’re sick. Looking back at Adam, you nod, a smiling teasing at the corners of your lips, and he finally looks away from you.

“Yes!” You clear your throat. “Yes,” you say in a softer tone. “I’d like that. Thank you, Adam.”

“Whatever.” He walks into his bedroom, and you sit on the couch. He returns with a blanket, and he stands at the end of the couch, looking at you. “I’m not making you breakfast or anything. You gotta figure that shit out on your own.” You nod. The only real worry that you have is that your phone’s battery is at an uncomfortable percentage that you aren’t sure is going to last you.

“I hope Hell is nice for you.” He raises his brows at you. “It’s shitty and the smell of decay is always kinda there, but sometimes, it’s nice down here.”

“Hell is supposed to suck.”

“And it does,” you say with a shrug. “But not all the time, Ads.”

“Don’t call me that.” He tosses a blanket at you- it’s thin and threads have begun to unravel at the seams, but it’s soft. “I’m turning off the lights.”

“Goodnight,” you call out, holding the blanket close to you. You can only smile when the response is a closed door.  

[annwrites]

fine, yeah, I'm fuckin' jealous!

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: ficlet

— summary: you & billy get lunch & he nearly commits assault. he then steals your icecream cone.

— tags: billy getting violently jealous, billy getting a boner, billy being possessive

— tw: eating, drinking, slut-shaming, sexual harassment

— word count: 2,840

— a/n: i'm not gonna lie, writing for billy is sm fun. he's such an asshole & it's hilarious to me

find my other posts concerning billy, here

When you wake in the morning, it's with a muscled arm slung heavily over your waist, and something hard pressed into your backside.

So, he'd decided to join you under the convers at some point during the night, you think.

You turn, wishing to get him off of you, but jerk in surprise when you feel a patch of rough hair brush against the side of your thigh. He was not...

You shoot up in bed, his arm falling into your lap, and he doesn't even wake.

You very slowly pull back the comforter, and when you glance down you fill with rage. "Get up!"

Billy's eyes slowly open and a lazy smile forms on his lips. "Mornin', sunshine. You sleep good? I know I did."

You get out of bed, throwing the covers back, then immediately regret that decision, seeing someone—or, rather, something—also clearly 'awake'.

Billy doesn't so much as react. He just folds his hands behind his head, not even bothering to re-cover himself, knowing what God blessed him with.

You stare up at the ceiling. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

His eyes trail along your body, your messy hair. "I don't like sleeping in clothes. Get over it."

Your hands ball into fists at your sides. "You are such a dick."

He raises a brow, glancing down to his waist, shrugging, lightly nodding. "In a way, I guess you're rig-"

You quickly walk around to his side of the bed, grabbing his briefs, and throwing them in his face. "Get dressed."

He catches them, sighing. "You're so mean to me."

You grab your backpack, heading into the bathroom, firmly shutting the door behind you as you get ready for the day.

When you come back into the room, Billy's now dressed—thankfully. A pair of jeans, his boots, and a plaid button-up...which is fairly unbuttoned at the top, showing off his chest, and leather jacket on.

He looks up to you, chewing on a piece of cold pizza. "Breakfast?" He asks, holding the half-eaten piece out toward you, mouth full.

You grab your other bag, settling the strap on your shoulder. "No, I lost my appetite," you say, making your way toward the door.

Just as you reach up on tiptoes to unlock the chain at the top, you feel him pinch your ass under your dress.

You swing around, backpack nearly slamming into him, which you then slip off of your shoulders, throwing it on the floor.

He raises his hands, laughing.

You raise an open palm toward him, his hand quickly grabbing your wrist, catching it before it even comes close to his face. You raise the other one—same thing. He pushes you back against the wall, holding you firmly in-place by your wrists, a smirk on his lips as you squirm to get free.

He places his lips directly beside your ear, his body now pressed-up against your own. "You want to take your frustrations out on me, baby? I can think of lots of funner ways to do it." He pulls back, looking into your eyes, face now utterly serious, eyes hard, his hands squeezing your wrists a bit more firmly.

"Don't ever do that again," he says, suddenly releasing you and grabbing his bag, throwing the door open, leaving you standing there seething.

Once the two of you are checked out and back on the road, Billy seems to be in good spirits, despite your little tiff that morning...which you felt incredibly guilty about.

How could you have even thought of hitting him? Especially when you knew how much it hurt. And you knew that he did as well.

You reach forward, turning down AC/DC on the radio and turn toward him.

He looks at you with a curious expression. "You need somethin', baby?"

Always with the pet names...

"I'm sorry...for...for trying to slap you. I shouldn't have done that. You're right: it won't happen again."

He's silent for a moment, staring at the road ahead. Then, "Don't worry about it." He shrugs. "Just trying to get you to lighten up a little, sugar. You know, you are allowed to have fun."

You shake your head. "Could you please stop with the pet names?'

He smirks. "Not likely, honey." Then, "So, about that having fun-"

You turn the radio back up, Highway to Hell blasting through the speakers.

A couple hours later, the two of you finally stop for lunch at a roadside stand that serves burgers, hotdogs, fries, and a few other items.

The two of you pay separately this time, you opting for cheese fries, and Billy a burger.

You sit at a picnic table with an umbrella overtop the both of you, and you watch as he opens his soda can, taking a sip.

You eat a couple fries, and feel a jean-clad leg brush against your own under the table.

You glance up to him from under your lashes, but he just continues eating.

And then you feel his boot knock against your ankle.

"Would you stop that?"

He looks up at you, swallowing. "Eating?"

You roll your eyes, lightly kicking him under the table.

"You want to play footsie, darlin'?"

You shake your head, ignoring his leg softly rubbing against your own. Every time you react, you're giving him exactly what he wants. He's just pissing you off to amuse himself.

A few moments later, his leg stills and you look up, seeing that his eyes are now trained elsewhere: on a pair of girls around your age perched atop a picnic table diagonal to where you sit, giggling and talking amongst themselves, glancing to him every few seconds. You turn back around to continue eating.

Billy shoots them a wink. "Hey, dolls," he calls flirtatiously.

You roll your eyes, but remain silent.

"Is that your car?" One asks, looking to his Camaro.

He grins—it always makes picking up chicks so much easier. "Sure is, sweetheart. You want me to take you for a spin?"

She goes quiet for a moment, you imagine she's debating it with her friend, then, "Can we both come?"

He stands. "Hell yeah you can, baby."

He doesn't bother looking down to you when he says quietly, "Be right back."

You watch as his car speeds out of the parking lot, hoping he comes back simply because all of your things are in his trunk.

Once you've finished eating, you stand to throw your trash away, until a soft breeze blows one of your napkins away. You groan.

You plop your paper bowl on top of the table and crouch down on hand and knees, reaching underneath the table to grab it. You go to stand, then hear someone catcall you from behind, and you slam the top of your head against the bottom of the table.

You reach up, placing your palm over the spot you were sure would have a bump forming on it soon enough.

You look behind you, and a group of three guys are watching you. Two of them standing, talking to each other, glancing to you every few seconds with smirks, the third seated on the hood of what you assume is his Mustang.

You turn around, throwing your trash away, then you seat yourself at the table again, leaning back against it, watching for Billy's car, now feeling uncomfortable.

The one on the hood slides off, making his way over to you.

You ignore him, glancing around, pretending not to notice, hoping it'll discourage him from trying to talk to you. You don't get so lucky, however.

He comes to stand in front of you, forcing you to look up at his towering form. He's older, but still handsome. Mid-twenties, maybe? Short, dark hair that's slicked back, a goatee, and dark eyes. He sports a plain blue t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. "Sorry about that. My friends...they, uh," he looks to them and smiles, then back to you. "Can be real assholes."

You smile nervously. "It's ok, no harm done."

He cocks his head to the side. "Your boyfriend do that?"

You reach up, hand hovering over the side of your face, then lower it back into your lap. "No. It's...a long story."

"I've got time," he replies with a kind smile.

You remain silent, not exactly interested in giving a stranger your life-story.

He nods. "I get it; you're shy. That's cute," he says with a chuckle.

He glances down to your bare legs, then back up to your eyes. "You're pretty."

You swallow nervously, blushing. "Thank you," you say quietly.

"Sweet too, apparently."

Your heart starts to pound from nerves. You then begin to worry about how long Billy is going to be gone. A few minutes? A couple hours?

Suddenly, he leans down, planting his palms atop the table behind you, boxing you in as he leans down, his face mere inches from your own. "You like fast cars, cutie?"

God, they really are all the same, aren't they?

You clasp your hands together to keep them from trembling from nerves. "Not really. They...they kind of scare me."

He smirks briefly. "What if I promise to take things slow, just for you?"

You know he is most certainly not talking about cars now.

Before you can reply, you hear the rumble of a familiar engine pulling back into the lot, and as you go to turn your head in the direction of the sound, he presses a kiss to your cheek, causing you to jerk your head back in his direction.

He laughs lightly. "Not exactly where I was aiming for." Then, "So, what's your name? Mine's Tyler."

You hear a door being loudly slammed.

"I-"

Suddenly, Tyler is being pulled away from you by the back of his shirt. Billy throws him on the pavement, the look on his face that of utter rage.

You glance to the Mustang, and see his two friends heading in your direction.

"Touch her again and I'll beat your fuckin' ass! You hear me, asshole?" He points down at him, his other hand in a tight fist.

Tyler goes to get up and Billy steps overtop of him, legs on either side of him. "Stay down, if you know what's fuckin' good for you."

"Hey!" You hear called from the parking lot and your eyes widen. His friends do not look happy.

You step over to Billy, gripping the leather of his jacket in your hands, pulling him toward you. "Billy, we have to go. Now."

He glares down at Tyler for just a moment longer, shoulders squared, rapidly rising and falling, jaw set, eyes hard, then steps away, grabbing your forearm, pulling you around to the passenger side. "Get in the fucking car," he orders, shoving you inside.

He quickly makes his way around the front of the car, turning the engine over and rapidly pulling away, leaving the three angry men in the rearview.

Billy swerves into traffic when he goes to merge, forcing the car in his lane to also swerve into the next one over, laying on their horn.

He just angrily switches gears, ignoring the now-angry driver, going faster.

You buckle yourself in, still shaking.

When you glance at him, he looks anything but pleased. Why was he so angry, anyway? Had the girls he'd given a quick ride to ticked him off? And thus made Tyler the target to take his anger out on?

"Did you not have fun, then?"

He looks at you with an irritated, but also confused look. "What?"

"With the girls from the food stand. Did they-"

He scoffs, shifting gears. "Are you fucking stupid, or something?"

Your hands ball into fists. "Excuse me?"

"Who even was that prick, huh? I leave you alone for five goddamn minutes and that's what I come back to? You letting him kiss you, and touch whatever-the-fuck-else while I wasn't there to-"

Angry tears sting your eyes. "I didn't let him touch anything! He came onto me! Maybe, if for once, you thought with the head on your shoulders, instead of the one in your pants, it wouldn't have happened in the first place!"

He picks up speed. "It's not my fuckin' job to babysit your ass. So, is that it, then? Huh? That you really are some easy slut who puts out for everyone except me?"

You're shaking you're so enraged now. "Fuck you! You-"

"Yeah, probably the only guy you haven't!" He throws at you with a mocking laugh.

He swerves into the next lane over as a poor excuse at merging.

"God, you are such an ass! What's your problem? I mean, how many girls have you slept with, anyway? I talk to one guy—one guy—and I'm a slut? Are you serious?"

He sneers. "None of your business how many I've had. Don't be such a fuckin' prude. Not like it meant anything, anyway. It's just sex. It doesn't mean shit."

"And that's exactly why I won't let you—any guy—so much as touch me: because that is what sex is to all of you. Thanks, but no thanks. I'll save myself for someone actually worthy of me."

He looks at you then, expression unreadable. "You're a fucking virgin?"

You clench your jaw.

He looks back to the road.

"Like you said: none of your business."

He leans back, dropping speeds, upshifting. "So you didn't let Harrington crawl up there after all, huh?"

You want to break something inside his car, but know for your own safety that you better not.

"Why? Are you jealous if I did?"

He looks at you. "Did he?" He asks, completely serious.

You shrug. "I don't know. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. Sound awful jealous to me."

He downshifts again, anger climbing, along with the speedometer. "Answer the fuckin' question."

You stare out your open window, hair whipping around you.

"Fine, yeah, I'm fuckin' jealous! That what you wanted to hear? Huh? So, did you-"

"No, we didn't even hold hands because it wasn't a date, Billy! I'm not even attracted to him in the first place. Halfway through Nancy showed up, and they talked for the rest of the evening, while I sat with a girlfriend of hers chatting."

He grows quiet for only a second before saying "fuck this" and turning the radio on, blaring Black Sabbath.

It's an hour later before either of you speak again, you breaking the silence. "I have to pee."

He rolls his eyes. "Why didn't you go back at the food stand? Oh, wait, nevermind. I know why. You were too busy-"

"Either you pull over soon or I'm going all over the seat."

He takes the next exit, and once he's parked outside of a McDonald's, you slam the door behind you.

"Fuckin' watch that shit!"

You ignore him as you go inside, in search of a restroom.

Once finished, you sit there a few extra minutes, trying to calm yourself down. You consider going back out and trying to calmly explain to him that there are other ways of expressing emotions than through violence and unabashed anger, but you know exactly how such a conversation will go—it won't. He'll put a stop to it before you can even start.

So, you instead wash your hands, then go and get yourself an ice-cream cone.

When you come back out to the car, Billy has a pair of sunglasses on, head leaned back against the seat, Led Zeppelin now playing.

You get inside, buckling yourself in with one hand, then take a lick of your ice-cream that's in the other.

He turns his head in your direction. "What, nothing for your chauffeur?"

You look at him, licking your lips. "You have two feet and a heartbeat, go get one."

He watches you lick a few more times, vanilla sliding down your tongue.

He doesn't even try to hide it when he reaches down, adjusting himself.

You ignore it, licking again.

"Let me have some."

You look at him, considering, then hold it toward him.

And he bites half the thing off, swallowing.

"You-"

He then tosses the rest out the window, splattering against the pavement, rainbow sprinkles going everywhere.

"What'd you do that for?!" You yell.

He puts the car in reverse, backing out of his parking spot. "Don't need you making a mess in here, or distracting me while I'm driving."

"You just wasted thirty cents of my money!"

His hand circles the wheel, turning toward the exit of the parking lot. "More like fifteen once I was done with it." He looks at you again. "If you need somethin' else to lick, I know where you can put your tongue at, sweetheart."

"You're so disgusting."

He glances to you. "I think you like getting those perfect feathers ruffled."

He then revs the engine loud enough as he drives away that he doesn't catch the vulgar statement you throw his way.

He'd like to think you agreed with him.

[ghostbsuter]

Magicians way

A Zatara meets a Drake before the Young Justice-fication of Danny!

1/4 previous interactions

.・゜-: ✧ :-

The portal closes, and waddling in comes a teen in his PJ's, a space themed blanket thrown around his shoulders and hair dishevelled.

In all honesty, he looks like he'd just worked up and dragged himself here.

Probably what happened.

"Oh, so you get to call me at 4 am on a Friday night and when I do it it's suddenly a crime?" The teen scowls, glaring daggers at Constantine, who'd had told the big Bat he was going to call in reinforcement.

He didn't expect a child.

"Get over her shrimp," the man waves the teen over, throwing an arm around the blanked clad shoulders.

"Batsy, meet Danny. He's my kid."

Ah.

"Nice to meet ya," the kid yawns, literally dozing off on John's side. "'m gonna sleep."

At least the man seems somewhat regretting for pulling the kids from his impromptu nap?

"Sorry, kiddo, need some help here. Did Zee go hard on you during the day?"

Danny whines, but answers despite the disturbance. "Mom had to leave for a show, I didn't go along, ended up on an adventure that took a bit too much out of me."

John snorts, ruffling unruly black hair.

"One of the bat's birds will join us shortly. I needed a second opinion, minx helping?"

Interested, Danny peered up at his dad, raising a brow in question.

"There is a powerful entity currently free, I'm having difficulties identifying it." He explains. "Did anyone mess with Pandoras box? This feels like something not supposed to be on our side of existence."

Brows knitting together, he thinks. "No, I was the last and most recent one to have accidentally messed with her box." He admits. "But every monster has been contained. There shouldn't be one free, we would have noticed."

John hums, picking through his well used brown leather bag, grabbing a sack of ash.

"It doesn't feel like a demon, lest a fallen angel. It's unique in its own kind that I had to get you for help, it shares the same feeling as the curses inside of pandoras box."

Catching on, Danny stares. "You think one of her curses got away and formed a humanoid form, not much different from city spirits."

Nodding, golden glow follows the words the laughing magician speaks, answering his question with the usage of ash.

Danny looks away, knowing the spell already and meets the whites of a domino mask.

That's not batman.

Squinting, he recognises the vigilante.

That's Red Robin!

"Red Robin, right?" He asks, just to make sure.

Red Robin nods.

"Nice to meet you, heard some stuff, pretty cool in my opinion."

"What exactly did you hear."

"Stuff here and there." Is the vague answer, the bird only continued to watch him, slightly unnervingly.

"Well—"

"Kid! Got an answer!"

"Let's talk again, okay?"

He couldn't answer before danny left to go to constantine.

That was... weird.

"B, what just happened?"

Batman only shakes his head. Huh.

[iwaasfairy]

no cs omg fairy my big big brain is working !!

what if atsuko wasn’t an only child? what if he had a little brother who loved mom too?? sibling rivalry??

tw implied incest, jealousy, manipulative tendencies on ko WhATS new

if atsuko x mom!reader had an even more complicated situation

Ryota’s eyes are dragged from the pretty shape of the falling cherry blossom petals with a force greater than him. He looks over his shoulder, hands tightening slightly on the bike handles— just in time to avoid Atsuko’s attempt at slapping him in the back of the head. As he dodges, he pushes the meathead away by the arm, and kicks out his leg at his shin. “Heard you coming, motherfucker.”

“For once,” Atsuko grins when he still manages to land a mostly good-spirited squeeze at the back of his neck, and the younger man’s shoulders jerk up in protection. When he falls into step next to him, they both turn the last corner as the warm, evening sun makes harsh shadows. “Don’t you have volleyball training to get to, brat?”

“Don’t you have some teachers to bribe, dick?” He sighs. “Practice is canceled because our captain is home with a fever.”

Ryota’s dark eyes stay on his brother’s face when the grin curls up onto it. Of course Atsuko doesn’t falter. “Ah. My good name got you into school without a scholarship- you should be thankful.”

As they’ve grown older some of the edge has splintered away from the accusations, and now only a smooth surface remains. One that keeps the peace. One that doesn’t leave bad impressions. The older brushes his fingers through his hair to get it out of his face, before sliding his hands back into his pockets.

“Is Tooru getting mom anything for Mother’s Day?” Ryota asks after a brief break, and his brother just shakes his head.

“Well, except the usual… treatment on a holiday,” the lighter brunet’s mouth pulls into a slight line, absentmindedly scratching his arm, “I don't think so. No trip or anything at least, they just had their anniversary trip.” He doesn’t hesitate to swing an arm over his shoulder as he squeezes him under his shoulder. “And you can call him dad.”

That’s something he doesn’t feel the urge to respond to.

“Are you gonna do something?” He ends up asking.

The older man now frowns at Ryota, who raises a hand in flimsy protection. It’s not the first time he’s gotten into trouble for less. His arm slips off as soon as it came when he straightens up with a frown. Ko nii can’t truly think he’s subtle. No, in fact, there is no way that anyone with eyes can mistake it for anything else. Still Atsuko asks. “What kind of fucking question is that?”

“It’s a fucking question, anii,” Ryota bites back, frowning too now. It doesn’t last long before he forces it off his face though, seeing the house come up at the end of the street. You don’t like seeing them not get along— and for what it’s worth, when Atsuko’s not acting like a possessive tool, they get along fine. “D’you wanna do something with mom as a family?” He adds after a few seconds of silence.

Silence where Ko nii seems to mull his answer around in his mouth until it becomes acceptable to say, or maybe until the bad taste fades. He’s got a glint in his eye, and his mouth stays shut for too long. It’s almost like he’s debating just telling him after all. But the unspoken knowledge is enough, isn’t it? It doesn’t need to be more than that.

That way he can still pretend. Ryota laughs. “Right. Forgot you wanna have it be a private audience. Should I stay at someone else’s house for the day or can you control yourself?” Atsuko’s grin can’t be wiped from his face. If it was Ryota, he’d at least have some fucking shame about it.

It seems like that thought hasn’t even crossed his older brother’s mind. And without meaning to, he lets the slight sourness on his tongue fall out with a complaint, rolling his eyes. “You should probably re-learn about sharing. She’s my mom too-”

“Yeah?” The older basically skips a few steps ahead, before running his tongue over his teeth and grinning as he takes off towards their garden. “Too bad. If you wanted a bite you should’ve been born first.”

He makes a face. “That’s fucking gross, anii.” His bike clicks as he rolls it behind, and his eyes scan the green for you. Only one thing gets his brother that giddy- his eyes stop to run over you where you’re reaching up to the branches of the trees, and picking out some early apples. Atsuko tackles you into a broad shouldered hug, before picking you up under your legs and into him, and he can hear how your giggles echo the street. You look good, pretty. The sweetheart dress you’re wearing clings to your waist and with how Ko nii’s hands are glued to your ass, he does see it.

He’d have to be blind not to see it. You are pretty. You let Atsu kiss you on the mouth but pull back when the big fuck probably tries to slip his tongue in. Freak. Not that that stops the barrage of love the guy heaps on you as Ryota drops his bike onto the grass. You only pull away from where Ko’s pretty much biting kisses down your throat to aim your beautiful smile on him instead, and he can’t help but feel warmer when holding up his hand.

“Hi, ma.”

Your tangled fingers pull from Ko nii’s hand to reach out to him as you rush over on sandals and your love glitters at him when he gets close. It’s like a tidal wave that coats everything in heat, warm and soft and kind like you’ve always been. What Atsuko’s doing is fucked up, but he does get it. “Baby~” You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down, and he lets his hands clench tight around your waist.

“I missed you so much.” He doesn’t pick you up, or kiss you, or basically make out with your neck— and you place a loving kiss on his cheek before wiping your hands on your dress. “Thank you for coming home, I know you’re busy at school.”

“It’s really- it’s fine. Missed you.” He doesn’t mean to stoke the flame, but as he looks up through his lashes he meets eyes with Atsuko. Who’s chewing his bottom lip to get rid of the ever so slightly agitated grin— that only tightens when Ryota finds himself winding his arms around you a bit tighter. Enough to pull you off your balance and make you laugh, before pushing away as you look between them both.

“Do you guys want to take a dip before dinner?” The sun casts the pool in perfect dappled light. “I took a dip earlier and the water is just right~ if you get the chance.”

Atsuko only waits a second before he reaches his hand back to you to stroke his thumb along your neck, then pulls you in when he softly tangles his fingers into the base of your hair. “I’ll go if you go.” You don’t hesitate to brush that off and roll your eyes, but your hand still lands on the lighter brunet’s chest. His eyes shift to where the younger brother is still standing in the front yard, slips his hands into his front pockets. “Ryota wants us to do something for Mother’s Day in a couple days… Any requests?”

The hand that’s still on your neck now moves down your spine, lower, lower- until it traces over the fabric to brush along the edge. When you don’t respond, your face turns to his questioning, and a bit shocked. But Atsuko isn’t. “What about a repeat of last year, mom?” He asks, and drops his lips to your temple after a self-satisfied grin. “Maybe I’ll keep it a surprise for now. I know what you like.”

He shrugs as he walks away with you still left in your spot on the deck— taps the door frame on his way inside. “Ryo’s back, dad! I’m gonna give mom a massage in the master bedroom. She worked so hard today.”

[bisexualcage]

Stunt Work | Johnny Cage x Trans Male

Pairing: Johnny Cage x Male Reader (trans male/masc)

Summary: you’re a stunt double working on one of Johnny’s films, he’s annoying to work with and you think you both mutually hate each other…at least you thought.

Warnings: NSWF! 🔞 MDNI!!, mentions of afab anatomy, there’s almost no plot but I tried my best so it’s a little layered.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/C: I didn’t really proof read this a whole lot, so ignore any errors pls <3

Part 2 here <-

“Alright, Cage, you gotta commit to it man stop flaking— grab his shoulder, flip him over and leg lock.” The director instructed Johnny who was shirtless, sweating and in an overall fussy mood because he couldn’t for some reason commit to performing the stunt on you all the way.

“Hop off my sack, man. I’m trying.” Johnny breathed heavily.

“If I may-“ you tried to put in a word of advice but it was quickly shut down.

“Listen, G.I Joe, zip it-“ Johnny barked, all cocky.

“You both been acting like cats and dogs all day, cut it out!” He yelled and then turned to Johnny, “What’s gotten in to you? You’re literally a martial artist, an actor, and you keep stopping at a simple leg lock?” The director whispered at him, patting his back.

The director not reprimanding his shitty behavior and only talking about his stunt block made you scoff loudly.

Johnny gave you a brief look before looking away and shaking his head, “I know I am, I’m the best there is— I’m Johnny Cage for god’s sake.”

“That’s the spirit! Now, another take! We’re gonna get this!” The director yelled.

You rolled your eyes and got to position, as well as Johnny getting in to fighting stance in front of you.

“Action!”

Johnny started throwing his moves at you, you dodged them successfully and then the sequence he struggled was next. He grabbed your shoulder, flipping you over on to the padded floor harshly which made you groan, and then finally performing the leg lock on you— extending your leg between his thighs on the floor as you grunted. You thought he finally got the move down until you felt something firm against your thigh as he kept it in a hold. You hesitantly look down and notice that between his legs was a rock hard erection making you go completely still and your eyes widen. Of course, he noticed your reaction and he immediately let you go and stood up with an embarrassed look on his face. A blush covering his cheeks as his shades hid part of his face.

“Way to go, Johnny! That’s my boy!” The director yelled.

You got up from the padded floor and cleared your throat, a heat coming from your neck. Not really looking at him as you were ready to run off set to your trailer.

“Are we done?” You look at the director and ignore Johnny’s flushed face.

“Yes yes, go ahead and take your breaks.” He patted an immovable Johnny’s back.

Without even a second thought you rushed to your trailer, a bunch of feelings and thoughts flooding your head. You were confused as to why you felt an attraction to the asshole, you were supposed to hate his guts, right? But now, since it’s pretty obvious he didn’t wanna do a leg lock all day was because he didn’t wanna reveal the rock hard boner he got in that position with you it made any rationality of in your head vanish.

An hour passed since you were trying to relax in your trailer, that is until you heard a few firm knocks on your door making you jolt and walk to it.

“Listen, if the stunt needs more rehearsing I might shoot myself-“ your words caught at the back of your throat as you saw a showered Johnny in front of you with a raised eyebrow and an amused expression.

“Easy, G.I Joe. It’s me.” He grinned at you.

“No- we ain’t doing this shit. You cannot just knock on my door with a smile and expect me to forget how much of an insufferable dick you’ve been.” You went to close the door on his face but he shoved his foot in and firmly moved his way in.

“What the-“

“Unclench your ass, I just need to talk.” He walked in with his hands in his pockets, he was wearing slacks and a navy blue dress shirt with his usual shades.

You slam the door closed as you turn around and near him, “The only reason why I’m letting you in is because I need this damn job— I would have kicked your ass by now.”

Johnny smirked, completely not phased by your red angry face, taking his shades off and looking in to your eyes with his big brown warm eyes. “Listen, I know I was a bit of a dick but I like you despite our quarrels on set. It’s an eat dog eat dog world out there, baby.”

You scoff loudly, “Baby?”, a redness in your face.

Johnny walked around your trailer, looking at your room and decorations on the walls. “Never had anyone call you pet names huh, stud?”

You shake your head and follow behind him, “Forget that. Why the hell did you have a boner when you did a leg lock on me?”

His cocky smile suddenly falters as he turns around to meet your eyes, his face uneasy. “That’s what I came to chitchat about. I’d appreciate if you didn’t go around to gossip about that. It wouldn’t be good press.”

You laugh dryly, “So you didn’t come to explain yourself but rather save your ass?”

Johnny rolled his eyes, “I’m a star, I don’t need any bs like that getting out there you understand? Plus, do you honestly think I could have controlled what happened?”

You shake your head, “That’s not the point. You know how many accidental boners I’ve experienced while doing stunt work? There’s friction when doing stunts it happens, it nothing perverted, But all of the actors I’ve worked with have apologized, just out of decency.”

Johnny actually stayed quiet, pondering on what to say, “I’m…I apologize. You know, I don’t usually apologize— I’ve been so out of it today and you being around just messed with my focus.”

You approach him more, “You’re blaming me for not being able to perform a stunt? I was distracting you?” You say bitterly.

“I’m not blaming you. Only explaining. I- I didn’t want to do the stunt all the way because I knew the second I got you on that leg lock…you’d feel it.” He looks away, a hint of vulnerability for the first time all day.

You sit down on a chair, taking a deep breath, “It wasn’t the friction.” He continued, looking at you with a certain emotion that you couldn’t quite tell what it was.

“What-“

“It was you. Moment you walked on set.” He played with the rings on his fingers, a more serious look on his face.

There was a warmth that overtook your body, a shock. “But-“ you were cut off.

“Just let me get this out alright, G.I Joe? I know what it looks like; ‘Johnny Cage getting a boner over another guy’, it’s not ideal for my image. It’s not ideal for Hollywood if it got out that their poster boy for masculinity, heterosexuality and womanizing was…not necessarily that all along.” He swallowed deeply now, sitting down next to you and looking away.

“…I guess you’re more layered than I thought. A dick with shades of gray.” You say, trying to be somewhat lighthearted at the rather shocking truth.

Johnny chuckled softly playing with his hands, “I am a dick sometimes, that I don’t deny. But the truth is, most of what people see is a facade— As most publicity of actors in hollywood is. I was raised in to this industry to fit a certain mold and you do it long enough you sort of become that regardless…” he trailed off, now looking at you, “As corny as it is, I haven’t felt a more genuine attraction in years.”

You blush, taking a deep breath, “So, have you always liked guys? Or is this something…new?”

Johnny thinks deeply, “Always. I get with anyone really. I’m an actor, of course I’ve gotten with dudes.” He grins at you, a hopeful look in his eyes that urged you to elaborate on your own thoughts.

“I guess we finally found some type of common ground Hollywood, I’m pretty…fruity.” You cheese.

“You are..?” His brown eyes turned to a dark color suddenly, a sort of hungry expression in his face. “And you…fancy me also, right? I see it in your face…”

You take a deep breath, “Careful with the ego but yes.” You chuckle, “Think I was…quite mad that your little slip up on set didn’t turn me off.”

Suddenly you feel his hand on your knee, his thumb grazing over your pants, “Come on then stud…we both want it.” He says in a deep husky voice.

A shiver runs down you leg, “Isn’t it unprofessional to get involved with- with coworkers?”

He chuckles, “Oh sweetie, unprofessional is my middle name.”, he glided his hand up your thigh now, studying your every expression as he did.

“Good point…” you breathe faster, a warm feeling festering in your lower abdomen.

“Shhh…shhh.” He whispered, “Let me just…I’ve been harboring a boner all day because of you, we’re doing this…” he trailed off, his hand now reaches the button on your jeans undoing it.

“Wait I-“ you stand up in a slight panic, “There’s something I gotta say before we proceed…”

Johnny raised an eyebrow at you, confused and stands up with you, studying your face.

You start pacing around, “I’m trans. A trans guy. I just wanted to say something before we-“

Johnny chuckled softly, a relief on his face, “Sweetheart, I thought you were gonna tell me something horrific.” He touches his chest, “Don’t worry about it, stud.”

Your face turns amused, “Are- are you sure you know what I’m saying?”

Johnny approaches you now, rubbing the back of your neck with his warm hand, “You’re a trans man, I understand. But a man nonetheless.”

You grow goosebumps as he touches you, “That doesn’t bothe-“

“It doesn’t, This is Hollywood baby, you know how many different folks I’ve gotten down with? I got you.” He now made his hand trail down your chest, rubbing it passionately.

Your breath hitches and you become warm all over, his hand then trails down your abdomen to under pants, his hand reaching the waistline of your briefs. Pulling you close against his chest with his free hand, “Now, come here, be a good boy…” he kisses your lips for the first time firmly, all warm and wet.

You sync your lips with his and hum against his mouth, a groan leaving his throat the deeper he went. Sliding his hand in your briefs now, rubbing your crotch up and down making you moan against his mouth.

“Fuck…” you hiss, making a grin form on his lips.

Johnny then suddenly slips his hand out and starts undoing your pants, but before he pulls them down he looks in your eyes for approval. When he sees that you nod with a gulp he immediately pulls then down to your knees leaving you in your briefs, “Don’t worry, honey…” he whispers as he cups your jaw and kisses you on the cheek. He pulls back while gently guiding you to the couch, your back against it as he finishes pulling your pants off. There was a primal look in his eyes as he crawled between your legs and was on top of you, his chest laying against yours as he leaned in and kissed your neck desperately.

“Shit-“ your breath wavers, your skin hotter than the sun.

“Mmm- taste so good-“ you heard a groan leave the back of his throat, he then trailed his hands down to your hips and gripped them tightly. “You okay? You ready?” He looked in to your eyes for any hesitation— as cocky as he was you saw an undeniable softness in them now. A want to please, a want to do something for someone. The way his eyebrows quirked up slightly waiting for your answer, like a kid looking for some sort of validation. For someone to tell him yes and that he’s doing well. It made you reconsider everything you knew about him so far. Maybe he was just a man desperately trying to look for connection in an otherwise soulless industry that broke people. He wanted connection, he craved it— he wanted realness with someone.

You nod, rubbing his sides tenderly. He closed his eyes briefly at that, sighing deeply with a small smile on his lips. Then, he reached the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his shirt, immediately going to unbuckle his belt and his pants. At a point, you saw he was struggling to get them off, maybe it was nerves, maybe it was frustration, so you sat up sightly between his legs and reached up gently to his belt undoing it with ease. You later unbuttoned his pants as well, but giving him space to take off his pants on his own. Johnny stayed completely quiet when you did that small act for him, observing you with a want that grew tenfold but with a side of that softness he emitted no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Big brown eyes like chocolate itself.

You chuckle up at him, “What, Hollywood?”

The actor snapped out of it, shaking his head, sliding his pants down and throwing them to the floor with the other clothes. “God, I wanna fuck you.” He said bluntly, taking his boxers off now, his dick in full view and without any hesitation going back between your legs, touching the hem of your briefs with his fingertips and with a sudden halt.

“Johnny, it’s okay…” you look down at him with a shy yet flushed face.

Johnny nodded, a grin back on his face as he used both of his hands to slide your briefs off— your heart accelerating at how slow he was going. He finally slid them down your legs and immediately his vision went your throbbing pussy— like an inevitable reaction. The actor licked his lips as he positioned his thighs and hips accurately, leaning over you. He looked in to your eyes as you felt his burning cock hitting your inner thigh, teasing your entrance.

“Hnnngh-“ you groaned, almost desperate now as you moved your hips against him, a trickle of sweat down your temple.

Johnny let out a chuckle as he placed his finger below your chin to look at him, “I ain’t even in yet handsome…take a breather.”

“Don’t tell me what to do you ass.” You chuckle and playfully slap his shoulder.

Johnny smirked at your behavior, reaching down between his legs and grasping his length that was oozing with precum already. Positioned it at your core and carefully slid past your folds with his hips— carefully studying your face as he laid down over you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Ahh-“ you moaned softly, digging your fingers in to his lower back…trying to push him faster inside.

“Easy…easy….” He said with reassurance, his mouth agape as he finally made it all the way in making him grunt as he felt your walls clenching around his cock.

Johnny then took no time nuzzle in to your neck as he pulled his hips back slightly and then rammed in to you with no warning, making you let out an earth shattering groan against his ear. His arms locking around your waist tightly now as he held you against him like you were air itself and he’d die without it. There was a slight tremble to his body the more he rammed in to you.

“Jesus- fuck-“ your eyes grew a bit watery as you cursed, a coil already tightening in your lower abdomen while you tried to gain your breath.

“Oh- Wrong J name, baby-” He moaned with a bit humor beneath, peppering your neck and jawline with kisses as his buckling against your wet tight pussy became more frequent.

It was a cumulation of moans, groans, curses and senseless phrases between you both. You noticed his face was flushed, his cheeks pink as he pulled back a bit to study your face. “That feel good, sweetheart? That feel- Fuck-“ he whimpered, and it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. “Answer…” he continued, with a stern tone now.

Your chest heaved faster as he picked up his speed, “y- yes, god- so good-“, your hands gripping his lower back more as he pushed in and out of you.

“You’re gonna take it like a good boy- mmm, sweetheart-“ He groaned as he grabbed your hips now more harshly, you could tell he was close as well the way he became more direct and possessive. A constant harsh rhythm was formed by his hips, his dick reaching in to the deepest depths inside as he hit your g spot over and over with no mercy. With no breaks or signs of stopping, you whined loudly and shook— feeling your height coming.

A the coil inside you soon snapped, making you whimper as you reached your climax— coming all around his swollen length. Johnny leaned in to your neck, moaning against it as he came right after you— his warm come filling you up to the brim.

“Fuck- fuckkkkk-“ he groaned as he bit down on your neck and then licked alongside your jaw.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you held him close as you tried to come down from the electricity that was currently running through you both. Johnny then reciprocated… sighing loudly, still inside you and wrapping his toned arms around your waist not caring how sticky and sweaty you both were against each other. He was content of sorts, a small smile playing on his lips, closing his eyes against your chest as he listened to your quick heart.

“You okay, Hollywood?” You rub his back tiredly.

Johnny chuckled lowly, “I feel like a million bucks, baby.” He leaned in and took a long sniff of your neck, “I love how smell-“

“That’s sweat, don’t patronize me-“ you laugh, your face red and full of embarrassment as you realized he hasn’t made any attempt of moving out of you.

“Oh shush— you have a musk. You might get me addicted, sweetheart.” He rubbed your sides now, his hair sticking in all directions.

You snort loudly now, rolling your eyes at his charming yet annoying behavior, “Okay fancy pants, can you pull out of me? I need to pee, I don’t want a UTI!”

His eyes widen at the realization and he carefully pulls out, “Oh- oh I apologize, stud. Next time I’ll remember-”, the actor says apologetically and stands up with a slight tiredness, carefully helping you up as you wince.

“You’re getting pegged next time that’s what.” You say humorously with a grin as you walked to the bathroom in your trailer and he walked behind you like a lost puppy.

“Oooh, challenge accepted, G.I Joe!”