#one two skunks now sit before you

[drabmakyo]

So much to remember, so much to process.

Fantastic interior illustration by Iris Jay!

Mitzvot is available for pre-order now as paperback and ebook! https://mitzvot.post-self.ink

[vmpiires]

﹆₊ 腹‧₊˚ PISSIN' ME OFF, KINJI HAKARI

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ you purposely piss hakari off. wc, 2.65K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. this is my FIRST time writing for this man so don't beat me if this is inaccurate. ty @5kstxrz for giving me this idea (that’s twin mkay)

␥ tags. drinking, smoking, smut (omg wow), play fighting, female anatomy, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3

it was evident to everyone around that your relationship with hakari was filled with passive-aggressive behavior. even though it was apparent that you both cared for each other deeply, the continuous exchange of sarcastic remarks and subtle jabs made your friends and even strangers concerned about your well-being.

the constant bickering between you two was so intense that people often wondered if you were caught in a toxic relationship that you couldn't escape from. despite the love you shared, the tension between you two was palpable and gave rise to many uncomfortable situations.

hakari was a complex individual who had a penchant for indulging in vices. he was known to be a habitual gambler, a smoker, and a drinker. within his many addictions, he had a charismatic personality that drew people towards him. one of his peculiar habits was to take bets on trivial things, such as how many times you'd would insult him before expressing affection towards him. squeezing his waist, telling him how much you love him.

"you're just full of surprises, huh?" hakari chuckles at you as he kisses your head, returning the hug you had given him. "you still got a big head, though. nothin' can change that."

"like your head isn't bigger," you sucked your teeth before flashing a smile at your boyfriend. hakari would release you and stick his middle finger up at you before plopping down onto the couch, the piece of furniture grunting as his weight pressed down onto it.

once you walked into the apartment, the sound of glass shattering caught your attention. the pungent smell of a joint filled the air, and you could see hakari holding it loosely between her fingers. as you took a few more steps, you noticed a puddle of saké on the ground, which emanated an earthy aroma. the scene appeared to be somewhat chaotic, with broken glass, the smell of cannabis and spilled alcohol adding to the disarray.

as you noticed his tan face go pale, you instinctually reached out with your hand and gently brushed your palm against his cheek, hoping to rouse him from his slumber. however, the moment your skin came into contact with his, you couldn't help but notice how icy cold he felt. you paused for a moment, your hand still resting on his cheek, as you realized that something was not quite right.

suddenly, his eyes shot open, and he stared back at you with a look of confusion and surprise, as if you had just startled him out of a deep sleep. his blonde hair was tousled and messy, and his eyes were still cloudy with sleep. nevertheless, his gaze seemed to bore into you, and you couldn't help but feel a little unnerved by his sudden awakening.

"what the hell.." hakari let out a deep groan as he pushed himself up from the couch, lightly kicking the shattered glass beneath his feet. "hey, when'd you get here?" the male asked with a hint of slurring in his speech. as he looked up at you with heavy, droopy eyes, it was clear that he had indulged in some heavy drinking. the pungent odor emanating from him was reminiscent of a dead skunk, indicating that he had gone beyond his limits.

"just now," you suddenly blinked at the male. hakari, who was sitting in front of you, noticed your sudden movement and scratched the nape of his neck before tilting his head to crack his joints. the sound of his joints echoed in the quiet room as he stretched his muscles, trying to relieve the tension from his body after sitting for so long. "are you high?"

"high off my fever," the male chuckled as you saw the vibrance come back into his magenta-colored irises before pushing himself up from the couch, running his fingers through his twisted locks. "help me clean this mess up, will ya?"

as you turned around, you caught a glimpse of Hakari shuffling towards the kitchen. he seemed to be in a hurry, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was up to. a few moments later, he emerged from the kitchen with a rag in his hand.

you could see the dampness on the rag and could smell the cleaning spray that he had used to dampen it. it was clear that he was on a mission to clean up yet another one of his spills. you decided to have a little fun with him this time and stepped back, leaving him to his own devices.

"nah, you can handle it, i'm sure," you couldn't help but smirk at the other person present in the room as hakari began to clean up the mess. as he went about the task, he paused right in the middle, his gaze fixing on you, eyebrows raised in surprise. hakari had come to expect your help whenever he made his frequent messes, and he seemed taken aback that you were not offering to help him this time. his slitted eyebrows lowered in mild irritation and let his head fall back down to the puddle of saké, continuing to clean up the mess on his own.

hakari let out a soft sigh and spoke under their breath, "okay then." his voice was barely audible as they uttered the words, almost as if they were lost in thought. it was clear that hakari was contemplating something, perhaps your sudden shift in attitude when you chose not to help him clean the saké that was spilled on the hardwood floor.

this continued for the rest of the day. you and hakari were cuddled up together in bed watching a horror movie that he suggested for the two of you to watch together before heading to sleep that night. as you both watched the film, you felt pretty and wanted to take some photos.

despite your efforts to pose for the camera, it was no secret that you struggled with it. with your phone held out in front of you at an awkward angle, you squinted at the screen and kept adjusting the position, hoping for a better shot. however, all your attempts were in vain as your little device suddenly slipped from your grasp and landed firmly in hakari's hand. with effortless ease, the male took the phone from you and began capturing a few shots, skillfully adjusting the angle and focus to create the perfect photo.

"i had it, y'know?" you furrowed your eyebrows as you snatched your phone back from him. though you were being all fussy with hakari, saying how much you didn't really need his help with posing, he couldn't help but notice how enchanting you looked with your face being illuminated by the tv while the rest of you were consumed by the darkness of the room.

"yeah, sure you did." hakari rasped before suddenly pinning you to the bed and kissing you to silence your fussing. his legs wrapped around your thighs while his hands moved up and down your sides, his grip getting tighter as the kiss grew more passionate.

his mouth traveled from your lips to your neck, and back down again, his hand roaming up your thigh. both of you had been breathing quite heavily as he held you down with his body as your lips remained locked together. hakari moved back to your neck, lightly sucking on your skin, making sure he'd leave a mark on you.

as hakari sucked on your skin, you felt him pulling down your sweatpants. once your pants had gone past your knees and down to your feet, he tossed the item onto the floor, leaving your panties exposed to him. before he could slide them down, he paused, making sure to break his pace.

"just to let you know...before this goes any further..." he began softly, his grip on your hips becoming lighter. "i don't have a condom...is that good with you?"

you nodded, "it's okay." your reply was simple and to the point. hakari seemed a bit surprised by your directness, but he had a faint grin on his lips as well.

once your panties were completely off and out of the way, he would toss them onto the floor with your pants and continue his previous process, now using his fingers to explore your sensitive area. when hakari heard your breathing picking up and your whimpering became more evident, he smirked, and his hands began moving faster.

hakari was pleasantly surprised by your response and he began to move his fingers through your gummy walls faster and more confidently after hearing your vocality. his smirk grew as he continued, his gaze locked on yours. after a few moments, he finally decided to speak to break the silence that was accompanied by the sounds of your wetness.

"you like that, huh?" he mumbled to you, keeping his digits moving at a moderate pace, but the speed at which they moved started to slow down a little. you were honestly starting to think that he would never stop.

"you know....i- can't-" you stammered as you tried to speak while simultaneously fighting off your moans of pleasure that reverberated against the walls of your bedroom. you suddenly stopped trying to talk, as you realized that it was getting harder for you to do.

hakari groaned as your sounds became louder and heavier, a blush starting to form on his cheeks. his grip tightened again, and his fingers sped up once more, as he kept his eyes locked on yours then slowing down again. "you like this...yeah?" he grunted out. "tell me how much you like it..."

his tone was a lot more flirtatious now. his hand moved in a circular motion, now adding another digit into your core.

"i like it, hakari," you said breathily, your eyebrows knitting together while you attempted to keep your composure, but it obviously hadn't been going very well for you at the moment. "i love it, actually."

hakari continued to listen to your responses, and his lips grew into a wider grin as he heard your words. his hands continued their pace as well, and after a moment of thinking, he spoke again. "mhm..." he mumbled back. "you love it, huh? good."

his grip on your waist was quite tight at this point, but he was enjoying it, judging by the wide smile that he had on his face. once again, he started to speak.

"aw, you're just so cute," he crooned, moving his hands back down between your legs. "and you're a vocal one too."

as hakari started to pick up his pace once again, enjoying the loud noises you were making. he was almost sure the neighbors heard you. he had been teasing you to the fullest, you were starting to get impatient with him.

"please, i don't want your fingers," you finally spoke up, your breath hitching as you spoke. "i want you inside." your words caught hakari off guard and he was never really expecting you to want anything more from him. in fact, it only made him grin even more as his eyes locked with yours.

"really...?" he muttered, squeezing your waist a bit with each passing moment. "you sure you don't want my fingers, you want the entire thing, huh?"

when you nodded in response to his question, he let out a grunt as he began to move his hands down to get himself in position. the male would remove his shirt and then his pants and his hands were on your waist while your legs spread far enough to accommodate him. hakari was already breathing heavily at this point, and once he got himself into the proper position, he moved your legs over your head as he prepared to enter you.

once he was inside, his grip on your hips became tight. his movement was a bit slow as well, just to start off. he grunted once again, starting to speed up with each passing moment. his breath getting heavy. your arms were wrapped around his body and when hakari decided to speed up, your grip tightened and your nails proceeded to dig into his back.

hakari groaned, digging his hand deeper into the mattress underneath him as he got into it more at this point. his grip on her hips were as tight as could be, as he looked into her eyes, a grin on his face. the feeling of your nails digging into his back and your moans from them were almost enough to make him lose it. hakari was clearly enjoying this, and so he pressed even deeper, starting to move faster with each passing moment.

“shit...” his pace continued to speed up, as he began to breathe more heavily. “moan for me...” hakari grunted in a somewhat harsh sounding tone, but still somewhat flirtatious. despite the change in his tone, he was enjoying himself as his pace continued to increase.

doing as told, you let out a soft moan as your hips started to react to his movements. hakari seemed delighted by your reaction. his smile grew even stronger. now that you were moaning for him, his fingers gripped onto the sheets of the bed and sweat beads began to form on his forehead.

the male moved closer to your face in order to see you better, his hand still moving. he grunted loudly as he moved even faster, the pace becoming almost relentless. he wanted you to feel amazing, but he also wanted himself to feel just as good, so he moved at a pace where they both felt pleasure. this went on for a while, until he eventually felt himself starting to get close.

once he felt himself get closer, he slowed down a little bit, his grip on her continuing to stay tight and his voice becoming a little raspier from all the movement. “you close?” he grunted out, his breath heavy from all of the movements, just as his voice was heavy due to the sounds you was making.

“yeah,” you breathed out, tears starting to form in your eyes from the pressure.

the movements continued on, picking up speed again, and he stayed as deeply as he could get inside of you. his hand tightened again as well, as he kept his pace the same as before, if not faster.

“fuck, i'm so close...” he murmured, grunting once again. his pace was getting faster, and the movements were becoming more repetitive as he grunted again. his hand kept its grip on your hips.

the sound of your moaning and his grunting became quite loud in the room now, as they just kept going at it. as hakari’s breath became even heavier, his hand moved from her hip up to her neck, starting to grab her a little bit to hold her in place.

“don’t fuckin’ move..." hakari mumbled out, still having his hand on her neck as he moved faster. the sounds of you and his breathing, his grunting, and your moaning were all really loud and heavy. you could barely feel his grip on her stomach anymore, as his hand had moved to her neck now.

“fuck... i'm...” he grunted, his voice becoming hoarse. this continued for a few moments more, but after enough time had passed, he finally stopped. strings of white ropes landed onto you and the bed sheets. hakari released another groan and the grip on your neck loosened finally, leaving purple marks on your skin.

hakari laid down beside you, still breathing heavily. he was dripping with sweat and so were you. both having a panting expression on your faces. although he was exhausted from the whole ordeal, a wide grin was still on his face.

"you know..." he started between breaths, still gripping your waist. his body was leaning against yours, putting pressure on you. "you still got a fat ass head...but i really enjoyed that."

"man, you don't ever let a good moment go by," you playfully roll your eyes as you finally catch your breath. hakari shrugged, giving you a goofy smile before kissing your cheek and resting his head against your chest.

"wanna watch another movie?" he mumbled against your body, lightly kissing you and rubbing your slightly bruised sides with his thumb. you put your hand on his head, running your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

"one more and then i'm going to bed." you said as you pulled the blanket over your bodies. hakari sucked his teeth as if he didn't like the idea of watching a final movie then going to sleep.

"i won't be letting you sleep, then," the male smirked as he grabbed the remote from the nightstand and began to search for another movie for the night.

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

[jyoongim]

DANGEROUSLY IN LOVE

Word count 1.1k

”he’s a wolf in disguise

but I can’t stop staring in those evil eye

i asked my girlfriend if she’d seen you ‘round before

she mumbled something while she got down on the floor

we’ve might have fucked, not really sure, don’t quite recall

but something tells me that I’ve seen him yeah

that boy is a monster”

alastor x burlesque!reader pt 1

An inaccurate southerner 1920 fic.

I am Black sooooo reader is black for the sake of this and so is Alastor cause that’s a black man idc idc idc fight a skunk.

Monster by lady Gaga really had my juices flowing

themes: Alastor himself is a warning,

violence,

alcohol use,

 drug use, 

nsfw, 

teasing, flirting, taunting, smut, 

banter, possessive/protective behavior  

You hummed a little tune as Mimzy finished doing your makeup and hair. 

Tonight was your first debut at the club and you were excited to be the opening act.

You ran your hands over the tight corset in an attempt to soothe the nervousness that was trying to settle in your belly. You adjusted the feathered headpiece as Mimzy finally finished everything with hairspray (why did set your makeup as well….oh well).

You were finishing up putting on your jewelry when you heard Mimzy gasped, you turned seeing her poking her head out to look out the door out to the growing crowd.

you fixed your lips to ask her what had her so shocked, when she twirled around, eyes wide and excited “He’s here! I can’t believe he here!”

You blinked, confused “who is here Mimzy? One of your little boy toys? Or someone you owe?”

she flipped you off before smirking “what you live under a rock doll? Him! Hell’s Stereo himself!”

Your eyes widened as you gawked “No way!” You ran over to the door to peep without people seeing you and your eyes settled on a lone red, lanky demon sitting at the bar. You couldn’t really see him well from where your dressing room but before you could crane your head out further, Mimzy pulled you back in

”You are suppose to be a surprise doll! Can’t let that lot get a eyeful without proper payment now can we?”

You soon forgot about the red demon as you primped a bit more, chatted with some of the other dancers, and laughed with Mimzy.

 The lights in the club had finally dimmed and Mimzy slapped you on the ass, leaving your dressing room “Knock ‘em dead doll!”

You took a deep breathe as you heard the band begin to play your song.

You straightened your back, and took on a composure that oozed seduction and confidence.

Hearing the beat of the music, you waltzed out onto the stage, giant feathered fans concealing yourself.

The whistles and catcalls never failed to make you nervous, but you used it to fuel your confidence.

You pivoted around the stage, teasing those who tried to steal a look around the fans.

A swing lowered and you took a seat on it and as it rose into the air, you finally revealed yourself in all your glammed glory.

the spotlight prevented you front seeing much of the crowd but your were Able to spot Mimzy, who was chatting with the red demon from earlier.

Your body moved on autopilot, maybe it was from hours of practice or maybe it was because the red demon was drop dead gorgeous. 

He was a rather tall fellow, at least compared to Mimzy.

Lanky build adorned in a red pinstriped suit with a black bowtie. He had a bob-like hair cut, the tips black that was cut into an undercut. Protruding on top of his bang were two little antler like horns and

omg were those ears???? His ears mixed with the color of his hair. 

They reminded you of a deer’s. They seemed to stay alert, sticking forward, never flickering.

His eyes were a bright red, like rubies.

and he had a ever-present sharp smile.

Uncanny. But OH  he was so pretty.

You locked eyes and automatically you flashed him a flirty wink. You half expected him to throw a wink or look away, but instead he held your gaze as he raised his glass in acknowledgment. You felt your cheeks heat up as you tried to focus on your performance.

You swung and twirled on your little perch. Slowly, you started to remove pieces of your costume.

You perched yourself alongside a gentleman and smirked as he practically melted at your touch. You wrapped your boa around his neck and  pressed your fingers lightly to his mouth; he smirked, nipping at your fingertips and slowly dragging your glove off. You glided through the crowd, losing a piece of clothing here and there.

By the time you circled around to the bar, Mimzy was drunk and dancing along to the music and the mysterious demon was tracking your movements.

Hitting a little jig with Mimzy, you were intending to make your way to the lanky devil, when an arm circled around your waist and tugged you into a fella, who obviously had been drinking waaaay too much.

”why don’cha take the rest of these off princess?” He took a swig of whatever cheap liquor and leered at you “i like a gal dripped only in jewels” he snickered.

You frowned and tried to play off his perversion.”sorry dearest but I fear i am simply too much for you” you slapped his hand off of you and made your way to the bar.

Taking a seat, you ordered a bottle of whiskey and manners be damned, you chugged it for a good second.

maybe this’ll put you back in a good mood.

you were too busy sipping your sorrows you didn’t notice that a dark presence had settled beside you.

“And here I thought you were just pretty entertainment ” a deep brawl said from behind you. You turned and let out a soft squeak at the close proximity of the demon you had been eyeing all night. He cocked his head, mouth stretched in a big smile, showing off his sharp teeth. “You kept me waiting for a while doll” 

You could blame the courage on the whiskey, but you smirked at him coyly “and who might you be?” The red demon crouched to your level and raised your bare hand to his lips, keeping eye contact as his grin widened “Alastor doll. Pleasure to meet to you”

[lovebugism]

shy!reader wiggling her way into eddie lap bc she had a hard day 😫

You don’t know how to tell Eddie you miss him.

He’s sitting in bed right next to you, scribbling down notes in a worn composition notebook. You don’t even know why you miss him, only that the couple of inches separating you from him feels cavernous.

You don’t know what to say, so you sigh. A big, deep exhale that makes your chest deflate like a popped balloon. It’s sort of what you feel like, anyway.

Eddie’s chin brushes his shoulder as he turns to you, chocolate eyes wide beneath his clear-framed glasses. 

He knows that certain sounds mean certain things, kind of like a baby’s cry. You don’t know what you want a lot of the time — you know less how to express that you don’t know what you want — so Eddie’s learned to read you like a book. Most of the time, he knows what’s going on in your head before you do.

But the grieving breath you let out now is too ambiguous for him to understand. It’s too soft to be one of frustration, too drawn out to be contentment. He decides to check the boxes.

“Are you hungry?” he murmurs.

You shake your head in response, focusing on the book in your hand but not any of the words.

“Sleepy?” he asks. “‘Cause I, for one, could totally go for a nap right now, princess.”

You shake your head again, smiling a little this time at his word choice.

“Bored?”

Another head shake.

Eddie gives up. “A feeling neither of us can name because we don’t know what it is?”

You nod.

“I don’t think it even existed before now,” you mutter, half-joking.

The boy laughs. His pink lips match the apples of his cheek. You don’t know how to tell him you want to press your faces together until you’re made of the same vibrant colors he is.

“Is it cabin fever, you think? I’ve kept you hostage here for, like, two days now. Maybe you’re gettin’ sick of me.”

“You’re not holding me hostage. I asked to come over,” you remind him, giggling softly to yourself. “And I could never get sick of you, Eds. You know that.”

You lean over to nudge his shoulder with your own. Instead of sitting back up again, you linger just against him. You find you feel a lot better now, finally touching him. The gnawing feeling is less loud but still there.

Eddie smiles in silent understanding. “Wanna hug?”

A beat passes. You feel a little bit lame for wanting it so desperately. You nod anyway.

Eddie sighs as he sets his notebook on the mattress beside him. It’s not an unhappy one. It’s not an underwhelmed one, either. It’s just a breath, really — a clean, deep inhale-exhale he can finally take, knowing you’re about to be in his arms.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he ushers with his arms spread open. “My body’s always free real estate for you.”

“Ew,” you giggle at the unintentional connotation, sliding closer to him. You duck your burning face away from his in attempts to hide the wide smile on your mouth. Eddie sees it anyway and grins back.

He lazes against the headboard while you settle against his chest, one hand wedged between your bodies and the other curling around his side. You tuck your face into the curls at his neck. He smells like nicotine and floral shampoo and skunk weed. You don’t know how to tell him you need him to lay all his weight on top of you until his natural scent becomes your own.

His chin rests on the crown of your head. He smooths a hand up and down your back. “Is this what you wanted? Just needed my strong arms to feel better, huh? Is that it?”

You know he’s joking, but you don’t laugh. You shrug. “Kinda…”

“Kinda?” he echoes. His contorted face is audible. “Do you need something else?”

He’s not bothered by it, the fact that you want something more — just curious as to how he can make you feel better.

“I don’t know…” you murmur, wriggling against him like you can’t get comfortable. “It’s just… I need to be closer, I think.”

“Closer, huh?” Eddie muses, wrapping his arms more intently around you and squeezing you tight. He presses his lips to your hair. “Honestly, I don’t know if we can get any closer than this… Well. I mean, we could, but I have a feeling that’s not what you want…”

You shake your head against his chest at the implication. You need everything but the sex right now — the holding, the contact, the tangled limbs.

“No, I just… I think I just need to… I don’t know…” you mutter, almost inaudibly into his chest. You hold him tighter. “Would it be okay if I…”

Eddie’s brows raise beneath his bangs as you trail off. You’re getting better at it, at vocalizing when you need something, but the words are hard to form sometimes, and he gets it. He did fail senior year English two times, after all. 

“You don’t have to ask for anything, you know?” he assures, practically cooing, punctuating his words with a kiss to the top of your head. “Whatever you want, you can just take it. It’s all good with me, babe.”

His words give you a minimal boost of confidence. 

You part from him, lips pursed to the side of your mouth. Eddie eyes you attentively with slow and owlish blinks behind the thick lenses of his glasses. You don’t know how to tell him you want to swim in his chocolate syrup gaze or taste the stars that twinkle inside them.

“I just wanna, like…” you trail off. You never end up finishing your sentence, actually. Without words to describe the overwhelming, unnamed feeling, you just crawl into Eddie’s lap and wrap around him like a koala.

Your thighs settle on either side of his hips, arms curling around his neck as you tuck your face into his wild hair again, pressing your chest intently against his own. 

Eddie sighs into your shoulder; it trembles like a faint laugh. His palm smooths over your back, pushing you further against him until the laws of physics prevent either of you from coming any closer.

You exhale slowly. For the first time, Eddie feels you relax against him.

“Is this better?” he mumbles into your cheek.

You nod into the side of his.

Your chests move together with each of your slow, even breaths — rising for a few seconds, stilling for a moment, then falling for a couple more. You think your hearts might be beating in the same rhythm, too.

That gnawing feeling behind your ribcage turns to sunlight.

[mothandpidgeon]

Making Out to Pablo Honey (virgin!Dieter Bravo x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: virgin!Dieter Bravo x f!reader

rating: E MDNI

summary: Dieter’s always tried to be cool. The thing about being cool, though, the more he tries, the less it works. You, on the other hand, you’re cool.

contents: virgin!Dieter, young!Dieter, lots of 90s references, cannabis, mentions of masturbation, fingering, premature ejaculating, one ferris bueller reference, reader is able bodied and not described physically moth never uses y/n.

This fic is about horny teens doing horny teen things. It's not too late to not read this if that's not ok with you.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: I'm thinking of this as a Dieter origin story. I really enjoyed thinking about him before he was the DIETER BRAVO. Anyway, this was kind of healing I wish I knew him back when I was in high school. Thanks @moonlitbirdie and @whocaresstillthelouvre for betaing and cheering me on!

“Sweet or salty?” you ask. Your head is buried in one of the kitchen cabinets, rummaging through a selection of snacks. 

Dieter sits on the counter opposite, watching you with a lazy smile. 

“Sweet,” he says. “No, wait. Salty.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your eyes bloodshot under heavy lids. 

“You’re so stoned,” you giggle. 

Dieter blushes. Despite the fact that he coughs after every hit, getting high with you after school has become his favorite past time. You never tease him for it, just put the joint between your lips while Dieter wonders if you can feel the warmth from his there. You’re both well and truly blazed at this point after smoking up in the dugout of the school's baseball field.

Dieter gazes over your body as you stand on tip toe, reaching for the top shelf. It’s like he can’t control his eyes from wandering to you when he’s like this. Sometimes you notice. 

“What?” you’ll say. “You’re staring at me.”

“You’re paranoid,” he’ll lie. 

He wishes he was brave enough to tell you that he’s staring because he thinks you’re beautiful. 

It’s hard to believe that the two of you are actually friends now. He still remembers when you were assigned as his lab partner, a girl that he was equally drawn to and intimidated by.  

Now he’s in your house after school almost every day. 

“Honey?” your mother’s voice calls from the front door.

“Shit.” Dieter hops onto the floor before she enters the kitchen in a smart business outfit. 

“Oh, hi, Dieter,” she says, smoothing the bottom of her hair. 

“Hello, ma’am,” Dieter says. 

You stifle a laugh. 

“Dieter, you don’t have to call me ma’am,” your mother says.  

“Um okay,” he replies. He can’t remember her first name. She’s told him before. Does he seem stoned? Oh, god, he definitely does. 

She scrunches her nose.

“What’s that smell?” she asks.

Dieter’s stomach plummets. The two of you must reek of pot. He’s grown to like the scent– an earthy tang that now reminds him of you. He braces himself, trying to clear his foggy mind for a moment so he can’t act sober. 

“Somebody must’ve run over a skunk,” you say. “What’re you doing home so early?”

You change the subject so seamlessly. Of course. Nothing ever seems to scare you.

“I’ve got a meeting with the Vermont people but I left the damn file here,” she says, picking a folder up from the kitchen table. “I’ll be back late if we close the deal.”

“Good luck,” you say.

Dieter bursts with laughter as your mother goes out the front door. You join him, nearly doubling over with your giggles. 

“I was freaking out!” he tells you. “A skunk! I can’t believe she bought that.”

“I know, right? She’s clueless,” you chuckle. “Look.” 

You hold up your creation— a plate bursting with flavor and texture. It’s organized into little piles of treats— potato chips, Oreos, a handful of glistening strawberries. Chocolate covered pretzels rest beside dried cranberries and several ropes of licorice separate honey roasted peanuts from fun sized Kit Kats in glossy red wrappers. It’s a feast, every bite he could ever want just when he wants it the most. 

“Fuck,” he whispers as he takes in this offering. 

Maybe it’s the pot buzzing around in his head but he can feel himself falling head over heels for you. He wants to kiss you but what if you don’t want to be kissed? What if you reject him? He could play it off as a joke like the one he told in the biology lab that got you to notice him for the first time. Humiliation he can handle but he’s not sure he could take that heartbreak. 

The cookies are calling his name so he abandons any dreams of filling his mouth with your tongue in favor of a Nutter Butter. 

There’s a big, L shaped couch in the basement that Dieter sprawls out on while he munches on the fruit. They might be the best strawberries he’s ever eaten. Everything tastes so good when he’s high. He wonders what you taste like. 

“Do you like Radiohead?” you ask sorting through a pile of cassettes. 

“Yeah. I love them,” he says. He’s only heard one of their songs on the radio but if you like them, he wants to like them, too. 

Dieter’s always tried to be cool. He has a lot working against him— built like a string bean, a goofy personality. His own fucking name has betrayed him. He got the same haircut as Leonardo DiCaprio, he saved up to buy a pair of fancy sneakers, he spends hours in the mirror carefully choosing his outfits. The thing about being cool, though, the more he tries, the less it works. 

You, on the other hand, you’re cool. Effortlessly so in your black boots and chipped nail polish. It’s not just the music you listen to or the clothes you wear. There’s something in your attitude, an aloof confidence that he’s never been able to replicate. 

Despite his anxieties, you never make him feel judged. It seems like you enjoy introducing him to new things. You offered to make him a mixtape and it sent his heart fluttering. He’s shared a thing or two with you, too— leading you through the aisles of the local video store handing you his favorite obscure movies. Sometimes you laugh at his enthusiasm but it’s never mean spirited. 

You pop the tape in and climb up onto the sofa as rough guitar strums seep through the speakers. There’s something psychedelic in the music that has Dieter sinking deeper into his seat. 

Although there’s plenty of space, you sit alongside him, propping your feet up on the chaise beside his. Dieter’s pulse picks up. He’s so aware of you so close to him, each move of your muscles as you get comfortable. He can smell the pot tangled up in your hair and the fresh scent of cotton that always lingers on your clothes. 

“I like being high,” Dieter sighs. 

You laugh. He fucking loves the sound of it, wants to be a little clown to keep you giggling away.

“Give me a Kit Kat,” you say. 

The snack plate is balanced on Dieter’s lap so when you fish through it for the candy, he can feel the pressure of your touch right on his dick. He stifles a groan, trying to focus his attention on the crinkle of the wrapper in your hands. 

He’s touched himself to the thought of you more times than he’d like to admit. There was an incident when you unexpectedly brushed your ass against him at your locker and he popped a boner. He had to take care of it in the bathroom, one hand cupping the tip of his cock as he came so he didn’t make a mess. 

“Dieter,” you say. His name sounds so sweet when you say it softly like that. 

“Yeah,” he replies. 

Some time in the last fifteen minutes, his mind wandered away and he got lost in the haze of his high. He can’t remember what he was thinking about before you got his attention or how long he’s been out of it. There’s just a warm feeling in his head and every once in a while he remembers that you’re sitting right next to him and he smiles to himself and then he floats away again. 

“You’re staring at me,” you say. 

You’re close, laying on the same couch cushion, your face just inches from his own. You have pretty eyes. Maybe that’s what he’s been looking at. Or your hair. He likes your hair. 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. There’s no denying it this time. 

Your lips curl into a smile and your eyes dance over his features. He feels himself leaning towards you like his head is too heavy to fight your magnetic pull. 

Your noses brush, that’s when he realizes that you’re moving towards him, too. Both of you hesitate there, an acknowledgement of this point of no return— your friendship will never be the same. 

You kiss him. At first it’s a cautious meeting of lips and, suddenly, a crash of passion and excitement. It’s sloppy and unchoreographed but the two of you find a rhythm. He can taste the chocolate in your kiss. 

You climb onto his lap, sliding your hands beneath his shirt. Having all of you there, straddling him like he’s in his own wet dream, is overwhelming. Blood rushes to his cock. There’s so much of you to explore— soft places to touch and hold and taste. He wants all of you all at once and you seem just as eager. 

Your mouth roams his neck and teeth rake against his earlobe as you rock over the bulge in his jeans. He’s so sensitive from the weed, he can practically feel the hot drag of your pussy even through the layers between you. 

Dieter fumbles with the clasp of your bra and you knock his hands away to do it for him, then unbutton your pants and do the same for him. He keeps his mouth on yours as you pull off his shirt with eager kisses. 

He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. He’s met with the slick lips of your pussy giving him a delicious shiver. You gasp and sink your teeth into his bottom lip. 

Now your hand finds him, coating his length with precum and tugging. 

“Oh god,” he chokes. He wills himself not to finish right there in your hand. 

Dieter presses a finger into your entrance, slow and cautious, watching your expression for any signs of discomfort. You’re so tight, he can’t imagine the crush of it around him. The strokes on his cock stutter and slow as he thrusts deeper until eventually your limp hand simply holds him. He doesn’t care.  The feeling of you is addicting, all slippery and inviting. 

“Ow,” you complain. 

“Is this ok?” Dieter asks. 

“Don’t just finger me,” you complain. 

He blanches, unsure of how to correct himself. If you want more, he’s more than willing to give it to you but it has nerves churning in his belly. 

“I’ve never done it,” Dieter says. 

He immediately wishes he could take the words and swallow them back down. His neck burns with embarrassment. The coolest girl he’s ever met is letting him in her pants and he just spoiled it all by admitting he’s a virgin. 

You stare at him with big, round eyes, your lips swollen from kissing. Your adam’s apple bobs in your throat. 

“Me either,” you tell him. 

It’s Dieter’s turn to stare. He’s shocked. It seems like you’ve done everything already. At least, everything a high school senior would aspire to do. 

If you were embarrassed to tell him that, you don’t let it linger for long. “That wasn’t what I meant,” you say. “It just— I don't think I can come that way.”

Dieter nods in awe. This isn’t the first time he’s gone to third base but he hadn’t felt very sure of his technique during those few encounters. You look a little nervous, maybe for the first time ever, but he’s so impressed you’re confident enough to tell him what you want, to even know. He wants to give you exactly what you need. 

“Show me,” he says. “Show me what you like.”

Your pupils blow out and Dieter’s not sure which one of you is more aroused. Eventually you regain yourself, nodding quickly and climbing off of his lap so you can shimmy your pants all the way off. 

Dieter can’t help but stare at all the parts of you that are exposed. You’re so pretty he can hardly believe he gets to touch you. His cock throbs at the sight and he fists himself before realizing that he’d better stop if he wants to last more than half a minute. 

You lay back on the couch, parting your bent legs for Dieter. He sits up for a good view as you explain the secrets of the universe. You take his hand and guide his fingers to your pussy, carefully sliding them along the side of your clit. It’s velvety soft and warm and slick and you take in a sharp breath. His cock jumps. Again, a wet stroke over you. You set a pace, your hand around his as he makes you melt.

“Woah,” he whispers to himself as he watches your body respond. 

He’s not sure where to look; at the glistening lips of your pussy, a rare glimpse at the opposite sex in real life or at your face, eyes closed and brow knit as you float in ecstasy. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

He forgets the throbbing between his own legs, entranced by your pleasure. Your grip around his hand slackens and Dieter experiments with slightly faster strokes, kissing your neck. Your pulse thrums under his lips, your whines vibrating. 

As he gathers more slick from your entrance, you grind your clit into the heel of his hand. Your hips lift from the wet patch that’s growing beneath you. Dieter keeps his hand planted on you, giving you all the friction you need. 

He tries to find a way to tell you to use him, to take what you need, but he’s speechless. Watching a girl get off on him, and not just any girl but you, feels like witnessing a miracle. 

Your muscles tighten, every single tendon in your body wrapped up like a rubber band about to snap. He can’t help himself. Dieter slides a finger inside of you. It feels even better than before, now that your walls are coated in that sweet release. 

That’s when it crashes over you. You lock up, your arms and thighs straining. He can feel your core tensing around him desperately and he thinks he might cum just from the sight of you like this. It’s not like he’s seen in porn. You’re quiet, focused, somewhere else and he wants to go there, wherever that planet of pleasure might be. 

He wants to kiss you, to taste your release and bury his face in your tits but he doesn’t dare move and ruin this exquisite moment for you. So he keeps moving with the same steady tempo as you flutter around him. 

You groan out his name, long and slow and it sounds like music. 

Dieter feels his hips jerk and, oh fuck, he’s cumming. He tears his hand away from you to squeeze it over his spasming cock. It’s too late and the wet press of you coated on his fingers doesn’t help. He paints his torso with his own warm, sticky spend. 

You stare, eyes wildly surveying the mess on his belly, still dazed as you come down. 

He should be mortified that he just blew his load all over himself the very first time he’s gotten physical with you but his veins are coursing with bliss. His head falls back, chest heaving as he catches his breath. 

“I really like you,” he says. 

Your face breaks out in a smile and you bashfully bite your lip. He feels your fingers intertwine with his own. 

“Yeah. I like you too,” you say. 

-

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and my asks are always open!

[beababoobies]

Hello, I have a request for an Angel Dust X F! Reader (platonic) one shot. Said reader is a hotel patron with a skunk-like form, and is highly insecure about her new appearance. Fortunately, Angel steps in to give her a pep talk about body confidence.

not gonna lie to you, I saw F!Reader and I fucking panicked. But you came to the rescue with that platonic, thank you kindly! 🤧 for sure. This is such a cute fucking idea??? Like hello?? Thank you for this!! 

Confidence is Key

Angel Dust x Fem!Skunk!Reader (Platonic)

words : 1k, slight warnings for suicidal thoughts and self doubt :(

When you first arrived in hell, you were completely devastated and embarrased. It wasn’t even the fact that you hadn’t played your earthy cards right - it was the fact that you got manifested in a skunk form. You avoided the critters on earth for a reason, so no wanting to encounter one didn’t exactly line up with being one. 

Luckily, you quickly figured out, ninety percent of the other sinners hated their manifested forms too. Did that help you, necessarily? No. But it made you feel a tiny bit less alone. People didn’t treat you too differently than they treated everyone else - which was, albeit, shitty, but you still fit in to some standard. Which didn’t stop you from hating everything about your manifested form. 

So when you found about the Hazbin Hotel, you were practically pawing at their doors. An second chance at a manifested form? In Heaven? Absolutely. To you, redemption was just a bonus. Anything not to be trapped in this fucked up body that Hell had given you. 

You had spent months at this hotel by now - still to absolutely nothing. The urge to give up and die at your own hands instead of waiting unarmed in the middle of the street during the next extermination grew stronger and stronger. If it took dying again to escape this sick joke of a form, you’d do it. 

That was exactly how you felt right now, in the middle of the night in your small hotel room, curled up in your bed, black and white tail tucked between your legs as you sobbed, sniffling as you tossed and turned in your covers, fighting the internal battle of accepting your own cruel form or just giving it all up. But apparently, you were clearly having an internal battle too loudly.

There was three loud knocks on the door, followed up by a yawn. “Turn it down or talk about it, Toots.” Angel says from the other door, and you can hear his hand on the doorknob, before stopping. “You decent?” He adds, and you hum a small noise of yes before he walks in, rubbing his eyes just to see the absolute mess you had turned yourself into.

Makeup rubbed all across your face, clothes bent out of shape, and your hair that you usually worked so hard to maintain was completely messed. He walks over to you with a soft sigh, sitting on the edge of your bed, leaning back on one set of arms while the other is crossed over his lower stomach.

“Alright. Get to talking, toots.” He says with a sigh, sympathy in his eyes as he watched you start to stumble over your words, sniffling and trying to explain anything, just for him to nod, before finally cutting your ramble off. He knew this exact situation all too well. He saw Cherri go through it a couple of times over. It happened to a lot of people down here. 

“Alright, here’s this deal. You have manifested in this form for a reason. I don’t know what that reason is - but you’re still you, y’know? You can still dress like you, walk like you. You’re the sexiest skunk I’ve ever seen, for the record.” He jokes with you and smiled when you hiccup out a giggles, still wiping away your tears and blowing your nose. 

“You think I got dropped down here like this and loved it? Absolutely not.” He groans, rolling his eyes and leaning over to you to help you start to wipe off some of your ruined makeup, still pep-talking you back to your normal state. “First things first was the two sets of arms. I mean, hello?” He says with a wave of one of his arms, and you giggle again, closing your eyes softly as he starts working on cleaning off the other eye. 

“I was hitting myself, the people around me. Plus, I don’t know about you, but I certainly wasn’t thishairy on earth either.” He says, and you feel your guilt start to melt away, looking down at your striped patterns. “It takes a LOT of time to master being a fuckin’ animal, or, in my case, bug when you’ve been a human your whole life.” He reassures quietly, throwing the used makeup wipe in the trash before you hand him your brush, sighing quietly as you listen to him talk and help your detangle your hair.

“I absolutely hated spiders on earth, y’know? Would jump out of the room whenever I saw one. That wasn’t my room any more, it was theirs.” He says with a sigh, gently brushing out a knot you had formed from pulling and twirling at your hair anxiously. “Guessing you weren’t the biggest fan of skunks either then, toots?” He asks quietly and you go with a quiet “mhm.” wincing slightly as the brush pulled at your hair.

“I don’t know if hell does it as some sort of sick joke -“ he starts, brushing more of your striped black and white hair from your eyes. “- or if it’s just automatically something to torture us. But you have to trust that you’re still loveable. And deserving of feeling hot.” He adds, handing your brush back to you as you turn around to face him, refusing to make eye contact, nervously toying with your hands. 

He cups your chin, tilting your head up to look at him with a friendly smile, tilting his head at you. “We’re in this together, okay toots?” He said and you nod, making me smile a little wider. “Whether it’s the shitty toxic-positivity rehab that we’re both in, or just the face that we’re both in these forms.” He says, wrapping you in a hug, feeling you relax softly in his arms before he pulls back. 

“You deserve to feel confident.” He says, putting his hand on your shoulders and watching you nod confidently, head held up high. “And if there is absolutely any way I can help you feel that.” He coos softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead in a reassuring way. “I hope you feel comfortable enough to let me.” 

[queenimmadolla]

For the blurb thing

Eddie

Bath

Fluff

𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞, 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 '𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 ─ because i don't want to keep track of a bunch of different dad!eddies

“This is fucking gross.” 

“Well, you smell gross. So.”

Eddie huffed, brows furrowed in irritation as he leaned his back against the shower tile. The baby in his arms slapped her palms furiously against the red mixture of water and tomato juice filling your small tub, the splashback splattering across Eddie’s face.

He looked ridiculous. You’d already taken the pictures. 

The trailer was lucky enough to be equipped with a small…tub of sorts. Really, it seemed to be only suitable for children, no grown adult could bath comfortably in one of these. 

Yet, here Eddie found himself, folded up in it with his knees poking out, no leg room, no back room–his ‘lean’ put him at a 92 degree angle, if he was lucky– holding a one year old, who had most definitely already peed in the mixture.

So, now he was sitting in tomato juice, water and piss.

Eddie was not happy.

“There we go,” You sang, as you poured the last can, tapping the bottom of it for good measure.

“Is that necessary?” He snapped. 

You took no offense, eyes wary as you eyed him from top to knee before locking eyes again, “You need every drop.”

Then you pinched your nose and Eddie rolled his eyes.

What had been a promising start to family day at the park–picnic basket, copy of a new book you’d picked out at the bookstore in town with a couple of penny’s favorite blocks to beat into the ground, in hand–quickly turned disastrous when Eddie had taken Penny over to a tree she’d been pointing towards and babbling at while you set up the blanket, and the two of them had promptly been sprayed by a skunk hiding behind the tree trunk.

You’d heard a lot of screaming and squealing. Penny even yelled out once.

The car ride back was agony, having the front windows rolled down and the back ones propped open didn’t help, you’d had to stick your head out the window, uncaring about other people in passing cars. If being compared to a dog meant you didn’t have to smell your husband and baby, you’d bark.

Eddie had to stand outside the trailer holding Penny while you rummaged around for a Wellness magazine you’d seen the measurements for a tomato juice bath in once. When you appeared in the doorway, magazine clutched in your hands and held in the air victoriously, Eddie and Penny got to go inside while you took your car–and not his stinky van–to the market to pick up some tomato juice.

Eddie hadn’t been willing to sit in it. If it weren’t for Penny, you would have had to chase him around the trailer but you'd been able to gaslight him into thinking Penny wouldn’t like this particular bath since it wasn’t just water. A low blow since you knew how distressed he got when she cried.

So he’d gotten in. And Penny was having the freaking time of her young life.

“Do you like your bath, baby?” You cooed, leaning forward as she beamed up at you, toothless mouth open wide with her smile and those big brown eyes of hers sparkling. All because it was you talking to her, she loved you so much, “Yeah, awww, such a good stinky girl, huh?”

Penny squealed in agreement, hands slapping down against the water again, making Eddie flinch. Then she wiggled, chubby arms reaching out to you, asking you to pick her up and hold her but you quickly ran out of the breath you were holding so you yanked yourself back for a breather. The car ride might have got you a little familiar with their scent but you weren’t nose blind. 

Eddie took offense, “How long do we have to sit in this?”

“Until you don’t stink.” You scooped some of the mixture up in a plastic cup and poured it over his head, trying not to laugh at the frenzied look on his face.

Penny didn’t hide it, she laughed openly, turning so she could be sure to make eye contact with her daddy. She got the same hair treatment, but she was used to having her hair washed this way, she loved it. 

“And exactly how long is that, dearest?” That had been the closest he’d been to calling you a bitch.

“Uhm,” You gave Penny the cup to play with while you wiped your hand off and picked up the magazine resting on the small sink counter. It had been open, you scanned past the measurements until you reached the set time, “twenty minutes.”

Eddie was about to launch into complaints when he noticed your slight frown and the furrow in your brows.

“Huh.” Is all you said, head cocking to the side

“What?”

You were silent for a moment, reading the sentence over again in your head before you read aloud, “Does not eliminate or neutralize odor.”

“WHAT!?”

“I know right? Why would they provide the measurements for the tomato juice and water ratio if it doesn’t even work? Is this an amateur? Some sucker is walking around, thousands of dollars in debt with a degree in journalism, only to write about myt–”

“GET ME OUT!”

[dreams-of-yunho]

birthday present

yunho x female reader

rating: m

genre: birthday smut

w.c.: 1.7k

warnings: sex, sex in the bathroom, mentions of alcohol and being drunk

summary: this is for a beautiful anon who mentioned an idea like this back in MARCH lol. I switched it around a bit which I hope is okay. yunho gives y/n some sweet sweet morning sex for her birthday <3

Neon lights, sugared liquor and the raging heat of euphoric bodies. The music was god awful and the drinks tasted as cheap as they were, but your friends were celebrating your birthday. How could you complain? Stumbling home at 3am, your broken left heel in hand, you were missing four red press-on nails, and the walls of the apartment seemed to be melting around you. Swaying and crashing into every obstacle in your path, you found the bedroom dark. The gentle sound of Yunho’s deep breaths filling the otherwise quiet space. Oh boy, were you wasted! But your subconscious reminded you to be quiet while the love of your life was sleeping so angelically. Removing your heels and stepping out of a dress two sizes too small, you crawled into the bed as cautiously as you could before immediately passing out. 

Traffic and that dreadful chirping of birds invaded your dreams. Your eyes fluttered open only to be shocked by the morning sun’s orange light. You groaned, stretching your body and stuffing your face under the pillow; it was like one of those symbols playing monkeys was pounding against your skull. The mattress around you shifted and you skunk deeper into it as the weight of a 185cm man fell upon your legs. 

His hands grabbed your bare breasts, pushing them together and then watching them bounce back into place. “Late night, huh?” His voice was still heavy with sleep.

Bare boobs, you thought, the images of the night before flooding back in a tsunami of vodka and vomit. “Am I at least wearing panties?” You asked, disappointed in your life choices up to this point. 

His hands ran down your thighs to your hips, patting them with amusement. “Nope.”

“Well that’s unfortunate,” you pulled your head out from under the pillow. 

He was staring down at you in all his morning glory; messy, curly hair and puffy eyes. “Wow, babe, you look beautiful.”

“Oh god,” you pushed him off you, raising on your knees to look into the mirror on the wall across from the bed. Mascara was everywhere but your lashes. Your lipstick was gone, only your lip liner remained making you look like a clown. And someone had written your new age on your cheeks in Sharpie. “Oh god!” You jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom with lightning speed, smearing cleanser all over your face and scrubbing. He watched you butt jiggle as you ran. 

He came into the bathroom after you, wrapping his arms around your waist, looking at you in the mirror. You splashed cold water on your face. A faint outline of sharpie remained and you knew you wouldn’t be able to rid yourself of it without ripping off your skin. “I like it,” he said over your shoulder. “Now, I won’t forget how old you are.”

You laughed sarcastically. “Sharpie cannot be good for your skin,” you dabbed your face with a washcloth. 

“I seriously doubt it,” he rested his chin on your shoulder, angling his face to press lips against your neck. 

“Hm,” you put the cloth down and turned in his arms. “What’s this?”

“I have a present for you,” he smiled, kissing up your neck.

You raised a lazy brow. “Oh really?”

“Oh, yes, I’ve been working on it for twenty-three years.”

“God, please don’t tell me it’s you-”

“It’s me!” He gripped your waist, lifting you to sit on the cold, granite countertop. 

His lips were on your jaw now, sucking to leave little red marks. “At least let me brush my teeth,” you offered. “I can’t promise you that I didn’t puke last night.” 

But he was relentless against your jaw, moving to the corner of your mouth, like he couldn’t hear the words you were saying. Fine, you relaxed into his touch, placing your hands on the soft skin of his waist. 

Hands dragged down your thighs, resting on your knees, spreading them apart. You pulled him in, eager to feel his warmth. His lips were now on your cheek and one of his hands moved up to press against your folds. He hadn’t even started yet and already you were putty in his hands. Your headache pushed to the back of your mind. 

“I’m liking this present,” your hands gripped his hair, urging his lips to yours. 

His tongue ran against your bottom teeth and he was now holding your ass so firmly that you were fully pushed against him, barely touching the counter. You wrapped your legs around him and grazed your teeth against his neck. 

His dick was pressed firmly against your ass and you needed it inside you. You reached a hand down, angling him. “Kinda needy for this present, huh?”

“Baby,” your brow pressed against his. “You have no idea.”

He chuckled, warm breath against your face. “Anything for you, birthday girl.” 

Your ass cheeks met the cold stone again but your legs remained crossed behind his back. Six press-on nails gripped the edge of the counter as you felt his tip brush against your clit. Your hips jolted slightly. “I feel like this is my birthday present,” he joked. 

You bit your bottom lip and looked up at him through thick lashes. You couldn’t help yourself! This man had you wrapped around his little finger, desperate for his every touch. He was just so perfect in every way. Compassionate, funny, and generous, Yunho was everything a birthday girl could ask for. 

He rocked his shaft against your clit and your head lulled back against the mirror. He continued to rock against you, collecting your sticky slick as he moved. 

Your legs were flexed from the pressure building up in your stomach and the sheer amount of effort you were putting into gripping the counter. The veins in your flushed neck pressed against your skin. His cock wasn’t even in you and you were going to come. 

Your walls began to flutter, desperate for something to clench around. “Put it in,” you whined, but he just continued to rock against you. 

You were so warm and fuzzy, the violent wave of your orgasm crashed down upon your senses. Her rubbed his thumbs against the supple skin of your inner thighs as you shivered through your climax. “Fuck,” you breathed, nodding for him to actually start fucking you.

You had grown to love the burn of his thick cock pushing into you. It hurt in a pleasurable way that brought tears to your eyes. He pulled on your legs, pulling one to rest up on his shoulder and pushing the other to your side. “Hold this?” He asked.

If you weren’t so desperate for his dick, you would have mocked him for that dumb line but you didn’t have time for that. You just wanted him to fuck your brains out and then do it again. So, you held your own leg back for him. 

Gripping your hips, he could push deeper at this angle, hit that spongy bit that had you seeing stars. He moved slowly, teasing you, his pelvis fully flush with yours. 

Even these gentle strokes had you breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling dramatically. Picking up the pace, his balls slapped against your ass. The drag, that delicious drag of his cock against your aching walls. The sounds in that small bathroom were vile and hot. 

You were just moaning constantly. Your breaths leaving your mouth in a constant, deep moan. 

“Shit.” He pushed his body down on yours, deepening the angle even more. “You have the best pussy, baby.” 

You couldn’t even respond, totally focused on the sensations he was making your body feel. 

He moved even faster now, ramming into the same spot inside of you over and over. The tears were rolling down your cheeks now. It just felt so good. His hands fell to circle your clit and you were spiraling. A complete mess, you couldn’t even grip the counter anymore, your free hand moving to his wrist. Your head was knocking against the mirror with every thrust but you didn’t notice. 

“Fuck, Yunho, right there!” He had found the spot that had you clamping your eyes shut and bucking your hips into his. Your moans had become short and high pitched; needy, needy, needy. 

He was grunting now, slamming into your hips at a terribly fast and deep rate. His dick twitched inside of you and you knew he was holding back his own climax. 

His fingers applied more pressure to your clit and the world faded away. White danced behind your eyelids. Your legs trembled and your body lurched as you were still being rammed into the counter. He was completely flat against you, lips on your neck as he came in you, thrusting a few final times. 

“God, present, that was amazing,” you breathed. He was still twitching inside you. 

“It was twenty-three years in the making,” he spoke against your sweaty neck.

You wanted to laugh but you were still catching your breath. 

He pulled back to place a sweet peck on your lips. Silly, how innocent that kiss could be as his cum was dripping out of you. When he did pull out, the thick, white stick dripped to the floor. 

“I don’t think I can walk,” you pulled your legs together, feeling a tight burn. 

He smiled. “I got you.” His arms wrapped under your legs and around your back, lifting you from the, now, wet counter.  

You sighed with content as your back met the plushness of your mattress and quilt. He bent down and kissed your forehead. “Yum,” he smiled. “Sweaty.” 

“Whatever,” you pulled him back down, kissing him again. “Best birthday present ever, Yunho, thank you.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” he moved to grab a damp washcloth from the bathroom. “Cause you're getting it every year.” 

You chuckled lightly. “Fine by me.” 

“Fuck,” Yunho cried out from the bathroom.

“You okay,” you asked from the bed.

“No,” he walked up to the bed, a piece of red plastic in his hand. “I stepped on one of your damn nails.”

You looked down on your hands to find all the press-ons missing. You smiled sheepishly, “sorry, baby.” 

[chronically-ghosted]

I always thought the scene from Deadpool was hot where he and Vanessa are having hot sex mixed with food on Thanksgiving.

Maybe that with Joel or Javier P?

Ahhh, anon. this has been stewing in my brain since you sent it. And I know you said thanksgiving, but the line in this happened in, like, a single scene after the thanksgiving one! please forgive my timing!

kiss me ‘till I’m warm

rating: T

Pairing: jaiver peña x f!reader

word count: 1.6K

summary: a very drunk javi has something he wants to share with you.

warnings/tags: mentions of alcohol, drunkenness, one stupid joke, the absurdity of someone drunk off their ass trying to flirt, light kissing on body parts, references to smut, but ultimately this is fluffy as hell

a/n: wishing all of you a great start to your week as december plods along! shout out to the incredible @saradika for the divider!

🤍Masterlist

Javier Peña is a giggly drunk. 

Not all the time, mind you, not always. Depends on the liquor, his mood, and what he’s had to eat that day – if anything at all. But given the right circumstances and the stars align, once in a blue moon, Javier blushes and giggles like a fourteen year old with a first crush. 

Now, that might come as a surprise to anyone who has seen him lurking around the hallways of the American Embassy, scowling and smelling of stale cigarettes. The women he used to visit would swear up and down that Javier Peña was not a giggly drunk, having seen him knock back a drink or two, or three, or five. Certainly, all the narcos he’d rounded up and captured would be rather offended to hear that about the man who sent them to prison. It would shock them all to hear that, in the end, it was eggnog. Eggnog, the creamy, thick holiday drink that in terms of calories and sugar blew every other frappuccino out of the water – it was eggnog that turned Javier’s world upside down. From frown-set smokestack, to someone who wanders into his girlfriend’s bedroom after her office party and nearly blows his knee out on the bed frame. 

“Javier, honey, are you okay?” You scramble towards where he tripped, expecting either blood or for him to be knocked on conscious. But instead, you just see fluff. White fluff. White fluff that proceeds red velvet, more fluff, and then thick dark hair. 

Javier stands up, grinning from ear to ear. He stretches his arms wide, his white undershirt thin on his chest. He arches further, revealing a dusting of hair below the hem of his shirt that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. Well, when his pants are buttoned.

“Tada!” he beams. You roll your eyes and he giggles, following you on his hands and knees as you crawl back to your spot by the pillows. You had come in here to get some lotion for your hands and despite your insistence that he does not leave the couch, he stumbled in after you.

“Pero, mi amor,” he pouts when he sits on his knees behind you, “te fuiste.”

“You poor thing,” you frown at him over your shoulder as you rub the lotion into your hands, then your knees. His eyes bob between your tits through your sleep shirt and your circular motions over your skin. You narrow your eyes at him when his mouth goes slack and his eyes dark. “Oh, absolutely not, Javier. You are drunk as a skunk and about two minutes away from passing out.”

He rolls his eyes and leans forward, wobbling slightly as he crawls towards you. “Please?”

“No.”

“¿Por favor?” 

“No!”

You frown, suspicious, when he chuckles as he loosely grabs you by the ankles, thumbs pressed in below the knot of bone. His shirt is loose enough you can see down the collar to his tanned chest. It’s not like the idea isn’t enticing, but you’d only seen him this drunk once before after the Christmas party at Steve and Connie’s two years ago. He made the same proposition back then and when he went to lie down on the floor to take his pants off, you looked over the bed to find him passed out, spread eagle and only his belt undone. 

“Bien, bien,” he waves his hand in the air, the cotton ball of his Santa hat falling over his eyes, “pero tengo un chiste para ti.”

Another sign that Javier had reached the point of no return: he spoke much more in Spanish and the words blurred together, as if sticking on top of each other. 

You eye him with faux annoyance when he uses your legs to pull himself in between your ankles. He kisses the tops of your knees, his palms warm beneath the weight of your calf muscles. Giddy and care-free until he wakes up with a pounding headache, drunk Javier is something you always cherished, because it is one of the few times he can be care-free. Relaxed. You are the only person he lets see him like this and you would protect that vulnerability with everything in your heart.

“Javier.” He hums, his teeth against your knee and dropping lower. His eyes are closed and his breathing’s changed. “I think you had something you wanted to tell me.”

He blinks, open mouth freezing on the bone of your calf. “Right. Yeah. Of course, mi vida.” 

That heady, blurred look of desire on his face melts away almost as fast as it came on. He presses the arch of his nose against your other knee, giggling, as he readjusts his feet under him. 

“Okay, okay,” he sniffs, sits up, and looks at you with bleary, water-y brown eyes. “Steve told it to me, so if you don’t think it’s funny, it’s his fault.” 

You nod and then he taps the inside of your thigh with two fingers.

“If your left leg is Thanksgiving y tu pierna derecha es Navidad,” he outright gropes your other thigh, his slur worsening, mouth full of damp, gummy cotton balls. “Can I visit you entre días festivos?

Javier Peña raises a single eyebrow at you, as if he had been the first one to discover pick up lines, perfected the art of flirting, and discovered he had the ritz to seduce any woman in the world all in one night. His hands tighten in the meat of your inner thighs as he pushes them apart, his chest pressing forward, down, into you. With surprising dexterity and stability, he crawls between your open legs, hands firm as they plant on either side of your head. He’s still wearing that infuriatingly smug grin, his hips rolling forward until you feel the scrape of the teeth of his jeans on your thigh.

“What do you say, baby?” his teeth edge the rim of your ear, “¿p-p-puedo –,”

He full-on snorts in your ear, suddenly overcome with giggles and you jerk away. “Javi!”

You pinch his waist and he flops over on to the other side of the bed, his face turning red as he howls with laughter. His Santa hat pushed up over his forehead, the back of his hair sticking up from where he’s nestled against the pillows, Javier clutches his sides as he rolls back and forth. 

You sit up, smiling, and watch the man you love enjoy himself for once. Sure, he could (and did, often) get lost in sex, but this is different. Your mother always said there was something healing about laughter, about feeling safe enough to close your eyes around another person, and Javier had spent far too long with his eyes wide open. 

Tears are streaming down his cheeks by the time you pluck the Santa hat off his head and kiss his forehead. Giggles trickling down, he curls onto his side, his bare feet seemingly so large on your covers. You stroke his cheek, your thumb brushing the corner of his mustache, and the last giggle fades to a hum. He closes his eyes, cheeks pink, his head turning ever so slightly towards your touch.

“Do you need some water, baby?”

“Mhm hmm.” 

Kissing him on his nose, you slide off the bed and go towards the kitchen. After filling up a glass from the filter, you turn off the lights, check the front door, and close the blinds. But when you come back to your bedroom, the golden light of your bedside lamp the only glow left in the entire apartment, you know instantly he’s already asleep. Javier lies still curled up on his side, his wide shoulders curled in, the white expanse of his t-shirt rising and falling with each breath. 

You didn’t know him very well the first time you slept together, but the night he stayed over, all the way until the morning light broke through your shutters, you knew it had been an extraordinary step for him. 

Now he sleeps in your bed, unguarded and unburdened, as much as he can. 

You put the glass of water on his side of the bed and gently ease him onto his back. His arm slithers over his torso as his shoulder collides with the mattress, his matted hair where the hat sat in a line stiff against his forehead. 

In his more morose moments, Javier announced he was getting old. His back hurt, his eyesight was shit, and he swears he spots more and more gray hairs in the mirror every day. 

But, when he’s like this, when he’s Javi not Javier, when he’s just yours and no one else’s, he is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

A hand pressed to his warm chest, you lean forward and kiss his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” you whisper against his skin. He stirs, but doesn’t open his eyes.

Sliding your earrings out of their posts and into the little dish beside your bed, you glance at him one more time before turning off the light. The room is dark, warm, and in the emptiness you can hear him breathing. 

The shape of him is more familiar to you than your own, able to trace his profile with nothing but memory, so without searching, as though reaching for a piece of yourself, you intertwine your hand with his. 

His fingers twitch and the sound of his breathing slows. 

In the absence of every other sense, you are overwhelmed by the weight of his palm in yours, the soothing rock of the rise and fall of his chest, your ears tuned to his every sigh, every noise –

In the absence of everything else, you listen to him inhale –

“Merry Christmas, baby.” 

– and exhale. 

[thalialunacy]

[for the @calaisreno May Prompt-a-palooza; cw for bodily functions]

(1) (2) (3) (4) 5: awkward (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)

Sharing a home with someone, regardless of square footage or relationship, involves an unavoidable amount of intimate physical knowledge. As an army mate of John's had once said eloquently, 'Well, I know what your shit smells like, don't I?'

Those things, John is prepared for. Has got used to, even, in his once-and-future living arrangement. He's a doctor, a combat veteran, and a widowed father. He's not exactly squeamish.

And he can personally attest, on several levels, to the fact that Sherlock is not a machine. You can't share a bathroom and not learn a few things about a person.

But… it's like some switch got turned on after their 'moment' in the stairwell.

(Because no, they had not marched back upstairs and worked things out per Mrs Hudson's request. As will shock no one, they had instead gone on their stubborn ways, and are ploughing through their daily lives willy-nilly as long as they can.)

(Which is not very long.)

Things keep happening.

- John, sitting guilelessly at the table, makes to stand just as Sherlock is walking by, and ends up with his nose essentially in the armpit of Sherlock's dressing gown. Which Sherlock is still wearing. After sleeping several hours in it and old pyjamas.

- John, Rosie in his lap, snorts awake to find himself-- well, both him and his daughter-- slumped into Sherlock on the sofa, credits scrolling on the television screen while Sherlock scrolls through his phone. And, unfortunately, both John and his daughter have managed to leave sleep-warm saliva on Sherlock's person, in two round spots on his breathtakingly expensive shirt. Sherlock, who must have noticed, seems unconcerned. John wonders briefly if he's woken up in an alternate dimension, then realises they'd been watching Doctor Who and it must have seeped into his psyche.

- John, now one hundred percent accustomed to wiping his toddler's nose, is so focused on his laptop screen when he hears a sneeze that he doesn't think (at all) before pulling out a tissue and reaching over to the face of the sneezer. That it's Sherlock is only a fact he recognises a split second too late.

- John, brain uncaffeinated, yawns while reaching across Sherlock to grab something off the table, and realises with a start that it's 6am and neither of them have cleaned their teeth. He stares at the mouth so close to his, at the man whose breath is bitter, yes, but somehow not unagreeable, then jerks away gracelessly. 'I'll just--' He points his thumb over his shoulder at the loo, and escapes, face flaming.

- And finally: John, going quietly mad when Rosie gets her first real, frightening fever. His training doesn't stand a chance of overriding his lizard brain, so he spends three days ignoring absolutely all personal hygiene and never leaving his daughter's side. When it finally breaks, when John feels like he can breathe again, he notices Sherlock is there, too, beside him, quietly watching her sleep restfully for the first time in what feels like long, dusty years. And he suddenly realises he must smell like -- well, like a locker room and a crowded pub rolled around in the dirt then pissed off a skunk, probably. And Sherlock is standing next to him as if he smells like roses. This, unexpectedly, makes John's stomach broil under a surge of affection, and he feels his eyes stinging for one horrifying, sleep-deprived moment.

Soon, after so many of these things, he can't help wondering if God or whomever is taking the piss. If fate is having a good old go at John H Watson by giving him the closest, most fulfilling relationship he's ever had-- and making it with the one person who can knock him flat on his arse and keep him there.

He's tempted, more than once, to give the sky two fingers. But he has yet to get around to doing it. He's too busy, for once, actually living.

[❤️]

[writebackatya]

McDuck Family Members Most Likely to Start Sh*t at Thanksgiving Dinner

Ah Thanksgiving. The holiday celebrated on the 4th Thursday of November (in America that is), one with food, family, and celebrating what we’re thankful for! (Wanna feel bad? Learn about the holiday’s origins!)

And no family is quite as big as the found family from DuckTales; so arguments are bound to happen at a dinner table filled with so many zany characters with interesting pasts and quirks. Let’s honor those who would throw the first punch at a family dinner, shall we?

Bentina Beakley

I wanna cut Beakley some slack. She most likely had a long day before dinner even started what with all the preparations she did for dinner. Not just cooking for 20+ family members plus other side/recurring characters but also the cleaning and presentation

But let’s face it. This woman can be so condescending at times. And judgmental. You just know if someone is showing up to dinner wearing jeans and sweater she’d have something to say about it. And she strikes me as someone who would slam the dishes while cleaning them only for someone to say, “Hey Beakley do you need help with the dishes?” and then she’d be like “No. It’s fine. I got them”

But it’s not fine. Go help her with the dishes. She deserves a break

Dewey Duck

When I was first thinking about this list I originally thought “No way any of the triplets would start anything on Thanksgiving” Huey is a good boy and Louie would definitely take it easy on a day where you’re legally allowed to sit around, be lazy, and eat food. But then I remembered Dewey and how much of a diva he can be

We know Dewey is an entertainer and with everyone coming to dinner, he has a huge “captive” audience that he can perform for. Whether it be an original Thanksgiving song, a one man Dewey show about the first Thanksgiving, a sonnet about a bonnet, or a very special Thanksgiving episode of Dewey Dew-Night; that kid will want all the attention in him. And the very second the spotlight is taken off, oh boy…

Gladstone Gander

Look at this prick. Don’t you wanna slap his face!?!Anyway I love Gladstone Gander, but he’s the kind of family member that just would go on and on about himself and bring every conversation back to him again and how great his life is

That’s great Gladstone. Happy for you, the rest of us have to pay for our sushi but cool. Glad your good luck is really paying off, jerk

But honestly. It’s his tone. It’s the kind of tone that gives off that he knows he’s starting shit but won’t admit it

Goldie O’Gilt

I mean, it’s Goldie. What else can I say?

Gandra Dee

Oh man. There’s so many different ways controversy would start with this morally gray ex-FOWL agent and I’m here for it. Let’s face it, out of all the characters present, Gandra Dee would most likely be the one to bring up the holiday’s horrible origins. If anyone is making it their duty to make a rich white family uncomfortable on Thanksgiving, it’s Gandra Dee

She’d get political and even directly ask Scrooge who exactly he voted for in the past two Presidential elections (he claims to be progressive, but he’s still the richest duck in the world. Just how many tax cuts is this man getting to keep that status?)

Oh and what about the treatment of her overwork and underpaid boyfriend? Why is he still working in the bathroom?

Oddly enough, I can see her and Scrooge bonding over a mutual disdain for Gladstone Gander. What a prick

Kit Cloudkicker

It’s not that exactly what Kit does that’ll start a fight, but what he doesn’t do.

Kit is the kinda guy that was supposed to bring a dessert but totally forgot to pick something up from the bakery so instead he’s stopping at the gas station on the way to dinner to pick up some Twinkies

Kit is the kinda guy that would “take a walk” before dinner and not do anything to hide the scent and now all the kids are wondering how a skunk got inside

Gyro Gearloose

It’s Gyro. Something is bound to piss him off at some point

Doofus Drake

I am so tired of the fandom not including Doofus in this found family (Louie and him made up and are friends now and BOYD is his brother, sorry it’s canon) so he’s here on the list

But he’s still a new addition to this family. And a weirdo and a rich brat with a lot of issues that someone should seriously help him with. He’s gonna make everyone uncomfortable. Is it intentional? Or is he just being Doofus? Who knows

What I do know is this, don’t eat the dish he brought.

Della, Donald, and Scrooge!

The original three!

These three are responsible for splitting up the family in the first place so it’s no surprise that they’re number one on this list!!

Yes they’ve squashed their beef with one another and moved past the Spear of Selene, but they are still themselves

The ones most likely to start shit over the dumbest things

These three are going to be bickering over who should carve the turkey. And the argument will be so loud and hectic that no one will question why a bunch of birds are eating a turkey

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this list. It wasn’t meant to slander any characters, just did it for fun. Happy Thursday everyone.

[hunterbunter3000]

Someone asks Sweetheart if there is anyone waiting for her at home, she responds “just my handsome man!”, none knowing she’s referring to her pet who being taken care of by relatives or friends back home.

Many hearts were broken and murder plots were made until she send them a picture of her “handsome man” while on leave 😂

STOP THEY WOULD ALL BE IN TEARS

They hear her say that, their world just s h a t t e r s

Ofc she would have a man waiting for her at home. She's absolutely gorgeous, who wouldn't bag that immediately?

They get so depressed, asking themselves if they still want to go after her still and be homewreckers or just accept the fact that she has a man and be good friends and support her relationship (and torture themselves)

(No shit tho, what if she DID have a boyfriend back at home? And the boyfie knew about her co workers trying to get her and he shows them who she belongs to? And what if the bf was a well known criminal MAYBE???? And they all fight for her in different ways? Sweetheart boyfriend!au? SHOULD I MAKE THAT HAPPEENNNN???? THE ANGST THAT WOULD COME OUT OF THAT WOULD BE PHENOMENAL)

Krueger straight up wants to murder him, but König slapped him silly and said no (Ghost and Roach were about to join, why you do that König?😢)

And then they hear it again when she was taking a break from sparring with her friend-- "I miss my handsome boy... Miss his little kisses so much!"

Are you... fucking serious right now

QUIT RUBBING IT IN PLEASE

They do NOT want to see another man kissing her. I feel like Roach would have the biggest imagination out of all of them and just daydreams constantly, and he can just see a man kissing her neck slowly. Going up to the shell of her ear and going back down to her shoulder, feeling her shivers and goosebumps along the way. My god he hates it.

So many fake laughs and smiles when she mentions h i m (it's a very taboo word around the boys) and oh g o d what would they say to Alejandro and Rudy? They would be devastated completely (ITS A HUGE MESS)

And then Sweetheart had the GALL- THE ABSOLUTE AUDACITY TO SAY "Wanna see a picture of him?"

WHAT

Ghost broke his pen and Price almost swallowed his cigar. Soap put on the bravest face he can muster and said "sUrE!" With his teeth almost breaking. She's glowing as she pulls up pictures on her over decorated phone. "See? Look at him~!"

(Now don't they all feel stupid)

"It's a dog?!" Soap yells out. Sweetheart giggles. "Mhm! My big boy (insert silly dog name here), my handsome man! This was when he caught and maimed the skunk in the backyard. Took two weeks to clean the stink off of him!" She laughs like it's such a good memory, even when the picture shows a huge St. Bernard sitting happily with his tongue out covered in blood (with said Skunk laying on the ground in front of him with no head)

Yk they all felt the tension inside of them go away instantly. "It was a dog... a cute one at that." Alex says as he looks at more pictures of her dog. "Yeah! Uh-- what did yall think I was talking about?" Sweetheart asks. The men look everywhere else but at her. Why are they acting weird? Wait... oh my God.

"Did you think I was talking 'bout a boyfriend?" Sweetheart asks, eyebrow cocked with amusement. Stutters, mumbles and incoherent words play out of them

"What!? Nooooo no no of course not!"

"That's-- that's absolute crazy talk."

"No... Maybe... Ugh, Yes."

"I didn't even- I don't even pay attention to you, like what?"

She just laughs at them, her laughter putting them at ease. Now that THAT is taken care of, they ask her questions about her "handsome man".

"She has a whole folder of him... how cute." König coos, looking at the pictures with Alex. He sees one where it's a selfie; Sweetheart smushed up against her dog with big bright smiles. König and Alex look at each other before sending it to the both of them.

But Ghost still can't shake that feeling...

Does she really have a boyfriend and isn't telling us? (SWEETHEART BOYFRIEND!AU WHO??? WHEN??? WHERE LMAO)

[octuscle]

I'd love to be transformed into a huge Asian bodybuilder.

If only your app had a pleasure and punishment setting, I'm a bit of a who're for muscle growth with a big serving of punishment on the side

It was the first time that Pierrick was allowed to represent his employer, a French car manufacturer, at an international congress. Although he was only 27 years old, Pierrick was already a department head in research and development for alternative fuels. And now he was a little excited about what to expect over the next few days in Seoul. He had arrived late, it was actually long past his bedtime, but he felt like a nightcap. So he went to the hotel bar, which was almost empty now, just before midnight. The only person still sitting at the bar was an old short man with a bald head and a long white beard in a black coat. Grotesque, he looks like the teacher from Kung Fu Panda, Pierrick thought to himself and made eye contact with the barman. Pierrick asked for a local schnapps and was given a glass of soju. Spicy stuff, comparable to vodka. He ordered a second glass. The old man next to him sat silently in front of his glass, presumably just drinking water.

After the third glass, Pierrick's tongue loosened. He philosophized about the fact that you could power cars with schnapps. Powerful, mighty cars. And that it was a shame that you couldn't drive people with booze. For him, wine, pastis and Marc de Champagne would only have led to a beer belly. And not mighty, powerful muscles. How wonderful it would be if you could power the human body with this delicious soju, for example. The old man looked at him and said in his best, accent-free French, "Si tel est ton souhait, alors que ton souhait soit accordé!" Damn it, had the man understood what he had been babbling to himself the whole time? Pierrick had to laugh, gulped air and burped. "죄송해요, 술에 익숙해져야 해서요." he said, still laughing. Pierrick waved the bartender over and said, "저와 제 친구를 위해 소주 두 잔!" He wanted to thank the old man and drink a toast with him. But Pierrick was alone in the bar. With two glasses of soju.

Pierrick downed the first glass in one go. It burned in his stomach. And his stomach became hard. Hard as a rock. Pierrick ran his fingers over his stomach and felt the ridges of a six-pack. But his stomach was bloated. Pierrick knew what they called it: "roid gut". He had a veritable roid gut. He drank the second soju, thanked his new friend the bartender, ordered another bottle of soju to take back to the room and put it all on his room bill along with a generous tip. On the way to the elevator, his steps became heavier and heavier. It wasn't just because Pierrick was drunk as a skunk. He was also getting heavier and heavier. The seams of his jeans were stretched to bursting point. And lost in thought, Pierrick unbuttoned his shirt before his chest muscles could tear the buttons off. In the elevator, the first seams of the jeans gave way with a crash. When he arrived in his room, shreds were still hanging down from his belt. Pierrick took another swig from the bottle, fell back on the bed and fell asleep, snoring.

The next morning, Pierrick had a hangover, a huge hangover. The chambermaid had woken him up at 13:00. He had slept through half of the first day. He went to the bathroom with a heavy head. And needed a sip of soju first. Pierrick was naked. What he still had on had been blown off his body. And his body was big. The body of a serious bodybuilder. And there were other things that were more than strange. His reddish-blond curls were straight and noticeably darker. Chestnut-colored, but already very close to black. His body hair had disappeared and his skin had a darker, somehow golden shade. He needed another sip of soju. And he could have sworn that his eyes became a little almond-shaped as he did so.

Pierre-Ick had to sit down. And think. His suitcase wasn't even open yet. But nothing he had packed would fit him. After a quick check, the only thing that worked to some extent was his pyjama bottoms. Normally they would have been very loose. Now they were skin-tight. He looked at the hotel information pages on the television. There was a health and fitness club on the third floor and there was also supposed to be a small store there. Pierre-Ick put on a bathrobe and went to the elevator. He still felt a little drunk. But the sip had done him good.

The waitress in the store smiled politely, ignored his alcoholic breath and helped him find something suitable to wear. There wasn't much in his size, but suitably dressed for a workout and with a sports bag containing a tracksuit, a couple of T-shirts, socks and jockstraps, Yerre-Jick went straight on to the gym. He didn't really know anything about lifting iron, even though he looked like he lived in a gym. And he didn't know how to use the machines or the dumbbells. He sweated like a pig at the slightest movement. He was always hanging around the drinking fountain. He bought himself a bottle of protein shake. None of it helped. He looked like a Hercules. But he trained like a weakling. Thank God it was empty in the gym. But as more and more customers appeared on the training floor, Yerre-Jick gathered his things and went back to his room. He was exhausted, he was done, he needed a sip of soju. And that was obviously what he had needed. The strength flowed back into his body. Yer-juk filled up as if he could tear out trees. The tank top, which had just been quite loose, was now crisply tight. He poured a little schnapps into his water bottle and made his way back to the gym.

The other people were at least irritated by his slightly staggering pace. But damn, in Ye-Jun's case, alcohol was simply the best fuel for his muscle growth. He had heard somewhere that you could even fuel cars with booze. But he couldn't imagine that. But what did he know about it? He lived in the gym, was always a bit drunk and earned his money as a billboard for HiteJinro. Life was great!

[swampstew]

Could I please request Enemies to Lovers with Shanks for the “Oh Captain, My Captain!”? :)

Hello! Thank you for your submission to my event! You did not explicitly indicate in your request whether you wanted this story to be nsfw or not so I left it open ended! You requested Enemies to Lovers with Shanks, and I give you [ HATE ]: “why are you really here? to mock me? to… make me hate you more?” “no. none of that. i came to be a friend, because it really looks like you need one right now.”

Oh Captain, My Captain Shanks

Warnings: None really, some sexual tension but nothing explicit, GN reader (no pronouns or anatomy used), Shanks being a little shit Word Count: 622 Minors Do Not Interact - you will be blocked.

You were in a shit mood. Recent string of bad luck weighed you down like an anchor, and it felt like a personal thundercloud was looming over you as you brooded in the bar. You must have looked intimidating because not one person approached you; only the bar tender who had been quietly refilling your glass.

You hadn’t asked for it by brand but when all you said was ‘Rum!’ and sat there in silence, he cautiously grabbed a middle-shelf label and kept it near you at all times. You weren’t drinking hard. Maybe had a cup or two, barely sipping the bitter liquid.

Your presence became hostile when a hand softly touched your shoulder. A grating, familiar voice called out to you.

“Whaddy’a want Red Hair?!” you spat venomously. A few minor but mostly healed scars from previous skirmishes with the man felt like they burned with his proximity. “Come to take another pound of flesh?”

Shanks’ normally playful expression was gone from his face. Instead he looked…worried. “Let’s have a drink.”

“What?”

“I’m serious, let’s have a drink. Call it a temporary truce or whatever,” he held his right hand up in surrender.

That was how you found yourself sitting in a corner booth next to the emergency exit with one of the Four Emperors. Your nemesis.

You didn’t have a personal grudge against Shanks like most until you ran into him. He was always too laissez faire for you to trust entirely and that cost you a few times – and no they were not your fault nor instigated by you. Mostly. You scowl at the memories.

“Cheers,” he tapped his mug to yours though you didn’t drink as he sipped his.

“Why are you really here? To mock me? To make me hate you more?”

Shanks frowned behind his mug, “No, that’s not it at all. You hate me?” He pushed his hand through his ruffled red hair, “I know we’ve had our spats but I thought…you liked that? Playing hard to get, you know the whole thing.”

You didn’t say anything, looking at him in bewilderment. He’d been…flirting with you before?

“Anyways,” Shanks shook his head and took large gulps of drink, “I came to be a friend, because it really looks like you could use one right now.”

Why did that make you tremble?

Make a tightness in your jaw loosen, your shoulders rolled back a little and it was almost like a blanket of anxiety or something else was being slowly pulled off you, letting you breathe fresh air for the first time in a while.

“So what’s up? What’s going on in Y/N-land that’s got you all glum like a plum?” he frowned at you, looking genuinely concerned.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

He laughed at that, “Why do people keep saying that?!”

Hours passed in an instant and you were drunk as a skunk, loosely hanging off Shanks’ shoulder as you laughed at the story he told. With his missing arm, you were pretty close to his scarred face and you never really appreciated how handsome he was. He noticed your staring but didn’t say anything, just smiled and continued with whatever didn’t make you hit or try and kill him.

Shanks wasn’t expecting your kiss but he was interested, returning your fiery passion. Your lips were locked in an embrace, pulling back panting lightly as you released years of apparently one-sided loathing.

“I knew you liked me, deep down,” Shanks grinned at you. Before you could retort, he planted another steamy kiss on your greedy lips. “I like you too. Been flirting with you for a while now. Benn said I wasn’t being direct enough but I thought he was full of shit.”

[nuclearpoweredsniper]

to know a gentle body

nobody asked but ur getting it anyways, sniper/reader ficlet that'll probably get a +18 sequel, but for now, yanno (gestures broadly)

gender neutral reader, 2nd person POV, cw for weed and cigarettes, there'll definitely be more tags added when i post the second part

---------

The nights have been going like this for a while. You and the team have dinner, and Mick waits until everyone has left the room, and he asks you if you'd like to hang out with him in his van.

The first time caught you off guard, you'll admit; the Sniper was a quiet man. The longest sentence you'd ever gotten out of him prior was a whopping three words, but you were sure it wasn't shyness. He never seemed uncomfortable in a room with the others, but he stayed at the back and he stayed quiet - and if he could get away with it, he wouldn't be there at all. Always carrying his kukri, always wearing that hat and those shades, all the signs of an animal silently telling you to keep your distance, and so you did. You didn't think he'd approach you first.

He waited until you were alone, washing dishes; he kept a keen ear out for invisible flies on the wall of the French variety, and when he was sure only the breathing of 2 people were present, he cleared his throat.

"So, Jeremy told me you smoke." His voice reminded you of the stroke of an old cello, in an abstract way - low and almost meandering. It startled you but it was nice to hear, for once, not in monosyllables.

"...Yeah. I, um.." You scratched your neck, making a mental note to throw a boot at the Scout later. "I do. Why do you a-"

"Wanna come smoke with me? I have a fuckton of vinyls we can listen to."

You felt like you were making first contact with a different kind, but it was nothing like the movies.

"Uhm... y-yeah? Sure. Why not?"

And so a nightly ritual began.

It was in this way you became close friends, lounging in his little van, the air full of smoke and Pink Floyd, giggling and munching on homemade jerky. You waded in each others shallows, picking up pretty stones in the shape of favorite colors and childhood memories, the time he fought a saltwater croc for 20$, the time you mistook a wild skunk for a dog and almost got sprayed, until slowly the shallows weren't so shallow anymore. Before you realized it, you were sharing first kisses, first heartbreak, traumas, fears, desires.

It turns out you were right - Mick wasn't the least bit shy when it was just you and him. He explained in quite simple terms why he kept his distance from everyone.

"Wankers, the lot of 'em. Tavish 'n Jeremy are just 'bout the only ones I can stand, and even then.." You interjected with a snort - you knew exactly what he meant. He smirked and continued.

"Can't trust that fuckin' spook as far as you can throw him either. Damn stalker." He injected a bit of venom into that point. He was right too, the Spy loved blackmail.

The water was up to your chin when you realized you were looking at him differently - no, seeing him differently, knowing him differently. The tide was rolling in.

His earthen brown eyes lay deep in his skull, which was constructed of sacred, sharp geometry; lines and valleys and rises chipped out of sunkissed marble. Mahogany hair hung just at his shoulders, which were wide and strong; and just peaking out of the collar of his white undershirt, was greying chest hair. When he smiled, his lips pulled back and revealed teeth that almost should've been in the mouth of a wolf, not a man. It split his face in two, it was intimidating, and it was beautiful.

Tonight, you're sitting on the small couch in his van, passing a joint back and forth between you, The Mamas and The Papas crackling softly on his record player. He breaks the near silence with the crunch of the joint being put out in the ashtray, and pulls your legs into his lap. You don't mind, he does this sometimes, he seeks comfort in touch and soft skin - just wants to know a gentle body, and so do you. It's rare in your line of work.

Calloused fingers are tracing nervous lines into your calf, antsy little dots and dashes like frantic morse code and it's noticeably different from how he normally touches you. He's staring at a particular square inch of your flesh and his thick brows are furrowed; he's thinking hard about something. You know by now to just let him brew until he's ready, so you stay quiet, happy to admire his strong profile while he's distracted. You reach down to the floor to grab your cigarettes, pull one out and light it, and he watches you with a strange look in his oaken eyes, but not an unpleasant one. It's a look of complicated depth, of things unknown to you besides a tangible warmth. You stretch an arm abover your head, a few joints popping as you do, and stretch your legs out across his lap, not unlike a cat. As you stretch, you tap the glass.

"What's up?"

He looks away quickly, he didn't realize he was staring.

"I, um... I wanted to, um.."

He's never been nervous like this before.

"I wanted to ask you something." He's gone back to staring at your legs. You sit up on your elbows, a touch nervous yourself, now.

"...Yeah?" You try to take a gentle tone, but it just comes out as timid and small, seeking its own reassurance.

He pauses, he seems like he's rolling the words around in his mouth before saying them.

"You get lonely too, right?"

He's hushed now, his hands deathly still. It's rattling to see him actually nervous like this.

"...What do you mean? We're hanging out right now."

"That's what I mean. You come over, and you stay for a while and it's...." His mouth hangs open for a second like the words are scared to come. "I-I don't.... I don't want you to. Leave.... tonight."

There's a rush in your thorax. You're speechless for a second, almost thoughtless, and you sit up to face him. His lips are tinted red by his teeth worrying at them, those wicked teeth like something out of Dracula.

"Only if you want to, of course. It gets cold out he-"

"I'd really like that, Mick."

When he looks at you, it almost steals your breath. Damn his eyes, full of sepia-tinted expanses, dilated pupils pulling you in like supermassive black holes; you might as well have told him you'd marry him with the hearts and stars dancing in them. He blushes, actually blushes at you, and it'll be a long standing argument in the future about who kissed who first. All you know is that now, you're in his arms.

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @eclecticwildflowers, @iobsessoverfictionalmen

warnings: slight spoilers for dial of destiny, smut, swearing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids)

Rubbing my eyes, I yawned as I opened my door. My next door neighbor was standing in the hallway with a baseball bat, in a tshirt and his underwear.

“dr. Jones?” I asked sleepily. “Everything ok?” I had to raise my voice slightly above the music. Indiana jones turned towards me, eyes wide and a look of annoyance on his face. Something flashed across his face when he took me in before settling back into his normal mask of indifference.

“the damn music…” he grumbled. I nodded. “Woke me up.” I furrowed my eyebrows.

“isn’t it a work day?” I asked as I ventured into the hallway. “I thought there was an understanding…” Indiana nodded.

“apparently it’s moon day. Whatever that means.” I looked at him confused. “Thank you. I’m not the only one.”

“let me handle it.” I said with a pat on his arm. Pounding on the door, I waited until Larry appeared in the opening. “Hi ya Larry.”

“(Y/N).” He groaned. “What you want?” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Well Larry. See we got a problem. Both me and dr. Jones. Turn the damn music down.” Larry rolled his eyes at me.

“it’s moon day. Like I told him.” Larry said and tried to close the door. In one swift movement, I took the bat from Indiana and jammed it in the opening. Larry stared at me as I used it to force the door back open.

“Now Larry that isn’t very nice.” I said sweetly. I could feel indianas eyes burning a hole in the back of my head. “Listen Larry how’s this. You turn down the music and I don’t call the police with a tip about your little recreational plant. What do you say to that?” I asked as I stepped into the doorway. Larry stared at me wide eyed. I could hear Indiana chuckling behind me.

“how…” he asked.

“oh come on Larry. A skunk smells better than that weed you buy.” I scoffed. “Now the longer you sit here talking to me the more the price goes up. I could get you for dealing. Or better yet, dealing to a minor.” Larry’s eyes widened further. “Yeah I know all about Hannah. So why don’t you just turn down that music.” Larry scrambled over to the radio and turned it down. “Good boy. Now if we hear it again, and dr. Jones will tell me if he hears it although I’m sure I’ll hear it first, I won’t ask. I’ll just call.” Smiling at him, I flipped the bat onto my shoulder and went back into the hall. The door closed behind me and I smiled over at Indiana. He laughed and shook his head.

“where’d you learn to do that with a bat?” He asked as he took it back. I smiled at him.

“Took a couple self defense classes.” I shrugged. Indiana smirked at me.

“they don’t teach that in self defense.” He pointed out. I winked.

“exactly.” I laughed. Indiana laughed and shook his head.

“Well thank you (Y/N). I greatly appreciate that.” He said, smiling at me. “Damn you’re something else.” Turning to head back to his apartment, I bit my lip.

“hey dr. Jones!” I called after him. He turned on the stairs to look at me. “You have breakfast yet?” He shook his head.

“not yet. Why?” I cracked my knuckle nervously.

“why don’t you come eat with me. I was about to make some.” I said with a smile. Indiana looked back at his apartment and then back at me before nodding. “Great! But uh…sir you may want to put on some pants.” Indiana looked down and then back at me.

“right.” He agreed. “Be back down in ten.” I nodded and opened my door.

“door will be open. Just come right in.” I called after him. Walking into my kitchen, I put the bowl I had set out back in the cabinet. Grabbing a pan and the eggs, I started making scrambled eggs while the coffee maker started up. I grabbed the toaster and tossed in two pieces of bread before I heard the door open and lock.

“(Y/N)?” Indiana called.

“in here. Straight back down the hallway. Last door on your right!” I called back. I heard Indiana walking through the house and finally appearing in the doorway. “Hi!” I chirped when he walked in. “Coffee is almost done and just started the eggs.” Indiana nodded and walked over to the coffee machine. Reaching up, he grabbed a cup from the cabinet. I blushed and looked away when his shirt rode up.

“toast?” Indiana asked. I nodded.

“nearly done.” I pointed to the toaster. “Butter and jam are in the fridge.” Indiana nodded and opened the door. He grabbed both before grabbing the creamer. Pouring himself some coffee after the beep, he added creamer and leaned against the counter. Taking a sip, he watched as I finished up our breakfast.

“thanks again. For dealing with Larry.” Indiana said as he took the plate I offered him. “And this.” Smiling at him, I made up my plate and went to sit next to him at my kitchen island.

“so how’s it going at the university?” I asked as we started to eat.

“making me retire.” He grumbled out. I paused and looked over at him.

“what are you going to do?” I asked softly. Indiana sighed and shook his head. “Dr. Jones…” I started.

“don’t. Please. Don’t.” He looked over at me and I nodded.

“ok.” I whispered. “Would I be off base to ask about your wife?” Indiana shook his head.

“divorce finalized.” He grumbled. “Still can’t believe she did that. But it is what it is.” I stared down at my plate, mind playing ping pong with itself. On the one hand I was sad for him, divorced and forced to retire in the same week. On the other hand, he was available.

“I’m sorry dr. Jones.” I said softly. He looked over at me and waved a hand.

“like I said. It is what it is.” Taking a sip of coffee, he held up a finger. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Indiana?” He asked. I shrugged while suppressing a laugh.

“how about we say one more time.” I joked. Indiana leaned over to nudge me with his shoulder. “You forget I took archeology 101 and it’s a habit.”

“and you forget we had drinks the second you dropped the class.” He shot back. I laughed and nodded as Indiana chuckled.

“I did forget about that. Because I got so drunk I’m pretty sure I came on to you.” Indianas laugh abruptly cut off and I blushed red. “Which you didn’t know I remembered. Right.” I quickly got up and grabbed our empty plates. Putting them in the sink, I started doing the dishes. I bit my lip to keep back the wave of tears that threatened to spill over.

“I…(Y/N)…it’s…” Indiana tried as he put his hand on my back. I stilled and turned off the water.

“It’s not ok. You were my teacher, even if I had dropped the class. And you were married. I shouldn’t have…” Indiana turned me around and pulled me into his chest.

“It’s alright.” He whispered as he kissed my head. Sighing, I melted into the hug. A few tears escaped and I tightened my grip on his shirt. “It’s ok.” He whispered again.

“Your shirt is on backwards.” I sniffed. Indiana started laughing and pulled back to look at me. Ducking to look at his reflection in the microwave, he shook his head.

“so it is.” He smiled at me. I laughed and wiped my eyes. “Feeling better?” I shrugged and he hugged me again. “Would you feel better if I said that my marriage was on the rocks before you did that?” I shrugged again. “Or that I was beyond glad you dropped the class? Because I was.” He pressed another kiss to my head. “It wasn’t right to feel that way about a student. And when you weren’t a student anymore…well…” I pulled back to stare at him. He smiled at me.

“you…what?” I asked. He nodded. “Really?” Indiana nodded.

“Really.” He confirmed. I immediately cupped his face and pulled him in for a kiss. Indiana squeezed my hips and leaned into the kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck and took a step back. Indiana followed and I led him to my bedroom. Pulling away, I stared at him and panted.

“we don’t have to if you don’t…” I started. Indiana cut me off with another kiss. He quickly pulled his shirt over his head, breaking away only briefly to get it off. My hands fell to his chest and Indiana shivered under my touch.

“it’s been a while (Y/N). I can’t make any promises.” He warned me as I pulled away to pull off my shirt.

“I don’t want promises.” I said as I ran my hands down his chest and smiled as he tensed. “I just want you.” Smiling, Indiana pulled me close to him again.

“That I can give you.” He whispered before picking me up and putting me on the bed. I smiled at him as he tugged off my pajama pants and underwear. Leaning up to kiss me, Indiana ran his hands down my body and it was my turn to shiver. I reached out for his pants and Indiana nipped along my jawline. Pushing them down, I turned my head to kiss his cheek. He paused as I trailed kissed along his jawline.

“Last chance to back out.” I breathed out. Indiana smiled at me before kissing me deeply. Laying down between my legs, he propped himself up on his forearms. “Indiana. Please.” I whined when he resumed his kissing. Chuckling, Indiana nipped my lip as he entered me. I moaned into the kiss and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Indiana.” He hummed against my lips as he slowly started to thrust into me.

“(Y/N).” He whispered, speeding up and running his hand down my side. “Damn. It’s been too fucking long.” He kissed my cheek and buried his head in my neck as he thrust hard and fast into me. “Don’t know if I can hold on much longer.” I ran my fingers through his hair and Mohamed as he brushed a spot in me.

“keep hitting that spot and I won’t either.” I joked. Indiana pulled back and gave me a smirk. He thrust into me again and hit the same spot, over and over.

“Indiana. Indiana. Indy!” I panted. He chuckled as he pressed kisses along my throat.

“just like that. Little more sweetheart.” He whispered. Indiana thrust into me one more time before I came.

“indy!” I screamed. He chuckled before moaning in my ear.

“(Y/N). Shit. (Y/N).” He moaned as he orgasmed. we both stilled as we caught our breath. I absently ran my fingers through his hair as he slowly pulled out. Peppering kisses over my face, Indiana laid down his his head on my chest. I smiled softly at him before kissing his forehead. Indiana looked up at me with a smile. “That was nice.” He said.

“yeah. Definitely want to do that again.” I laughed. He smiled with a nod, leaning up to kiss me again. Our little bubble of happiness was broken with the pounding on my door.

“(Y/N)!” Larry yelled. Indiana and I looked at each other before we started laughing.

“guess it’s our turn to get a noise complaint.” I laughed as I got up to grab my robe. Indiana nodded with a laugh. He looked at the clock on my nightstand and started getting dressed.

“I have to go to work. But I can come back over later.” Indiana said as he followed me towards the door. “Can still give Larry a start though.” He leaned over to kiss me before slipping out through the door as I opened it.

“what’s up Larry?” I asked as I causally leaned on the frame, watching him flounder after seeing Indiana jones leave my apartment.