#or attempt a drabble

[rueclfer]

bakugou being an emotional drunk will always mean something to me

[slashingdisneypasta]

Beetlejuice x AFAB!Reader || Drabble+Smut

Plot: You bet him he couldn't leave you alone (stop harassing you) for even one day, not realising that he would take winning s o seriously, but he's a stubborn old fuck so now its been weeks, and he still wont give in. And well... now you kinda miss him. Ironic, huh?

Warnings: Smut. Reader is DOWN BAD, FED UP AND WANTS THAT PERVERT DICK. A little daddy kink, panty stealing, creampie (WRAP IT BEFORE YA TAP IT. Especially with this guy 😅 We dunno what he has 😅), at points its even kinda f l u f f y?? I tried to connect with different facets of Beetlejuice 😅🤣 XD Unedited.

"Stay fucken still." That raspy voice sounding a hundred shades of pissed o f f creeping directly in your ear, as well as the boner you're sitting on, do absolutely the opposite to what he wants. They do not deescalate anything- in fact, you just feel even more turned on. Jesus christ, who knew it would only take 2 weeks no-contact for you to find him attractive.

But-- b o y, do you see it now.

Yeah he's mucky, but thats part of it?? The harsh mossy stubble and forearm hair (When he rolls up his sleeves), the deep greasy racoon bags around his dark beady eyes, the crazy hair that will not be tamed, everything. You know its kind of fucked up, but you have never wanted someone so bad. And if it weren't for that stupid bet 2 weeks ago-- you would have him! Goddamnit. You and your big mouth.

"Come on BJ," You urge softly, using the tip of your finger to guide his face towards you even as every muscle in his face fights to stay strong and remain stern- and most importantly, avoid looking at you. "Look at me." The ghost with the most hadn't looked at you since he accepted the bet, afraid of seeing you and immediately losing. Immediately being unable to keep his nasty eyes- hands- mouth, off of you.

He's been so strong. So boneheaded-ly strong.

Meanwhile you've been going crazy thinking about him stuffing you with his cock and then keeping your dirty underwear after.

Now sat atop his lap, face-forward, you intend to get him to look at you again and break his resolve. If it is the last thing you do tonight. Or for the week.

"I am lookin' at you." His face barely moves; the words coming out forced and humourless. No tone at all. But you can feel his cock painfully hard stretching the seam on his pants, and your underwear. Probably an embarrassing wet spot, too. "Whadaya mean."

You're so close he can surely feel your warm breath on his face. Giving his nose a cute little brush with your own, you feel his dick twitch in his black and white striped pants and a slow grin worms it way onto your lips. "No you're not... come on. Please, BJ?" With round eyes, you pout a little. "I miss you."

With that, he gives a frustrated and animated groan, and finally looks down from just past your head- to your eyes, causing a delighted smile to slip across your face. "Come on now baby- thats not fair at all. Come on."

You throw your arms around his neck as a familiarly slimy, hot, sex-crazed grin spreads across his grimy mouth. That wild look that apparently you love appearing in his eyes again, looking down at you- all over. Licking over your pretty willing body with just a look. "You didn't give me a choice!!"

"Hey, hey, hey- you bet me, sugar- "

"Hey. You gonna take your chance and fuck me, or not?"

He shrugs. "Well when you're right, you're right." Then he kisses you open-mouthed and all-tongue and just how you imagined he would kiss, and swallows any giggle you were going to give. Along with all your thoughts.

~

Neither of you can bring yourselves to perform any foreplay- even though you want to. Want to enjoy this; grind in his lap a while longer, feel his tongue in your cunt, tease him with your lips warm and tongue damp over the top of his pants- But you're more then wet enough already, the fabric of your underwear sticks to your pussy lips, and his obviously rock-hard boner fights to tear a hole in its confines. You'll have time for all that fun stuff later, anyway.

You barely have time to properly taste each other's tongues for the first time before his greedy fingers are digging under your skirt, underneath your underwear, and slipping easily right into you. Too easily, shit. He gives a filthy groan, getting 3 of his fingers good and drenched in your slick; feeling your pretty cunt squeeze 'em. "Fuck, honey, I think this is the best pussy I ever had."

Breathless, you give a giggle; forehead pressed into his shoulder at just the feeling of his fingers invading you; hips juttering slightly into is hand. "You haven't even had me yet."

"Lets fix that, then, shall we? Now."

Your fingers go down to the button on his pants and eagerly, with deft fingers, undo it. He's not wearing underpants, predictably, so you just have to reach in and carefully finagle his fat cock free. Then you swipe a finger over the insanely leaky tip for fun and watch his head fall back against the wall, listening to the wildly horny, gutteral groan come out of him at the feeling.

He clicks his fingers and your underwear disappears. You see it reappear in his hand a last time, just before he shoves it in his jacket pocket; flashing you a cheesy grin. "Souvenir."

When finally, finally you sink down on his gross cock you both let out sighs of utter satisfaction. 2 weeks was a hell of an edge.

You're almost happy to just sit there with him stretching you open, milking him with your pussy, but when he shifts his hips, just getting more comfortable and laying his hands on your hips, the movement sparks a change of mind. "BJ... " You wrap your legs more securely around him, around the back of the chair he's sat in, and lift your hands to grip the lapels on his jacket. Your eyes meet his very dark, lusty ones. Just watching you; a little scary and a little smug and a little pussy drunk. "... fuck me."

"P l e a s e?"

"Please, daddy."

His eyes roll into the back of his head and dramatically huffs, making you giggle. "Oh fuck, baby, you really know howta murder a guy." With all his strength, he pulls himself back together; straightening up again. "Alright, alright- hold on, daddy's gonna take you on a ride."

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can even make noise, you blink and you're in another position entirely. Off the chair now, you find yourself pressed against a nearby wall, your legs still wrapped around him and his cock still throbbing inside you.

While you're feeling dizzy from teleporting, Beetlejuice pulls almost all the way out of your messy cunt and thrusts all the way back in- hard. He does it again. Then the pace picks up and he's pounding you into the wall at an inhuman pace that has you hiding your face in his shoulder again and knotting your fingers tight in his greasy hair.

Your orgasm builds up at a record pace, due to all the build up. It would be embarrassing, if he wasn't fighting not to paint your insides already himself. "I gotta- I gotta be honest, sweetie, I- I don't think daddy's gonna last long in this cat. Not this time. The way you're suckin me in- Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck. Pullin' my hair- Damn, shit, Fuck!- " Finally, BJ mashes his groin against yours and holds himself there; cumming hard inside you.

That causes your orgasm, rolling your hips against him and riding it out, making him shudder out a sigh. A vulgar dopey grin flickers across his jawline and black teeth.

... After a few minutes of heavy breathing- you catching your breath, and him just 'livin in it', enjoying the feel of breather meat for a while longer, you finally pull yourself together and raise your head carefully off his chest. "Um... " Suddenly you feel awkward. But not uncomfortable. You give a small, tired smile. "I don't know what to say?"

"... " He ducks down and presses his forehead to yours, and you're fooled for just a moment that this might be a sweet moment. "Uh. How about 'you win the bet, handsome?'."

Quickly you swat him, laughing. "Oh- Never!"

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

Unpleasant Anniversaries

Daredevil Masterlist || Based on this request!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Every year, it was the worst week of your life. A week absolutely brimming with unpleasant anniversaries. But when you sleep through your alarm for work, you don’t expect a certain Matt Murdock to come knocking at your door. Or that you’d confess the feelings you have for him.

Author’s Note: I can’t believe I reference a game of truth or dare so often in this fic just to not be able to come up with what the dare would be. Smh. Sorry guys. You can use your imagination I guess. 😂 Thank you SO MUCH for the request anon!! I hope it’s everything you were hoping it would be and that it’s not too cliche… (And that it’s not too long, because this baby really got away on me. 😬) This is actually my first time writing (or at least posting) for the DD fandom, so please let me know if I’m OOC!

Warnings: Angst (but with a happy ending), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, References to Parental Death, Cussing, References to Alcohol and Hangovers, no use of y/n (I’m getting pretty good at back flipping and somersaulting around it, but I still apologize if it comes off clunky), Fluff at the end (because what’s the point of hurt/comfort if we don’t have some cute, fluffy comfort??), Love Confessions. I’m posting this without editing, and yes, that is a warning. (I am SO going to regret this decision later, but I am way too tired to edit).

Word Count: 2.3k

———————————————————————————

This cannot be happening. I cannot be falling in love with Matt Murdock.

It was stupid, really. The stupidest thing that had caused you to realise it.

Freaking Foggy.

Granted, you couldn’t entirely blame him. You were far too old to succumb to peer pressure anyway. Far too old to be playing Truth or Dare with a six-pack of beer and the exhaustion of an emotional week under your belt.

A week absolutely brimming with unpleasant anniversaries.

The anniversary of your mother’s death, the anniversary of your long-term boyfriend breaking up with you for your best friend, your birthday. Bing, bang, boom…back-to-back.

Every year, it was the worst week of your life, and you just wanted something fun and lighthearted and silly enough to make you forget about the ache wrenching your heart in two.

Stupid. Stupid anniversaries and stupid emotions and stupid, stupid, STUPID, idiotic game.

It was juvenile, and you cursed yourself for going along with the idea. Because now, you had another item to add to the list.

And the week wasn’t even over yet.

A steady thumping at your door matched the rhythm pounding in your head, your name spoken through the thin wood.

Peeking through cracked eyelids revealed afternoon sunlight streaming into your apartment, the alarm clock beside your bed happily displaying 12:05pm.

Shit!

You bolted upright in bed, groaning as your head throbbed in protest. Another series of knocks rapped against your door, followed by your name again. Double shit!

Matt.

Stumbling out of bed, you grit your teeth against the headache and tripped your way to the door, fumbling with the lock and cursing your hangover. The drinking hadn’t stopped once you got home, and you were really starting to regret that decision.

The lock clicked, and before Matt even had a chance to step into the apartment, apologies were spewing from your lips.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Matt. It won’t happen again. I must’ve slept through the alarm or forgot to set it or something, but it won’t happen again, I promise. I—”

The words were spilling out of you like a river, and even you were struggling to make sense of them. Embarrassingly, tears pricked the backs of your eyes, something that only deepened the ache pounding through your skull.

“Hey.” Matt dropped his cane in the entryway, door closing behind him and strong, steady hands placed groundingly on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad. Foggy, Karen, and I were just worried when you didn’t show up to work. We thought somebody better come check on you.”

That was…really sweet.

And the floodgates opened.

Gut-wrenching sobs tore through your body, every ounce of hurt and despair and loneliness bottled up for the last several years breaking through your carefully-constructed walls and flowing like a wellspring onto the hardwood floor.

For a second, Matt froze, stunned, and you wanted to kick yourself. This was not what Matt had signed up for by volunteering to come check on you. If anything, he was probably wishing right now that Karen or Foggy or literally anyone else had offered to go instead.

“I’m–I’m sorry.” You tried to apologize for crying, for not showing up to work, for being a crazy, messed-up disaster that Matt certainly shouldn’t have to deal with.

His arms wrapped around you, warm and comforting, and despite your best intentions, you found yourself melting into the touch, clinging to the front of his dress shirt and probably ruining it with your tears.

“I’m–I’m sorry, Matt. I–”

“Shhh.” He interrupted you with a hum, gently resting his chin on top of your head, strong arms locked securely around you.

Still, you felt the need to explain.

“It’s–it’s just a really rough week for me, but I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I’m always fine. I always end up fine. I just–”

He shushed you again quietly, warm hands running soothing strokes up and down your back. The tears began to slow, and you hiccuped before attempting to take a long, controlled breath.

“That’s it. That’s good. Just breathe.”

His hands didn’t stop moving, and you closed your eyes, savouring the touch for however long it would last. Burying yourself in the comfort of it.

Maybe you could make a piece of this moment last forever.

When a deep, shuddery sigh expelled itself from your lungs, Matt stepped back, head tilting as his hands rested back on your shoulders, seeming to be listening for something. What, you didn’t know. Concern marred a crease on his forehead though, and another wave of guilt roiled in your stomach.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was small and weak, pathetic. “Matt, I’m so–”

“Stop saying you’re sorry.” His tone was firm, brooking no argument. His hand started stroking up and down your arm. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I was late for work.” The words fell to the floor with your gaze.

“We got by for the morning.”

You squinted against the sunlight streaming in through the windows, the ache behind your eyes barely manageable. “I made you guys worry.”

His tone remained smooth, calm. “That’s okay. You’re okay, and that’s all that matters.”

“And…” You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, worrying your lip between your teeth. “I got tears on your shirt.”

A wry smile tilted his lips, and you could just picture the amusement dancing behind those red glasses. “I’ll live, and it’ll wash.”

“I just…” You sighed, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes, trying to uproot the headache that seemed to be drilling a hole through your skull. “I just wish this week was over.”

The tips of his fingers danced over your arm, and his voice became low, tender. “Why?”

Tears sprang to your eyes again, but you forced them back, swallowing down the lump attempting to rise in your throat.

Could you tell him? Could you really, truly trust him with this information? Would it make him look at you differently? Would it make him see you as broken?

“It just…” You paused, hesitating. “It’s just got some bad memories attached to it, is all.” Then, before you could stop yourself. “Did you know my mom died six years ago yesterday?”

Matt frowned, lips twitching like he wanted to speak.

But you kept going.

“Heart attack. The doctors never saw it coming. I was in my first year of university…” You swallowed, bitter memories you regularly kept locked away rising to the surface. “I was on the plane when she passed—didn’t even know until my dad met me at the airport.”

Your name drifted from his lips, hushed and sad. It should make you stop—it should make you shove the feelings back into a box, lock them up tight, and forget about them forever. Instead…

“Two years later, this great guy came into my life. Smart, funny…” Almost as handsome as you. You pushed the thought aside and continued. “We were talking about marriage. Family, kids. We would buy a house on the coast, right next to his parents. We were going to be so happy…”

The memory played out before your eyes. Big house, a dog, 2.5 children—you’d even talked colour schemes, baby names. Had tentatively set a date for just after graduation.

“Until the doctors thought they found something on one of my routine screenings. Suddenly, ‘in sickness and in health’ became a little too close to home. He was sleeping with my best friend before I even had a chance to tell him it was a false alarm.”

By the hard set of his jaw, Matt was less than pleased to hear about your piece-of-shit ex, lips pressed firmly together like he might be trying to keep himself from having a word with him this very moment.

A near-hysterical laugh floated up from your chest, heart ripping apart inside you.

“It was really a stupidly shitty thing to do on someone’s birthday, but hey, live and learn I guess. Just gives me one less reason to celebrate. It hasn’t been the same since my mom passed anyway…”

His head tilted sharply. “Your birthday is this week?”

A small, pathetic nod tipped your chin. “Today, actually.”

Matt’s jaw worked, expression so pained you thought for a second he might be more hurt by the knowledge than you were.

“And then, of course, I’m stupid enough to play Truth or Dare, get so outrageously drunk that I sleep through my alarm, and if I worked for anyone other than you, I would’ve been fired on the spot, so…” The headache was splitting your brain in two. You needed an aspirin. “Icing on the cake.”

Walking into the kitchen to dig through your cupboards for the pill bottle and a glass of water, you genuinely hoped Matt would leave it as is. It was stupid—nothing but a hard week and an off day and two minutes of word vomiting. Or maybe closer to ten. Either way, you just wanted to keep your head low and forget about this little outburst until the end of the week, when you could cry properly.

Of course, you should’ve known better than to think Matt would leave it alone.

“Okay, first of all,” he said, following you into the kitchen, “you would not have been fired from any other job. You’ve been nothing but punctual every other day of the year—one bad day doesn’t scrap a perfectly good record. And second–” he interrupted your protest with a furrowed brow and his hand raised in the ‘stop’ position. “You were not that drunk when you left the office yesterday. What happened?”

You winced, embarrassment flooding your cheeks, and you delayed by popping the aspirin in your mouth with a swig of water. When you were finished, Matt was still waiting.

“Nothing.”

He scoffed, and you tried not to let it hurt. “Nothing?”

“That’s what I said, Matt.” Whoa, you did not mean for your tone to be so sharp, but there was no stopping it now. “Maybe I had a few more when I got home. Maybe I had a whole case. Maybe—” your voice cracked, and tears pricked your eyes again. “Maybe I just didn’t want to think about my dead mother or my cheating ex or the fact that when I took that fucking dare yesterday, I didn’t realise I had feelings for you until it was too late. And I—” Tears flooded the dam, dripping down your cheeks, your words breaking on a sob. “I can’t have feelings for you, because all they ever do is get me hurt…and I can’t handle any more hurt, Matt. I can’t! I can’t–-”

For the second time that day, you dissolved into sobs, the sheer force of pain clefting you in two like a tidal wave.

Through a haze of tears, you watched Matt hesitate, hand flexing, before stepping forward and slowly wrapping his arms around you, keeping you together when you were sure you would fall apart.

The reality of what you’d just confessed washed over you, embarrassment now mixing with the sadness to create a whirl of agonising pain.

You wanted to choke on the feelings.

“I’m–I’m sorry, Matt.” Your words were so garbled, you have no idea how he understood them.

But he did.

“What did I say earlier?” he soothed, warm hand stroking up and down your back again. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

God, you wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that you hadn’t just ruined your career confessing feelings for your boss. Wanted to believe that he wouldn’t just slowly disappear from your life, like a ship in the night, fading out of friendship, out of reach of a lighthouse.

Your body bucked and hiccuped, lungs struggling for air through the emotion filling your chest. His arms tightened around you.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Shhhh.” His lips graced your hairline—a soft kiss, tender—before he again rested his chin on top of your head. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe, okay?”

You shook your head, the salt-stained fabric of his shirt swishing against your ear. “No. Matt, I ruined everything.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.”

“I ruined everything!”

Grasping fistfuls of his shirt in shaky hands, you felt his jaw shift atop your head.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper. “I—God, I…I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

You sniffed, wiping the tear stains off your cheeks with his shirt. “Told me what?”

He paused, chest expanding with a breath, like he was preparing himself for something.

“That I…I have feelings for you too.”

“Don’t patronize me, Murdock,” you snipped, attempting to push out of his arms, because that’s just what you didn’t need, someone to make fun of the emotions that you already knew were stupid.

He held you fast.

“I’m not. I promise you I’m not.” The conviction in his voice was almost enough to convince you of the truth on its own. And if it wasn’t, his heart racing against your fingertips, chaotic and wild, certainly was. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time, sweetheart. I–I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

He smiled sheepishly, and the world moved in slow motion.

“You…love me?” A whisper is too loud to describe the question you breathed, but Matt chuckled, the tips of his ears flushed a dusty shade of pink.

“Yeah.” His head tilted, slight crease between his brows, carefully regarding your reaction.

“Matt Murdock…” you breathed, wiping the final few tears off your cheeks and looking up into his red glasses. “This is the best birthday I’ve had in a long time.”

He frowned. “Then we really need to fix that.”

You laughed, a real, genuine laugh, probably the first one this entire week, and melted back into his arms.

[moonstruckme]

hi! i was wondering if you could make some more bartender!sirius x reader stories! anything works really! i love love love your writing 💞

Thanks for requesting ml!

cw: attempted sa, police are called (but don't worry, everything is fine)

bartender!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius isn’t ashamed to say he’s had his eye on you tonight. You’re a sweet-looking thing, with sparkly eyes and a big, genuine smile that you’d beamed right at him as you ordered your drink. You got your first couple from Marlene, but most recently you came up to him. You’d leaned your elbows on the bar, looked at him with those lovely eyes, and said all the pleases and thank yous and may Is that always make Sirius want to climb over the counter and hug the customers who use them. He'd have comped your drink if you weren’t clearly here with someone else. 

And that someone else seems to be infatuated with you. Appropriately so, Sirius thinks. He takes your hand to lead you over to a couch along the wall, and he nods so eagerly while you speak that it looks like his head is on a spring, and when you turn to look at something he’s pointed out he reaches over and—

“Hey!” 

Several heads turn at Sirius’ shout, but the important part is that yours does. Not before your lips close around the straw of your drink, though. Sirius doesn’t have to work to convey urgency in his expression—that comes quite naturally. He waves his hand to beckon you back to the bar.

You obey, not looking upset but rather tentative as you make your way through the crowd. Your date stands with you, but something in Sirius’ face must tip him off. He disappears towards the exit. Sirius wants to go after him and strangle the bloke with his own two hands, but he’ll have to worry about that later. 

“Don’t drink that,” he says once he thinks you’re within earshot. 

You’re not, evidently. “What?” 

“Give it here.” Sirius leans across the bar, reaching for your drink. It’s only the caution in your expression that reminds him to say, “Please.” 

You hand it over, eyebrows raising when he brings it behind the bar and immediately pours it into the sink. 

“Erm…am I going to be refunded for that?” 

Sirius shakes his head, but managing a breathless, frazzled, “Yeah.” 

He feels so far out of his depth. Nothing like this has ever happened during one of his shifts—at least, fuck, not that he knows of. Sirius isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do. 

He starts by looking you in the eyes. “The bloke you were with put something in your drink.” 

Your lips part, brows twitching together. “What? No, he…” You turn your head, clearly expecting your date to be right behind you. Sirius watches your face change as you realize he’s nowhere to be seen. 

When you turn back to him, he can see the beginnings of fear in your gaze. His hand makes its way across the bar of its own accord, squeezing your wrist before tugging you gently towards the nearest barstool. 

“I saw it happen,” he says firmly. “Do you want to sit here with me for a bit?” 

“I don’t…yeah, please.” You look dazed. Understandably dazed, in Sirius’ opinion. You slide onto the stool and slouch to rest your elbows on the bar. “I don’t feel any different. I only had a sip.” 

“It might not be enough to do anything,” he agrees. “I’m not sure, honestly. But it’s probably a good idea for you not to be alone just in case, yeah?” 

You nod hesitantly. Sirius strokes a short line into the inside of your wrist, and when you look up at him those pretty eyes are wet. 

“I’m already drunk,” you say, quietly, your voice on the edge of breaking. “How am I s’posed to know if it’s working?” 

“I’m sure you’d know,” says Sirius, though honestly he’s not very sure of that himself. Guys don’t learn much about these things, not the way girls have to. “You’re alright, darling. We’ll take care of you up here, you’re totally safe. Do you mind if I phone the police?” 

Your eyes widen to glossy saucers, the true gravity of your situation seeming to sink in. 

“It’s just standard procedure,” he adds quickly. 

“Right.” You blink, sniffling. “Um, sure.” 

“Beautiful.” Sirius shoots you a smile. “Be right back. Marl,” he gets his coworker’s attention, “keep an eye on her, yeah?” 

Marlene looks confused and then intrigued as she spots you weeping at the other end of the bar, but she makes her way to you. 

Sirius’ call with the police is brief. They make him regret tossing out your drink before it could be tested, but they tell him to keep you at the bar and they’ll be there soon to question you. When he goes back inside, you look far better than he’d left you, face tearstained but dry and nursing what looks to be a plain coke topped by a mountain of cherries. 

“Blimey, did you ask for extra?” Sirius asks, taking his place in front of you. Marlene, helping a customer at the other end of the bar, shoots him a grimace that lets him know you’ve told her what happened. 

“I asked for a few,” you say, picking one of your cherries up by the stem and popping it in your mouth. “I think she feels bad for me.” 

Sirius laughs. “No, Marlene doesn’t feel bad for anyone. She probably just likes you.” 

“Really?”

“Yup. Almost as much as she hates our manager.” He winks at you. “Her latest plot is to rob him blind by way of bar napkins and maraschino cherries. But you didn’t hear that from me.” 

Your lips twitch into something dangerously close to a smile. You draw a line across them, pretending to zip them shut. 

“So,” you say, looking down to fish another cherry from your glass, “did you give the police my regards?”

Sirius smiles at your forehead. “I did. They said it’s been far too long, and they’d like to come here to chat with you themselves.” 

You huff a laugh. “That’s funny, you’d think they’d’ve gotten their fill of me when I was in the nick last week.” 

Sirius laughs, delighted. 

You look up with a wry smile. “Kidding,” you whisper. 

“Oh, I’m so disappointed.” He props his chin on his hand, letting his head loll to the side. “And here I was thinking you were a rebel outside the law.” 

You shrug, smile fading as the melancholy turn your night has taken seems to take you under again. “Sorry to lead you astray,” you say anyway. 

“No, don’t worry about it.” Sirius studies you. You look understandably worried, a tad wistful too, but still that same sweet girl who’d come up to order from him at the bar. “If you are concerned about the cops catching onto your jailbird alter-ego, I could always stay with you when they get here. If you want company.” 

Your expression melts into gratitude, the fretful line of your brow softening and your eyes filling with relief. They start to go shiny again. “That would be great,” you say. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t worry about it, doll.” Sirius reaches across the bar, giving your hand an awkward pat. “Just don’t cry again, please? It kills me a little bit.”

[drarrymyheart]

Discord Drabble challenge - Aug 2024

Prompt: Restart

Word count: 137

Potter,

This letter is to express gratitude on behalf of my mother and myself for your speech before the Wizengamot. Although egregiously sanctimonious,—

Potter,

You needn’t have — Why—

I NEVER WANTED YOUR HELP

Potter,

Was one life debt not enough to hold over my head?

I don’t deserve—

You continuously insert yourself into my life until I can think of nothing else. Dreams and waking hours consumed by your green eyes and disfigured face, your back pressed to my chest surrounded by heat and smoke, your arse—

Do all trainee Auror uniforms fit like that or is it just yours that is so tight it’s indecent?

Potter,

What happens now?

Potter,

I don’t think I’ve really hated you for years.

Potter,

Thank you.

-DLM

P.S. Mother has invited you for tea. Saturday 3pm. Don’t be late.

[absoluteminimum]

Shockwave was doing his best to attend to Soundwave. His best was quite good.

The cables were hindering his efforts somewhat. They were quite… distracting.

[comatosebunny09]

insecurities | astarion a.

summary: “why don’t you like me?” he asks, his voice small amid the symphony of the forest dwellers. you choke on your spittle. how unlike your undead friend to sound so unsure of himself.

The night is quiet.

Most of your companions have retired to their tents. Tending to their weapons, reading, sleeping.

You’re left by the fire, snapping twigs to further kindle it. You smile quietly. The atmospheric pop and fizz bring you comfort as a summery breeze slides in.

You turn away in search of more wood when you hear a weighted sigh, followed by the thunk of the log behind you.

Seems someone’s decided to impede on your party of one.

You spin around to see your favorite vampire sitting opposite you on the log, his features accentuated by the fire. Astarion watches you with a pout on his lips and his brows knit together. You snort, wholly prepared for him to complain about something.

“What’s wrong, sunshine?” you query, squatting and poking around the campfire. “Our lodgings not to your liking? You break a nail? A rat crawl up into your ass?” Your eyes crinkle with mirth. 

Astarion leans back on his hands, one leg crossed over the other. He stares at you with those petulant eyes, studying you for a beat. It’s unlike him to be so serious. Silence stretches between you for a moment longer before he asks, “Why don’t you like me?”

You nearly choke on your spittle. His brazenness floors you. Literally. You plop down on the ground, dusting off your hands, your expression bemused. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come now.” He crosses his arms. Looks off to the side, face screwing up into a scowl. “You haven’t slept with me. You shrug off all my advances. Hells, it feels like you won’t even give me the time of day.”

Another snort. Your tone drips with sarcasm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I had to sleep with someone to show I cared.”

Astarion scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “Bullshit. Have you seen me? I’m irresistible. The very definition of sex on legs, so I’ve been told. People would kill for a chance at me. And I would’ve bedded you a thousand times over, had you stopped playing hard to get.”

You sigh. Laugh a little disbelievingly, slowly standing. “Astarion—”

“I’m not your type, am I? Do you even have a type? It’s Halsin, isn’t it? That oaf of a druid.”

You caution a few steps around the fire towards him, your hands stretched out placatingly. You’re exasperated. “Astarion, look—”  

“I don’t blame you. I would’ve bedded him, too.”

“Astarion!” 

You’re in front of him now. Bent over, gathering his icy cheeks into your palms. He looks at you with confusion marring his features. You have his attention, nonetheless.  

Your eyes gloss over with wetness. A forlorn smile rounds your lips. Your chest swells with emotion, and you tuck some errant curls behind Astarion’s ear.

“I thought we knew each other better than that.” You swallow before wetting your lips. You look down at the ground, inhaling deeply. Kneel before him, taking up his hands with all the gentleness of the world, your eyes shining with the threat of tears.

“You are more than your body, Astarion. More than some fling. More than a romp in the dirt. I wish you could see that. Sex is nice. Gods, it can be such an incredible thing. But I don’t need it to know I mean something to you. And I don’t need it to show you I adore you.”

Astarion blinks. For a moment, only the two of you exist in this world of chirping crickets and crackling fire. Tenderness flashes across his face before the vampire chuckles softly, patting your hands, squeezing them. His lashes flutter. He’s breathtaking.

“You adore me, do you?” Astarion purrs, his cockiness returning tenfold. “I am rather amazing, aren’t I?” He leans back again to have a look at his nails, radiating smugness.

You snort, standing and wiping your hands on your breeches. “You just had to muck it up, didn’t you?” You can’t help the quirk of your lips as you turn back to tend to the fire.

“Darling. Who would I be if I didn’t?”

“And to think, I was just about to kiss you.”

The indignant sound Astarion releases behind you makes your ribs blossom with pride.

Ah, well. Maybe next time.

masterlist

[greeniegirl23]

Random Alastor Blurb Because I Love This Weird Radio Man PT#3! (NSFW)

(Welcome to part three of my silly lil blurbs! These will be random rant posts I make about Alastor whenever the ideas come to me. Love him and there are things, thoughts, and ideas I have about him that I would love to share!)

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

• Okay, when I think Alastor and a NSFW individual, I'd like to think that he wouldn't mind after you two have been together for a very, very long time

• I'm talking years of being with each other, comfortable and able to be the rawest version of yourselves without the other judging, but accepting and being supportive. Good and bad, thick and thin, y'all may as well be married before he even plays around the notion of having sex

• You being a supportive and loving girlfriend, never pushed him into anything he'd be uncomfortable with. So you found your fix in other ways, overtime and unbeknownst to you, Alastor kinda found an issue with that. Slightly insecure with being able to fulfill your relationship in every way except that one.

• It's not that he doesn't care, it's just that he knows he can't supply that emotional connection most people seek when indulging in to sins of the flesh and he'd rather not do it at all than to try and make a fool out of himself.

• With the two of you being as close as you are, it wouldn't take long before you catch this and talk with him about it. At first he avoided you like the plague, until you literally pinned him against the wall and made him confess, is when he finally told you how he felt about it. Of course you reassured him that it wasn't that big of an issue for you and that you'd only allow it if it was something he really wanted.

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

"You've got nothing to prove Alastor, to me or to anyone. I don't care that we don't have sex, that's not why I'm with you and I know how you feel about being touched. I want you to be comfortable and happy with me and of sex is out of the question? So be it."

You watched him closely as he seemed to fidget under your gaze. This wasn't the first time you've seen him nervous, dare I say bashful, but it didn't make the sight all the less rare.

"I suppose if that's how you feel about it, then I won't allow it to bother me any longer. If you are truly satisfied with me, then I can accept being worried about nothing."

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

• And for a while, he did. Everything went back to normal....

• Until one morning, while he was getting dressed for the day and you were showering, he could hear you making sounds of pleasure from the bathroom. It was ever so faint, yet he couldn't stop the flicking of his ear as he heard the gentle whisper of his name from your lips...

• Immediately he left the room, feeling bad again and remembering your words. Alastor wasn't a stranger to the warmth building in her abdomen and heading straight down south, but he was strong enough to ignore it for now, wondering if there was something, anything, he could do to hear you make those noises again, without having to bump uglies with you directly.

• After about a week of being somewhat awkward, telling bad lies, and hoping that he wouldn't regret this. He realized he needed help and decided to go to the one person he knew that was close enough and easily threatened enough, to lend him aid in this rather precarious predicament...

• It's safe to say Angel Dust almost woke up the entirety of the Hotel when he entered his room after a long day of work, only to find Alastor sitting in a recliner, trying to convince Fat Nuggets to 'plumpen up', and screamed loud enough the five circles below the Pride Ring could hear him.

• With the snap of his fingers, Alastor silenced his target, closing the door before anyone could come by and sat Angel down on his bed before speaking in a very dark, very serious tone.

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

"You," Alastor said, pointing towards the pornstar. "Are going to help me with a rather serious problem. A problem that only someone with your choice of careers could help me with, this discussion and all future discussions will stay between you and I. If I find out otherwise, I can assure you, you and your pet swine will suffer a date worse than death. Am I clear?"

Angel Dust fercily nodded. With a flick of Alastor's wrist, regained the ability to speak once more. "..What the hell do you want from me?"

"I request you assistance with.." Alastor cleared his throat. "Pleasing the opposite gender... Carnally, of course."

"Ya askin me, to help you have sex with ya girlfriend?" Angel Dust deadpanned. "Ya seriously threaten me and my precious baby over dat?!"

"Yes, I am. If you have a problem with that then that's too bad. We made a deal and you will abide by it, regardless of if you're fond of the idea or not."

"Just take it slow n' stick ya dick in er. It's sex, not rocket science!"

"That's just the issue my effeminate fellow! I'm not too keen on the idea of direct intercourse, so I'd rather find other ways to make my beloved happy. Without the cost of me being uncomfortable and her being deprived of her desire for my affections."

Angel raised an eyebrow. "You mean like eatin her out or sumthin'?"

Alastor's face made a disgusted expression, " Why on earth would I eat her? I want to please her, not have her for breakfast!"

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

• As one would imagine, Angel Dust had to hold himself back from laughing in Alastor's face as he explained that the term was not literal.

• He then explained to Alastor the many different approaches he could take to satisfy your needs without inserting himself in you. Your partner was surprised to hear about most of these methods, mentally taking notes on this, that, and the third as Angel essentially gave him a crash course for your one way ticket to a interesting shift in your relationship.

• Finally, at 2am, Alastor had enough information (and emotional support from Angle Dust) to put his new knowledge into action. He thanked Angel Dust with a wad of cash, based off the hourly rate the spider usually made and a tip for being cooperative, before leaving the poor man to rest.

• Now that he was armed with the power of knowledge, it was now time to wait.

• Like a predator laying in wait for its prey, Alastor was patient as the days went by. Making sure you didn't suspect a thing during your interactions and doing his best to strike at the perfect moment.

• Then it came, one night while you were in bed reading your favorite novel. You were wearing one of his shirts, no bra, and clad in your favorite underwear while being nestled in a small fort of blankets and pillows.

• He climbed into bed next to you, a bit closer than usual considering the fact that he slept similar to that of a vampire on most nights, and at first you thought nothing of it.

• That was until he began touching you. Slow touches on your wrist and your arm, his claws teasing your skin as he rubbed your thighs beneath the thick duvet.

• He got closer, making sure you could smell his scent. Still caressing your skin, before being bold and sticking his hand up your shirt to gently fiddle with your breasts.

•At first it felt inexperienced, experimental if you will. But little did you know, he was hyper aware of your body's responses. He could smell your pheromones, very fitting of your personality. He could feel your heartbeat pounding against your ribcage, your nipples peeking from the teasing from of the pads of his fingers. The biggest tell was your thighs, rubbing together anxiously as usual when you were aroused.

How cute.

• A part of you wanted to ask what this was all about. If he had forgotten what you had spoken on before, but something was telling you that this was alright. That your lover was fine and actually wanted what was going on right now.

• You could hardly bring yourself to look at him, for as long as you had been together, this was the first time in a while where you were actually embarrassed. The wetness in your underwear, rendered them soaking wet. Anxiety struck your heart for a moment when Alastor used his fingers to ever so gracefully trace his fingers around the shape of your mound.

• You did your best to make your book the most interesting thing going on right now, but Alastor didn't like that. Slowly coaxing the book out of your hands, tossing it somewhere on his side of the bed as he used his powers to cut the lights out in the room.

•It was practically pitch black. Raising the height of your senses as your eyes begin to adjust. You could hear the sound of fabric tearing, a faint gust of cold air brushed your now bare lips.

• Butterflies raved in your stomach and in your core, your breathing becomes slightly heavier. Anxiously, happily, and somewhat desperately, you wait as Alastor's hands palm your heat. Getting a feel for you, the shape of your intimacy, before slowly and very carefully slipping his fingers between your folds.

• The moan that left your sweet lips was one Alastor swore he'd remember for the rest of his afterlife. Adoration swelled in his chest when you gripped his nightshirt, holding on to him for dear life while slowly grinding your hips against his digits.

• It was dirty, lewd, sexy, and all those other words one could use to describe an intimate moment such as this. Of all his years of both being alive and dead, he never thought he'd find himself actually enjoying something like this. But it was because he got to please you, to hear you sing a song for his ears only, to see that look on your face as you fought back being loud, steadily unraveling on his very fingertips.

• You willfully closed your eyes. You were already being forced to listen to your own arousal, clicking softly with Alastor's movements as he began to find a rhythm you were comfortable with. It would be too much for you to bare to watch, even if it was dark.

• His pace quickened as he remembered what the spider stated. Based on that, he was sure that you were getting close. Already your legs had opened wider for him, giving him access to slip the full extent of his fingers into your core. The palm of his hand rubbed perfectly against your puffy bundle of nerves, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

• The world seemed to disappear and you were on the edge of crashing like a wave against a rock. However, Alastor wanted to do just one last thing.

• Swiftly, he forced you to lay flat on your back. A shocked look overcame your face as he stared down at you. Close enough for you to feel his breath on your neck, his length straining almost painfully in his pants as it rested against the fat of your thigh, as he continued to slowly, yet forcefully bring you to euphoria.

• Finally the knot in your stomach snapped and you gasped, biting your lip while you whined. Alastor wasn't having that nonsense however, grabbing your chin and crashing his lips against yours. Forcing his tongue past your lips, he drew out those sounds of yours, the same sounds he heard in the bathroom that morning you were showering. Swallowing them up one by one, still pumping his hand to teasingly milk you for what you were worth in that moment. Thank whatever Heaven there was out there, because he almost reached his peak with you as you moaned his name once again.

• It took a moment for the shock to settle in. Alastor carefully removed his fingers from your entrance. Playfully, damn there lovingly tracing upwards. As if he were silently praising you for being so good for him.

• He allowed you to clean yourself up in the bathroom first while he changed the sheets, handled himself, and washed his hands thoroughly.

• Time resumed itself, as you both climbed into bed, you were sure to give him a hug and kissed his cheek.

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

"That was... amazing." You said. "I'm not sure what spurred that on but, thank you."

He turned to you, smiling happily before booping your nose. "You are ever so welcomed darling, should you ever require such a thing again, I have no problem offering my assistance to you. I rather enjoyed it, I thank you for respecting my boundaries when it comes to physical touch. It's appreciated more than you think."

You giggled, before cutting yourself off with a yawn. "No problem Alastor, I think it's time we head to bed. It'll be morning before we know it..."

"You pose a good point darling. I hope you sleep well."

"You too Alastor.."

Cuddling up to him as he assumes his best imitation of Plank from Ed, Edd, N Eddy, you both bask in the afterglow of each other's company as you drift to sleep. Happy and satisfied with the possibilities to cum.

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

Thank you for reading my blurbs once again! I think I might start categorizing these so I'll let you guys pick what blurb I write about next! :D

[ratmare]

Halfway to the apothecary, Hans' thigh begins to chafe around the sweatsoaked rags. At least, he hopes it's sweat. God help him if that bite is festering. There's no kindly herbwoman to supply him a bed or idiot bodyguards to force her tonics down his throat. Hans grimaces at the idea of Henry being there for that whole shit show.

Hans, how could you not check that the wolf was truly dead. and Hans! You should've washed that wound immediately Christ, he never would have heard the end of it. All that fussing and griping would have put him in the grave. No, no, he is perfectly equipped to deal with this on his own

He flips his hood over his damp hair as Troskowitz wobbles into view, and prays he can get through this without being recognized. From the sound of it most of the yokels have already found their way to the tavern. He keeps his eyes down as he shambles on and half collapses onto the counter when he finally makes it inside that German's shop (damn him for having it on the second floor).

"Guten Abend, mein Herr." "Bandages and some salve for my wounds. The best you have." The German's blank expression makes him think better of it and he tries to smooth things over with a gritted smile. "...please." "I was on the wrong side of some wolves this morning, and I would quite like to pay for your assistance instead of the sawbones." "Ja...you are in luck." The apothecary shuffles through his inventory, and Hans tries to follow his hands instead of the worrying throbbing heat traveling up towards his hip."My best supplier visited today. I think you will be quite satisfied with his decoction." "How much?" "One hundred groschem." "A hundred?! Are you yanking my pizzle?" He gapes.

"Ich meine es erst. You said you wanted my best and you will find no better in the region." " He shakes his head. "I, myself, can't figure out how he does it. " "At that price, it better be distilled from gold and Saint Luke's piss." The wound on his leg and the lightness of his purse has his tongue hot, and he thrusts out his chin before he can think better of it. "I'll give you 40." "Have a fine rest of your evening, goodsir." "Alright, alright, fifty five, and I'll throw in these absolutely lovely hare pelts. What do you say?" Hans whips out his least matted pelts from the depths of his pack, and smiles over them for the German. "You can have that Barto-fella fix up something nice for the Missus, hm?"

"Seventy five and then please leave."

"You've got a deal, goodman!" He offers up his hand to shake but is more than fine when the phial and some crumpled bandages are pushed into his palm instead. He measures out his payment and slips back through the door. The lock clunks behind him, but he's got what he came for. Seeking a little privacy to redress his wounds he limps over to the little shack crumpled in the corner of the garden. The phial's lip has been dipped in red wax, and a few letters have been scratched near the neck of the bottle. He rolls his eyes, some yokel's attempt at a maker's mark. He cracks through the wax shell with his teeth and knows deep down he's been fleeced when the scent hits him.

It's just marigold decoction. Peasant brew. Even he could probably brew this. "Bastard." He hisses as he unwinds the bandages. Next time he drops off a kill for that butcher he's going to dump the entrails in that Kraut fucker's garden. He contemplates tossing it, but something's better than nothing. Really what choice does he have? "Sweet mother Mary, I wish I was drunk for this." He winces as he tips the mixture over the gash. Good lord, it stings. He has to bite into the meat of his arm to keep the warbling scream from alerting the guards, but slowly as the syrup sinks into the divots in his flesh, the pain mellowing into something warm. The hot throbs that he took to be the footsteps of an approaching fever soften, and the relief is priceless. "Maybe you're gold and holy piss after all." He murmurs as he thumbs over the wound marveling at how his touch can linger without pain. Whoever made this is wasting their talents in this backwater. He runs his tongue over his teeth at the thought of having someone so skilled over in Rattay. Well, if he's that German's "best supplier" he's no doubt got enough standing to be invited to the wedding, so he can just pluck him from the rabble once all this is straightened out. That'd be a fine souvenir for all the trouble he's been through. He brings up the bottle to the candlelight and squints at the maker's mark once again A lopsided S sits atop the heavy horizontal stroke of an H, and Hans screams into his fist. God, must you follow me everywhere. He scrubs a hand over his eyes and feels the flash of outrage bubble into laughter, because of course even after everything Henry would be there to lick his wounds for him.

Finis

[heeliopheelia]

"keep kissing me like that and i'll marry you" (heeseung x reader)

genre: fluff word count: 0.5k requested by @venividibitchin ♡

warnings: swearing, kissing

a/n: i'm writing way too many kissing hee fics lately, is it just me or are they getting repetitive 😭 but whatever, it's actually my favorite dribble i've written so far!! since we can't have hee getting too many fluffy drabbles, tonight imma probably drop an angsty one for a change!! hope you like this one guys too <3

You've always thought that sleepy Heeseung was the most adorable being on the entire planet earth.

The way that his eyes blink heavily, his dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks softly. The slow rising of his chest and the occasional snores that slip out whenever he catches himself drifting away despite his will. The way his head lulls to the side and lands on your shoulder when he finally gives up and allows himself to fall asleep.

In conclusion, you love every single fucking thing about sleepy Heeseung.

That's exactly why you can't resist yourself from assaulting your boyfriend's face as he rests peacefully in the crook of your shoulder, warm breath tickling your neck. Slightly pulling away from him, you start with a small smooch to his cheek, following with a trail of pecks down to his chin. As a soft grunt leaves his throat, you take that as a permission to go all in and start peppering his entire face with kisses.

Now, more awake than not, Heeseung lazily pulls you on his lap and leans his head back, wholeheartedly enjoying being on the receiving side of your affection. You don't stop moving your lips across his drowsy features, lips grazing all the way from the tip of his ear to his sharp jawline.

After teasing him by only kissing the corners of his mouth, you finally press your lips to his fully, relishing in the muffled sigh he lets out. You slowly drag the kiss out, moving sloppily as your fingers play with the hair on the back of his head.

Heeseung hums lowly. "Keep kissing me like that and I'll marry you," he blurts out into your lips, hands kneading your thighs absentmindedly.

Feeling your heart halting in your chest, you pull away slowly, not sure whether you should actually take his words into consideration or it's just the tiredness speaking through him right now. You look into his eyes, only to find his unwavering gaze already set on you.

"Wait, are you serious?" You ask, hands moving to brace on his shoulders.

He only chuckles softly, nuzzling your cheek before finding your lips again. "Yeah, dead serious. Would you want that too?"

You feel the hot rush of adoration for your boyfriend running through your veins and before you can even process the situation soberly, you're nodding your head happily. "Yeah. Very much."

A wide smile stretches Heeseung's lips. "Then it's settled. We're getting married tomorrow."

You snort, pinching his ear gently. "Where? In a fucking Elvis chapel?"

"For all I care, it could even be this godawful Chinese restaurant we went to last week. Now that you agreed, I just wanna wife you up already."

You can't help but giggle out of the buzzing giddiness inside of you, wrapping your arms around his neck as you bury your face in his chest. "Alright, yeah. Okay," you stumble out.

"Okay?" He repeats after you, making sure he's not lovesick enough for his delusional mind to just imagine you saying that.

But when your hands squeeze his t-shirt tightly, he knows he wasn't just dreaming it all and you're right here actually accepting his bizarre proposal.

"Okay."

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @venividibitchin

[echostalker]

Lily's Ghost That Haunts Them

Ron:*Standing in front of Harry with a broken leg, mangle arm from being bit and ready to throw down* You wanna go bro? You wanna go down?! I can take you! Kick your arse! You wanna kill Harry? Y'all got to kill us all! Come at me you lily-white, ugly arse-

Harry:*panicking, trying to get Ron to sit and off his broken leg* Oh fucking Merlin! Ron! Ron! No bad Ron! *Struggling* Calm down please!

Ron: No balls, nipples hanging, skinny twink!

Sirius: *having multiple horrifying flashbacks to when Lily Evans starting fights in righteous anger over her friends all throughout Hogwarts with James Potter trying to calm her down in a panic*

Sirius: Welp…I lived an okay life.

Ron: I don’t need a bloody wand to-

Hermione: *covering her face in embarrassment and fear* Shhhh Ron, no, please! Stop egging the bloody serial killer! Ronald!

Ron: *lets out a scream as he tackles a shrieking Sirius*

Remus/Severus/Peter: *Flashback to when 4’9 first year Lily taking on a guy twice her height and weight….and winning* Bloody fuck…

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: m that feels over cautious but i'd rather be that then under cw: making out with strangers, drinking tags: rockstar!eddie, waiter!steve, no upside down au, eddie has game, I'm not sure how to tag this one word count: 843

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "midnight"

-

“C’mon, in here.”

Steve is shoved into a dark room, it smells like an attic, an old lady’s house, or a thrift store. It’s enough to make Steve give a couple of coughs but he doesn’t have time for anything else. The other guy is pushing Steve to the back of what he assumes is a closet, kicking the door closed so the thud of Steve’s body and the latch of the door hit at the same time.

His shift drink isn’t enough to have his head spinning like this. Steve grips at the wall to find balance and bring himself back to earth.

It takes seconds to get the stupid bow tie on the ground, Steve helps the other unbutton his crisp, white dress shirt and tries not to regret the choice to wear an undershirt. Usually, his tips are better without but Steve was told this party was a big deal.

The guy was famous or some shit. Steve didn’t know him or the band he sang for. Which made running into him that much weirder. Thankfully someone, somewhere along the line told Steve whose house they were at because he’d really hate to be whimpering the wrong name right about now.

“Eddie…”

The sound made Eddie press against Steve, trapping him against the wall. “Thought you didn’t know who I was, gorgeous.”

All Steve could do was sigh. The comeback would hit hours later but, in this state, his brain couldn’t supply his address let alone witty retorts. Instead, Steve slid his hand up the ragged, ripped band tee Eddie wore and held on tight.

Moving like this was something he did with every waiter, Eddie firmly planted his leg between Steve’s. He licked along Steve’s collarbone and made Steve’s hand grip tighter, a desperate move to not show everything that did to him.

This was a level of desperation Steve wanted to feel ashamed about but instead, he wanted to rip his clothes off…then Eddie’s. Of all the casting couches Steve was warned about, he didn’t expect to want to get on his knees for some metal band singer and the promise of nothing in return.

Eddie laughed; it was the most devilish thing Seve had ever heard come out of another human. His hand easily wrapped around Steve’s neck and he didn’t apply any pressure but patiently gauged the reaction. In the dark, he couldn’t see the challenging stare but Steve kept his breathing even and waited to see what came next.

With a graceful move, Eddie’s hand slid up until his index finger rested under Steve’s chin, tipping it up, and dark or not, Steve could feel Eddie’s eyes on him. Not watched or appreciated but consumed. It was a warning of what was to come. Or a promise.

After a long second, Eddie moved in for a kiss. The hunger behind it took Steve’s breath away. He writhed against the wall and against Eddie’s knee. Every wire and synapse fired, rushing in this beautiful overwhelmed feeling that Steve could get addicted to.

His arms wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders, holding on and desperately trying to get them those last centimeters closer.

“So needy,” Eddie panted.

Steve’s cheeks flushed for being called out but who could care in a moment like this? The guy was gorgeous and the way he’d argued with Steve out in the dining room was better than any foreplay Steve had ever experienced. He both hated and loved the guy.

However, the hatred slipped some as Eddie seemed hellbent on turning Steve into a puddle of goo, unable to do anything other than moan. Something Steve was usually doing to others.

“Fuck you,” Steve muttered, no bite and barely saying the words without stuttering.

Again, that delightfully evil laugh followed and Steve knew he'd lost. No one would ever compare to this guy.

As if dishing out torture, Eddie slowed down and kissed Steve. There was a passion behind it that matched what Steve was feeling, a devotion and request for this to happen for the rest of time. More than that, it was a reprieve, Steve was able to catch his breath. If only slightly.

Together they moved, making out like kids who’d been pushed into the closet at some basement party. Something Steve felt a little more familiar with. Desperately trying to please rockstars was new but seven minutes in heaven was old news.

Eddie pulled his shirt off and Steve took advantage of that pause to let his shirt fall to the floor. Before they could pick back up, “Happy New Year” came from every voice in the other room. Followed quickly by a chorus of noisemakers and tiny explosions.

There was a silent, still beat in the room as Eddie and Steve tried to process the information. Eddie leaned forward after a second and kissed Steve again, something quick as he pulled back and said “Happy New Year.”

All Steve could do was laugh.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, and a dry chuckle came around the word. “Fuck that. Let’s have some fun.”

[messysketchyobeyme]

“Hey, Lucifer,” you say, holding something behind your back, “do you want to see a magic trick?” You step up next to him and bounce on your heels. “It’s a classic from the human world.”

Lucifer, who had just been trying to make himself some breakfast, raises an eyebrow before saying your name in a mildly annoyed tone. “You’re a sorcerer. You can do actual magic. Why would I want to see you do some crude human world trick?” He grabs a carton of milk from the fridge and closes it.

You puff out your cheeks. “Uh, because it’s fun?” Your smile doesn’t falter, but it does tense slightly.

He places the carton on the kitchen counter and rolls his eyes. “Fine, just get it over with.”

Your grin brightens up the room as you pull your arms out from behind your back. Lucifer scrunches up his eyebrows when he realizes that you hadn’t been hiding anything in your hands this entire time. You reach out behind his ear and flick your wrist.

Something red crosses his field of vision. Lucifer blinks…and blinks again. You pull out a rose from behind his ear and hand it to him. You shake the flower slightly when he doesn’t immediately reach out to take it.

Lucifer tentatively plucks the rose from your hand and stares at it. The petals are a fresh, vibrant red color, and the smell is subtle but sweet. A couple of thorns are scattered along the stem. He pokes at one with his thumb, taking note of the indent left behind in his glove.

“Neat trick, huh?” you say. You then prance out of the kitchen, leaving Lucifer alone with his thoughts.

[american-horror-whore]

tate langdon x fem!reader drabble

“shh..” Tate whispered softly, his strong arms wrapped around your torso. Your bodies, though intertwined, made a noticeable impression in the mattress as he held you. Tate’s cold lips pressed against the back of your neck, goosebumps tracing their way over your body like a soft breeze. A gentle moonlight casted itself through your window, shining onto you and Tate as if it was a blessing. Tears slipped their way down your cheeks, reminding you of the way you used to watch raindrops race across the windows of your parent’s car when driving through a rainstorm. The only difference? Tate was here to calm the storm.

No one has been there for you like Tate had. No one had been there to comfort you in moments like this as he was doing in that moment. To stifle your sobs, to soothe your worries as if they were a bullet piercing through your stomach. To untangle that dreaded knot in your gut that you were most certain would one day be the death of you.

“I’m here. i’m here with you...” Tate murmured, one hand coming up to brush some hair away from your neck, giving him more skin to kiss as he spooned you tightly.

“No one’s ever gonna hurt you…it’s gonna be alright..” He continued, speaking against the side of your neck. His teeth nipped you softly as his kisses trailed over your skin. In that moment, you finally knew: No one would ever love you like Tate does.

[caramelpenguin]

i'm trying something here.

very slightly NFSW? only very little.

"Just for fun, right?" It was meant to come out as sure and steady, but then Wille's hand tentatively presses against the hardening bulge in his jeans, and a hot flush overtakes Simon's body. His question is lost in a gasp.

"Yeah- sure, of course," Wille whispers, his lips parting slightly before his knee slides between Simon’s thighs. Simon throws his head back against the wall as he finally receives pressure where it aches, where he rolls his hips and grinds in a slow rhythm, each motion sending sparks up his spine. He arches his back as Wille's other hand slides under his white shirt, digging his nails into warm skin.

A breathless smile breaks it's way onto Simon's face." Wille?"

"Yeah?"

"Your hand is really cold."

"Oh-I-" he removes his hand so quickly that it's almost as if it was never there. A pink blush spills over his cheeks. "Sorry, I just-"

But then Simon grabs his retreating freezing hands. For some reason, the thought of no skin-to-skin contact is terrifying. Without Wille’s hands, he feels like a kite unmoored from its string. Holding his gaze, he brings one of those cold fingers to his lips. Slowly, deliberately, Simon parts his mouth and draws the tip of Wille’s index finger inside, his tongue brushing against it as his cheeks hollow.

Wille's breath stutters.

[da-shrimping-station]

Feast

Beelzebub x Reader

minors DNI or im busting your kneecaps 💚

suggestive content | bondage | a bit of food play | inspired by that Beel art from the Komiket interactive display | honestly idk what else to add

bare minimum editing/proofreading | english is not my first language

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You felt like the luckiest bastard in Hell right now.

There was an entire buffet laid out in the room. Plates upon plates of mouth watering dishes that would make anyone stuff themselves full. Drinks of every kind in pretty bottles and glasses. Fine cutlery and dining ware laid out on white sheets, waiting for you to sit down and glut yourself until you burst. Despite the smells wafting into your nose and the generous portions catching your eye, you head straight to the main course.

It was a sight that made you drool the second you saw it. It wasn't just the bare torso or the ribbons or the bottle of expensive champagne tucked into his pants. It was the fact that the King of Gluttony was propped up on a pedestal, eyes blazing and teeth gnawing at the bit and squirming to be let free. Suddenly, the buffet might as well be bland gruel in comparison.

Bright green eyes zeroed in on you as you stepped closer. He struggled even more, muffled noises growing more insistent, but the ribbons held.

Your hand reached out to cup his cheek. You squished it a little then scratched at the strips of cloth that served as his gag.

"You look very delectable, your Highness."

"Mmhff-!"

He sounded mad. Or maybe excited. Either way, it didn't stop you from feeling him up.

You pinched and groped, tan skin soft and muscles firm. One hand scratched red lines into his side while the other thumbed at his pierced nipple. The bright pink strips of cloth was a nice contrast to his rich oche skin. Your nails dug deeper, your grip turned bruising.

Groaning, Beelzebub writhed, tugging at the restraints even more. His flushed cheeks gave away how he really felt. More muffled noises came from his throat and you think he was telling you something. You had stepped back to admire your work with a pleased smile.

You've only had your hands on him and he already looked winded. Your eyes landed on the bottle at his crotch.

You deliberately ignored the bulge in his pants as you gently pried the liquor from his waistband. Your hunch was right. It was a bottle of champagne from Tartaros. The foil on the label shone nicely under the lights.

Beelzebub glared at you as you popped the cork off. The flush on his face was dying down now that you've stopped your ministrations but his erection persisted still. You took a whiff of the drink. It smelled sweet and citrusy. You know this bottle costs more than your own soul given its origin and you wanted to enjoy it to the fullest.

Your eyes shifted from the bottle to the bound King beside you. An idea pops up and you smirk. 

The king of gluttony watches you like a hawk as you step into his space again. 

Without hesitation, you poured champagne on his lips. You watched, mesmerized as the golden liquid dribbled from his chin and down his neck. Smaller rivulets trailed down his pecs and abs, eventually soaking the waistband of his underwear. You had to stop yourself before wasting the entire bottle.

The pink ribbons over his mouth were soaked and you think he's trying to get a taste with how his throat bobbed. He glared at you. You can't pinpoint why he's upset so you laughed it off.

Your hands grabbed him by the jaw, tilting his head and kissing him. It was awkward with the gag and the angle but the taste of the champagne and the feel of his lips on yours egged you on. He groaned, trying to better reciprocate the act.

Breaking the kiss, you poured champagne over him again, this time onto his torso. 

Beelzebub growled. The sound sent shivers down your spine and you licked and bit at his collarbone to appease him. He growled again, less aggravated this time. You took it as a sign.

You continued to appease him with your mouth and tongue, cleaning up the trail of liquor on his torso. From his chest, down towards his stomach. You even went so far as to kneel to nip at the V of his hips, toying with the pink bow right next to his bulging arousal.

You made sure to leave marks as you went, adding to the ones you made earlier. You left hickeys and bruises over his tattoos and bite marks over the bare patches of skin. All the while he bucked and groaned, hips jerking whenever you touched a sensitive spot.

During all of this, the delicate pink ribbons did their job of keeping him in place. A part of you was concerned that the binds would snap. Whatever magic they were imbued with was pretty damn strong.

His highness was looking down at you, eyes glowing with lust and frustration. You shuddered, enjoying the way he looked at you while you were on your knees.

You could suck him off. His cock was right there in front of you, just about ready to burst from the looks of it. The tempting thought made you lick your lips. With him tied up, you had free reign to do as you please without so much as a peep from him.

He must've sensed your lewd intention, swaying his hips towards you as some sort of invitation. An urgent moan rumbled from his throat.

You bit your lip, weighing your options for a moment.

"Thank you for the treat, your highness," you said with a smirk. Then you got up and walked away, half empty champagne bottle in hand.

Incensed noises followed after your footsteps as you left. You knew for a fact that you can't handle the king of Abyssos on your own. He was a force to be reckoned with, whether he's fighting or fucking. And you were someone simple who lived by the rule of not biting off more than you can chew.

The bottle of liquor was more than enough of a prize. There was still enough for a glass or two to indulge in. 

You were close to the exit, oozing with satisfaction as you walked past the buffet tables. The door was just a few meters away when–

Snap!

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A/N 🦐

eeyyyyy dont come after me i wrote this all in one sitting cuz that one Beel card wont get out of my head

i was gonna have the reader give him head but my skills aren't up to par so he gets blueballed instead lmaoooo i bet he would've wanted the reader to be a glutton and choke on his cock but where's the fun in that amirite

him bending the reader over one of the tables while he rails them and finishes the rest of the champagne is a nice image imo

thanks for reading!