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#im bad at writing im sorry
deedoop · 2 years
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Steve has a thing for Billy being soft. Physically. Billy has never known a homecooked meal and Steve feeds him every night. How can he say no to that? Billy puts on weight, has to force himself into his jeans. Steve loves it, every moment of it. At first Billy's embarrassed by the weight gain but Steve touches his curves, feels his thighs and moans into Billys ear. Hes not so embarrassed after that.
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kittysauce · 6 months
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au where L and Light fall in love during the yotsuba arc ............... i think its a crazy interesting concept
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sunsetsimon · 5 months
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boyfriend simon nsfw cont..
simon 'ghost' riley x reader nsfw
okay the first part did okay so here’s what i cut off :) enjoy - sun
nsfw under the cut! mdni
─────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────
☼ at first, simon honestly had zero sex drive. he’s been through so much trauma around it, so it rarely crosses his mind. but once you and him become sexually active, he’s ready to go all the time. almost like a horny teenager, every time you cuddle for a while you’ll feel his cock hardening and twitching in his pants before he pulls away, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable. he’ll need you to initiate at first, letting him know it’s okay and that you want him too.
☼ he thinks it’s so fun to tease you, dragging out the foreplay for ages until he decides to show mercy. he’ll kiss every inch of your body, caressing you with his rough hands, a hum escaping your lips. and when he finally feels ready to fuck you, he’ll drag it out even longer for his own torture, forcing you to wait with him. he pushes into you slowly, your pussy coating him easily, stretching more with each inch inserted.
he shivers, pushing deeper until his tip kisses your cervix, and then he stops… unmoving again as he leans down to kiss your neck and chest, ignoring the way you desperately try to move your hips on his for more friction. “si please.. ‘need you so bad,” you whine, shaking your hips to try and loosen his grip on your hips.
“shh.. just wanna feel you for a minute, lovie.”
☼ eating you out becomes a non-negotiable every time too. he won't fuck you until he's given you at least one orgasm with his tongue. simon loves when you ride his face. his arms will hook around your thighs, holding you against his mouth as he devours you completely, moaning at your taste. he loves when you get so desperate to finish, grinding your swollen clit down against his wet muscle, crying out as you finally cum. he doesn’t even notice his own hips bucking against nothing, so turned on by you that he can barely think straight. he laps up every drop from your little hole, pushing his tongue in to taste even more, as if he’d never get the chance again.
☼ sometimes he can get rough, loving to completely dominate you. his hands squeeze your hips hard, nails leaving red crescent indents in your soft skin. "fucking slut.. you're so tight," he hisses, dipping his head into your neck to bite the skin of your shoulder.
your thoughts are spiraling, unable to think straight with the pain and pleasure mixing. his name falls from your lips like a chant as you cum, leg muscles flexing so hard they almost cramp. simon fucks you expertly, desperate to reach his own release. your gummy walls squeeze around him, enveloping him in hot, wet pleasure. “gonna cum baby,” he breathes, milking his last thrusts to not finish inside, “where do you want me?”
☼ has a massive breeding kink after you let him cum inside. the first time is random, completely impulsive but you’re so wrapped up in pleasure that you just need this. “cum inside me… please, i need it,” you beg, dragging him out of his focus, his dark eyes staring down at you, your face shoved into the pillow, ass up in the air.
his huge hand makes impact with your fat ass cheek, slapping it hard before squeezing it, pulling it apart to watch his cock side in and out of your pussy. “fuckin’ you aint enough, huh? you just need me to fill you up? make you have my fuckin’ babies?” he asks roughly, spanking you again. he doesn’t even listen for your answer, completely pussydrunk and needing to fulfill your request.
simon moans your name, pulling you back against him as he releases, hot cum coating your insides in multiple spurts, his orgasm dragging. he holds you there, making you to soak up every drop he can give.
☼ can attempt to be submissive but fails every time because he gets so impatient he cant help but grab your hips and fuck your cunt hard and fast, easily working an orgasm out of you. he gets so needy, feeling so uncomfortable until he's back in your squishy pussy, filling you up with his seed over and over until you cum all around his cock. sometimes he feels a little guilty for not allowing you to have your moment, but he knows you love it anyways.
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htsan · 2 months
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Everyone: "OMG those Siren bois are so HAWT!" Htsan: "Yeah, so HAWT! I could just-" *running toward the ocean with a fork and knife*
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Yes. Siren horror is very hot.. 🐙+🔥+🥘=😋
If sirens don't want to get eaten, then why do they look so delicious, eh?
Edit: frick i forgor to credit @/spookyflavors for the octo!sans/cecaelia sans design. I know its ur ask but still 😭
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loveydovey-leviathan · 6 months
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(for your recent post)
hmmm how about mal and reader were having an argument or sumn then he's like " hmph let's not talk to each other for now >:( " so you grant him some space/or silent treatment and mal is like dramatically waiting for u to talk to him for HOURS in his room just brooding there and when he realize you're still ignoring him, he's like a pathetic sad wet cat needy for ur attention now bcs he couldn't stand being apart from u.
im sorry for the basic ass idea lol 😭 im just a sucker for silent treatment scenarios like this
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malleus x gn! reader
a/n: written as romantic -> FOAMING AT THE MOUTH, IM A SUCKER FOR THESE TOO 😔😔 hope i did this justice
.
one of the many things malleus adores about you is your stubbornness. the way you don't back down against what you think is wrong is something that will always set him ablaze with admiration for you.
though he doesn't quite like it when that pride is directed at him.
he's realizing this now when scornful words are spat between the two of you in the living room of ramshackle. clouds and lighting are beginning to gather as a response to his irritation and annoyance. he doesn't even know what this silly argument was even about or why it started in the first place, and unfortunately, malleus can be just as stubborn as can be.
"since you insist on being childish, i think it's best for us to not talk for a while," he isn't even looking at you as he says this, so when he disappears into pretty green firelights, he misses the hurt expression on your face as he leaves.
this is stupid, you think, but you bite your lip in worry as you walk upstairs and lay in bed, grim beside you snoring away. you said things you didn't mean so perhaps it's best to give him space, though how long that will go on is unknown to you since your lovely dragon is a fae with a rather skewed perception of time... whatever, he knows where to find you as soon as he decides he's comfortable enough to talk this out.
unbeknownst to you, malleus is now brooding in his room, lying face down on his pillow. the clouds around nrc have gotten worse, static brushing against the air as he waits for a phone call from you. preferably a sincere apology since he obviously deserves it after the things you've said.
...
well, he supposes it wasn't entirely your fault. he uttered words all to anger you as you did him, though none of them were true. you weren't childish, the opposite in fact-- having to take care of that first-year duo and that cat you're always hanging out with, taking precious time away when you could be stroking his hair and kissing his hands and petting his horns. as you do.
that's another thing he likes about you. even if you don't spend as much time together as he'd like, what you do to him is more than enough to compensate. you know he likes being kissed on the neck, you know he loves it when you take of his gloves and hold his hands, you know he loves when you lightly blow on his ear. you always look so happy when you do it too-- like seeing him smile makes you-
wait, isn't he supposed to be angry at you? he humphs and pouts when he realizes you still haven't called. he turns his head, eyebrows crossed and he stares at the phone on his desk. the only reason he learned how to use a phone was so you could contact him and send him texts and "memes" like you do with the rest of your friends.
he considers going to you himself but immediately shoves the idea away. he's still mad at you after all.
...
...
...
...
the clouds start pouring rain.
it isn't even the raging, storming kind-- the ones with howling winds and thunderous claps of lightning that illuminate the very sky. it's sad and cold that heavily drops on your already straining roof. your dampened mood worsens and you decide to get out of bed and make a hot drink to help you sleep.
you briefly glance at the alarm on your bedside table and see that it's 2:31 a.m., way too early to do anything at all.
just as you reach the bottom of the stairs, you hear 3 heavy knocks at the front door. any normal person would panic and call a friend for help, but your friends ace are usually the ones getting kicked out, so you figure something similar happened.
imagine your surprise when you see your boyfriend in all his 202 cm glory. his hair sticks to his face in an unfairly handsome way considering he's absolutely soaked, and somehow the look accentuates the pretty green hue of his eyes that have only ever looked at you like you were everything and more, even when he's angry at you.
...did he walk here?
you continue staring at him for a while and your realize that while your lover is incredibly beautiful- so much so the word beautiful could never begin to describe him- he is also very. pathetic. if only people knew how much of a wet cat he was. he even bumps his nose against yours as an act of affection sometimes.
and that fact is ever prominent right now. his arms are crosses and his lips are jutted in a cute pout, refusing to say a word.
"..."
"..."
"..."
you don't know what to do exactly, considering there isn't a manual for 'what to do when your draconic boyfriend stands outside your front door in the soaking rain while he remains completely silent', so you slowly turn and walk through ramshackle's living room and into your dainty little kitchen.
heavy footsteps follow close behind you, followed by a light thud of a closing door and the muffling of the rain. malleus continues to follow you when you boil enough water for two, when you take out your tea bags (gifted by kalim) and seep it into the water. you take the occasional glance here and there, wondering if you should speak before ultimately deciding against it. maybe he doesn't want to talk right now.
he sits closely next to you- so close your knees touch when you rest yourself on one of the seats against the table. your fingertips briefly touch when you pass him the newly brewed tea and it's almost like he wants to reach out to hold your hand, but he pulls away at the last second.
from there, you sit in silence. the heat of the mug spreads from your cold fingertips and you warm up as you drink your tea. already, your becoming tired. you look at mal once more and he still has that adorable pout on his face, but his eyebrows aren't as furrowed as before. usually, you'd gladly offer a cuddle during a rainy night, but tonight's been strange.
so when you try to leave your seat, a hand suddenly stops you. it's the first time he's looked you in the eyes the entire night and good god it's cute, lame and pitiful all at the same time. truly, a stray kitty in a box out in the rain begging for attention. his eyes look up at you in the saddest way possible and you swear you see a wet sheen-- and that damn pout that's going to be the fucking death of you one day is still there.
"i'm sorry," he mutters, and he shifts from one hand holding yours to two. "i can't stand being apart from you." the apology is blunt, honest and sincere, just like him.
you gently lift the hand he wasn't holding to his cheek and he nuzzles into it, closing his eyes as he enjoys your petting. something deep rumbles in his chest and you realize he's purring again.
"m' sorry too, mal. shouldn't have said what i said."
almost immediately, the heavy rain lessens before quickly coming to a stop. there's a smile on his face and the all-too-familiar, tell-tale blush on his cheeks. you place your finger under his chin and tilt his head before kissing him softly. he's dormant and still, like he's afraid of breaking this moment, but he tightens his grip on your hand like he's afraid you'll leave.
malleus chases your lips in hopes for more when you pull away all too soon. he's staring at you with a look as sweet and delicate as spun sugar.
"let's go to bed, mal."
he chuckles like he always does. "if you insist, my love." like he wasn't waiting, hoping you ask him.
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redundantz · 6 months
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immortal x mortal problems
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sugarcoatednightshade · 4 months
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thinking about how Humans Are Space Orcs stories always talk about how indestructible humans are, our endurance, our ability to withstand common poisons, etc. and thats all well and good, its really fun to read, but it gets repetitive after a while because we aren't all like that.
And that got me thinking about why this trope is so common in the first place, and the conclusion I came to is actually kind of obvious if you think about it. Not everyone is allowed to go into space. This is true now, with the number of physical restrictions placed on astronauts (including height limits), but I imagine it's just as strict in some imaginary future where humans are first coming into contact with alien species. Because in that case there will definitely be military personnel alongside any possible diplomatic parties.
And I imagine that all interactions aliens have ever had up until this point have been with trained personnel. Even basic military troops conform to this standard, to some degree. So aliens meet us and they're shocked and horrified to discover that we have no obvious weaknesses, we're all either crazy smart or crazy strong (still always a little crazy, academia and war will do that to you), and not only that but we like, literally all the same height so there's no way to tell any of us apart.
And Humans Are Death Worlders stories spread throughout the galaxy. Years or decades or centuries of interspecies suspicion and hostilities preventing any alien from setting foot/claw/limb/appendage/etc. on Earth until slowly more beings are allowed to come through. And not just diplomats who keep to government buildings, but tourists. Exchange students. Temporary visitors granted permission to go wherever they please, so they go out in search of 'real terran culture' and what do they find?
Humans with innate heart defects that prevent them from drinking caffeine. Humans with chronic pain and chronic fatigue who lack the boundless endurance humans are supposedly famous for. Humans too tall or too short or too fat to be allowed into space. Humans who are so scared of the world they need to take pills just to function. Humans with IBS who can't stand spicy foods, capsaicin really is poison to them. Lactose intolerance and celiac disease, my god all the autoimmune disorders out there, humans who struggle to function because their own bodies fight them. Humans who bruise easily and take too long to heal. Humans who sustained one too many concussions and now struggle to talk and read and write. Humans who've had strokes. Humans who were born unable to talk or hear or speak, and humans who through some accident lost that ability later.
Aliens visit Earth, and do you know what they find? Humanity, in all its wholeness.
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sporesgalaxy · 4 months
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me when the ship fic is not also an in-depth thesis with multiple cited sources proposing an analysis of one or both characters' psyches down to the most fundamental level
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1eoness · 10 months
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professor!re4r leon fucking u.. i think (or at least wanting to fuck u)
cw content : leon size kink kennedy (jk) | sub-afab-fem-reader and dom!leon kennedy | age gap(ur 19-20 he's 27), leon masturbating, penetration, slightly weird ooc leon:( ♡
[to clarify, i am a minor (17). anyone <17 and anyone >17 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni]
authors note bc i love rambling; btw i'm writing this in public at some boba cafe can u believe that lol im literally supposed to be studying but hwatever fuck it leon make me go blaahhhhhh. btw what do i call this? a fic?blurb?drabble? idklmfao by the way i have NO idea on how to write professor x reader shit so im sorrhy if this sucks ass.
synopsis : conflicted and flustered professor!leon kennedy of your local college struggles to improve his class' average because students like you—incompetent, airheaded, spoiled and klutzy— make it difficult for him :(
‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵
you heard the rustling of laptop bags and stationery as leon's students left for that morning lecture. though, they moved slow and drowsy; for leon is sure nowadays this generation can't afford to wake up at 6:00 in the morning to prepare for a 7 a.m. lecture on "deviance and crime control."
especially you.
kennedy is a sharp man. he harps on students even if they get a B on any assignment, but he swears it's on his tough love (to which a lot of students aren't really aware of, just that they know this stoic pretty-face of a man has high standards.)
he is also keen on attendance. something girls like you seem to take lightly. it was absurd, really. most professors don't give a shit, do they?
it would've been fine with leon if you missed lectures even twice a week as long as you emphasized your understanding of his lessons through putting stellar effort on your schoolwork. but the best you've gotten on his class was a B- drawing close to a C+.
so, he needs to have a chat with you. urgently.
"l/n, i need to speak with you." leon spoke, confrontative as his black jeans peered from your right peripheral vision. he stood tall beside the edge of the table where you sat. jesus, was he trying to give you a heart attack? (he always had this habit, he'd just pop out of nowhere. he has silent feet.)
yes, you may have missed his lectures from monday to thursday to go to macedonia with your family: but if leon were given the opportunity for a vacation he would snag it too, right?
you looked up at the young professor, wide-eyed and a bit intimidated. what the hell did you do this time? you closed your laptop, gave leon your full attention. leon has also noticed this about you; you're quick to pay attention but you have the memory span of a dumb rabbit. maybe even the IQ of one too, if leon was rude enough.
so you sat there, hands on your lap as you fiddled with the pleats of your blue plaid skirt. the color makes his heart beat a little—he loves the color blue. and the way it looked on you... wait, no. what the hell was he thinking?
"you couldn't even spare the few minutes to e-mail me that you'd be missing four- four, of my classes in one week." he emphasized with a slate tone, and the way his eyes peered down at you added that he needed your reasoning of the situation. he'd love to hear what you had to say for yourself. "i had to talk to your friend, ashley, for some clarification. even the president's daughter has the dignity to show up to my class with a verbal apology." leon scolded as his fingertips met the pages of your notebook. did you even care about his classes? :(
much to your chagrin, your lips were pressed in sheepish silence. hopeless, even. you didn't even have anything to say for yourself? how pitiable.
you simply can't miss class, that wasn't right! just because you thought you could hide in the shadows amidst leon's collective of 73 students (yes he counts), you aren't out of his eyes. in fact, you stood out to him even if you were just an incompetent scholar.
he sighed at your silence. "fair enough, an apology can't compensate for your lack of presence or decorum." he then placed your paper on the desk, you had gotten a D. you were never a bad student but this was your first D ever! your eyes widened and he caught on even though he could only see the crown of your hair. "surprised? because i'm not." leon uttered flatly while his pale fingers flipped through the papers right in front of you. you even spotted a few contractions— when did you even pass this?!
but you weren't a bad girl to him, no. you were capable of shame and guilt. you looked sideways, unable to meet his eyes and training your vision to the floor. you felt low, disappointing a professor that gave you numerous chances to break out of your awkward shell.
"you're a smart girl, you know that?" he finally sighed softly. he wanted you to look at him, make him another promise that you'll start putting effort in his class. he needed to maintain his class's average or else he'd prove he was an inept professor, and he can't do that when he lets 'students like you' get away with shabby attendance and subpar schoolwork. "i don't just give students chances. but that doesn't make you special." and it was true—he's voluntarily failed 6 of his students before. "you'll do something about this, right?"
"yes, professor kennedy.." you muttered modestly.
"hmm?" he hummed inquisitively as he took your paper back. he was willing to give you a chance. "listen to me. i'll give you the chance to redo your paper. i know when students rush their work and if i see even a hint of redundancy in it—i will take all my chances back. and you are never taking absences from my class. i don't want you entering even a minute late, or leaving a second early. i hope we're clear, l/n."
naturally, you were scared. so you nodded up at him after countless confirmations that you will do you work and that you'll show up to class no matter what. he has to use your word against you, he's sorry but it's for your own good.
once he was satisfied, he gave you a nod and turned his side, dismissing you. after all, leon was a busy man. you're not his only student.
it was when you walked out the building and then 20 minutes away from it that you felt like crying. you hated being scolded by him :( but just when you were about to go through your bag for your handkerchief, you were stuck with an inconvenient realization. you forgot your handkerchief.
‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵
leon just stared at the table where you sat from just now, backpack strap over his shoulders since he was just about to leave. he gripped onto either of them slowly as he stared down at your handkerchief in contemplation.
a twofold baby-blue hankie embedded with a subtle floral print. tentatively, he picks it up with his hand and examines it. for a minute his mind went blank, conflicting between chasing you and just returning it to you or to leave it by the lecture podium for her to retrieve tomorrow (when you hopefully attend his lesson again.)
..but blue was his favorite color.
"damn it." leon, with a barely audible mutter, shoved the handkerchief in his jacket pocket. he felt like the most guilty man in the world, poor boy.
...
leon sighed.
he wasn't celibate.
his hormones were in shambles once he got to his place. perhaps part of it was because he knew he hasn't graded the recent tests yet.
manspreading, tie loose, shirt stuffy and jeans undone while his hair wisped in slightly disheveled directions. cold breaths followed out his pretty mouth.
"nnn..fuck.. uhh-" leon whimpered into the baby blue cloth, laced with your perfume. he felt so guilty, so perverted. he shuddered every time he could see over the edges of the cloth, seeing his cream-leaking tip from previous orgasms spurt teasingly. "ahh- fuuuck, p-please-"
his grunts were high. he was close to crying, staining your pretty handkerchief with guilty-pleasure-ridden tears. spilled milk, it trailed down his pretty shaft as he pumped it over and over. his motive was you— you were just so fucking stupid and had so much naivete, it absolutely vexed him knowing how endearing you were.
until a slip of leon's mouth surprised him, earning a small squeak from him as he accidentally muffled your name in your cloth. "fuck, y/n- a-ahh.. u-uhh..hmfff.." he was frustrated; whining and cumming while his mind stirred with the thought of you and your pretty eyes and the photographic memory of your dumbstricken face.
he gave out a tired whine into the cloth, so, so close to crying his frustrations out. he just wanted to eat you. christ, and he was so hard for you it made his head ache..
he could only watch his girth that pulsed with white. he pried the sweet handkerchief off his lips, breathing roughly and wiping his tears. he felt so, so sorry for you. the color of the cloth looked exactly like the skirt you wore yesterday. and yet to top it off, he (ashamedly) wiped his cum off with your dainty cloth. oh, he's so sorry..
‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵
he didn't want to come to this point. or maybe he did and god was force-feeding him with culpability (he's atheist). he offered once to tutor you personally. one-on-one, no distractions. and so suddenly, someone's skirt was on his clean carpet floor..
your blouse draped over your shoulder and was pulled above your bra carelessly. he handled you with so much ease, squishing you into position while he tried to slowly push his thick length into your syrupy hole. you bit the knuckle of your thumb, and whimpered timidly that he was too big. but look where you were now.
"fuck- you're so- you feel so good.. shut up and take it all, yeah?.. hmmff-" there leon goes, harping you again. you were so loud but it wasn't even your fault, not when he was pistoning his cock into you and paying no hesitation to his pace. you were simply too sweet for him not to please. "sweetheart, hold onto me.." he mutters.
he was pushing every squeak and cute little wail out of his pathetic student, rutting his tip into that spot. "n-nnghh- aah!~" you were running low on words.
"yeah?- mhmm...ffuck, right here? huh?" the feeling of him thrusting against that spongy part more and more sent your mind further into autopilot. you were past squirming around and pushing him away, you just had to take it.. and take it.. and you were doing so good ♡.
"l-leoonn.. m-mm!- fffeels t-too good-" you babbled, mind stuffy with the pleasurably-shameful feeling of being gorged with your professor's thick girth. he shuddered at the way you uttered his name so adoringly. to leon you were so dirty but so, so cute. he had you puddled into tears beneath him while he fucked into your cute little hole with fervor. he just wanted to stuff you full, make you his, adore you forever.
he whined softly into your shoulder. you kept clenching down on him and it made him impossible to think. his phone was ringing on his bedside but he doesn't even give a shit—if anything he tried to drown it out by thrusting into you faster, to which made him lament into your skin. he even adjusted your hips up impossibly further.
"l-leeonn, n-no..— n-no more, please!!-" you blabbered adorably, voice mumbly and whiny as you clawed at his shoulders or back— you didn't know anymore.
"shhh shh.." he cooed over your cries with a quiet and honeyed voice, planting a soft kiss to where he could reach on your face or head. "i know, i know, it feels so good, hm?.. just let it feel good, baby—ahh, fuck-.. uhh..." he moaned lowly into your shoulder, unable to stop the way he rutted his cock into your creamed-up cunt. you seemed to be enjoying it, so why were you complaining? leon thinks to himself smugly but he knows he can't act on his pride. after all you made him like this—submitting to his carnal urges...
you didn't wanna cum a third time, huh? silly little girl.
leon growled quietly into the crook where your neck and shoulder met. you've never heard that sound from him. he held you down, constraining you, and squished you further into his mattress. a helpless and surprised yelp lolled out your tongue as he went impossibly quicker while he cursed like he was about to break down in tears. leon was mercilessly grinding his cock into all your sensitive spots, not letting your pleas of retort contest him. "fuckfuck- u-uhhh, take it, baby, c'mon... do it f'me, it's gonna feel so good-.. ahh!-"
he couldn't even finish his sentence—just piping his cum in you roughly as if he were proving a point, growling whinily along the way. he even kept fucking you shallowly while you were a dumb, sniffling mess with no sense of self-assertion as you creamed all over his shaft uncontrollably a third time. consecutive and quiet whimpers could be heard from you while you soaked in your overstimulation, needing him desperately to reassure you again through the overbearing pleasure of being pushed past what your cunny can handle.
"poor baby." he muttered to himself breathily as he gave the last of his tired, frustrated thrusts and pulled out of you; giving you the time to breathe while he pats your hair down comfortingly. his fluttering eyes finally closed as his head found refuge in your neck, slightly limp with exhaustion as he huffed cold breaths on the wet patches of your skin.
he pulled his head away after a minute of regaining what's left of his strength. leon looked down at you with subtle puppylike eyes, like he was sorry for ever being so harsh on you; even before he fucked the shit out of you. you quietly took your handkerchief to wipe some sweat off his neck— and his cheeks went a little rosy, remembering what he did to it that day you "lost" it ♡.
seems detergent can't wash something like lust away!
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Note
Was inspired by bambygourl’s fanart and a TikTok I saw. Dressing up as Roger and Jessica Rabbit for a costume party with Lucifer. I think he’d be all pouty and grumpy about dressing up as such a silly character and not a suave charming character. Especially since he’d take a look at the white button up, red trousers with suspenders, and blue bow tie with yellow polka-dots and see it as a fashion nightmare XD. And don’t get him started on the bunny ears and tail. Tho his mood is sufficiently uplifted when he sees the reader dressed up as Jessica Rabbit. Low cut red dress with a slit and all. Just imagine pulling on his suspenders or bow tie for a kiss, getting lipstick on his mouth and face, and cooing over how adorable and handsome her honey-bunny is.
I've been meaning to get to this request ever since I saw it because it is just so good. I'm definitely biased for anything Lucifer related but god this is just so cute. Anon, your brain is outstanding. I love pouty Lucifer. If you still have that tiktok on hand or ever come across it again, do you think you could send it my way .ᐣ
You didn't include what kind of request you wanted though, and my default is HCs -- but I couldn't help but throw in a little drabble based on them, too. Or, at least I intended it to be a drabble .ᐣ It got away from me, haha.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀Lucifer and Female Reader Dressing
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Up As Roger and Jessica Rabbit ~
Lucifer is initially thrilled when you bring up wanting to attend a famous yearly costume party in Pride with him. A chance to show you off sounds amazing, and he's great with costumes. Just the thought of you two matching is enough to get him excited.
You seemed just as excited as he was -- in fact, he was even more excited when you told him you'd already had something in mind .ᐟ He's pestering you to tell him just what the costumes were as soon as the plan leaves your lips, but much to his displeasure, you refuse, saying you want to keep it a surprise.
You'd even managed to resist the very strongest puppy-dog eyes and pout. Impressive. He usually succeeds in getting his way with that one -- who could ever say no to that face .ᐣ Having exhausted his options, he sighs his defeat.
Well, nearly exhausted his options. He was entirely too ready to pretend that you'd won and snoop through your closet the second you walked away. Apparently his quick glance at said closet had given him away though, and with a quick deadpan stare alongside a scary sounding ❛ don't you dare. ❜ has his feet rooted to the floor.
Did his poker face really suck so bad .ᐣ He's definitely practicing it in the mirror later.
Ultimately, though, he trusts you completely and your choice in matching outfits is no exception, so he allows it to drop for now. There's still a few more days until the party, but that time could be spent much more productively by your side rather than whining about clothing.
That is, until the day of the party comes around and you bring out his outfit. You'd never seen Lucifer's jaw drop quite like that before and it takes iron will to stop yourself from giggling at his present state.
He doesn't understand the reference. Lucifer regrets his past decision to give humanity free will. It's obvious, even if he never seems to say it outright. He had given out such a precious gift and so much of humanity chose to abuse it, to be nothing but cruel. Looking at sinners and by extension humanity is just a terrible reminder of what he'd done, so he prefers to avoid it whenever possible. This quite often includes the media of the living realm -- he's never even heard about the movie, forget seeing it.
So without the full context, all he knows is that you've just handed him an absolutely atrocious outfit -- and to make it worse, you expect him to go out in it .ᐣ Seriously, he whinges, red overalls with a blue bow .ᐣ Rabbit ears .ᐣ And to make it worse, you won't even show him your outfit until he gets dressed .ᐟ He can't believe you're laughing.
He sounds completely and totally ridiculous, in your defense. Seriously, has he seen his regular outfit .ᐣ He looks absolutely stunning, sure -- but he also looks like he walked right out of a circus.
It says a lot, though, that despite the complete and total pity party he's currently throwing himself, he's beginning to shuffle into the costume anyway. He's grumbling the whole way, but the fact that he just doesn't have it in him to say no to you warms your heart.
You had been so, so eager about this party, and the way your eyes had shined like stars when you told him had long since burned itself into his heart.
wc ; 1.2k
His seemingly endless complaints had tapered off ever so slightly when you shimmied his grasp off of the ruby red suspenders sagging unbuttoned over his chest. By the time you take the fabric into your own hands his protests faded to little more than a mumble under his breath, and with the very first snap of a button in place under your gentle touch he'd quieted completely. Where a look of exasperation had reflected off his face seconds prior, in its place now is that of silent awe, his gaze trained on your every action. The gesture of intimacy is enough to leave Lucifer somewhat choked up, his heart still not used to receiving such acts of adoration and kindness. You tie the cornflower blue fabric adorned with tiny yellow spots into a bow to accentuate the costume and cover his hands briefly with your own as you slip the gloves onto his fingers.
Not twenty minutes had passed, and he finds his attitude regarding the ensemble shifting with every second you take to assist him into it. Each and every part of it looks ridiculous at best, but the thought of you picking it out solely for him has him warming up to the idea.
Declaring your work complete, you raise your grasp ever so slightly, palms holding each of his cheeks close, your thumbs rubbing soft little circles below his eyes. Your affections are sufficient only when finished with a kiss placed on his forehead. ❛ I'm going to go get dressed, okay .ᐣ No peeking. I promise I'll be right back. ❜
The way his wrists on instinct dart out to catch yours to bring you close to him again as you pull back nearly got you. He's extended his lips in a pout once more. You hate to leave him quite so sad looking but you know he'll appreciate what you have planned enough for it to be worth it.
Bathroom door shutting closed behind you, there's the smallest bit of lingering regret that he can't help you to get dressed like you had for him. The outfit itself takes you barely a few moments to slip into -- it's the makeup that requires precision, time and effort. His pacing around the bedroom is audible, impatient steps sounding into stomps, the sounds causing you to choke on a laugh. You need a steady hand for your eyeshadow and that's hard to maintain during an act quite as cute as this.
Nonetheless, your look is finished within half an hour and therefore Lucifer is put out of his misery. It's not a second after the door clicks open that his attention is caught, snapped to the light peaking out of the doorway. Stepping into the small hallway, your eyes are met with his own -- and the way his pupils widen as soon as he gets a glance of your dress makes both your efforts and his complaining worthwhile. His gaze takes you in from top to bottom, each detail enchanting him further. The dress so perfectly hugging your curves is crimson to match him and absolutely breathtaking -- and are you walking towards him .ᐣ Your strut does well to accentuate the slit stitched into the leg, your thigh tantalizing in its display.
Finally reclaiming your place beside him, one of your fingers reaches out, finding purchase under his chin -- and when you tilt his head up you swear you saw his eyes flash red. ❛ Hello, my darling husband, ❜ you coo, sending his already overloaded brain into a frenzy. Husband . . .ᐣ You wanted . . .ᐣ With him, really . . .ᐣ And although he's beginning to put the pieces together and clue in that such a term of endearment was part of your match, you seemed so happy to say it. He snaps his focus back onto just how stunning you look tonight, but the idea has firmly implanted itself into the depths of his mind.
Back into the present time, his hands have begun to roam -- he wants to commit every detail of you to memory, and that includes the feeling of your dresses fabric under his fingertips. His grasp is met with your own, for it's not long before you're pulling the straps of his suspenders, tugging him forward into a kiss. By the time he's recovered from his surprise enough to reciprocate, though, you're already beginning to pull away. He chases your lips with a whine but you've already moved on, pressing a kiss first to his cheek and then to his forehead. It's only when you offer him a small compact mirror does he understand -- each of your kisses has left behind a little bit of the lipstick you oh so painstakingly applied. Your marks on his face have left him entranced, desperately craving more.
A gasp rips itself from those same cherry red lips in surprise -- you weren't expecting him to summon forth his tail, much less wrap it around your midsection and use it to bring you closer. ❛ Kiss me again, ❜ He pleads, desperate and breathy. ❛ Anything for my honey bunny, ❜ you chime, matching the mark on his left cheek with one on the right. ❛ You just look so cute, ❜ between each kiss is another offering of praise and compliments, the blush left in your wake matching excellently. ❛ Who's my handsome bunny .ᐣ ❜
Your multitude of kisses has left Lucifer stunned and looking nothing short of angelic -- even more so than usual. You're fully intending on giving him several more, leaning in to do just that when the wall mounted clock besides you chimes a new hours arrival, alerting you to the time. ❛ Oh, dear. I'm very sorry, Mr. Rabbit, but I'm afraid we simply must be going. We don't want to be late, do we .ᐣ ❜
Fixing your lipstick takes all of a few seconds, leaving you free to grab a makeup wipe off the pouch resting atop your vanity and wipe all of the stains you'd adorned his face with away. A snap of his wrist catches yours just inches from his face, however, halting your plans in their tracks. Confused, you look to him for an explanation, a soft ❛ leave them. please .ᐣ ❜ being all he offers you. ❛ You're going to go to the party like this, love .ᐣ ❜ to which he nods sagely. He can't bear to part with them -- not when the lipstick marks are yours, not when they declare proudly that he is yours.
❛ If you say so, honey. ❜ You can't deny that the prospect leaves your heart fluttering. A grand, golden portal appears with a simple snap of his fingers and he takes your arm, now linked with his own in an attempt to usher you forward. He can't wait to show you off, to watch as other demons eyes glow green as they stare his way. You stay still, though, prompting him to look back at you with an air of confusion. It's then that you lean close, whispering ❛ be a good bunny and there will be more where that came from. too bad we'll have to wait until we come home, hmm .ᐣ ❜
Suddenly Lucifer can't wait for this party to be over.
I still can't believe I'd originally intended this to be 100 words and it ended up over a thousand. I can't help it, I'm so weak for anything Lucifer related. I'm half tempted to write an absolutely filthy post party part 2. If there's enough demand for it .ᐣ I just might.
As always, let me know what you think .ᐣ Hearing back from you guys keeps me motivated ~
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god-mouths · 11 months
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Self expression and acceptance in a world that (for the most part) does not understand you.
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b1mbodoll · 5 months
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you dont know what id do to lick and mark up jakes abs AHHHH HE DRIVES ME INSANE
pairings: jake sim x f! reader
warnings: biting + marking + ab licking + ab riding + oral ment + scratching + pain
💌: i pinkie dinkie promise im normal, sweetpea !!!!!! just had to get these thoughts out of my head before i gnawed my arm off :D
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jake knows how much you love his abs and i fully believe he teases you on purpose. if he’s playing soccer with the boys and knows you’re watching he tugs the bottom of his shirt and uses it to wipe his sweat, chest heaving as he catches his breath and makes sure to catch your gaze, raising a brow and biting his lip.
when you go down on him he leans against the headboard and tries his best to watch your every move, groaning deeply as you kiss down his jaw, along the expanse of his chest before dragging your tongue between the ridges of his abdomen, peering up at him through your lashes before biting at the chiseled skin, relishing in the way he bucks his hips from the pleasure.
jakey loves to see the pretty lil lovebites you leave on his toned stomach and along his throat, his cock twitching despite the way he hisses in pain and winces when you bite the sore spots again, precum dribbling from his slit because the pain feels too good.
you can’t help but straddle your boyfriend and grind your pantyclad cunt over his abs, your eyes squeezed shut while you moan in pleasure and claw at his chest, your nails leaving faint scratch marks on his soft flesh. the sting makes him moan underneath you, thick fingers gripping your hips so hard you’re sure you’ll be sore the next morning.
riding his toned abs makes your pussy drip, wet spot on your panties growing larger as you selfishly chase your release and use your boyfriend like a toy for your own pleasure. “jakey!” you cry, hips moving faster on their own, the closer you get to your orgasm. “m gonna cum, gonna cum! fuck, ‘m so sorry, ‘m gonna make a mess.” you warn, voice whiney and laced with arousal.
his grip grows tighter at your words, cock throbbing and his tip an angry shade of red, stomach tensing underneath your cunt as his own orgasm hits hard, making him grit his teeth. “cum for me, sweet girl,” he encourages, accent thick when he speaks. jake admires your pretty face when you cum and the sight along with the feeling of your wet panties dragging against him make his mouth fall open in pleasure, panting heavily into your ear when you fall over him, tits pressed directly onto his chest.
he’s in love with how you twitch during the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, cum seeping through your panties and coating the valley of his stomach, almost like you’re leaving your mark on him.
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yanderemommabean · 1 month
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so…. You gonna elaborate on that red room masseuse idea..? 👉👈
I can try!
I like to picture that the masseuse is thorough, every bit of your body is stretched and pressed, given deep tissue massages that blend with pain and pleasure.
When its a more intimate session, you'll find yourself being numbed pleasantly as they work out every knot and kink you have, and then you'll feel yourself become even more undone as their fingers slip inside of you and begin to work your body open, curling and flicking just right as they hold you still (or if you're a fighter, while the padded cuffs hold you!)
You'll become this near-drooling pathetic puppy as they work their wrists sore and strain them, easily holding you in place as your body succumbs to their touch and you make a mess all over their hands.
That doesn't mean that they're finished with you, however. They were paid to make you as relaxed and as loose as possible, so, they have quite a bit of work to do!
-Mommabean
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synnlyrose · 2 months
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Ugh... thinking about coming for JJK Men who use their fingers.
(Specifically, Geto or Toji for me...but for you anyone 🌻)
{⚠️um, reader has pussy, getting finger banged and the use of a vibrator.)
There's a warm heating sensation that fills your hole when you feel a single, thick finger slide into it. Your walls are literally being massaged by the callouses on their fingertips. You're already gushing, relaxed and open taking one finger so well.
He's looking down at you, your face buried into his chest, trying to hold back the squeaks and moans of ecstasy, surely embarrassed at how wet you are, how needy you are and most certainly how willing you are...
Suddenly, their shifting & then they're behind you. Your tiny back pushed against their broad chest with the feeling of their massive hard cock poking into you making you shiver, but the icing on the cake, is the long sturdy arm that encases over you, that guides your thighs back open as they slide two fingers back into your drenched core.
Fuck. It feels incredible and you're more filled out from before. Two is definitely better than one. Your lip is being pulled in-between your teeth, as their fingers piston in and out of you at a consistent pace.
You should be embarrassed, you remind yourself. How desperate your whines are, how sloppy your pussy sounds, your small hand bracing the massive arm that's slunk over you. But embarrassment escapes you again as you feel his other hand slide up your arm, to cup your cheeks, titling your pretty little head back to look into his eyes.
Oh, he's grinning, he's smiling so big right now. His eyes not leaving yours. Your squeals and moaning getting louder and more frequent- finally his other hand moves towards your night stand, sliding it open. You're too lost in pleasure to realize what he's grabbed.
You gasp at the sudden feeling of a vibrations being pressed against your burning neglected clit. Oh, the sensation is immaculate. There's nothing better than the combination of being filled up and played with.
And before you know it, you're coming. You're coming like fucking crazy. Every fiber in your being, tenses up with pressure and then relaxs almost instantly. That heat that you felt earlier spreading across your body in seconds, white hot pleasure clawing out of you. Your head turned, propped on his arm, your pussy is convulsing, spasming and pushing out his meaty fingers. And you have to slap your hand over your mouth as a scream rips from it.
(idk what to call this specifically hopefully it's coherent, but this has been running around my head all day, finally I had to get it out. hope you liked it 😁🥵)
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mediumgayitalian · 9 days
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prev
———
Twenty minutes later, Solace hurries out of his cabin in cowboy boots.
And jeans.
Nico gapes at him.
“Go go go go go, questions later,” Will hisses, herding him behind the Apollo cabin. “We are on a time limit, we gotta —”
“You’re wearing close-toed shoes.”
“Yes, yes, sometimes I wear the clothes that I own. Wild. Let’s go.” Will tugs, uselessly, on his arm, but Nico’s half-certain his jaw has taken root in the ground, cementing him in place, because what the actual shit.
“Solace, you wore flip-flops to the snow-smothered bus stop in January. I thought you had, like, a condition!”
“I do have a condition. It’s called You Are Not Hurrying, Death Breath, let’s go —”
This time when he pulls, Nico stumbles after him, ducking under windowsills and inching around flower gardens. Every time someone so much as looks in their direction, Will plants both hands on his chest and shoves them into a corner somewhere, craning his neck to watch until they move on. Every time he does, another piece of Nico’s soul breaks away from his body and descends into hell. There is an actual trail of bones and tilled earth and dead grass behind him. Will doesn’t need to worry about being stealthy — the death aura of Nico’s dignity is large enough to scare off anything within a four mile radius.
“In here!”
Undeterred by the death aura, for some reason, Will seizes his bicep and shoves him in a crack between the Hypnos and Dionysus cabins. He slips in a millisecond later, crowding him against the warm bricks, forearm pressed awkwardly next to Nico’s head.
“Hnggh,” Nico gasps, mournfully wishing his last sliver of self-respect goodbye. Rest in fucking peace. “Do you have to be so — close, Will, gods —”
“Shhh!”
“If you shush me again I am going to rip your throat out —”
“Go, go, go!”
Yanked forward again, Nico doesn’t have the time to finish his threat. This time, at least, they sprint the final stretch to the shed without any more hiding and shoving.
Thank all the fucking gods. One more second of Will’s stupid torso — since fucking when does he wear polo shirts, huh, what the shit fuck is up with that — pressed against his and Nico’s bronchitis was going to come back. And this time he’s going to succumb to it.
“Okay,” Will says. He stands in front of a tarp-covered lump, gripping one side and jutting his chin out at the other. “On three, we tear this off and start pushing. We need past Thalia’s tree in under thirty seconds. Got it?”
“No,” Nico says stubbornly, “you still haven’t explained what the rush is —”
“One two three go!”
Will, unfortunately, has been tricking ADHD teenagers into doing things they don’t want to do for years, so Nico’s ripping off the tarp and shoving the chariot out of its stall faster than he can register what he’s doing. He practically sprints to keep up with Will, chariot wheels creaking happily as they rush over stones and sticks and forgotten weapons.
“We’re leaving now, Chiron! Bye!” Will hollers, moving too fast to give him a second to respond. Luckily, Chiron is similarly busy, galloping after a speeding Harley without more than a backwards wave and a sharp don’t die, please!
“That dynamite I gave Harley’ll only keep everyone distracted another thirty seconds,” Will mutters, ignoring Nico’s alarmed the fucking what you gave Harley, “so we need to move, let’s go.”
“Will — slow down a half fucking second, Christ, not everyone is seventy percent leg — we don’t even have pegasi!”
“Will you keep it down.” Will looks back and forth, eyes wide, like he’s worried someone is going to pop up with a pack of the winged animals. “Just — stop asking questions! We’re almost home free!”
“You’ve gone insane. It’s finally, actually happened, after all these years, who woulda thought, fully bonkers at age sixteen —”
“Oh, shut up.”
Muttering his complaints, Nico helps him push the infernal chariot down Half-Blood Hill. Among his grievances, he makes it abundantly clear that 1) this is stupid, 2) he did not agree to physical labour, 3) he would not have agreed to come if he had known about the physical labour, and 4) this is stupid.
“Just a few more yards, then we can —”
“Okay, no, that’s it.” Nico lets go of the chariot, letting the wheel dig into the soft ground and send the whole thing halting. He meets Will’s pout head-on; arms crossed, jaw set, foot tapping, refusing to give into those big blue eyes.
“C’mon, Neeks.” A faint explosion sounds off in the distance. Will’s eyes get more pleading, more hopeful. “We won’t have much time after the diversion wears off…”
“You have three seconds before I turn the hell around, Solace.”
“Please?”
“One.”
He pushes uselessly at the chariot. It spins a sad little circle without someone pushing the other side. “Neeks!”
“Two.”
“Alright, fine! Help me push again and I’ll explain on the way down.”
“Much easier when you just do as I say,” Nico grumbles, starting to push the stupid (horseless and therefore useless) chariot again. “Isn’t it?”
Will, predictably, rolls his eyes, although he can’t quite help the smile that pulls at his lips. Nico tells the butterflies that go buck fucking wild in his stomach to go to hell. This does nothing.
“How much do you know about the chariot?” Will asks eventually, after a couple minutes of shoving the stupid thing past a deep trench in the soil, leftover from the war. (Nico is going to set the fucking thing on fire. It’s a flying chariot — shouldn’t it be lightweight? Why is he suffering?) They’re nearly three quarters down the hill, and it takes everything Nico has not to risk it all and shadow travel the last couple dozen feet. Yeah, it might kill him, but then his problem would immediately go away. Tempting does not begin to cover it.
“Uh, big source of drama, right? Apollo and Ares worked together to seize it, argued over who got to keep it?”
He cuts a careful glance over to Will, well aware it’s a sensitive topic. He knows the question isn’t a trap ��� Will would never do that to him — but it’s probably best to tread lightly. As far as he’s concerned, this is a sore point that’ll take more than a couple years to heal.
Luckily, there’s no tension to Will’s face. “Mhm. I wasn’t there for much of the planning, ‘cause I was busy in the infirmary and also, like, twelve, but it took a lot of time on both sides. When Michael and everyone seized it, though, it glowed gold.”
“…Ah.”
Will snorts at his awkwardness, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah. Sure made it hard for the Ares cabin to claim, as dicey as it may be. Here, help me park it on the side of the road.”
There’s a thatch of weeds and undergrowth separating the road from the base of the hill, so dragging the chariot over is a struggle and a half. Nico can’t help but think that this task would be very easy if the chariot was harnessed to a couple pegasi and flying over the fucking thatch, as it is meant to do. When he voices this very valid thought, Will does not respond.
He does walk into a thistle, though, so Nico feels considerably better about the whole ordeal.
“The thing about the blessing —” Will grunts, yanking the chariot onto the gravel shoulder with one final tug — “is that it’s not that big of a deal. My dad blesses shit all the time. Our cabin is blessed. The infirmary is blessed. Hell, half my scalpels are blessed, and I throw those things out all the time ‘cause they’re dangerous when they get dull. Just because my dad blessed it doesn’t mean we actually have to keep it.”
“Okay…” Nico says slowly, “then why was it such a big deal?”
“The blessing on its own wasn’t.” Will’s voice gets fainter as he lowers himself onto the pavement, dragging himself under the belly of the chariot. Nico is confused for a full three seconds before a particularly rough patch of asphalt snags Will’s shirt and drags, and wow, are those jeans low rise. His throat is suddenly very dry. “Blessing a chariot on the other hand…”
Will makes a dorky little noise of success, crawling back from under the chariot. When he resurfaces, he’s grinning, carved piece of wood the same material as the chariot clenched in his hand. There’s soot smeared across his left cheek, his curls have tangled themselves into more of a mess than usual, and there are three separate scuff marks on his nice jeans.
Nico ducks his head, hiding a smile. What a dorky loser. Even dressed up as he is (boy, has Nico fallen low, if he’s calling jeans and cowboy boots dressed up), he still manages to look like…Will.
A really, really hot version of Will, but. Whatever. Details.
“The hell is that?”
“This,” Will says grandly, feeling around the wall of the chariot until he finds a specific spot, “is the reason my brother gave a fuck about a dumbass chariot.” He sticks the edge of the wooden tool in a tiny groove, wedging it open to reveal a hidden panel and a small, golden button. Nico meets Will’s grin with raised eyebrows, impressed.
“What do you know about Michael?”
“Uh, not too much.”
“You think he, in any reality, would have had that much interest in a hunk of wood?”
Nico had scarcely met him more than a couple times, but Michael Yew made an impression, that was for sure. For someone who was shorter than Nico when he was ten years old, he sure took up a lot of space. In the few times Nico remembers seeing him, he’d been concerned with his bow, his camera, or showing any given person who so much as blinked at him wrong just how quickly he could turn their ass concave. If Nico is correct, actually, the one time he and a pegasus had been in the same vicinity, they’d hissed at each other. Nico didn’t even know pegasi could hiss.
He tries to find a delicate way to say this.
“He seemed more interested in other endeavours,” he says politely.
Will laughs loudly. “He would rather shove an arrow in his eye than race a chariot!” His bright smile is impossible not to match, and Nico is relieved to find him totally comfortable, relaxed; hell, even excited. Usually, any talk of his siblings, even fond, makes him quiet. He’s glad for this change, however unusual. “Man, I loved my brother more than anything, but he was the most ornery motherfucker I’ve ever met in my life. He taught me every swear in every language by the time I was nine, just because he knew it would drive Lee batty. He didn’t care about some spoil of war.”
He smirks, wide and devilish, and Nico’s knees go weak. Dimples like that should be illegal.
“He was smart, though. And he figured, if dad’s blessing made this chariot anything like his own…”
He reaches out and presses the golden button with his thumb, letting go and standing back once he registers a faint click. After a couple seconds, the chariot begins to glow, soft at first, then brighter, then Nico has to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid the stinging burn, and then when he opens them, it —
He gapes. Will grins.
Where the chariot used to be, is now a shiny, brand-new, black and yellow motorbike, two helmets gleaming on the sparkling leather seat.
“…Then it might be a little more than some lousy chariot.”
Without waiting for Nico to pick his jaw off the floor, Will rushes forward. He tosses one of the helmets to Nico — which he barely manages to catch, still working on processing what the fuck just happened — and tucks the other under his arm. Nico happens to notice how his biceps flex with the action, and then vows to have his father bankrupt the entire polo shirt industry, because he can never be caught lacking like this by any mortal soul. It’s humiliating.
There’s a click as Will unlatches the seat, lifting it up to access the compartment under it. He pulls out a bundle mass of black fabric, and with a flick of his shoulders reveals it to be a fucking leather jacket and oh, gods, Nico takes back the polo shirt complaints, he can live with the polo shirt. This is too much. This is —
“Any time you’re done ogling at me, you can climb on,” Will calls out. He doesn’t even have the good grace to look in Nico’s direction, instead sliding on the seat facing resolutely forward, amused smirk on his face. And because he wants Nico to die, actually, he straightens his jacket, making sure it fits his shoulders right (by the gods does it ever) brushes his hair backwards (there is no genuine reason for someone’s hair to actually shine in the sunlight) and slides his helmet on. When he finally does look back in Nico’s direction, through his raised visor, the combined sight of his sparkling blue eyes and the cut of his face under the angular helmet actually gives him tachycardia.
“I hate you,” Nico croaks. “Not joking.”
Will throws his head back and laughs, baring his long, tanned throat. Nico follows the bob of his adam’s apple like Tantalus does the forbidden fruit. It’s horrible, and what’s worse is that Will is visibly preening like the fuckin’ peacock he is. Someone should remind him he’s basically a dressed up turkey. Or something. Nico’s brain is operating at twenty percent capacity, his ability to metaphor properly is a secondary concern.
“Just get over here, you goober. We’re on a time limit, remember?”
Shoving his helmet on to hide his flaming face, Nico does, sliding on with a healthy four inches of space between them.
“Mm, not gonna work, ParaNorman. This thing’s enchanted, we’ll be going well over a hundred. Hold on properly.”
Praying to seven different gods for strength, at once, Nico scooches the agonizing few inches closer.
“Hands around waist, Death Boy.”
“I’m fucking — I’m getting there, you asshole, gimme a goddamn second.”
“Do you need help?”
“I need you to shut the fuck up so I can focus.”
Maybe it’s the healer in him, or maybe there actually is a god looking out for Nico and they decide to have mercy. Maybe it’s a third option. Either way, Will reaches back and wraps his callused hands around Nico’s wrist, tugging them gently forward and resting them on the narrow curve of his hips. Nico holds them there, along with his breath, until some of the panicky tension starts to loosen in his chest, and he relaxes forward, resting his chest against Will’s back.
“There,” he says quietly, humming with approval when Nico’s arms link properly around his waist. He squeezes his clasped wrists once — a silent you good? — and waits for Nico’s minute nod, face buried in the back of Will’s neck, before starting up the engine, revving it twice before leaning forward, body flush to the bike. Nico can practically feel his grin, it’s so clear in his mind’s eye, in the delight thrumming through Will’s entire body, that he can’t help his own smile, too, can’t help but feel the thrum of the machine, the sharp smell in the air. He tightens his hold and Will lets out a loud, whooping laugh.
“Let’s ride, baby!”
With a push off the ground and a twist of a thrusters, they’re off, leaving behind only the echo of the roaring engine and the joyful, startled sound of Nico’s shriek.
———
next
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ilycove · 7 months
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Xyx’s hair tickled the base of your neck, his arms slithering around your waist and gripping like a vice. “I think the odds are in my favor today.”
You refused to acknowledge him for the time being. You’d asked the receptionist at the hotel you were staying very politely that you needed two beds, and here you were. In his arms. Which was nice, you loved him and he loved you and he was really warm, but it would be even nicer if he wasn’t being such a smug asshole about all of this. “This is only something that happens in bad fanfiction.”
“Oh, don’t act like that doll. You love me.”
You covered up the fond smile that was growing on your face by rolling your eyes. “Some days. Now I’m wondering why we’re even together.”
"So what I'm hearing is," he grabs your jaw with gentle fingers and places kisses where your jaw and neck meet, more smile than lips. "You admit that you love me? That you're sooo obsessed with me?"
"Oh my god," You feel laughter bubbling up in your throat and the faux scowl that once covered your face has been replaced with something more genuine. "You suck."
You feel Xyx's teeth against your skin. "And you're in love with me. What does that make you?"
"A fool."
He hums, closing his eyes and chuckling. His smirk is nothing but mischievous, you don't dare to trust him. "I was going for mental, or deranged even, but sure."
"I'm gonna punch you." You roll your eyes again and make an attempt to move your hands, but they're pinned to the side of your head before you can even go that far.
Xyx's eyes are now open and cunning. Like a devil, you think. Like a really pretty devil. "With what hands?"
Your guard is let down and you barely notice him leaning towards your face, pressing angel-like kisses all over your face. You sigh. "You suck."
"You've said that before. Are you just so in love with me you can't think right now?"
You kick him in the shin and give him a quick kiss to his lips. "Don't push it too much."
Xyx laughs and you swear to everything that is righteous and holy that it's the most beautiful thing you've ever heard. Your limbs are entangled and you could swear you hated him a minute ago, but when he's this pretty you forget why.
You push a strand of hair away from his eyes and he leans into your touch, kissing your palm softly. His laughter starts up again and his demonic smile returns. "Eww. You're being cringe right now."
You shove him off the bed. You remembered why you hate him.
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