#i was like the fuck are you wearing in hell you fashion king

[ashleyeveerson]

don’t mind me just sobbing on the floor bc i’ve just noticed Edwin reverts to the clothes he wore when he died whenever he’s scared

#i was like the fuck are you wearing in hell you fashion king #turns out it was the pj he was sacrificed in #he also wears them while he's strapped to the torturing machine #everything in this show is angst #edwin payne #edwin my beloved #dead boy detectives #dbd spoilers

[normansnt]

The Prince

(Alastor x prince of hell!reader)

"HOLLLLYYY FUCKING SHIT (Y/N) (Y/N) (Y/N) GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER WE ARE VISITING CHARLIEEEE" yelled your dad while bursting into your room.

You looked up at your dad startled.

"Thats great, but why are you yelling?" You asked while raising your eyebrow.

"BECAUSE WE ARE GOING NOW COME OOONNN" he continued yelling while taking your hand and dragging you out of your room and off you guys were to the Hazbin Hotel.

When you arrived your dad almost run in before you told him to tone it down he is still the king of hell who has to keep up a certain image.

This was your relationship in a nutshell. You were not at all like your father and older sister. You were calm and collected and were there to calm them down. And why you stuck with your dad? Because he was broken after your mother left and you kind of got stuck being his mental support.

You never blamed Charlie for leaving you had the chance you do that as well but you decided to stay.

Your dad entered the hotel and immediately hugged Charlie. You just calmly walked in after him.

"OOOHHHHHH YOU BROUGHT (Y/N)" yelled Charlie as well excitedly and gave you the same bone crushing hug your dad gave her earlier.

"Yeah...'m here...sis....cant...breathe" you tried to get a sentence out.

"OH yeah of course sorry"

"Its fine Im happy to see you Charlie" you smiled at her while dusting your button up shirt.

After this encounter Charlie introduced you to the rest of the residents including her girlfriend, who you were delighted to meat since Charlie always rented about her when you guys would talk.

But of course your dad managed to make that encounter awkward as well to which you just sighed a little.

Unbeknownst to you a certain radio demon had his eyes on you from the moment you entered. It was one thing that your attire was something he himself would wear and it suited your figure perfectly, quite old fashioned just like he liked it, but when he saw that seemingly you were the distinguished one in the family you have won his interest.

The way you held yourself with a straight back chin up, truly befitting a prince. He noticed that you seem to either calm down or hint to your father on how to act. It was a sight to behold for sure.

"And this here-" started Charlie nearing the stairs where Alastor appeared. "-oh, this is Alastor our beloved building manager"

"Its a pleasure to meet you sir quite the pleasure" said Alastor while shaking Lucifers hand and wiping it in his coat after.

Not paying a second more of his attention on your father he looked immediately to you.

"And this magnificent creature is the prince of hell himself I'm sure" he said while taking your hand and softly kissing your knuckles.

Your face got a bit read while he straightened back up eye contact never leaving.

"I am, it is a pleasure to meet you sir, I quite enjoy your radio podcast" you managed to get out after re-gaining your composure.

What you said was true, though. You enjoyed his brodcast, his voice, and interestingly enough your taste in music was similar, the jazz part at least.

Alastors eyes lit up at that.

"Indeed? Well I'm honored the prince of hell himself enjoys what I do, and please do call me Alastor." he smiled at you and took one of your hands in both of his while you guys just stared at each other.

"Should we do something ooor...?" Whispered angel to Husk.

However the cat was to stunned to speak. He has never seen Alastor act like this with anyone before. The radio demon was literally flirting with the prince of hell.

"WOOOOWWW ooookkkkk nononono lemme just...squeeze in here" said your father while standing between you and Alastor which was almost impossible thats how close you two stood to each other but he managed.

"If you don't mind I believe my daughter was about to show us the hotel so see ya later" said your dad hastily while pushing you away from the overlord.

"Oh, no, we built the hotel together we should show it together, right Charlie?" Grinned Alastor at the princesse

"...Ok"

"I wouldn't mind at all to show the lovely little prince around" he smiled at you and offered you his arm which you gladly took.

All this while Lucifer was glaring daggers at Alastors back as you two walked off chatting happily.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WOOOOOOWWWW LOOK AT ME POSTING AGAIN YEAAHHHHH WHAT CAN I SAY I HAVE A PROBLEM

And you bitches too I literally uploaded my Hazbin Hotel posts minutes ago and yall are eating it up already.

I mean ofc thank you sm for all the love (🥹🧡) but DAMN yall good? Anyone need a therapist?

Haha, just kidding...we all do.

ANYWAAAYSSS

I HAVE SOOO MANY MORE IDEAS AND I CANT WAIT TO WRITE THEM AND SHARE THEM WITH YOU GUYS.

I'm also thinking about writing a pt.2 for this so lemme know if yall would be interested😎

I hope you enjoyed your reading ladies, gentleman and others, good afternoon good evening and goodnight🧡🦖

#male reader #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin alastor x reader

[brucewaynehater101]

For Space Emperor Tim

C4 lost bets with one another and as a result they each, separately and without the knowledge of the others, got Dick Grayson to design several variations of costumes for them in the same vein as discowing. The bets each specified that they had to wear the loser outfit in a public venue. These costumes are relegated as part of their official regalia when they're on various planets performing their various official royal duties in space since none of them want to be caught dead on earth in the outfits. These costumes involve a considerable amount of sequins and interesting neon color combinations. Bart has a headdress with feathers.

Dick has no idea but his designs, as modeled by the space emperor and his consorts/advisors/the official saint or saintess of the planet/bodyguards are held up as revolutionary and of great significance for the history and future of fashion all throughout Tim controlled space and beyond. All of the C4's outfits for their official positions become, eventually, very much like those inspirational costumes.

I do fuck with C4 designing space regalia based on what they would not like to wear. They could choose anything, but they model Dick's costume. Hilarious C4 shenanigans.

The added part where C4 then inspire others to mimic or replicate their costumes (in a way that doesn't get them beheaded or whatever for royalty politics that C4 doesn't care about)? Great addition ^^

Have you seen the space cape designs for fandom Danny Phantom's Ghost King regalia? It's gorgeous.

What I mean by that is that Tim could have a stunning outfit (sometimes he slays), or he could wear a fuck ton of sequins. He probably does both even on the same day for the hell of it.

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #core four #yj98 #thank you for the ask!!!! #dc au

[stealingyourbones]

I love the Ghost King Danny gets summoned into the DC Universe by a bunch of wackos through a summoning ritual trope. But, but, but consider. Batfam/Justice League gets BANISHED to the GZ by a bunch of wackos. Like, Danny is just holding court at his palace/castle/lair and a bunch of supers fall from the sky. You could even add a Danny x Batfam member to it.

:0 oH YEAH this is some Good Shit.

I like the JL being used in this prompt more than the Batfam parly because I think that we haven't seen much JL in the GZ, also because I think Plastic Man meeting Danny this way would be positively hilarious.

just "aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!" SPLAT!

Danny jolts upright from partly dozing off on his throne by a massive puddle of red, white, and yellow.

"Wha-"

Suddenly the puddle wriggles. Danny's immediate throughts are "oh fuck that fuck that absolutely not. Not today I don't need sentient gloop coming to kill me."

The puddles slides up itself and reshapes like puddy until it forms into a very strange man wearing a red and yellow spandex uniform with white rimmed goggles and the stupidest diamond shaped belt he's ever seen.

The puddle man checks his limbs in a very over the top fashion, Danny swears that his arms and legs extend and grow larger as the puddle man looks at each limb.

Danny clears his throat and the puddle guy's physical form spikes up as if comically startled and slowly turns around.

"What the hell are you?" Shit. That isn't what Danny meant to say but in all honesty, that's all he could think of.

The Puddle man opened his mouth to speak but paused as a shadow appeared overtop of him.

The Red clad fellow slowly looked up, his goggles widening in surprise, as the shadow became larger and darker as a man in an all black outfit with a cape and pointy ears on the top of his head fell from the sky in the exact same place as the puddle man.

------

Idk that's all I got. This was my first shot at like attempting to write dialogue in a solid 5 years so it is extremely janky. I will do my best to improve tho ^-^

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc comics #writing prompts #dp x dc prompt #bones replies #anon

[yae-energy]

get in bitch, we’re going shopping

synopsis: my take on what it’s like going to the mall with saiki and friends

cast: kusuo saiki, shun kaidou, aren kuboyasu x shopaholic black fem reader (all platonic)

cw: theft (kuboyasu’s part) , cursing

a/n: this won the poll so come get y’all snacks ! this was also mega fun to write omg 😭😭😭

—

saiki - doesn’t even wanna be there

- bro just wants to stay home ong 😭

- def keeps that germanium ring on him cause he is not trynna hear everybody’s nasty ass thoughts

- sticks close to you if you’re in a group cause you’re the only one who isn’t stressing him out

- also cause you tend to wander off when looking at display windows

- has to keep you from going into every store y’all come across but man is that an exhausting job

- like he don’t wanna be there all damn day

- but having to stop you from getting pouty cause they didn’t have the sneakers you want is worse

- will literally use his clairvoyance to find the shoes in another store and then swap it with a different pair of the same value so you can shut the hell up 😭 (love a supportive king !!)

“they dont have the shoes?? i literally waited all damn day for those and they don’t even- …. huh? since when did these get here?”

“must be magic, now let’s get the hell outta here PLEASE”

- food court enthusiast !!!

- without a doubt his favorite place in the mall

- buys you both lunch

- also buys you a key chain as a gift cause he saw you eyeing it in one of the windows, and puts it in one of your bags so you’ll see it when you get home

- will not tell you he bought it

- you rambling to him on the way to school the next day about how you must’ve gotten it by mistake is a reward in itself

—

kaidou - shopaholic bestie

- just like you, kaido loves a good shopping spree !!!

- he’s gotta deck himself out so dark reunion knows who they messing with !!!

- they don’t call him the jet black wings for nothing 😤

- gives surprisingly good fashion advice

“this color brings out your skin tone you should get this”

“these shoes match that hat you should get these”

“gold accessories fit your skin perfectly”

- loves when you give him a fashion show if you’re trying on clothes

- will literally make you runway walk 💀

- hot topic king !!!!

- prob their biggest buyer tbh

- gets those corny graphic tees and you have to BEG him to not wear them in public

- like he genuinely thinks they’re cool and you’re like

“😬…lets not”

- goes straight to the bookstore to see if they have any new manga

- will be there for hours if you don’t pull him out

- like he dead read a whole book once while you were out looking for bags

- you bought it for him as a treat cause he carried all your bags for you

—

kuboyasu - a thief in the night

- im sorry y’all but this man def steals (same tho/hj)

- and doesn’t give a fuck either

- but most of the time it’s not even on purpose fr

- like he’ll pick up something and be like

“damn this shit cool ash”

- then will forget he has it in his hand and walk out with it 😭

- is banned from 3 of your favorite stores for doing this so he just stands outside like a club bouncer and waits for you

- best believe if someone tries to get at you he’s there to keep em in check !!

- once a cashier tried to get your number and he was not having it

“nuh uh”

- like 🤷🏽‍♀️ sorry but if they look like a loser he’s not letting it happen

- people assume you guys are dating cause he does that but he’s just a little protective fr

- he ain’t letting no scrub try to take you out, tf he look like?

- steals you that expensive bag you wanted

- goes with you into the makeup stores and lets you swatch the lipsticks on him if you run out of room on your hand

- will be mad if they don’t have your shade in anything and curse out the employees

- gets banned

#saint laurent productions #the disastrous life of saiki k. #saiki x reader #kaido x reader #kuboyasu x reader #saiki headcanons #saiki k x reader #saiki k x black reader #x black reader

[sleeby-anon]

Unorganized NSFW Lucifer Morningstar thoughts

Afab gender-neutral reader, minors fuck off.

- Lucifer morningstar is a tits guy. He love all parts of the body don’t get me wrong—it’s a pretty equal tie but if he had to pick it would be your tits.

Something about listening to your heartbeat—the rise and fall of your chest, the way he can hear the humming of your voice through it—it’s as close as he can get to you, and yes: the fact that it’s soft and pretty isn’t a deterrent.

- It’s practically law in the fandom that Lucifer gives oral like he invented it, wrote the book on it, and then committed himself to earning a doctorate. This is true.

If giving oral was a language he would be fluent in all dialects. He fucking loves the taste of you after your multiple orgasms—the mix of sweat, cum, you, and him—he could feast on you forever.

If you ever squirted while he was down there he’d stop and look up at you with a dazed and dangerous grin before saying “do that again.”

He loves it when you sit on his face. Before you can say “but what if I hurt you.” He will look you dead in the eyes and tell you that if he dies by your thighs and the taste of you on his tongue he will have lived his life to fullest and died doing what he loved most.

Also he’s king of hell and was married to Lilith for 10,000 years. He can handle his face being sat on.

- If it was up to him he would get rid of the pesky clothes thing. He loves seeing your naked body and can not for the life of him understand why you would feel weird about that.

He successfully courted his first wife before clothes even existed. Call him old fashioned but your bare body is way better than any lingerie you could wear.

- Lucifer doesn’t really care to label how he prefers to be treated in bed. It really depends on his partner—he like making them feel good—however they interpret that. Whether that’s him on his knees or him railing them into next week it makes no difference.

If it were about him however he does enjoy subbing and being treated kindly. He’s not really into hurtful punishments on his end—more of the kind that leave him exhausted, spent and loved. He likes knowing he is loved and wanted.

- If he can’t hear your moans or see your face during sex it is almost not worth it. He likes knowing how you are falling apart on him, likes watching your facial expressions and hearing you plead for him.

If you try muffling yourself or turning away from him he will stop and either turn your head back towards him so he can see you or growl and force you to release your muffle through excessive pleasure.

There are exceptions to this however—if you are in public and murmur how badly you need him and he’s not in a position to leave and have you taken apart like he usually does, he will give you what you want—but he will try to make you break your established silence in an attempt to be discreet—it’s a risky punishment for not being able to wait.

#lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #lucifer magne #nsft #sleeby mumblings #sleeby anon

[ronearoundblindly]

Fire & Ice (a RoAR drabble)

Flufftober Day 12, Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see series)

I blame @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory and @brandycranby for encouraging HughSaison. This is fairly loosely related to the prompt but there are a bunch of temperature references/illusions. 🤷🏻‍♀️Hey, I did my best. -> While I'm at it, does anyone want to own up (privately) to being the person who first asked about rich!Reader over a year ago??? I always wonder if that anon is still reading 🥹

Uhhh, angst with a fluffy ending... yeah, yeah, Ro loves writing arguments, we get it.

Warnings: If you've never read my Ransom before, beware. He curses like an angry sailor, inside and outside of his brain. Plus super suggestive language/mentions of sex. LOTS of dialogue. Zero editing. MINORS DNI. WC 1.8k

He cannot fucking believe it's come to this.

"Don't you fucking dare," he snips. “You cannot use a veto. You put me in charge.”

He watches you walk calmly, put away a dish calmly, sit at his couch calmly.

"I've made my decision, and that's final."

"Fuck you." Ran means it, but in his own way. "You said I could choose--"

"Not that," you say, so calmly, too fucking calmly for someone who managed to turn Ransom Drysdale into this, this thing that cares about something so petty for all the wrong--or just different--reasons.

He stretches to his full height and sucks on his tongue for a moment.

You continue to scroll through your phone.

He never thought he’d get married but he’s always loved a good party. Since the ring's not flashy, he wants you in the tiara. He hasn’t given you the ring yet either because…well, because it’s been less than a year and you practically live on the other side of the planet. Call him old-fashioned, but Ransom wants to be home for all the big things. He can plan a damn party though—and the look to match— whenever the hell he wants and for however long he wants.

At length in the quiet, he asks, "why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous, and I'm saying 'no.' Veto."

"You don't get vetoes for--" Ran smothers his frustration, but barely. "Does this have to do with...money? Because you know I’m not talking millions of dollars in real diamonds or something.” But, ya know, he’s expecting a couple hundred thou between colored and semi-precious stones, plus the setting in—would gold or platinum work best for your skin? Grandma Thrombey’s ring is made of yellow gold. Ran guesses he should match that.

The false calm never lifts from you.

Eyes icy and blank, you look at him while his plans keep running amuck. "No."

Two letters. One word. He fucking hates it.

"You'll look beautiful," he yells in annoyance.

The phone drops on the leather couch. "I'm not wearing a crown to be married in. It'll look pretentious, ostentatious. I won't do it and that's that."

"It's a tiara," Ran corrects, "and with a veil, it's near invisible. It’ll include the wedding colors with the stones."

"No."

His blood starts to boil. Don't say it, don't say it, he thinks fleetingly but fails.

"Says the woman with shit taste."

Slowly, calmly, coldly, you walk over to him, stretching to your full height, holding his gaze. You’re wearing one of his sweaters again and nothing else. That’s his favorite look, but only for him.

It’s winter outside, the heater turned up so that your naked skin stays comfortable. You stay comfortably exposed all the time, when he has his way. Comfort is king in Ran’s house. 

Despite being exposed though, he can see how you've made it so far in business—in life—even with shitty taste. Your poker face rivals champions, and you are stalwart in your dedication. There's a hard (and hardening) edge to your simple, sly grin.

You take a deep breath in,  a whiff of him, a sample for assessment.

"Poor--" you sigh "--boy."

His teeth grind together, jaw tight as a vice. How dare you.

Ran's petty, spiteful even when he tries so damn hard to keep it together, and the wound of disinheritance is still fresh enough he cannot abide that sting.

"Burn in hell."

You don’t take the bait and simply cock your head, waiting for his guilty meltdown. So far, he does this at least once a week, sometimes multiple times a day. It bothers you, you’ve told him, that he questions everything instantly, that he can’t trust you or your feelings or his surroundings, that he panics over the idea of ever having to get a job, but it’s also great ammunition against a man-child.

The grin never leaves your lips. You're in fine fighting form tonight. Ran shouldn't have tangoed.

"Go fuck some bimbo's ass."

Oh.

Oh, you bitch.

That's low.

Ransom's face contorts. "It was one time," he gripes, "and we weren't even dating."

Your palm lies flat against his chest. "We'd slept together several times, and you even volunteered for me by then so..."

Ran grabs your hips and brings you close, avoiding your gaze while hoping you keep looking at him, cooling him down, evening his hot temper.

"Of course," you add casually, "that wasn't the first time you did that, was it?"

This is where it gets tricky for him. Ran never had a real relationship before you--not even his 'bond' with his parents compares--but old habits die hard.

He shoves at your hips, spinning you two until your back hits the glass block window between the house and the bare woods outside.

His head ducks to mirror the angle of yours. "Doesn't have to be the last either."

"Hugh," you warn, as threatening as wind across his cheek.

He's gonna regret this. He knows he will, but curiosity gets the better of him.

"Tell me. Tell me why you don't want to wear something gorgeous and fancy for an occasion where you are meant to be gorgeous and fancy."

The turn in your expression is pronounced. He didn't expect you to be more alarmed by his caring than his come-ons.

"Bad form," you finally admit. "Some rich bitch thinks she's a princess. Looks really bad."

"You are rich. You are a--"

"Careful..."

"--I'm saying 'princess.' Calm down," he says to the perfectly, eerily calm woman in his arms. "Would you just fucking let me compliment you?"

Ran fiddles with some hair around your ear, noting proudly how your eyes droop shut slightly at the smallest touch from him. He likes that you respond to him, his distance, his fury, his doubt, and his passion. You make feeling okay. You are his safe space since you've seen him at his lowest.

You see him.

There's very few things in life that make more sense to Ransom than his wife will be the one who sees him and he lets see him. Everyone else and everything else can piss off.

God, he fucking hates that he loves you so much. Why won’t you just wear the fucking crown? You’ve earned it; you’re the one who conquered his demons, not Ran.

He could buy it anyway, have your veil sown straight on it, not give you the chance to argue, or he could take you out to shop, put one in your hands, knock it onto the floor, and claim ‘you break it, you bought it.’ Problem solved, but he’s a petty bitch.

He tucks the edge of his lip into his cheek.

He should be less of a petty bitch.

“What do you want?” Ran asks. “What’s it gonna take?”

He keeps his sharp eyes locked to yours, watching understanding shrink your once-dilating pupils

Change in demeanor. “Oh my god.”

Aaaand there’s the regret. “Don’t make a big deal—“

“HOLY SHIT.”

“It’s not—I’m just—“

“Hugh Fucking Drysdale?! Trying to compromise??? I’ve see it all now.”

“Stop,” he whines, dropping his head to your squirming chest.

“Wait—” you whip out of his arms and hustle back to the couch, retrieving your phone “—do it again.”

He’s too lost in staring up the sweater as you bend over to notice right away.

“Are you filming me?” Disgusting. Childish. Petty, just like him. Maybe he’s had more influence on you than he realized.

“Your face is priceless.”

“Give me that.” Ran doesn’t put much effort into reaching the phone. He would rather win for his cause. “Seriously, what do you want?”

The arm held up falls lax. He has a clear view of your home screen, so you weren’t taking a video. You just wanted to tease him. Fuck, you love to tease him.

Dramatically, your hand frames your chin in thought. “Well, I don’t want something that extravagant to go to waste, but it won’t go with every outfit…”

“No, not with colored stones,” Ran says absently. He guesses you want to get more use out of it. Gross.

“Okay, my compromise is whenever I wear it, you treat me like a princess, or perhaps, your queen.”

“Uh, sure,” he snorts. You already get treated better than any woman he’s ever known…by him, of course. He’s vaguely aware that some people do even more than the bare minimum, but those are other people. Baby steps.

“If that tiara is on my head, Hugh, you become a perfect and adoring gentleman.”

Ran wrinkles his nose. “What?”

“You heard me. That’s my compromise. Dress me that way and you have to treat me like royalty.”

“Like…” He rushes forward to sweep you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and thrusting his hips. “Princess Pussy?”

“Ran. Ew, no.”

“Queen Cunt?” Heh, he chuckles, King Comfort and Queen Cunt. No, don’t say that out loud.

You gag slightly. “Super not what I meant.”

“You’re already going to marry me, but you want me to worship you? No fucking way.” Ransom flat-out laughs.

“How did you get worship out of ‘treat me nicely?’” Your arms tighten around his neck, pulling your faces closer.

He exaggerates a groan. “I don’t know. That’s asking a lot.”

“Oh, right,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “Just keep on being shitty…even to your future wife. What could possibly go wrong?”

He huffs.

Ran is passionate about making you look good, not just because you are on his arm. Sure, he probably focuses on all the wrong things—all the selfish things,—but you easily think of the big picture and completely forget about yourself.

That’s already a balance. That’s already a big compromise.

And yet…

Ran’s looking at your face and admiring your playfulness when he could be ordering you to unzip his pants. He’s more excited to see you decked out pretty things than he is to say he dressed you. He’s concerned with how you refuse to spend money for you even though you’ve put no restrictions on him. That’s…that’s just a different Ransom Drysdale. That’s a man he wouldn’t recognize if he weren’t watching his reflection in your eyes.

Ran pecks a gentle kiss to your waiting lips.

“Okay, princess,” he coos, his arms snaking tighter over your back and his fingers plunging into your hair. He keeps you close, noses touching, hot breath mingling. “Shh, shhh.”

He hears the faintest whine escape you, and he just can’t help himself. He’s a petty bitch.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll fuck your ass.”

🙈🙇🏻‍♀️😝

sorry not sorry.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @starkleila

[Main Masterlist; The Root of All Ransom Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#the root of all ransom #ransom drysdale x you #flufftober 2023 #day 12 #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale smut #kinda

[knickknacksandallthat]

wait so do the foxes actually think kerejean is a thing?

or do they still think its just sex, cause kev never actually explained it

LMAO anon - this is a fabulous question! And I feel like, in true Fox fashion, Kevin hasn't answered it.

AKA the Foxes, while Kevin was at the hospital checking up on his dad the next morning, were definitely taking bets on what the hell just happened.

Boyd: *stuffing his mouth full of bagel* Dude, no way. They're banging. You see that possessive move by Moreau? Man was practically announcing to the room how they're bumping baguettes now.

Aaron: bumping baguettes? what the actual fuck, boyd?

Dan: *banging spoon on table* I will not allow stereotyping at this breakfast table! Observation allowed, withdraw the metaphor.

Matt: Withdrawn. Sorry, your honor.

Dan: Don't let it happen again.

Nicky: *on Kevin's laptop which the Foxes definitely found and powered up without asking* Okay, nope. Not enough. Those Trojans are the literal definition of touchy-feely, and they definitely turned Jean once he got there. So I need some facts - does Kev have a hickey? Are they wearing each other's clothes? Did you find a used condom in the bathroom trash can?

Aaron: I am NOT fucking digging through their trash, Nicky! Are you kidding me?

Nicky: *shrugging* You want proof? I'm just offering the method.

Allison: Nope, I'm calling it right here, right now. It's the whole enchilada. The big L, sex - the works.

Dan: Evidence?

Allison: Are you kidding me? Have any of you even been watching them? Neil, tell them.

Neil: *without looking up from his bowl of cereal* no.

Allison: See? That's proof right there. Neil would be denying it if it wasn't.

(Neil scowls at her.)

Aaron: okay, not that I'm buying into this whole "they're dating" thing, but they did sleep in the same bedroom last night.

Andrew: So did you, me, and Nicky for two plus years in college. Are you saying we all slept with him?

Allison: I don't know. Did you?

(Now Andrew glares at her.)

Aaron: *rolls eyes* That was different, Andrew.

Nicky: Well, I know I sure as hell didn't because lord knows I tried. That boy is the king of snacks and he let me starve. For years.

Dan: All right, so it sounds like we've got three categories: it's nothing, they're fucking, or they're an item now. Show of hands? Just raise the number of which choice you believe it is and I'll mark 'em down.

Katelyn: you guys are the weirdest bunch to eat breakfast with.

#somebody stop me tonight #all these scenarios running thru my head of how absolutely confused the foxes are but they just keep going like they know what's happening #Allison winning the bet AGAIN #fic asks #a fallen star #kevin day #jeremy knox #jean moreau #kerejean #all for the game #aftg #lovely people #thanks for the ask anon!

[rainiishowers]

Obey Me As Incorrect Quotes Tumblr Posts

A/N: I thought I'd add a little spice to my incorrect quotes, that's the only reason. They may be worded differently for different reasons If you recognize any of these you get one of my home made treats ---- Diavolo: Being happier has been triple legalized! Fun times are coming soon!! MC: Is.. Is that a threat?? Diavolo: Yes!! ---- Satan, in one of his moods: What's a mob to a king, what's a king to a god, what's a god to a non believer, what's a non believer to a poisonous dart frog?? Asmodeus: What's a poisonous dart frog to a king? Mammon: What's a poisonous dart frog to another poisonous dart frog? MC: A friend :) ---- Solomon: What do you call a bunch of chess players bragging about their skills in a hotel lobby? Luke: What? Solomon, sing-songy: Chest nuts boasting in an open foyer~ ---- *Lucifer heavily sighs randomly at dinner* Mammon: What's up? Lucifer: The word heck is a combination of "Hell" and "Fuck" yet it is treated as the lamest word when really it's double as bad. MC: Just like how shucks is a combination of "Shit" and "Fuck" and then there is the fact Goofy has been saying it all the damn time ---- Asmodeus: Rules of fashion: You think it's pretty? Wear it. MC: Okay, but I dunno how I'm gonna wear you. Solomon: You clearly haven't read Silence of the Lambs Lucifer, sarcastically: This went to a great place. ----

Diavolo: You heard of alphabet soup, not get ready for.. Diavolo: Times new ramen! MC: I said this to Lucifer once and he left the room just to scream. ---- Luke: If brains are biological computers, why don't we lag? Mammon: You can't tell me you never walked into a room and forgotten why you were there or lost a train of thought for a moment Beelzebub: One day I was walking home from RAD with Belphie and momentarily panicked because I thought Belphie wasn't with me/ ---- Mammon: If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be? Beelzebub: Salads. Because anything could be a salad. There's fruit salad, potato salad. What's stopping you from making pizza salad, or even ice cream salad? All you need to do is cut it up and there you go, it's a salad. Asmodeus: It sounds like you thought about that before Beelzebub: I have, yes. ---- Mammon: Finding a needle in a haystack isn't hard, just burn the hay. Leviathan: Find the hay in the needlestack though. Mammon: Big magnet. MC: See this is why I think y'all are sleeping on Mammon, he thinks of things like this ---- Belphegor: Humans are so funny sometimes. I remember when I was younger, there was this vacant lot in the human world. Whenever one of us broke our toys but didn't want to face the wrath of Lucifer, I took them and buried them in the lot. Some dude tried to develop the land, but got scared at the amount of rotten toys and convinced everyone the land was haunted. Mammon: We should use this opportunity to buy the land.

#obey me shall we date #shall we date obey me #obey me crack #obey me crackpost #obey me brothers #obey me side characters #obey me dateables #tumblr posts

[vmpkai]

this is how i see the revolutionary set and co dressing

hamilton: wears either black, grey or green hoodies and jeans all the time. he probably would hiss at you if you put him in anything else ( just like lin, he'd wear jeans and a shirt to the mf whitehouse and you cannot convince me otherwise )

laurens: overall just dresses really casual. he doesn't overdress since that takes energy. his outfits are simple and they work perfectly for him.

lafayette: he is one of two things; either extremely well dressed, like fashion model type shit, or has no fucking dress sense at all, like he gets dressed in the dark. and yet he always makes it look good. ( he's also definitely alt in some way but i can't tell what )

mulligan: basically just wears baggy ass pants and a tank top on the regular ( he seems like the type of person who would wear shorts in winter on some elsa "the cold never bothered me anyways" type beat )

angelica: she's a dark academia girlie and they all slay. i have nothing more to say

eliza: she's just very casual, very cozy. they might be simple but they're stunning each time.

peggy: she wears anything imo and she makes it all work. also something tells me that she is a queen at accessorizing and everyone comes to her for tips and advice ( except for thomas. he's just stuck up )

jefferson: runway model. designer everything. his outfit alone will call you a broke bitch.

maddison: sweaters sweaters sweaters. well, he's always sick so he gotta dress all warm and snuggly and shit

burr: he's always in some form of suit. casual? unless that casual has a business in front of it, that ain't him. he the type to carry a briefcase with nothing in it, or like a singular pen inside

washington: dad. need i say more? ( he once showed up in socks and sandals and everyone fucking exploded. ofc he didn't know why and thought they were overreacting )

king george: he's flamboyant stylish bitch energy. he's also colorful as all hell too. i can really think of much from him aside from everything is as dramatic as he is

#listen i can see all of this happening but we don't ask #lafayette is either a walking canvas or a walking fashion crime and theres no in-between #i dont make the rules #alexander hamilton #john laurens #marquis de lafayette #hercules mulligan #angelica schuyler #eliza schuyler #peggy schuyler #aaron burr #thomas jefferson #james maddison #king george iii #george washington #hamilton #hamilton musical #modern au #hamilton modern au #musical theatre

[grymmdark]

ok so i feel everyone knows that the quality of clothes has gone to shit iver the last few decades, but i have a great example of just how shit its got

so i have these 2 tshirts. the left one my dad bought about 25-30 years ago and has been worn pretty frequently through that time. the right one i got about 4 years ago and has also been worn pretty frequently.

the rush tshirt has only really recently started to fade enough that the little "blah blah blah"s inside the logo are disappearing. however it's still legible, and can definitely take years more wear before its rags.

the other shirt however is completely illegible. it used to say "sounds gay I'm in" but its very hard to make out now. and it's been like that for about 2 years. it also used to be bright pink, but its almost the same color as the rush shirt now.

and the thing is: these are technically the same exact shirt. they are both gildan heavy cotton. and the print quality is more on the company who bough the shirt to print on, but the quality of the actual shirts themselves is really drastic. hell, even the tag quality is different!

the rush shirt is still very soft and comfortable, and only has 1 hole in the armpit, which makes sense because thats the place that gets the most wear on a tshirt. it's still very sturdy even after all the years of wear it's gone through.

however the other shirt is pretty stiff and king scratchy. it's also got a buncha lil holes which look like moth holes, but are just from the shirt wearing through. its just a much worse shirt overall.

so yeah, fuck fast fashion and steal your dads clothes if you want good shirts.

#grymms spectacular fucking posts

[hetaletmego]

People today: Ew Hetalia is so cringe who's out there making pretty personifications of countries

People through all of history: Hi my name is Marianne Rép'ublique Française France and I am inspired by the writings of Spanish philosopher Juan de Mariana (that's how I got my name) with loosely tied hair inspired by First Empire fashion and a lot of people tell me I look like the goddess Demeter (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Mariamne the Hasmonean but I wish I was because she's a major fucking hottie. I'm an allegory of freedom but there's a bust of me in every prison. I have pale white skin. I'm also an allegory of the republic, and I first appeared as a design meant to replace the royal seal on official documents (I'm republican). I'm a neoclassical figure (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly vaguely ancient clothing. I love ancient Greece and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a red phrygian cap symbolizing the emancipation of slaves since Antiquity and a loose off-the-shoulder chiton with a chemise underneath because I'm a sexy ancient Greek allegory but I have good Christian morals too. I was leading the people outside the Assemblée Nationale. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun king, which I was very happy about. A lot of royalists stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

#I used Marianne cause you know she's the one I know best for oui oui baguette reasons #@Americans because I know y'all: the word ''republican'' was not invented by one of your one and a half political parties #and is in fact in the dictionary with a number of definitions thanks for reading

[thecatinthepurplepants]

so I have a headcanon for how John might look to someone actually able to see him and I, of course, had to decide on the headcanon that would make it damn near impossible to draw him (at least to draw him consistently) but I like the idea too much to let it go

I probably SHOULD put this under a read more since it got kinda long but uuuhhh... don't wanna lol

SO I feel like when John first attached to Arthur, back when he was still just "the entity", his appearance was very... malleable. At first he looks like how a lot of people depict him, a vaguely human shapped black shadow with yellow eyes pearing over Arthur's left shoulder, but as soon as they got out into the world he started seeing ✨️fashion✨️ in the wild that changed. Even though he didn't remember it, he's a piece of the King In Yellow, and I'm willing to bet that the ol banana monarch has a passion for adornment and a tendency towards vanity thats usually associated with royalty that John would unknowingly inherit (I mean, we already know this, he bitches about Arthur's clothes getting ruined often enough now that they got that nice new suit)

I think at first he sees some men wearing nice hats when him and Arthur step outside into the city for the first time and something in him just goes "ooohhh" and one just kind of appears on him, probably with a gold band or little adornments like feathers and shiny dangly bits hanging from the brim. I don't even think he'd be able to choose just one style, shifting from one to another every so often as he sees more around or mixing and morphing styles into looks he likes more (I think he'd be partial to structured hats, fedoras, homburgs, maybe even a skimmer hat but with the rim stretched out to be more of a structured sun hat for extra flare)

But of course his newfound sense of style doesn't end with men's fashion cuz he doesn't know what a gender is and I highly doubt thay anyone that can see him would care enough to try and impose gender roles on him

He sees women passing by on the street wearing makeup and suddenly he has gold lipstick and shimmering yellow eyeshadow over shining gold lashes long and full enough to make any Hollywood starlet absolutely sick with envy

He sees someone more eccentric who's absolutely decked out in gaudy costume jewelry and he can't just NOT have all that wonderful clinking, shiny treasure for himself so he's now draped in gold chains, necklaces and bracelets of huge chunks of polished stones in both simple and elaborate designs, amber, tiger's eye, citrine, anything he wants really but it will always turns some shade of yellow or gold no matter how much he would want it to be another color (I think the best he could do in way of colorful variety is turquoise with veins of gold running through it)

And the funniest thing?

He can't see any of it.

He sees through Arthur's eyes and even if he has a bit of an extra sense for being able to see supernatural shit he's still not visible to himself. All of the changes are subconscious decisions he doesn't even realize he's making, his metaphysical body altering to suit the person he's growing into. None of the other rare entities and people they've met who can see John commented on it, seeing how there's usually more pressing matters involved. Plus I highly doubt the Trader would be one to make observations on someone's fashion sense unless they were offering one of their accessories in trade, and only then if it actually had any value to him.

Tbh it would be funny if the King In Yellow, during his first in person meeting with the Jarthur unit, had stopped mid introduction just "You insolent fucking worm, you need to return what's mi- what... what the hell are you wearing??? No, I'm not talking to you, you fucking worthless mortal, silence- yes, YOU, whats- whats all... THAT??? I mean, it's not BAD but it's a bit... inelegant, don't you think?" and both John and Arthur are like "what the FUCK are you TALKING ABOUT???" while the Dancers are humming and nodding their agreement while they also quietly judging John's intangible outfit

Kayne would ABSOLUTELY comment on it though but only to either taunt John while confusing the shit out of him OR to toss him the odd (equally confusing) compliment about his fashion sense and how he's branched out from the Kings personal flare. BUT he's also a Stinky Bitch (affectionate) so maybe he just wouldn't let John know that he can see him at all because he thinks it's funny that he doesn't know what he looks like

I dont think it would remain unstable as it was when he was fresh out the book, though.

After Arthur's coma, the period where John was given (and accepted) his name and the foundation of his humanity, I feel like he'd settle in his appearance as his sense of self does. He'd change to fit his different moods but it wouldn't be as much of a chaotic kaleidoscope of fashions shifting and melding with each other as he was at first. Before it was very fluid, changing as he sees different styles or as he felt different from one second to another, so unsure of exactly who and what he was.

I think he'd stick with the hat, wide brimmed and still with little golden baubles hanging around the edge and a golden band, but I think the top would remain hazy and undefined because I dont think he'd be able to decide on which style he likes best. He'd definitely keep the chains and jewelry, maybe a shodowy imitation of the shape of a suit jacket or the plunge of a low v-necklined dress, depending on the day.

I think when he gets especially angry (usually at Arthur, because he's the only one who can really get him absolutely blistering pissed without even trying) the hat billows like its caught in a fierce wind, not like fabric, but like heavy smoke. The stones of his yellow jewelry glows like miniature sun's with the force of his emotions, chains tarnishing, and even his makeup turning bright neon, toxic yellow against the void of his intangible "skin" like the warning of a poisonous animal if he's mad enough

When he's scared, him and Arthur trying to hide from whatever horror or adversary they've encountered this time, the brim of his hat melts back several inches, the baubles blinking out of existence entirely like its trying to clear his line of sight, makeup and jewelry fading in their color and shine as his borrowed animal instincts scream at him to be small, be unnoticeable, hide hide hide

And in those moments (ones that happen entirely too often for John's comfort or sanity) when the worst has come again, Arthur's hurt, worse than usual, and it seems like he's fading fast from his injuries, the things that John's draped himself with as he's learned who he is start to fade away too. As John realizes he might be losing the only person he's ever had (again) he feels like he's losing himself, the person he's become in his time with Arthur. The panic sets in and he goes through the stages he always does, shouting at Arthur to keep moving, not to give up, begs him to stay with him, not to leave him alone, to stop fucking saying goodbye and keep fighting, his cobbled together sense of identity melts off of him like dust as his world crumbles.

But there are moments, few and far between though they may be, where he and Arthur get little bit of real joy. When Arthur's finally, fucking finally freshly washed, shaved, and fed a hot meal and John can actually feel him relax into a real bed. When they've bought a nice new suit and handkerchief (that Arthur let John pick out himself) and John can tell Arthur that he looks handsome in this cut and color. When John spots something he thinks is odd and describes it to Arthur in a way that gets a real, full belly laugh out of his human, even if he doesn't understand what exactly it was he said that was so funny. The yellows of his apparel and makeup shine and swirl together, the stones of his jewelry seem to dance around each other in their configurations while the colors swim inside them like a lava lamp or glitter inside a bottle of opaque liquid. The baubles along the brim of his hat rapidly change in shape and size, the brim itself seeming to bloom, stretching out even further like a cat luxuriating in a sunbeam.

Anyway, tl;dr John's an eldritch entity and I just think he deserves to have a shifting appearance that he builds around himself over time like one of those bugs that sticks shit to its body to build a shell but in, like, a cunty way

And also I think John should be allowed to be incredibly expressive but in a metaphysical way that ties to his appearance itself

#malevolent #malevolent podcast #john doe #john malevolent #john doe malevolent #arthur lester #headcanon #john doe headcanons #malevolent headcanon #long text post #the cat in the purple pants chat #i kinda wanna draw this anyway even though i know its gonna be a pain in the ass to try and depict the way i imagine #I'd have to animate a few of them to really get it down how it is in my head #why do i do this to myself lmaooo

[velvetwarfare]

mmmm her design is actually hard in this one cause like

I want her to look scary and show she holds power, but I also want her to still embrace her love for fashion too since this verse is a step up from her Vee’s verse — she’s still affiliated with them. So I gave her more jewelry as well.

Jewelry is both a nod toward her Shavali heritage where they wore a lot of beads and bells (I forgot the bells FUCK but I’ll add them and put little Skaven symbols on them too because she still actually wears those on her person as is just not when she’s dressed for the V tower) , and upside down crosses as a fuck you to Heaven.

I want her sleeves to be cut to showcase her muscles and wear her former clan brandings like trophies, especially since she dragged her ratmen down to Hell with her.

I’ll put a red moon behind her and like a rat king circle too once I start coloring but I’m just being indecisive rn.

#🐀 VERSE: OVERLORD OF WAR. 🐀

[thatredheadwriter]

Ruin

javier peña x reader

Alright, this one was sitting in my drafts for a while, missing like a paragraph and a half right in the middle. It got tucked away and I completely forgot about it, but I found it when I was doing a little digital cleanup and I finished it. So here’s some dom!Javi, courtesy of me actually trying to get my shit together.

This is an NSFW oneshot for female reader with Javier Peña of Narcos. This work contains smut and mature language and should not be read by those under 18. As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however, I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon-level violence.

Warnings Include (but are not limited to):

friends/coworkers with benefits

Mentions of alcohol and tobacco

My attempts at Spanish (translations at the end)

swearing

Oral (male receiving)

Oral (female receiving)

Dirty talk

dom!Javier

inexperienced!reader

Pet names

Praise

Slight degradation

training/corruption kink

Unprotected P in V penetrative sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)

Kinda belt kink (Javi just does something to me man)

Sir kink

Hair pulling

Slight choking

creampie

posessive!Javi

Javi being the KING of aftercare

Please read at your own discretion and consume your fanfiction responsibly.

You ran your sweaty palms down the denim on your thighs. You were unprepared, nervous. It wasn’t that you hadn’t tried to do some research, but all you could find on ‘how to give your partner a blowjob’ were magazine articles filled with thinly-veiled innuendos and vague tips. But you were determined to follow through with this.

Javi hadn’t asked, never even brought it up. But the DEA’s resident asshole was a surprisingly attentive lover, and he’d eaten you out more times than you could count. In fact, you could count the times he’d fucked you without making you cum before he even entered you on one hand.

On your side, however, you’d hardly returned the favor. Aside from some heavy petting when the two of you would make out, and the one handjob you’d given him on your couch, fuelled by a lot of tequila and sexual tension, all the pleasure Javi got from you was the old-fashioned way. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to perform oral sex on him, more like you weren’t quite sure how. Not sure how to initiate it, and sure as hell not sure how to actually carry through with the act.

But last night, after Javi gave you so many earth-shattering orgasms you’d forgotten everything but his name, you were more determined than ever to repay the favor. So now you were committed. Which is why you sat on your couch, looking nervous as a hooker in church, waiting for Javi to sneak over from his place next door. 

You were purposefully wearing your favorite jeans, appreciating the confidence boost that came from having your ass look perfect. Your breasts were bare under your thin tank top, nipples pebbling through the fabric despite the sticky hot air of Medellín in the summer.

When you heard the telltale knock at your door, you jumped up from your seat far too quickly and all but ran to open it. As soon as you did, Javi sucked in a breath through his teeth. A light sheen of sweat covered your cleavage and he couldn’t help the way his eyes raked across your exposed neck and shoulders. A blank canvas perfect for the bite of his teeth and the burn of his stubble as he worked his way over you.

You didn’t have time to lock the door before you were pinned up against it, one of his knees slotted between your thighs, his thick arms caging you in so there was no escape from the reality of Javier Peña. Once he finally came up for air, your head falling back against the door as he began a planned assault against your neck, you were already drunk on him.

“Muñeca, always so perfect for me,” he growls into your ear as one of his large hands comes up to palm your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt. His lips swallow the whine from yours as he rolls a nipple between two fingers, pinching lightly.

It takes all your training and experience as an agent to pull your brain from the haze of bliss that Javi induces in you so easily. You have a purpose this evening, and you’re not chickening out. You manage to plant both hands on his broad chest, covered by his red button-down, a known favorite of yours, and push slightly to get his attention.

“Hey,” you panted out, your forehead resting on his. “I, uh, I…”

Javi stopped everything he was doing instantly, moving his hands to rest respectfully at your waist as he pulled away a bit to look at you properly.

“What is it, muñeca?” his thumbs rubbed soothing circles over your stomach, brow furrowed deep with concern.

You swallowed hard, steeling your nerves before meeting his eyes again. “I want to try something.”

“For you, I’ll try almost anything,” he chuckles, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Now it was your turn to chuckle. “Well, actually, I guess you would say it’s more for you,” you finished your sentence with a smirk. As Javi tried to decipher what in the hell that could mean, you turned and locked the door properly, including the deadbolt and security chain, before taking his hand and tugging him over to your couch.

“Ok, so, I guess I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, I’m just not really sure how,” you sat next to him, your knee pressed up against his.

“Just tell me already, princesa,” he laughed, “You’re making me nervous.”

As long and hard as you’d tried to piece the words together, you couldn’t find a way to say them that didn’t make you want to dive under the floorboards and hide until doomsday. So if words were going to fail you, maybe you could tell him some other way.

So instead of answering him, you put one hand on his knee and used it as a grip to lower yourself onto the rug below, shuffling to kneel between his spread thighs. You ran your hands up and down the denim of his jeans, focusing on his inner thighs and hopefully getting the message across.

It wasn’t until you looked up into his eyes, your lashes fluttering innocently as you got him all worked up that he realized what you wanted.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes blowing wide with lust. Encouraged by his reaction, your hands finally made it to the buckle of his belt. The one you’d stared at for months before that first night in the stakeout car. The same one that’d he’d used to restrain you as he gave you the fucking of a lifetime, more than once.

But as you went to undo it, one of Javi’s hands came to rest over your own, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You were instantly afraid you’d done something wrong, or that he wasn’t in the mood for this right now, but when you looked up at him, he wore a devilish grin.

“My girl’s a little eager, isn’t she?” he asked, cocking his head to look at you like a naughty pet or an irksome child.

You nodded solemnly, biting down on your lower lip and trying to contain the whimper that threatened to slip out.

He smiled then, and the hand that covered your own moved to card through your hair, before harshly tugging it back, making you gasp.

“I like words, remember,” he raised a brow at your parted lips. He knew how much you loved having your hair pulled, and he knew just the right ways to pull to get you riled. “Don’t make me remind you again.”

You nodded hastily when he released you, swallowing the excess saliva that had pooled in your mouth at his actions before managing out a meek, “Yes, sir.”

His smile was back, like sunshine after a beautiful rainstorm. “Good girl. Now, do you want my cock in your mouth, princesa?”

Another nod, another “yes sir.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Your cheeks flamed and you took a shaky breath. “I-I want your cock i-in my mouth, sir.”

Above you, Javi beamed with pride. Despite all your confidence in your career as an agent, you often lacked it in your personal life. When the two of you first started fucking, you were nervous about letting him see you with the lights on. Now you were dressing up for him and wanting to give him a blow job.

“Good girl, I’m so proud of you,” he ran a thumb along your bottom lip, tilting your chin up to look at him. “Never be afraid to tell me what you want.”

This time you only nodded in response, but he let it slide.

“Have you ever had a cock in your mouth before, muñeca?” he asked, still playing with your bottom lip.

“No,” you shook your head, before remembering to add the ‘sir’ that he loved to hear so much.

His head fell back on the couch cushions and the low groan that slipped from his lips reverberated all the way down to your core, making you leak into your panties.

“Jesus, querida,” he swore, “You’re going to be the death of me. So you want me to teach you how to suck cock?”

“I want you to teach me how to suck your cock, sir,” you corrected him innocently.

He murmured some things low and fast under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch. “Gonna turn you into my little cocksucking whore. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you said too quickly, making his eyes crinkle as he smiled at you. “I wanna make you feel good like you make me feel good.”

“Come here,” he opened his arms for you to crawl up into him, and he placed you to sit firmly on his thigh. He repeated his earlier action of moving that same strand of hair back behind your ear.

“You know you don’t have to do this, not if you don’t want to,” his eyes leveled with yours, searching for any apprehension on your face.

“I want to, Javi.” The use of his name let him know you were still all there, not floating on a cloud of sexed-out bliss. You really did want this.

“Ok, I’ll teach you then, but you’ve gotta know a few things,” his hand came to grip your hip, a favorite spot of his. Under your clothes were still tiny bruises from the last time he’d fucked you.

“First of all, you’re not going to get it right away. It’ll take practice. I don’t want you to hurt yourself, querida, so don’t try to do too much for your first time.”

“Got it, take it slow, don’t get ahead of myself,” you repeated back to him, earning a nod.

“The most important thing is to relax, and breathe through your nose. If you need to take a break or something’s wrong, you just tap my leg twice, ok?”

“Tap twice if I need a break,” you nodded along. You were practically vibrating in excitement now, and Javi could definitely sense it.

“You ready, princesa?” he placed a light kiss at the edge of your collarbone before lightly nipping at the spot, making you shiver.

“Yes, sir,” you all but purred, waiting for him to release his grip on you so that you could finally.

“Why don’t you strip for me, querida,” he let go of your hips and leaned back against the couch, watching smugly as you stood and pulled the tank top over your head. Your jeans were next, popping the button and shimmying out of them. It wasn’t as sexy as it could have been, but you were excited.

As your fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties–a gray cotton pair with lace trim, nothing spectacular–Javi stopped you.

“Leave them on,” he said with a wink, “I want to run a little experiment.”

The way he said the word ‘experiment’ sent a chill down your spine, so you happily obliged and dropped to your knees on the patterned rug of your living room, hands once more settling on Javi’s muscular thighs as he watched you with hooded eyes.

“Can I see you?” you looked up at him with big doe eyes, and he knew exactly what you wanted. As much as you loved his ass in his jeans or the way his eyes popped in that shirt, you loved seeing him bare even more, feeling the heat of him all around you.

“When you look so pretty on your knees for me, how can I say no?” he grinned as he began undoing the buttons of his shirt, quickly stripping it off and tossing it to the side. Next came his belt, and you couldn’t miss the way your cunt throbbed as he slid it from his belt loops, the brown leather flashing before your eyes.

Finally, he undid the top button of his jeans and slid the zipper down. You didn’t have to see to know Javi was going commando. He usually did, especially when he was coming over from his place down the hall to yours for just this kind of recreational activity.

The muscles of his stomach flexed as he lifted his ass off the couch and slid his jeans down. You couldn’t help the way you bit your lip when his cock finally sprang free, already hard and dripping precum. You had to help him get his jeans the rest of the way off, and soon they joined his shirt and belt on the other end of the couch.

With him bare before you, you could feel the nerves creeping up the back of your throat, but you let the feeling of Javi’s warm thighs under your hands ground you in the moment and focused on your breathing.

Leaning forward carefully, you started by placing a kiss to his weeping tip, earning you a shaky sigh from the man above you. Tentatively, you offered a kitten lick. The taste of him was salty but not unpleasant. Encouraged by the way his fingers dug into the couch cushions, you began working your way down towards his balls. Knowing you wouldn’t be able to fit all of him in your mouth, at least not this first time, you knew you’d need plenty of spit for your hand to work the base of him.

Once his length was sufficiently slick from your spit, you added a hand to the equation, working him up and down and relishing the way his breath hitched as you found the right mix of pressure and speed. You knew you could make Javi cum just like this, and he would be just as grateful as if you had deepthroated him, but this was something you wanted to do. So pumping him a few more times with your hand, you decided to try and take him in your mouth for the first time.

You didn’t expect the weight of him on your tongue, or the way you were enveloped in a cloud of his scent. It was something musky and smoky and undeniably him. The pleased hum that slipped out of you surprised you both, but any worry that it was the wrong thing to do was gone the second a deep groan echoed from deep within his chest.

“Fuck, baby,” his eyes were already squeezed shut, hands balled into fists by his thighs, “Keep doing that and I’m not gonna last.”

You just hummed again, and tentatively bobbed your head up and down a couple of times, staying shallow and letting your hands cover most of his length. Curses and praises spilled from his lips as he fought to keep his composure. The sight of you, innocent and curious on your knees before him was nearly enough to take him over. 

When you tried to go deeper, you got just over halfway when your gag reflex kicked in, and you pulled back abruptly, panting and spluttering for breath. A long line of saliva connected your lips and the tip of Javi’s dick, a sight you never expected to be so erotic, but it had you rubbing your thighs together.

“Easy, muñeca, breathe,” he panted, still staying in control for you.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before licking another stripe up the underside of him and taking him in your mouth once more. This time, you knew where you could get to before it would trigger that pesky gag reflex, and you took him as deep as you could and held him there. In the meantime, you worked your hands and tongue. This combination seemed to really get under his skin, soon Javi was gripping the cushions of the couch so hard you were afraid he’d rip them.

“Fuck, you’re good at this. Feel so good around me, querida,” he moaned. His hips jumped forward and suddenly he was in your throat again. You gagged a little, but it wasn’t quite as bad as the first time. The burn was already becoming familiar, and you were quickly associating it with the growing ache in your lower belly.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Javi sat up all the way as you coughed a little, hot tears streaking down your cheeks. His thumbs brushed them away as he cradled your face in his large hands, searching for any sign that he’d hurt you.

“It’s ok, Javi,” you reassured him, though your voice was a little raspy, “I-I liked it.”

Another wave of dampness flooded your core as he groaned.

“My innocent little princess…not so innocent,” he hummed, smiling slightly as he leaned forward to pull you into one of his all-consuming kisses. A whimper slipped from your lips to his as he reached down to knead your exposed breast. Then he was pulling you again, lifting you up onto the couch.

“But, I wanna finish,” you pouted, pulling away from him. Javi just laughed, biting on your bottom lip.

“Trust me, baby, there’ll be other times for that,” he growled, slipping his hand between your bodies and to the obvious damp spot on your panties.

When his fingers tapped at your clothed entrance, you jumped in his embrace. It wasn’t enough, you needed so much more, and you knew exactly what he had to give.

“Dripping for me, yeah?” he teased, making you gasp into his shoulder. “Just a needy little thing, gettin’ all wet from sucking me off.”

“Please,” you begged, fingers curling into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Please what?” he mocked your tone of voice.

“Fuck, Javi,” you whined, “Please fuck me. Need you.”

“Now, you know usually I’d make you ask nicely, but since you sucked my cock so good, I think you’re due for a  reward,” his hands grabbed your ass harshly and you tried your hardest to stay still. “Bend over the couch for me baby,” he ordered, with a playful swat to your ass.

You practically scrambled to comply, not even stopping to take off your panties. The first time Javi had undressed you–in the bedroom, not just with his eyes–he’d explained that sometimes he liked unwrapping his own presents. The possessiveness of his statement sent a chill down your spine even as you watched him stand from the couch and stalk around towards you.

The rough pads of his fingers ghosted along the flesh of your hips and hooked into the waistband of your panties. He was slower than you thought possible, and you could practically hear him smile when you gasped as the air hit your slick for the first time.

Suddenly his tongue was probing at your folds from behind, his large hands splayed across your ass to give him room to work. Your hips bucked into the frame of the couch and you resisted the urge to reach back and tug at his hair. One finger and then another slipped inside you, but only for a moment.

You whined at the loss of contact, but you could still hear the sound of Javi sucking his fingers clean.

“Lo siento, soy adicto a este coño,” he crooned in your ear as the tip of his cock dragged against your slit languidly. All the breath left your body when he filled you, bottoming out in one unfaltering thrust.

He didn’t stay there for long, he pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back in, quickly setting a brutal pace that had your toes curling and your fingers fisting the cushions underneath you.

His name fell from your lips like a blasphemous prayer, but the only one meant to hear it was him. When his hand tangled in your hair for the second time that night, you wondered to you yourself if he was some kind of mind reader.

As he pulled you to his chest, the new angle allowed him to hit that spot that made you see stars and you couldn’t help but cry out.

“¿Quién te folla tan bien?” he growled. His hand moving from your hair to wrap around your throat, not yet applying pressure, told you it was not a hypothetical.

“You!” you cried, “It’s you, Javi.”

“Say my name,” he hissed.

“Javier!” you practically screamed.

His lips on your neck were a soft contrast to his hips that were stuttering in and out of you at an unbelievable pace. Javi’s hot mouth on your skin helped to ground you as the coil tightened low in your belly.

The hand on your hip slipped between your thighs and found the little bundle of nerves where he rubbed fast and hard, your slick easily coating his fingers.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warned, clenching around him.

“Cum,” he ordered. The hand around your throat applied the slightest pressure at your pulse points just as his fingers seemed to have unlocked the perfect rhythm. As you came, you were vaguely aware of him whispering in your ear, “Te voy a arruinar por cualquier otro hombre.”

When the last waves of pleasure rolled through your body, Javi released you gently to lay against the couch as he chased his own high, his hips faltering as he got close, before finally spilling into you with a final thrust.

He didn’t move for a minute, his weight still comfortably present against your back. When he was ready to get up, he did so slowly. The space in between your shoulder blades was peppered with kisses as gentle hands ran over your skin, bringing you back to the real world.

“You with me, querida?” he finally asked as he pulled out, and you winced at the feeling against your sensitive flesh.

You nodded tiredly, squirming underneath him so you could face him, hold him like he held you. No, the two of you weren’t romantically involved, but Javi knew how important aftercare was, and even though he’d never admit it, he was even more touch starved than you.

The two of you ended up on the couch, a tangled mess of limbs as the sun sank below the horizon outside. A stray hand played with your hair as one of yours traced the scars of his chest. There were no words to fill the silence, but none were needed. A small part of your heart was already broken. It fell in love with Javier Peña long before you ever slept with him, and it was the same part of you that constantly reminded you that this would only end badly.

But maybe it wouldn’t. And so what if it did. Whoever said the best things in life are free was an idiot. The best things in life break your heart, shatter your soul, and leave you behind to pick up the pieces. You pay for the best things in blood and sweat and tears. The best things in life are the best because they hurt, they make your heart ache, and they make you long to be a better person, a different person. And as far as you were concerned, Javier Peña was the best thing you’d ever met.

As he drifted off underneath you, you were thinking about what he said as you came, and you couldn’t help but whisper, “Ya los has hecho.”

Muñeca = doll

Princesa = princess

Querida = dear

Lo siento, soy adicto a este coño. = Sorry, I’m addicted to this pussy.

¿Quién te folla tan bien? = Who fucks you so good?

Te voy a arruinar por cualquier otro hombre. = I’m going to ruin you for any other man.

Ya los has hecho. = You’ve already done it.

#javier peña #javier peña smut #javier peña oneshot #javier peña x reader #javier peña x reader smut #dom!javier peña #dom!javier peña smut #dom!javier peña x reader #dom!javier peña x sub!reader #javi peña #javi peña smut #javi peña oneshot #javi peña x reader #javi peña x reader smut #dom!javi peña #dom!javi peña x reader #dom!javi peña x sub!reader #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character

[xanthippe74]

Drarry microfic: Crown

Eighth-year fluff, 700 words give or take, tiny mention of post-war trauma

When Ron arrives in the Great Hall on Saturday morning, still a bit wobbly and woefully uncaffeinated, he sees something that makes his legs stop working ten feet from the eighth-year table.

Malfoy is wearing the crown. Malfoy has never got the crown before.

It’s a ridiculous thing with an even more ridiculous origin story, made out of twisted paper serviettes held together with Sticking Charms. They’d all gone out to celebrate Seamus’ birthday at the Three Broomsticks and he’d insisted that their entire year—or what was left of it—come along. No one objected because the Slytherins had been decent so far, though Harry did grumble in Ron’s ear all the way to Hogsmeade.

They’d been a few rounds in and feeling almost at ease with each other when Zabini proclaimed that everyone had to try Italian elf-made wine. And then Dean, who apparently got a little belligerent when he was in his cups, demanded to know who died and made Zabini king?

"I did," Parkinson declared and proceeded to set various items from their table on Zabini’s head for an impromptu coronation: a beer mat, an empty chip basket, Hermione’s purse. By the time someone tried fashioning an actual crown from serviettes, everyone was howling and Rosmerta looked like she wanted to chuck them out into the snow.

“Hey, I should get the crown,” Seamus cried after Zabini had accepted the paper coronet. “It’s my birthday!”

“You can have it tomorrow.” Zabini gave a magnanimous nod that caused the crown to slip down over one eyebrow, which made Lavender give a loud hiccup, which set Greengrass giggling again. “In honour of turning nineteen-and-one-day.”

True to his word, Zabini had passed off the crown the next morning. Seamus wore it proudly all day before awarding it to Justin for courageously choosing Muggle pills over Hangover Potion. And so it’s been going around for a month now. McGonagall hasn’t said anything about it, just let them get on with their shenanigans. She probably decided that loosening the school's uniform rules was better than the nervous breakdowns that had seemed imminent at the Welcome Feast.

But Malfoy has never been given the crown, even by his housemates. Ron reckons they’re not sorry to see Malfoy humbled a bit, after watching him swan around like an actual prince for seven years. Harry has his own theories about what’s happening among the Slytherins (because of course he does). Ron and Hermione nipped that in the bud right quick when he tried to share them. The last thing Harry needs, on top of everything else, is another bout of Malfoy Obsession.

Harry. Harry had the crown yesterday, Ron remembers suddenly. A horrible, horrible idea grips him, as unsettling as a wriggling Flobberworm in his palm. Oh Morgana’s sweet tits, no.

“Good morning,” Hermione says briskly as Ron sits beside her, then huffs when he ignores her in favour of glaring at Malfoy.

Malfoy, for his part, keeps his eyes on his plate and ignores Ron entirely. Unsatisfied, Ron continues to examine him until his suspicions are heightened by a deep blush rising on Malfoy’s cheeks and ears. Bloody fucking hell.

Ron splutters, “What did you—”

“Do you really want to know, Ronald?” Hermione asks, cutting him off. “Think about it for a moment.”

Ron decides—very wisely, he thinks—that he does not want to know. In fact, he may never want to know anything about Harry ever again, because the idiot can’t stop smiling at Malfoy when he finally turns up for breakfast.

To everyone’s surprise, Malfoy passes the crown to Ron the following morning, with Harry (still grinning like an absolute numpty) as witness.

“For not punching me again,” Malfoy says solemnly as he sets the crown on Ron’s head. “Which would be completely understandable.”

Ron can’t help but laugh. “All right. But I demand your complete loyalty as my royal subject.”

With a roll of his eyes, Malfoy agrees—just for today. It seems he’s willing to put up with quite a lot, for Harry’s sake.

Ron whistles a few bars of “Weasley Is Our King” on the way to breakfast and decides that he’s willing, too. For Harry’s sake.

Written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt, "crown."

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#drarrymicrofic #my writing #700 words