#tw: alchohol mention

[astaroth1357]

Devildom Wedding Headcanons

I realized you probably wouldn't get a Christian wedding in Hell.

cw: lotta alcohol, Satanic themes

Weddings in the Devildom are anything but a quiet affair. They're noisy, colorful, and caked in excess.

A demon world wedding ceremony could be mistaken for a nonstop reception. The guests are always on their feet, constantly on the move by dancing, swinging, hooting, howling, and jumping. Raucous revelry is seen as a sign of support for the pairing.

Demonus flows at all points of the ceremony, though not in high concentrations so most guests can partake throughout the whole event. Food is also served plentiful and easily portable so the dancing doesn't have to stop for snacks.

Wedding venues tend to be outdoors to accommodate the movement. Couples often choose town squares, forest clearings, or parks to hold their ceremonies. It will go on no matter what weather as magic can be used to keep things dry and temperate. Thunderstorms are actually signs of good fortune as the realm is seen as adding noise to the festivities.

The decor is often chaotic and colorful. Guests are encouraged to bring their own flowers, fruits, and paints to crush and throw as they're moving. There is no coordination between parties, so all sorts of petals, juices, and colors will be mixed together by the end.

Music is bright and energetic. Swing jazz is a popular choice as it often reflects the energy of the venue. Full bands can be brought out or bands of friends and family members can partake in keeping things lively.

Fire is a big part of the ceremony. Torches, braziers, and bonfires are used for illumination - themselves alight in fantastic, magical colors. More expensive ceremonies will even opt to use shadow magic to make words and images from the shadows of the dancers.

The couple being wed is expected to be barefoot throughout the event, no matter the venue. It symbolizes willingness to tred a dangerous path together. Outfits are selected jointly, often to match in some way, to further demonstrate the unity.

The couple arrives together and enters the venue at the same time, upon which they will take their place in the center of the festivities - often marked by a large bonfire/stone/effigy. The couple dances to the music as the guests link hands to form moving circles around them.

Glasses of demonus are eventually passed to the couple in the center. The pair take turns speaking individually to their partner and the crowd, making declarative statements about their love and future devotion to one another in a form reminiscent of a toast. The crowd is encouraged to cheer or heckle if statements seem inauthentic.

A guest of the couples' choosing then brings them a set of rings to place onto each other. Once the rings are secured, they are allowed to kiss, then drink from their glasses as demonus and paint is showered onto them like champagne.

The ceremony moves right along to the reception within seconds. The guests are allowed to rest, eat, stand, and converse among themselves and with the couple. Wedding games such as Drunk Lawn Darts or Hot Coal Races are played while guests intermittently give speeches and toasts.

The reception ends when guests are too exhausted/wasted to continue any further. The couple is allowed to leave at earliest convenience to consummate the final event if they so choose to, though it's poor manners to leave before speaking to all guests.

Jobs allow two days of time off for employees to recover from expected hangovers.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me lucifer #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me mephistopheles #obey me raphael #obey me thirteen #tw: alchohol mention

[harveywritings92]

R/n: If you had a shot for every bad decision you’ve made would you be sober?

Gaz: I’d be dead.

Roach: I’d also be dead

Soap: I’d be very dead.

Price: I’d be Extremely dead.

Ghost: I’d be decimated.

#call of duty modern warfare incorrect quotes #call of duty 2022 #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #gn!reader #simon ghost riley #john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #garry roach sanderson #call of duty x reader #tw: alchohol mention #tw: death mention

[mxboxlocks]

just a bunch of doodles of RED doing what they do best: getting drunk and dancing like idiots

#team fortress 2 #team fortress two #tf2 #tw: alchohol mention #tw: alcohol #tf2 engineer #tf2 fanart #tf2 soldier #tf2 spy #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #boys will be boys yknow #i love them #i personally think they party all the time #even spy #because he's also an idiot in his own way #they're all their own flavor of moron

[harveyb-wabbit92]

Belial, hungover resting his head in R/n's lap: Urg... I think I went a little overboard wit' the cider last night.

R/n, as she's petting his head: The second you started calling me your "Little honey badger." I knew you were tanked.

#tw: alchohol mention #ultraman incorrect quotes #ultraman #tokusatsu incorrect quotes #tokusatsu #afab reader #ultraman belial #ultraman Belial x reader #Spark doll! Belial #alien x human #alien x reader

[igglemouse]

The sun cast its golden hue over my new town of Oasis Springs as it brought in the hopes of a new day. The simoleons from yesterday a reminder of my success and also what might be possible for me here.

But while I considered my last food sale a financial success it was certainly a failure socially. My mystery guy did not stop by which had me wondering if perhaps I had failed my first impression. Maybe that's not it? Perhaps the waffles left a lingering ill taste on his lips and he's decided my little offerings are just not enough?

Or...maybe he's taken?

I chomp down on my waffle with that thought bouncing through my head. That was far more likely, wasn't it? He was very handsome and I could tell he was brimming with confidence, the odds of a man like that being single? Very very low.

Later in the day, after a shower and some cleaning, my phone rings and it is someone I've met through my food stand but it's not the person I hope. It's Daniella, the girl I met yesterday who came by a little too late for a plate.

After introductions she tells me that she wishes to be my guide for the city. Hinting and teasing at private parties that she can drag me into and perhaps I'm far too eager to tell her I'm down for it because the mysterious tone she takes on after that kind of worries me.

Honestly, I was just being nice. A girl needs friends, doesn't she?

I head outside and set up. Calling out the usual. Waffles, tortillas, brownies, three dishes that were becoming an early staple of mines.

If only the air wasn't different. Less hurried, less eager, and less people. Perhaps it was too dry and just a little too hot but the result? Ninety-six simoleons.

The weight of my daily gains was both light and heavy. I didn't quite reach my goal but I was thankful for every simoleon made. It was a reminder that success would not be achieved in a straight line and that there would be ups and downs along the way.

The sizzle of my pan brings me solace and a promise of a future to come. The simoleons will be there. I'll work hard, I'll learn a new recipe every day, I'll get better and better to where my skills cannot be declined.

I am a student of flavor and my latest design, simple sliders, are sure to help me have my best day. After all, they are small, easy to plate, and even easier to eat. Perfect dish for a food stall, someone can drop their simoleons off on the table and take one to go. If only they are good.

I take a bite, letting the flavors dance around in my mouth. When it comes to any sandwich it's about creating the perfect mix of meat, bread, veggies, and condiments and I think I've hit the spot. It's a small confirmation of my work but not the final one. That test will come with my customers, of course.

The day stretched on with the promise of little which was expected. I figured I would sit down and find something to eat. Maybe even go to a bookstore and pick up recipe books? Something like that, have a quiet night in and prepare for tomorrow.

The ping of my phone presented another idea. The gym. With the curious man whose been lingering on my mind. When he asks I tell him maybe but we all know my curiosity and quite frankly my desire to see him again will not allow me to decline this invitation.

I'm just surprised he was able to find my number?

When I arrived at the gym I wondered how I had ever missed it. It stood large and looming over the busy street, the other businesses clearly benefitting from the crowd that it drew.

Once inside I met our mystery guy and he wasted little time leading me upstairs, claiming that a session would begin soon and he did not have time to waste.

The session? Yoga.

Fortunately, the class was small. Two others, including him, and he of course took a mat behind me. I laughed inwardly but a man will be a man I suppose? If he's going to admire the female form then I suppose I'd rather it be mines than the girl next to him at least.

Either way, the session starts and reluctantly and clumsily I follow the instructor. She starts with easier poses of course. Breathing exercises, she called them, which were more about relaxing and finding your mental center.

Eventually she would move on to more difficult ones. Stretching out legs and balancing on one foot. Nothing impossible for a beginner but I do think we both looked like fools trying to keep up.

We end on the flat of our backs, eyes closed, and letting our muscles find their natural states. Yoga is a lot harder than it looks but I admit it does feel very rewarding? Perhaps it is something I could get into? Especially if our mystery man is into it...

When I first step foot in this gym my first thought was how chilly it was inside. I almost wondered if I should have brought a coat! Now, I'm thankful for it, the cool air was far more welcome after our little workout and I was thankful that it kept my brow from glistening with any sweat as Pascal (that's his name by the way, so no longer a mystery guy to me) pulled me over for a conversation. A 'get to know each other' conversation, by the way, and thankfully in Selvadoradian so that saves him having to hear my terrible accent.

"So why this?" I ask. "Why yoga?"

"Orders of the captain," he says casually, as if I'm supposed to know what that means. Is he a sailor or... "He says it helps with the flexibility, prevents injuries, and helps with mental focus. All important on the field."

The field? I was still confused until I thought on it a moment longer. He's talking about a sport.

"I kick a ball for a living," he assists, that confident tone of his pulling me in closer.

So this is who I sat across from, Pascal Alcocer, a name that in itself seemed to carry a significance to it. At least to him. To me it was but another name. I think he liked that, he liked that I was ignorant of who he was. Perhaps it's why he's interested in me.

"You've never heard of me? Truly?" he seems sincerely confused. I just stare at him and shake my head. Revealing that I'm really no big fan of sports ball. Oh, don't get me wrong, fútbol as it is called back home is massive but it simply never pulled me in. It's just a bunch of people kicking a ball around in the end.

"I'm sorry," suddenly I feel ignorant. Here is this great athlete, presumably, setting out time to get to know me because he feels like I should already know him. "I just don't watch-"

"No! Please! Frida, is it?" I nod and bite down on my lip, my name seemed to slip so naturally from his lips. "It's refreshing, actually."

I am sure it is. If he's a big time athlete I can imagine he has women buzzing around him daily. Throwing themselves at him, begging for a moment of his attention and wanting a lot more. The more I think about it, the more I dislike it. Dating a man like this would be stressful, wouldn't it?

As I think about it he tells me more about himself. He's a young player with a lot of promise, a 'midfielder', he tells me. That word is filled with pride. I have no idea what it means but I can tell just by how he says it that its a special role on the team, perhaps like that of a sous chef? Either way, he says he plays for Oasis FC which again has little meaning to me beyond the fact that he plays for a professional team but he assures me he's not the big deal some make him out to be.

"I still have lots to prove. I don't quite have that big contract yet but everyone thinks it's a matter of time," he leans back as he says this, realizing that he's spent most of the time talking.

"Sounds like a lot of pressure," I say finally.

He gives me a stern nod and waves away that thought entirely. "I'd rather have the expectations to be great than be regarded as a failure...so, what about you?"

"Oh," where do I go from there? "I just opened up a stall and hope to see where it goes?" Watcher that sounds so lame in comparison. "I just enjoy cooking I guess and-"

"You are adorable, do you know that?"

Well that has me chewing on my lip again and has my face feeling a little warm.

"I-I like you too..."

I find the comfort of a bar soon after, too restless to head home and needing a drink to think on the night I've had with Pascal. First impression? I was impressed.

Sure, the man was so full of confidence that it was bordering on cockiness but I have a feeling that it takes pure arrogance to become a professional athlete.

It was also very clear that was into me. After all, he sought out my number and invited me to a gym and made sure he had a good look of me. Should that make me happy or should I worry that he's a teeny bit pervy?

I don't know. The good thing about a drink is that it allows me to not overthink any of what happened and look forward to seeing him again which, according to him, will be sometime tomorrow...

Episode List - Next

The wonderful public gym lot is by @streneesims

#The Sims #The Sims 4 #ts4 #Sims #Sims 4 #sims legacy #my sims #generation 1 #soot #sims of our time #frida varela #pascal alcocer #daniella martin #tw: alchohol mention #tw: alcohol

[thetisming]

& Juliet + alcohol

@fen-the-magnificat

#& juliet #& juliet musical #&j #and juliet #and juliet musical #juliet musical #lady capulet #lord capulet #angelique #juliet capulet #anne hathaway #may bellerose #francois dubois #romeo montague #william shakespeare #maycois #alcohol #alcohol tw #tw: alcohol #tw: alchohol mention #alcohol mention #gifs #gifset #musicalgifs

[delopsia]

Human | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 1,300  Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB! Reader, post-argument make-ups. Argument is never truly elaborated on, brief mention of alcohol. Slight hurt if you squint, but mostly comfort. This was a warmup I didn't intend to be posted, but Lewis added Human by Cody Johnson to his Rhett playlist, and well 🧍‍♂️ here's a snippet of the growing pains that come with Rhett learning to be more than just a cowboy 💕  

The moment your eyes close, music starts to play. 

Distant. Muffled. The barely there strummings of a guitar that you could have sworn was still sitting by the dresser. Reluctant, your eyes flicker open again, invisible flames licking at the corners of them as you look toward that old, hand-welded guitar stand. Already know what you'll find. Yet, surprised to find that confirmation.

Empty.

Just because there is music doesn't mean you need to face it. 

You can very well close your eyes again. Sleep off the exhaustion and deal with this in the morning when your mind is clear, and your heart is too sleepy to ache. But dealing with it in the morning means waiting and fitful sleep, brought on by the looming, empty space behind you. Lacking the warm, protective presence you've grown so accustomed to.

Your feet hit the cold floor at the same time that the guitar's player misses a note. This old hardwood has yet to creak as you walk across it, so familiar with the noisiest spots that you avoid them by instinct, and yet, the player seems to sense you coming. A once-perfect melody dissolving into a cluttered array of noises that hardly resembles what it once was.

The screen door squeals as you push it open, effectively silences the old guitar altogether.

It's dark; hard to see when you have nothing but the moonlight to go by, but you don't need it to know who's sitting on the old porch swing. Ankles crossed, the spurs on his boots glinting in the light. The ones you got him for his birthday last year because he kept glancing at them in the store. Never able to tear his eyes off the things he wants the most.

Like now. 

The full moon is just bright enough for you to see the way he tears his gaze off of you, only for it to flicker back as you cross the porch. Even now, he can't hide it. Your mouths remain sealed as you settle into the space next to him, the swing gently swaying as you do so. It's hard to talk when your throat is raw and your voice is weaker than the sleepy breeze that sweeps past.

On its own, your hand raises; he stiffens. Unable to move as your fingers curl around his jaw, your thumb rising to smooth over a bruised cheekbone. Some parting gift from a bull he rode last weekend. Those eyes glimmer a little more than they did before. Bottom lip quivering like a leaf in the Autumn breeze. 

That old guitar shakes as he sets it down, unable to keep it in his grip for the few seconds it takes him to do it. Eyelashes flutter, fighting back a flood that they're not strong enough to stop because a tear rolls down his cheek anyway. Caught midway by your thumb, only to be joined by another, and another, and another. 

"Rhett."

He breaks. 

Features scrunching. Collapsing into you so quickly that the swing sways with it, rocking back and forth. Your arms wrap around him, hardly able to cling to his shuddering frame. That usually cold nose of his is hot, burning against your neck as he buries his face into it. 

"I'm sorry," his voice breaks, interrupted by a hiccup. Can't quite get his voice out, and it's not because of your not-so-tame argument earlier. 

"It's okay," there's a soreness in your throat that makes it difficult to get around those syllables, overused and inflamed; you don't sound much better than he does, "You didn't mean to do it."

But Rhett's head shakes. A small, barely there motion that you doubt he notices he's doing. "No, it's not," his arms are tight around you, not letting go, even as he leans back to meet your eye, "I shouldn't have raised my voice at you in the first place."

You can argue with him on this; you're better with words than he is, know how to sell your point like a used car salesman during a recession. But you're not going to; too much of your evening has been spent bickering and pushing points that matter a whole lot less than they seem to. No, you're much happier with leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead, lingering there a moment too long.

"I don't know if 'm doin' this right," this close, you can catch the hint of whiskey on his breath; barely there, a whisper of what it could be. Doesn't assault your senses like it does when he's had enough to get himself drunk. You don't know how recently he's had it, but he's sober enough to notice you catch the scent. "Had half a glass, 's all."

Dramatic, your eyebrows raise. "Only half?" Raising your palm to feel his forehead, then his cheeks. "Are you feeling alright?"

The corners of his eyes turn upward, brought on by a watery smile, "was that sour apple shit my mom gave us."

"That bad, huh?" You really should address your argument, settle it while you're both too tired to get riled up again, but as he pushes your noses together, rubbing back and forth in that ticklish little kiss, it goes flying out the window. Not every argument needs to be solved right this second, but it's hard to ignore the wetness remaining on your shoulder. Tears, drying against your nightshirt.

Rhett's quiet again. 

Yet, somehow, that's all the answer you needed. 

It's easy settling into this rocking chair, bodies leaning into each other without care. One of his arms drapes around your shoulders, drawing you into his chest, while the swing rocks back and forth. A soothing dance that lulls your eyes shut, unable to keep them open any longer.

"Thank you." He murmurs, lips tickling your temple.

"For what?" 

The arm around you tightens, pulls you a smidge closer, erasing the last of the space between your bodies. One of those subconscious things he does when he's biding for more time to find what words he wants to use. "For not making me feel like something that needs to be fixed." Pausing again, interrupted by a stray hiccup. "I know I can...be a lot to deal with."

He says it as if you didn't know what you were getting into with him. Like you didn't already understand that cowboys like him all have the same burning issue. 

"You're learning," reaching for his hand as you speak, watching how yours practically disappears in his grasp, "I can't fault you for that."

Because everyone knows that Rhett Abbott was born and raised to be a cowboy. To spend his life working the family ranch, pick up for his brother's slack, and, if he still had the energy after all that, make his father proud by winning the county rodeo. A man worth bearing the Abbott family name. Something to brag about during family get-togethers. 

All those expectations, and they forgot one simple little thing.

They never raised him to be human. 

But he's getting there. 

His boots hit the floor, not so subtly telling you that he's about to get up but not quite going through with it yet. The wateriness in his eyes replaced by a childish sparkle fueled by whatever is brewing behind his growing smile.

"Y'wanna dance with me?" 

How did you know he was about to ask that? "You don't know how to dance." 

"Maybe," leaning closer, bumping your foreheads together, "But you always laugh when I trip and fall on my ass." 

He's barely held his hand out before you're taking it. Letting him pull you up from the swing, off to spin around in the grass until someone inevitably falls. Already giggling before you've even made it off the porch together.

Dancing in the middle of the night won't fix things, but maybe they don't need fixing. 

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott outer range #rhett abbott x you #outer range #outer range fic #rhett abbott x y/n #ao3 oneshot #oneshot #outer range amazon #reader self insert #self insert #x reader #reader insert #afab reader #delgato's warmups #tw: alchohol mention

[crybaby-bkg]

Dabi is surprisingly a lightweight. You honestly would’ve never figured by looking at him, but as you think back on it, you’ve never really seen him drink a lot. Not when there were celebratory parties, or when things didn’t go right for him. It’s why you’re so shocked when you convince two shots into his system, why he suddenly looks so loose, why his grin splits so wide.

He’s a clinger, you’ve also learned as you’ve started observing the blue eyed man where he shoves his face into the crook of your neck. His body bends over almost uncomfortably to fit into the position, and you can’t help but flinch a little when his damp breath blows a quiet little raspberry on your flesh.

omg wait my favorite thought is of you not even necessarily being a heavyweight, you can just handle your liquor a little better than anyone expects. you love to knock back drink after drink, convince Dabi into some stupid competition that he falls for because he’s such a little nerd and secretly wants to impress you. he does it thinking you’ll be the drunk one first, the one hanging off of his arm and hopefully his dick by the end of the night.

it belatedly shocks him when it’s the exact opposite. when he’s slurring a little and smiling at you, when you watch him through low eyes with a wide grin, when he wraps himself around you like a python, when you shake his face gently as you squish his cheeks together in hand. he’s just so utterly obsessed with you in these moments, and maybe it’s the liquor in him, but he knows his lowered inhibitions are only bringing forth the feelings he’s always suppressed.

drunk sex with Dabi where he’s the one too loose limbed and limp and weak. he flops onto bed like some rag doll with his arms and legs spread wide, but he musters up enough strength to release the heavy weight of his cock from its confinements. doesn’t do much besides lift his head from the pillows with a point to his crotch and a lazy grin, an announcement of, go ahead and hop on already before he’s flopping back down again, ready to lay back and get fucked like how he knows he deserves.

#at first I wrote about him getting whisky dick and not even realizing it and being so embarrassed about it the next morning #but it made me laugh too hard and I was like #no one will enjoy that dude shut up AJSHDKDJDJD #but omg lightweight baby that can only cling to you and whine to go back to your room to fuck #only to pass out immediately on the bed lmfao #I love him I’m gonna str*ngle him so bad #anyway I finished all my work for the week and now I feel empty so I will be moving onto next weeks work tomorrow LOL NERD #but everything next week is simple too so why not get it out the way ya know???? #after that I might sit down and actually write another fic since it’s been a little minute #everyone voted for therapist obsessed bkg next but I kinda wanna write something emotional for touya now lmfao #I’m becoming so obsessed with him and it HURTS!!!!! #I can only handle one ☝🏻 at a time or else I start getting the shakes #also omg my regular dr is making me go to the heart dr bc she said my anxiety worries her for my physical condition aksjdj embarrassing #okay bye I’m gonna read a little and sleep #—new treat in the streets! 🍫 #dabi treats! 🍬 #tw: alchohol mention

[din-miller]

Natant

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: Joel teaching Ellie to swim as you watch from the sidelines

Warnings: can be read as either tlou tv show or the game, fluff, Joel being a nervous wreck each time Ellie's head is underwater, set in Jackson, no spoilers for part 2 fyi, Joel might be a little ooc but the dudes finally fucking happy.

A/N: sorry about the odd gif, couldn't find one that was tlou related.

° Natant 

(adj) Swimming or floating

"Again."

"Seriously? How many times are you forcing me to pencil dive?" Ellie groaned, awkwardly adjusting her swim shirt. It's actually Maria's shirt, and the swim trunks she's wearing belong to one of the local teens. They're both a little too big for her small frame but so far it hasn't been a huge problem.

"Until your form is completely straight," Joel responded, "We ain't leavin' until you've done five perfect dives, kiddo."

You snorted at Ellie's annoyed grunt. Joel gave you a soft smile before quickly turning back to make sure Ellie hadn't fallen off the small cliff and drowned in the three seconds he had taken his eyes off of her. 

"Keep your arms tightly against your side and your feet pointed downward to-,"

"-reduce the force of impact upon entry." Ellie finished, words most likely burned into her brain at this point, "I know, you've told me like a thousand fucking times already."

She took a deep breath before jumping into the water, back perfectly straight. Your eyes quickly move to where Joel is standing at the edge of the embankment, rocking back and forth on his heels.

He's nervous, been this way all day. It's such a small mundane thing; learning how to swim. Joel had told you once that him and Tommy learned by being thrown into the water by their drunken father. 

It wasn't going to be like that with Ellie. 

You could see his lips moving, silently counting the seconds she's under the water. You have no doubt that when he reaches ten, he'll be diving in to get her. 

He got to eight when her head finally broke the surface of the water, a loud exhale left her body, followed by an even louder inhale of air. 

"Did you fucking see that?" Ellie grinned, "I touched the bottom of the river."

"That you did, that you did." Joel chuckled, arm extended to pull her out of the water. He leaned down to whisper something in her ear and Ellie's grin became even wider. 

You didn't even have time to brace yourself before you had a lap full of a soaking fifteenth year old. You squealed in surprise and Ellie giggled, something that's becoming more and more frequent lately.

Your bathing suit cover-up – one of Joel's plaid button ups you've claimed as your own – is getting soaked by the second. It's warm out, the sun absorbing the droplets quickly, but you hadn't really planned on getting wet. Dipping your toes in the water sure. Not wearing half the river. 

Ellie rolled off of you and onto the grass, "Man, you should've seen your face! I thought you were going to have a heart attack." 

You dug your fingers into her side, eyes searching for Joel as you did so. You're not surprised to find him already looking your way. Tommy had once joked that Joel's eyes never truly leave you or Ellie. 

They don't, Joel had told you later when you had repeated what Tommy said. He's always looking, always making sure his girls are okay. 

Ellie bats your hand away, pleading with you to stop tickling her. You listened and moved your hand up to her head instead, removing her ponytail to thread your fingers through her dark hair.  

Ellie slowly laid her head down on your bare thighs, still a little hesitant on whether or not she's crossing boundaries. She's not, never could. 

You don't say anything, don't dare to move a muscle. You just wait until she's relaxed enough before returning to massaging her temple. She lets out a small tired yawn.

Ellie tilted her head to where Joel's leaning against a nearby tree, silently watching with a carefree smile, "You waiting for an invitation or what old man?" 

Joel huffed, mumbling about how he's not old and settled himself behind you, pulling you back against his chest with your head resting on his shoulder. One hand propped his body up and the other unbuttoned your shirt enough to snake his hand inside.

You glanced up at him, brow raised as if to say 'really?' and Joel laid his palm flat against your stomach, drawing you in closer to him. He sighed contentedly against the skin of your neck before pressing a delicate kiss against your jaw. You lean into the warmth of his lips. 

There's a puff of warm air on your right leg and you watch as Ellie's head tilted to the side, eyes closed and lips parted. You can't fight back the smile that graces your lips. She's falling asleep on you. If that isn't the biggest sign of trust, you don't know what is.

Behind you Joel grunted, but it's lacking his normally gruffness, "Kid's still got three dives left to complete before we head back."

You rolled your eyes, "The water will still be here tomorrow, Joel. I'll wake up extra early and make sure no infected managed to outsmart your traps."

Joel hugged you closer, "Respectfully, ma'am, no you won't. Not without me, at least."

"We'll wake up tomorrow," You corrected, then sighed, "I wish everyday was like this. Us three, together."

Joel's silent behind you, but you don't feel like you've crossed a line. You let him have a moment to gather his thoughts, you always do. 

"It could be," Joel said, "Jackson doesn't have keys – hell Jackson barely has front doors that close all the way-,"

You can't help but snort. As much as Jackson's thriving in an apocalyptic world, there's still flaws. It's not like the town has access to new key making equipment. Some doors don't even have doorknobs anymore. The residents survive by trust that the few belongings they have are safe inside their homes. 

"-but if my doorknob had a working lock, you'd be the first to have a key." 

"Even before Tommy?"

"Especially before Tommy."

You're not stupid, you know he's asking you to move in with him. He hasn't exactly been subtle about it. Almost all of your clothing is hung up in his closet – by his doing. Some of your more meaningful knickknacks you've collected over the years have found home on a shelf in his room. 

He built you your own hook to hang up your coat.

Ellie had once joked that he's hopeless. You can't help but agree.

Joel's body goes stiff behind you and you realise you haven't answered him, "Does Ellie know?"

"She won't shut up about it. That girl needs you as much as I do," He admitted, "That scares me sometimes y'know."

You nod, because you do know. You're in the same boat. Losing him, losing Ellie, that would destroy you. You gently brush the back of your hand against Ellie's cheek, and snuggle back against Joel, "Can my key be multi-coloured?"

"Your key can be made from diamonds I've foraged for with my own two hands if that means you'll say yes." 

"How about a wooden one spray painted?" 

Joel hummed and turned your head to seal your lips together in a brief kiss, "I'll get right on that, darlin'."

#you know full well this mother-fucker has eighteen deadbolt locks on each door and window #this is my first tlou fic #the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller #ellie williams #joel & ellie #ellie included fic #fluff #inspired by a word #justice joy writes #tw: alchohol mention

[silverhairsimp]

Hajime Iwaizumi x reader

Here's my submission for @hanmas When Nobody's Home Collab (I AM SO SORRY IT'S SO LATE).

CW: MINORS DO NOT ENTER! 18+ stepcest, panty sniffer!Iwa, panty thief!Iwa, noncon, somnophilia, vaginal fingering, oral (f.receiving), car sex, unprotected sex, creampie, jealous stepbro!iwa, alcohol consumption (all characters written are in their last year of college and over the age of 21). Let me know if I missed anything in the tags/warnings.

WC: 7.7k (AND IT IS GOOD TO BE BACK!)

ALMOST FORGOT. SHOUT OUT TO @weebaboobs for beta reading for me 🧡 ily bb

Summers home from college always mean the same thing: coming back and being forced to live with your step brother as if the two of you are in high school again, fighting over a shared bathroom and waking up every morning right across the hall from one another. It’s as if nothing’s changed since those first few weeks of living together after your mom and his dad decided to tie the knot. Tensions were high and neither of you thrilled about no longer being the only child. Never being able to shake the feeling as if you can’t escape each other’s presence no matter where you went in the house.

Except one thing has changed…

His friends treat you differently now. Before, you were just Iwaizumi’s little sister. Someone they loved to pick on, constantly snickering at the way you’d get upset over their incessant teasing, always talking about you behind their back.

But now? You’re no longer the wing-spiker’s little sister… you’re you.

A mature, young woman that grew very nicely into her body; filling out each and every curve perfectly. 

So it’s no surprise that his friends are at the doorstep of your family’s shared home almost every day, suggesting beach trips or pool parties. Hell, even backyard movie nights - anything to see you in a swimsuit or those skimpy little sleep shorts you were notorious for wearing. 

It was so annoying for your step brother, having all of his friends fawn over you like that. And Iwaizumi never understood… Oikawa has a parade of girls following him everywhere, so why is he so infatuated with you? Matsukawa’s no better - Iwaizumi was sure you had heard the rumors about him and all he has to offer, convinced the pretentious ass just wants to prove to you that they’re true. 

So, when your mom and step dad texted that they’d be vacationing in Europe all summer, that meant two things: his friends adamantly trying to spend time with you, and an entire summer alone with your step brother. 

There would be no one to mediate the fights the two of you were guaranteed to get into. No one to break the tension between you and your brother - something the two of you have ignored for as long as you can remember. No one to keep his friends in check when they think about getting a little too forward with you. And no one to run to when it all became too much, because no one else would be around. 

Your brother returned home before you did, his University ending their semester two weeks before yours. So when you finally pulled up to the house, it was no surprise to see three familiar cars parked out front. You could hear the TV blaring from the driveway as you grabbed your backpack and suitcase and made your way to the front door. 

“Unlocked. Of course.” You grumble to yourself and roll your eyes, letting out a deep sigh before pushing the heavy door open. 

Their attention on the screen was hardly broken at the sound of the door opening, and it wasn’t until you slammed it shut that everyone turned to you. Well, almost everyone. 

Oikawa was the first to jump over the couch: “y/n, nice to see you again. I could help you bring your stuff to your room, maybe help you unpack…?” He was always so forward and nonchalant. 

Matsukawa sat with his arm draped over the back of the couch and did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he was staring at your tits. You really should’ve known better than to wear a low cut crop top and high waisted jean shorts, which surely did nothing to keep your ass from hanging out. 

“Thanks for the offer, but I can handle it myself.” You push past Oikawa, who mutters something about ‘gotta love an independent woman’. You nod your head to Matsukawa who brings his eyes up to meet yours only briefly before going back to checking you out. 

Iwaizumi, on the other hand, was still holding the gaming controller and paying you absolutely no mind. You walk over and slap him in the back of the head, “thanks for the warm welcome, asshole.” 

He snickers at you and curses, “Look! You fucking made me die!” 

To which you respond with a wave of your hand over your shoulder and a “Boo hoo… you were gonna die anyways.” 

It was always like this between the two of you: pushing each other's buttons and getting under each other's skin until neither of you could handle it anymore… it was only a matter of who would crack first.

You spend the afternoon taking trips out to your car and back inside, the summer heat getting to you more and more with each trek. Small droplets of sweat roll down your temple and the sinful thoughts that grace the minds of the men on the couch are anything but few and far between. Those thoughts only intensify when you bend over by the front door to take off your shoes, ass on display while you rearrange the ones already discarded there. 

With the last bag inside, you head off to your bedroom to start unpacking. There's a bag full of dirty laundry that needs to be washed and a few suitcases that need to be put away. But, after the first one, you’re not sure how much more you have the energy for. 

There will be plenty of time later, you think to yourself. 

The day is still young, and it’ll be nice and sunny outside for at least a few more hours. You dig through your half unpacked suitcase and pull out a brand new bikini, quickly slipping it on even with your bedroom door cracked open. 

You pull a towel out of the hall closet and throw it over your shoulder, purposefully walking in front of the TV and grabbing the attention of three pairs of eyes on your way out to the backyard. 

“Gonna go for a swim,” you say, looking directly at Iwaizumi as you take long strides toward the back door, swaying your hips a little more than usual and waiting for at least two of the three men to jump out of their seats and join you. 

Oikawa and Matsukawa are quick to follow. There’s not a second of hesitation before they’re shouting a quick “We wanna swim too!” and darting out the door, leaving Iwaizumi inside all alone. 

He knew he should’ve waited to invite those two over.. now he’s never going to have any alone time with you. He can’t seem to wrap his head around what he's feeling. It doesn’t make sense: why he’s so irritated. Even with trying to focus on the game, he can’t help the way his eyes flit over his shoulder every time he hears your laugh and the warmth it brings to his chest. 

Why is he so jealous of Matsukawa hovering behind you? And the way he takes far too long to rub the sunscreen into your shoulders. Why does he feel so possessive when Oikawa puts a hand on your knee? He shouldn’t be acting like this over his step sister… but, maybe that’s why… you’re his step sister. His. He can’t resist the urge anymore, he wants to be the one to put his hands all over you. He wants to be the one to rub the sunscreen into your smooth skin. He wants to be the one with his hand on your thigh, or perhaps pinning you down underneath him and holding you open by them instead. 

Iwaizumi grumbles to himself, sick of his own self pity, and finally gets up, walking down the hall and stopping in front of his door. He reaches out for the door knob before looking over his shoulder. He shouldn’t be turning around and walking towards your room instead, but he is. He pokes his head inside to see the organized mess strewn across the floor. The different piles of clothes, the half folded ones still in your suitcase… but one thing really catches his eye: a light teal g-string sitting right on top of your laundry pile. 

He can’t help but wonder if you wore it on your way home, and before he can stop himself, he’s opening your door even further, taking two strides in and picking them up in his hand. He starts to bring them to his face until the sound of the sliding back door pulls him out of his trance. He’s almost positive he hears Oikawa beg for you to stay and keep him company, but his distance from the back door makes it difficult to accurately hear. 

Quickly, he shoves your panties into his pocket and makes sure to leave your door cracked the same amount as when he first went in. 

He heads back into his own room and pulls out a pair of swim trunks, officially deciding that he wasn’t going to let his friends have all the fun with you. He pulls your panties out of his pocket and shoves them inside his pillow case for safekeeping and throws his comforter over the top. He tosses his shirt in the hamper just as soon as you appear in the doorway of his room: 

“You really shouldn’t change with the door open, never know who could be watching…” His cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink at the insinuation behind your surprisingly seductive words and he turns around before his body gives too much away. 

The way you lean against the door frame: arms crossed and wearing hardly anything, the curve of your hips and your smooth legs… it's like you’re begging for his touch. The idea of running his hands all over your body stirs something deep within him - something he’s not quite sure he’s ready to give in to and acknowledge yet. His brows furrow as he looks over to the secret he’s keeping under his pillow, and he can’t help but think how you’d look standing in the doorway in that same teal g-string. He clears his throat but refuses to turn back around to look at you, “thought you were going swimming.” 

“I was, but then I thought about how boring it was without you there. Issei and Tooru can only keep me entertained for so long,” a heavy sigh leaves your lips, “just wanted you to come out and join us for some real fun.” And with that, you push off the door frame and make your way back outside, disappearing down the hall without another word. 

Iwaizumi mutters those words back to himself, real fun…? What the hell could you mean by that? 

The rest of the evening is spent by the poolside, laughing, drinking, exchanging stares with your step-brother that say so much, yet so little at the same time. By now, you’ve lost count of the numbers of beers that the four of you have gone through, as well as the number of pickup lines Oikawa has seemingly “blessed” you with. If you had to take a guess, the numbers are pretty evenly matched. 

With your buzz starting to get to you, you head inside to get some food, thankful that there were plenty of leftovers still in the fridge. You pull out a dish, grab a plate and set it in the microwave to heat up. Your elbows rest on the cold surface of the counter as you aimlessly scroll through your phone, catching up with social media and responding to text threads letting your friends know you’re back home for the summer. 

You wouldn’t’ve heard the sliding door being shut even if you were listening for it. Too encapsulated in that little device to notice that your step brother had come back inside to check on you. 

And he is definitely checking on you. 

Watching as the thong of your swimsuit rides up even higher with each sway of your hips. The way your legs and ass flex everytime you rock from your heels to your toes. He can’t bring himself to say anything, not when the only thoughts in his head are filthy ones of you. 

He tries to mask the disappointment on his face when the timer goes off and you move to grab your plate out of the microwave. Out of the corner of your eye you finally notice him. “Oh, hey Haji, how long have you been standing there?” your eyes meet and you can’t help but notice the little red tint in his cheeks, wondering if it's from the alcohol or maybe something else… 

“Just walked in actually, wanted to let you know the boys are staying the night.” He says as he rubs the back of his neck, squinting his eyes just a bit to try and get another peek at your hardly covered body without making it too obvious.

 You laugh and shake your head, “I’ll make sure to lock my door tonight then.” 

He laughs nervously along with you and asks himself, would you lock your door if it were just him? Would you purposefully leave it cracked in hopes he’d come in? He considers tampering with the lock, guaranteeing himself some sort of access if he ever wanted it… and fuck, does he want it. He supposes he’ll have to wait until the next time he gets to spend with you alone to find out. 

Time seems to pass by exceptionally fast after the four of you had called it a night. Freshly showered and with the rest of your stuff put away, you poke your head out of your door once more. 

Just across the hall, you can see the subtle glow of your brother's TV through the crack of his door. Muffled laughs and not-so-quiet gaming taunts reach your ears as your step brother and his friends continue their night away from you. 

You chew on your cheek and shift your feet where you stand, debating whether or not you should actually lock your door tonight... It couldn’t hurt to leave it open, could it? Would it really be that bad if one of them were to come in during the night? Especially if there was a chance that the one was your step brother…

–

The next day went by much faster than you’d planned. The morning was spent with your face buried in the same text thread from last night, making plans with your friends to go out to a new club that had opened while all of you were away at school. 

All of the boys kept to themselves until right before you were getting ready to go out. Since your step brother was so considerate to have company over, you invited your friends to get ready at your place. 

He thought that a good nights sleep and some advil would be enough to sober up his thoughts of you, but he can’t fight off the sudden feeling of irritability he has. He doesn’t want you to go out with your friends and he doesn’t want his friends here. Having you alone is the only thing crossing his mind, and the fact that he can’t have that frustrates him even more. You don’t belong to him… he shouldn’t be so selfish as to not let you go out with your friends. But there’s a part of him that thinks you should belong to him.

He now sits on the couch with his knee bouncing and his shoulders raised to his ears in frustration at the music that’s playing far too loud in your room and the obvious amounts of alcohol you’re already consuming.

It was always the fucking same, he thinks to himself with the palms of his hands pressed to his eyes. You get way too drunk and call him in the middle of the night begging to be picked up. There’s no way he’d let it happen again - not this time. But when you finally reappear in the entryway of the door, all frustrations he had suddenly disappear when he sees you. Maybe he won’t let you leave at all. 

Everything about you makes his head spin: the way your hair’s styled perfectly, and the fact that your dress is entirely too short for anyone's eyes but his. He can’t even consider tearing his gaze away from your smooth legs and how toned they look flexing in those heels you’re wearing. 

But before he has any time to protest, you're already offering him one last smile as you walk out the door.

He flops back on the couch with a dramatic huff, staring at the ceiling as he thinks of all the ways this night could possibly go. 

Even with his friends keeping him occupied at the house, he can’t help but check his phone every 5 minutes looking for updates from you. The occasional snap chat notification comes through, but it’s nothing personal to him. 

It’s shameful, really, how many times he has to excuse himself to his room or the bathroom just to replay the video on your story. The way you hold your phone above you, getting the perfect angle to capture your body in that dress, showing off the sway of your hips for the camera. 

Were you doing this for all your friends on social media? Maybe for yourself? Or was it for him? 

He’s lost track of the number of times he’s swiped up to respond to what you’re posting. But nothing seems right to say. He can’t be too forward, unaware of what you want, or what you think of him… but most importantly, he’s your step brother! He shouldn’t be having any of these thoughts in the first place… 

The minutes turn to hours and he comes to the realization that he really just needs to sleep it off. Whatever it is. He pads off to his room, leaving Oikawa and Matsukawa on the couch with their half eaten boxes of pizza and empty bottles of beer. 

For the first few minutes, Iwaizumi lays on his back looking up at the ceiling, so many thoughts running through his mind, but he can’t decide on any to dissect. He wonders what you’re doing right now and who you’re with. Are you with your friends still? Or is someone else taking up all your time? 

He picks up a pillow and smashes it against his face, holding it there for a second as he tries to figure out why he cares so much about anything you’re doing tonight. His eyes slowly start to drift shut, too tired and confused to think about this any further, until something else catches his attention. 

He lifts the pillow off his face and digs inside the case, pulling out the little piece of clothing he took from your room yesterday. With all the time to himself, he brings your panties to his nose and inhales deeply. His eyes shouldn’t be rolling to the back of his head at your scent, but goddamnit, why did you have to smell so sweet? 

He’s got half a mind to use them to get himself off, but he can’t ruin them. He’ll find something else to get off to later. Maybe you’ll even help him with it? 

It’s almost 2 am when the sound of his phone vibrating against his night stand wakes him up. He rolls over, smirking at your panties he still had wrapped around his fist before reaching a hand out to flip his phone face up to see your caller ID. His first instinct is to answer, but he told himself he wouldn't do this again. He won’t come to your rescue, especially when he has all these thoughts to sort through. 

He hits the decline button, flipping his phone face down until his room goes dark again. He pulls the covers over his head in an attempt to resist any further temptation, and that's when he hears it: 

Ringing interrupted by a wave of text messages:

Haaaaaajiiiiiii

I know its late

I’m so so so ssorry 

Can you pleeease come pick me up :((

By the time he actually answers the phone, he’s ready to tell you to quit bothering him and find your own ride home. But, those words are caught in his throat when he hears a voice on the other line. One that doesn’t belong to any of the friends you left with, or any one he knows. 

“Just come home with me sweetheart… Y’don’t need anyone else t’come n’get’cha…”

He can’t believe he’s actually considering coming to get you. “Damn y/n, haven’t even been home a few days and already you’re planning on going home with strangers?” He huffs a laugh on the other line like his words were meant to prove something. 

“Shut up! That’s why I called you…” your voice sounds desperate. So needy. He finds it cute. 

Iwaizumi is too quiet for far too long on the other line, so you speak up again, “Would you prefer I call Tooru or Issei instead? I’m sure they’d come get me in a heartbeat… on second thought, maybe i will go home wi–”

He cuts you off before you can get another word out, “’m on my way.” 

You hang up the phone with a grin on your face, not even sorry to be telling the stranger you won’t be joining him tonight. 

The whole drive over he can’t help but think about what would’ve happened if he didn’t answer your call. 

There was no way he was gonna let you, his sweet little step sister, go home with some asshole that only wanted one thing. And for fucks sake, his friends? If only you knew the things they said about you - the things they wanna do to you, he’d never admit it but, most of them he’d like to do to you himself…

Iwaizumi had every intention of ignoring you, but when you mentioned them, and when he thought about anyone else having you tonight, it made his stomach turn. 

It was only about 20 minutes before Iwaizumi was pulling up to the curb outside the club. He opens the door to his truck with gritted teeth, trying to compose himself at the sight of some random guy's arm still slung around your shoulder and his face far too close for comfort. 

He opens up the passenger side door, “y/n. Let’s go.” 

You take a few steps toward the truck, only to be pulled back by your hand, “C’mon baby, you don’t gotta go with him.” 

Quickly retracting your hand as you pick up the pace and make it to the door he’s holding open for you. As soon as you take that step up into the truck, Iwa makes sure to move behind you to block the view before you flash anyone still watching. Maybe he selfishly wanted that view all to himself. 

Once he’s back in the car, the ride is quiet, neither of you saying much of anything. There’s a soft clattering of your heels being taken off and dropping to the floorboard. Your head is spinning, from both the alcohol and the unspoken tension that's filling the car right now. 

Instead of saying anything, you lean your head against the cool glass of the window and pull your feet into the seat. Thankfully there’s just enough room to tuck them under the middle seat that’s folded down to separate you from your step brother. 

You don’t remember being this tired, but after situating yourself, the quiet hum of the engine and the music playing in the background is enough to lull you to sleep. 

Iwaizumi does his best to keep his eyes on the road, but as soon as he hears you take that deep breath and let out a little hum, he can’t help the way his focus shifts towards you. 

He watches the slow rise and fall of your chest and the way your tits strain against your dress. His eyes follow down where your dress is cinched at the curve of your waist until his gaze lands on something else… something much more interesting than anything else on the road.

He’s sure you hadn’t realized it, but when you pulled your feet up you exposed a completely different part of your body. Something that he’s been dying to see for as long as he can remember… Peeking out of your short dress, is your pretty little pussy, covered in the thinnest lace he thinks he’s ever seen.

Without even thinking twice about it, he reaches for the folded seat in the middle and lifts, now creating a perfect bench in the front seat of his truck. He couldn’t bring himself to pull his eyes away. 

It was no wonder you had some random guy hanging off of you all night. He’s not sure he would’ve been able to contain himself had he seen you like this earlier. This was exactly why he had to step in, no one else was, or is, going to have you. 

It was wrong, he knew it was, but he almost didn't have control over the way his hand stretched out toward you. His thumb rests on the underside of your ass, gently spreading you apart as tries to get a better look at the outline of your puffy lips. 

If it weren’t for the upcoming stop sign, he’s sure he would’ve kept his attention between your legs. Perhaps he should be thankful for the stop sign in the middle of the night with absolutely no one around… 

With each second that passes, he can’t help but think about how you feel, how you taste… He knows your guys’ house is only a few more minutes away, but no matter what he does to distract himself and get the two of you home, he can’t pull his focus away from you. 

He turns the air conditioner up just a little higher and the music up just a bit louder. Even tries to fidget with his phone, but he can’t. It’s no use, not when you’re here… like this. 

Your legs begin to shift a little bit just as he passes the house and he doesn’t want this to end, so he keeps driving. Wanting to keep you asleep so he has time to sort out these thoughts in his head and the aching in his pants. 

Once you’ve fallen back into a comfortable sleep, he reaches out to you again and settles a hand right on the side of your thigh. His thumb circles the bottom of your ass, each stroke threatening to go lower and lower until he reaches the edge of your panties. The closer he gets to your core, the more he can feel heat radiating from it. 

Can you feel what he’s doing to you? Do you like it? He wishes he could bring himself to wake you up and ask you, but he can’t. Not yet. 

He inhales deeply and grips the steering wheel impossible tight as he lets his thumb trace along the edge of the lace. His exhale comes out shaky, he's not sure if it’s because he’s nervous or because he knows how wrong this is. It’s probably a combination of both. 

He drives like this for a bit: making slow turns down poorly lit roads, keeping his hand in place and working his way a bit lower every few miles. There’s not a single car in sight as he approaches another stop sign. 

He presses gently on the breaks and rolls to a stop, his focus is right where his thumb rests against your skin. He puts his truck in park, but keeps the engine idling as he takes in another deep breath before moving his thumb across your slit. 

The touch ghosts over you, hardly even there but he feels you. The growing wet spot starts to show, even with the darkness of night surrounding the two of you. He repeats the motion and adds more pressure with each deliberate drag of his thumb. 

The slick building up on his thumb only makes him want more– more of this and more of you. He spreads the wetness up your slit and circles your clit through your panties. 

“Hnngh– H-Haji-me…” 

He freezes when he hears you mutter his name… but your eyes are still closed when he looks over at you. There’s no way his thoughts can be right, but there’s no other explanation. You think about him too, he convinces himself. 

Part of him wants to wake you up so you can both enjoy this moment, and the other wants to see how much he can get away with while you're still asleep.

For the first time, he pulls the fabric between his fingers and lays his eyes on your bare cunt. Strings of slick still connect your lower lips to your thong as he pulls it away. He’s surprised you don’t wake up once the rush of cool air from the ac hits you, but he’s not complaining one bit. 

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly at the sight of you, he mutters a soft fuck before he licks his lips. Wanting nothing more than to dive in and eat you out like he’s been wanting to for months– hell, years!

The temptation is hitting him full force as he spreads your lips open with two fingers. Your clenching little hole practically begging to be filled by him. He thinks of all the things he’d do to you: the way he’d take it nice and slow, starting off with one finger, then adding another, maybe one more after that. Maybe he’d prep you, but he’s living for the thought of stretching you open with his cock and as much resistance as possible with how tight you’d be. 

He wonders how greedily you’d suck him in, how politely – or pathetically – you’d beg for more. His thoughts are short lived once you start to shuffle around again. Mindlessly rubbing your thighs together before you crack open your eyes and look at him. 

Iwaizumi should be ashamed and embarrassed that he’d practically been caught touching you like this, but he's almost relieved. Relieved enough to finally see the way your eyes roll to the back of your head once he gets the chance to bury his fingers knuckle deep inside of you. Relieved to finally be able to hear that pretty voice telling him what makes you feel good and where you need his touch. 

He starts to pull his hand away, thinking maybe the two of you should talk about this or at least acknowledge what he’s doing. To his surprise, and your own, you reach out to grab his wrist, keeping his hand in place. 

“Haji… did you want something?” you’re clearly giving him a chance to answer honestly but he’s almost frozen. Unsure what to do or say until you pull his hand even closer. 

He clears his throat and rubs a finger up and down your slit, just like he had before you woke up. “Yeah… I uh– you. I want you.” 

“Mmm, me? What about me?” you’re teasing him and he’s almost getting impatient. He’s had a hard on since he first saw your thong peeking out from under your dress and the teasing is making him even more impatient. 

“Why don’t you sit up and come over here for me? I’ll show you exactly what I want.” He's already this worked up, he can hold out for a bit longer…

You shift in your seat and spread open your legs before settling on your knees in the middle. A large hand grips your inner thigh as his fingers trail further up until his hand is cupping your pussy under your dress. 

“Y’know how many conversations Oikawa and Matsukawa have had about you? How if they were your step brother… you’d technically not be related by blood so it wouldn’t be weird to fulfill all the fantasies they’ve had about you… I’m starting to think they’re onto something.” Rough fingers press even harder against you and by the way you pull your dress up even further, to a point where it's bunched around your waist, he can tell you’re on the same page. 

“You think about touching me? Doing all sorts of dirty things to me, hm?” Your hands play with the shorts strands of hair right above his ears and his eyes start to close as he leans into your touch. 

“Most of my thoughts are about you. It’s real fuckin’ annoying.” There's a smile on his lips when he says it. He knows that he’s more so annoyed with the fact that he hasn’t been able to do anything about it, but that’s all about to change right now. “You know, you were mumbling my name in your sleep… guess i’m not the only one who thinks about my step sibling.” 

There's a wicked smirk on his face and your cheeks start to redden, he thinks it’s a good look on you and he wants to fluster you even more. “Want me to keep touching you like this?” 

You nod your head in response, but that's not good enough. “Use your words, or else I stop.”

“Please… don’t stop. Want you to keep touching me.” You pull your hands away from his hair and bring them to your waist. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your thong and willfully pull it off yourself. 

You shift back in the passenger seat like you had before, pulling your knees to your chest and tugging your panties down until they’re hanging around your ankle. You raise your foot in front of his face, allowing him the honors to completely remove them from your body. 

He takes them off with a smirk before looking at you and quickly shoves them into his pocket. “Oh, I know you took my panties before…” you smile at him and bend your knees before opening your legs. “The teal g-string… I used to wear that pain to all your games, y'know.” 

There’s a redness in his cheeks that you hadn’t seen before. He starts to think about all the games you’d been to over the years, and each time you worse those. “Gonna keep these ones too then, start my own collection.” 

“You’re such a pervert…” you say the words but you don’t mean them, not when you’re sitting in the front seat of his truck with your legs spread wide open. There’s a silence between the two of you as he tries not to look down at your perfectly spread legs and what lies between. 

He can’t fight it off anymore when he sees your own fingers start to rub little circles around your clit. “I always thought your fingers would feel so much better than mine… wanna help me test that theory?” Now you’re the one with the smirk on your face. 

He squares his body to face yours, shifting just enough to where his hip and forearms rest on the seat. “Happily, but I've always wondered something too… wanna taste you first.”

You don’t have anytime to process or oppose the offer before he’s finally diving in between your legs. The flat of his tongue dragging all the way up before his lips wrap around your clit. The sudden pressure forces your hands into his brown roots and you don’t hesitate to tug roughly. Eliciting a groan from him that makes your legs shake. 

“’S so fuckin’ good” he growls into your pussy. You taste even better than he could’ve ever imagined.

If it wasn’t for his hands keeping your thighs in place, your legs would surely be threatening to close around his head. 

Every whimper and moan of his name from your lips is a dream come true. He never thought he’d be able to hear it for himself, and now that he has, he never wants it to stop. He’ll sneak into your room every night from here on out just to bury his face in between your legs if it means getting to hear you, and taste you like this. 

“H-hngh! Haji, your fingers.. Please…” 

You certainly don’t have to ask twice before he’s burying one finger inside of you. Curling it expertly as if he’s known that sweet spot all his life. 

He keeps his lips wrapped around your clit as his finger moves in and out of you in a slow drag. Pushing against your g-spot before pulling out and pushing back in again. 

“More. Gimme more. Please…” 

Fuck you sound so cute when you beg like this. He’s almost worried his words come out of his mouth instead of keeping them in his head. He wants to give you more, but not another finger. He wants you around him now. Your tight walls hugging his cock instead of his fingers. 

He pulls back before shifting in the middle seat, his mouth is slick and glistening with you all over his face. “You want more? Come get it yourself.” 

Even with all the tension, he’s still pushing you. Still playing into this little game, trying to see how far you’re willing to go. 

Your eyes are glossy and your mouth hangs open, but you move. Getting exactly what you want as you straddle your legs over his lap. Needily rocking your hips against his. 

He’s gotten himself so riled up that he’s not sure how much longer he can last. You steady yourself by holding on to his shoulders as you lower your lips to his neck. You can feel his jaw clench as he leans away from you, giving you all the access you want. 

Little kisses are pressed along the column of his neck until you reach his jaw and move your way across. You hadn’t realized how badly you wanted to kiss your step brother until his lips were right in front of yours. 

Your eyes meet for a brief second before there’s no longer any space between you. There’s a hum when you taste yourself on his lips and he thinks about how your lips really are as soft as they look. 

His hands are on your hips before he hooks his thumbs into his own sweats, trying to tug them down until you get the hint. When your hands move in to replace his, he snickers against your lips, “greedly little thing aren’t’cha?” He puts his hands back on your hips and lifts you just enough for you to slide his sweats and his boxers down to the middle of his thighs.

“Fuck– if I woulda known you were so eager for my cock, I would’ve done this so much sooner.” 

You don't offer any response, too focused on the leaking tip of his cock that's poking out between your legs. 

You spit in your hand before lowering it to wrap around his length, stroking him a few times until you can feel the weight of it in your palm, “t’s big…” He smirks at you before slapping your ass roughly, grinning even harder when he can feel the skin ripple in his lap. 

“You can take it… I know you can. You wanna be a good girl for your big brother, right?” 

You nod your head before moving your hips to line him up at your entrance. His tip is angry and leaking, he’s really not sure how long he’ll last once he’s finally inside of you. 

There’s a little resistance when his tip pushes inside of you and he throws his head back, internally telling himself that he made the right decision by only using one finger earlier. The feeling of your walls around him is suffocating in the best way, squeezing him tighter than he’s ever felt with anyone else before. 

The only thing on his mind is molding you to the shape of his cock so it’s the only thing you know. 

His head feels dizzy the lower you sink down and he moves a hand in between your bodies so his thumb can rub tight circles around your clit to ease the stretch. Little whines leave your lips with the added stimulation but it helps the last few inches slide right in and you’re fully seated on his lap. 

Your breaths are shallow and shaky and he wants more, “Rock your hips back and forth for me… c’mon, you can do it.” and you do, without question. You’d do anything for your big brother, even ride his cock in the front seat of his truck in the dead of night. 

He removes his hand and leaves a hot trail up your body with his fingers. Tracing the swell of your ass, over the curve of your hips to the dip under your breasts until he reaches your shoulders. He reaches for the thin straps still resting there and tugs them down. 

You turn your face into his touch and shrug your shoulders, helping ease the strap even further down until your top half is no longer covered. Man is he thankful you weren’t wearing a bra. He’s not sure he wouldn’ve had the patience to take that off without ripping it to shreds. 

“Fuckin’ perfect…” he whispers against your skin as he pushes your dress even further down so the whole thing bunches around your waist. He groans, finally able to fit both of your breasts in the palms of his hands. 

With each roll of your hips, your clit rubs against a neatly trimmed patch of hair at the base and your back arches further into his touch. His hands are greedy, twisting and tugging at your nipples while his tongue licks a fat stripe between the valley of your breasts. 

Your hands are just as desperate. Holding on to the hairs at his nape as if it was the only thing keeping you upright. The way you push his face even deeper into you doesn’t go unnoticed either. 

“Haji.. want more, please I–” 

He chuckles against your skin, he could get used to the sound of your voice when it’s so needy for him. “Gotta tell me what you want more of… or else I can’t give it to you.”

It’s so embarrassing, how much he’s making you beg for him. “Want you to go harder.. Need to feel it..” You try to lift your hips up and back down but he doesn’t allow you much room for any type of movement. 

He pulls one of your tits into his mouth and sucks eagerly on your nipple, rolling it harshly between his teeth before circling his tongue around it. He keeps his mouth put before moving his hands to your waist and lifting you up just enough for half of his cock to come out. 

He snaps his hips against yours and repeats the motion. A loud shriek fills the cabin of the truck before you're reaching behind him. Your hands find the back of the seat as you steady yourself while he bounces you on top of him, thrusting his own hips to meet yours and make his movements even more intense. 

There’s an incoherent babbling falling from your lips and he's not sure if it’s from the alcohol you consumed tonight or if you’re just cock drunk from how he’s fucking you right now. He hasn’t had a drop of liquor and he feels his own vision start to blur onces your walls start clenching around him.

“F-fuck! You feel s-so good Haji–! More! More!” 

His grip on your hips is impossibly tight and he feels as if he’s about to burst any second. He fucks you hard and fast, trying to get you to come undone before he does, but it’s too much. You’re hugging him too tightly and he can’t last another second. 

He does everything he can to lift you off of him so he has time to pull out, but you fight against his hold and settle your full weight into his lap. Burying him to the hilt as he cums right inside of you. Rope after rope filling you up. There’s so much that it’s starting to leak out and fall into his lap. 

You sit in his lap with your forehead pressed to his shoulder as you try to regain and steady your breath.

“You’re fuckin’ filthy… letting me fill you up like that…” 

You laugh against his skin before pulling away to look at him. There are beads of sweat above his eyebrows and a few rolling down his temple. Your delicate fingers swipe over them, wiping them away before smiling. 

“You woulda had a mess all over your truck… we wouldn’t want that. Plus, it would’ve been such a waste…”

All he can do is shake his head, trying to wrap his thoughts around everything that just happened. The internal battle he was having with himself earlier finally finds some revelation. He got to have you all to himself. Really have you. 

He’s not sure where the two of you go from here, but he’s not willing to give up everything he’s just had a taste of. He’ll find a way to keep his little step sister taken care of.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you and he pulls your straps back up and over your shoulders before he taps your thigh twice, signaling for you to climb out of his lap. He checks the time on the dash and he knows the two of you need to get back home. 

“Can you take me home and fuck me forreal?” If it weren’t for those big doe eyes you’re giving him, iwaizumi would have snapped back with some snarky comment or flipped you over in his front seat and taken you right there. 

“If I fuck you forreal you’ll wake the whole block up. Not sure Issei and Tooru would tolerate you interrupting their beauty sleep,” he claps back at you. 

“That’s fine, maybe they’ll wanna join too…” 

“You’re really in for it now.” Who would’ve thought his step sister would be the fucking death of him.

#hajime iwaizumi #hajime iwaizumi x reader #hajime iwaizumi x fem!reader #iwa x reader #iwa x y/n #hajime iwaizumi x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #tw: stepcest #tw: alcohol #tw: alchohol mention #tw: noncon #tw: somnophilia #stepbro!iwa #stepbro!iwa x reader #haikyu x reader #aoba johsai #when nobody's home collab #—when nobody’s home collab

[flowery-laser-blasts]

Remember how I once said that I would be one of those people who would buy Drakken's brainwashing shampoo because: "Oh wow this looks pretty cool? This entire 'brainwashing' mad scientist stuff is so on theme and the bottle looks dope as hell! This whole vibe is great. I need me some edgy shampoo."

YOU KNOW. THIS IS KIIIIIIIND OF SUSPICIOUS... ESPECIALLY THAT LOGO AND NAME...

#i love how this thing LOOKS LIKE IT LIGHTS UP IN THE DARK #shego was in charge of the branding this time... but Drakken kept pestering her on not 'lying' about the product #the frosted glass is honestly the thing that made me want to buy it because frosted glass just means its quality stuff 😔 (in my believes) #alcohol #tw alcohol #tw: alchohol mention

[dorkofclanlavellan]

Turning Point

Note 1: I got the idea for this chapter late last night and resisted the urge to work on it then because I was still fleshing it out. Also, I will be ignoring some "canon" information like the Killer Croc file, etc because I didn't care for the canon version. Faceclaim: Ethan Cutkosky as Jason Todd Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader (Sweetie) Warnings: Violence, descriptive child abuse, alcohol abuse, drug abuse, vague reference of disturbing images on a bad guy's laptop. Sweetie as an alternative to Y/N (for those new to the series)

Jason pocketed the key the baker had given him the night before. He'd been scared out of his mind when Batman had shown up. It had been difficult to eat with Batman staring him down, expression entirely unreadable. But the baker had practically dragged the dubbed Demon of Gotham out of the kitchen.

Jason had a talent for moving without being detected. It was a skill he'd been forced to develop early on. So, quietly moving to the doorway the pair had ducked out, Jason began to listen in. They were whispering, clearly not wanting him to hear their conversation. Too late for that.

"He's a kid. I sincerely doubt he's going to kill me if I give him a place to hide out whenever he needs it." The baker had scoffed.

"You can't guarantee that, Sweetie. You don't know anything about him. He broke in. With a crowbar clearly he planned on using it on something." Batman's response made Jason cringe. He never planned on hurting anyone but he hadn't done himself any favors bringing something that could be considered a weapon.

"Pfft, yeah, on my display case! Bruce, I get that you're worried about me. And that's sweet and all. But this kid needs help!" It was at that moment that Jason realized why the baker had looked so familiar. He kicked himself for not remembering sooner. This was Bruce Wayne's newfound love.

But now he knew Bruce Wayne's secret. He took learning Batman's secret identity as his cue to slink back to his seat before his eavesdropping could be discovered. The adults had returned, seemingly unaware of the fact that Jason had overheard crucial information.

After he'd finished eating, the baker, whom he'd later learned to call Sweetie, had handed Jason a pair of keys. They'd explained the copper-colored one was to the bakery and the silver one was to their loft upstairs. They'd told him if he ever got hungry again or just needed a place to hang out for a while, he could let himself in, in a less destructive way, whenever he wanted.

Jason had been confused as to why this complete stranger was so interested in helping him. He'd expected to get hit when he'd been discovered in the bakery. And instead, they'd fed him, given him access to the bakery and their own loft, and had stood up for him to Batman.

He had just slipped out of the bakery for the second time after having been fed yet again by Sweetie and hanging around for what he assumed was long enough for his stepmother and her boyfriend to be passed out before he got home.

Boy was he wrong. As Jason slipped into the run-down apartment and began to silently make his way to his bedroom, his stepmother's boyfriend, Clay, stepped out of the kitchen, right in front of him, with a beer can in hand. Jason froze, hoping Clay wouldn't notice him. Again his hopes were dashed.

Confusion and surprise briefly flashed over Clay's face, followed immediately by anger.

"Where the fuck have you been, you little shit?!" At the man's yelling, Jason took a defensive stance, preparing for Clay's fist to come flying.

Then his stepmother, Sheila, came staggering out of the living room. "S'going on, baby?" She muttered, glazed-over eyes barely registering Jason's presence.

"Your shithead kid finally dragged his ass in! He has no respect for you or me, waiting so long before he finally shows up!" Clay snarled, stepping close enough to Jason to make the boy grimace at his foul breath.

"The fuck have you been?" Sheila demanded, glaring at Jason.

"Nowhere. I-" Jason's attempt at an excuse was interrupted by Clay's fist making contact with his browline, knocking him down to the floor. The blow made it impossible for Jason to register what Clay was yelling at him now. But he could take a guess.

Steeling himself, Jason kicked out at Clay's shin. Knocking the drunken man's leg out from under him. He attempted to scramble backward up the stairs but Clay was on top of him at a surprising speed.

Another punch, this time to his nose, and Jason silently wished it wouldn't be broken later. Followed by Clay's meaty hands wrapping around Jason's neck. Jason lashed out with both his hands and his feet, making contact on numerous occasions. But it was futile. Clay was too amped up on whatever drugs he'd taken to notice any pain now.

Jason could faintly hear Sheila screaming at Clay to let him go, not out of concern for Jason but out of worry that Clay would go to prison for killing him. Jason's vision was getting spotty and he was certain he was either going to die or at least black out and be left on the floor overnight like last time.

Then suddenly Clay's weight and hands were off of him. It became easier to breathe so Jason moved onto his hands and knees and began taking deep gasping breaths. They were a bit painful but Jason didn't care. He could barely make out the sounds of a scuffle behind him but the blood pumping in his ears drowned out most of the commotion.

Finally, once it became less of a chore to breathe and his heart rate, vision, and hearing returned to normal, Jason realized that someone had saved him. He had an inkling of who it was and the sight of his stepmother and her unconscious boyfriend bound a few feet away confirmed it. He heard the sound of laptop keys clacking in the other room. He followed the sound to the living room, where Clay kept his laptop hidden in the locked coffee table drawer.

There was Batman, typing away. Obviously looking for something to gain Clay further charges.

"How did you..." He started, wincing at the scratching in his throat. He rubbed his neck, hoping the swelling would lessen.

"Did you really think I wouldn't keep an eye on you after your little break-in last night?" Batman responded, not even bothering to look at Jason.

Jason watched him for a second, thinking how odd it was that he had the richest man in Gotham sitting on his ratty couch, using his stepmom's asshole boyfriend's laptop. The richest man in Gotham had just saved him. The richest man in Gotham had no idea that Jason knew he was Batman.

For yet another time that night, Jason was proven wrong.

"You seem to like spying on people, Jason." Batman suddenly said, again not looking away from his work on the laptop.

"Not really spying since you're in a common area of my home." If he didn't know any better, Jason could have sworn Batman chuckled at Jason's snark.

"True. But listening in on my conversation with Sweetie last night..." Bruce trailed off and Jason noted that his tone held no anger or hostility, merely amusement. Which just confused the boy even more.

Before Jason could ask or say anything else, Batman suddenly slammed the laptop closed. A sickened look on his face. Clearly, he'd seen something disturbing on Clay's laptop. Which didn't really surprise Jason. Clay would do anything for a quick buck.

Outrage soon washed over Batman's face and Jason remained rooted in place as he watched Batman storm over to Clay. Jason's eyes grew wide as Batman whipped out a red hot ring in the shape of his bat symbol and he couldn't tear his eyes away as the side of Clay's face was branded.

He only looked away when he saw blue and red lights flashing outside the window, growing closer by the second, accompanied by a chorus of sirens. When he turned back around Batman was gone.

But somehow Jason knew it wouldn't be his last encounter with Gotham's guardian.

#sweetie series #batfleck x reader #jason todd #bruce wayne x reader #gn!reader #jason pov this chapter #just to try it out #fic #ignoring snyder's canon #not canon compliant #tw: child abuse #tw: violence #tw: branding #tw: alchohol mention #tw: drunkeness #tw: drug abuse #dceu #snyderverse #bruce wayne's sweetie #batman x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x sweetie #bruce wayne x gn reader

[soratsuart]

QSMP Day 36 Lore Summary

Guys. If you've seen clips you know what's coming, so I apologize beforehand for whatever the hell is what you're about to read 💀💀💀

The day started decently normal, with few people in to do the daily quests. Things start getting interesting when the Theory Trio logs in. By now, Maxo has his night club ready so they + Roier go over the plan to interrogate Quackity. They eventually get Fit and Vegetta to join in the plan.

When Quackity joins, they invite him to come to Las Casualonas, where they make him lower his guard by having him enjoy music and get drunk and, after a while, Vegetta and Roier disguised as "La Mamada" and Melissa respectively take Quackity to another room. They start talking about hating the eggs and wanting to kill them all, and while Quackity is initially taken aback, he ends up rambling about his supposed plan to kill the eggs starting with Chayanne. This would turn out to be a lie to impress the girl, but it turned against Quackity as the other were watching everything through the cameras.

After a while the entire group comes in and reveal to Quackity that this was all a trap to get evidence against him, which Quackity is shocked to hear. They tell him they are going to hold a trial against him and execute him afterwards, and Quackity panics, trying to defend himself and begging them to let him go, which they eventually do.

Quackity runs to hide inside a random building and starts crying, lamenting everything that had happened because now everyone in the island is against him. I would also like to point out that Roier knows Quackity is innocent, but this is his revenge for when Quackity sided with Spreen and let him kill both Roier and his dog. After a while Slime arrives and tries to console him, as he had been in the club and saw everything happen, but he got mad when he saw Quackity had a photo of Mariana in a dress and I believe Quackity logged off before they could clear things up, so now Slime is sad Quackity thinks he is also against him.

After that Slime went with Wilbur, who has been hired by Bad to be an impartial judge on the day of the trial, and they along with Bad and Foolish wrote a Constitution...? For rainbow people since they all ended up looking like rainbow. After that they all went their separate ways with Wilbur and Slime going to Wilbur's place, while the others tried to complete their quests. Foolish met with Roier and they decided to meet up later, but then the worst happened.

Foolish had the great idea to leave to go to the bathroom in real life and leave the boat he and Leo were traveling in keep moving in automatic, telling Leo to protect the boat. Leo started shooting at something off scream which according to her was a shark and then... A fucking cachalot whale she accidentally hit killed Leo before Foolish could come back. Leo is now in hardcore mode fellas. And Foolish had Bad roleplay as Vegetta to practice how to tell him about Leo loosing a life. That was fun at least.

While all of this was happening Wilbur and Slime were talking about Flippa and Tilín's deaths, and Slime had to tell Wilbur what happened to them and also that he still wants to revive Flippa because of the deal he had with Angel!Rubius. This is also how Wilbur finds out there's an angel because he still hasn't met Rubius btw.

On his part Roier went to check on Spreen since he was dying a lot, and he showed him the night club since Spreen wanted to see it. He also disguised himself as Melissa to talk to Spreen and flirt with him, but Spreen pretty much didn't like it and when Roier "came back" he told him he didn't want to come back to the club ever again. According to him he is "uncomfortable with woman" and "already engaged to Sally from Cars".

They left after that, and met with Gegg, since Slime had decided to transform after Wilbur left, eventually following Roier home. I think he and Wilbur had just had a conversation about Slime being himself so others like him instead of being Gegg, but I honestly am too tired to search that right now. The point is, Gegg and Bobby have a conversation about Slime himself, and eventually Bobby decides to forgive Slime for killing Tilín as he understands it was an accident and he doesn't want to be angry when he knows he'll be leaving soon. (Pain)

I think (big emphasis on think) that's all that happened. I've been writing this for the past two hours so if anything else happened... I'm sorry I couldn't find it? Anyway, yeah, enjoy the summary!

#qsmp #qsmp lore summary #tw: alchohol mention #woooo that was a long one #why does so much happen when I'm sleeping me wonders #at least it was fun on my goodness #soratsu speaks

[loveofbots]

Lost Lighters Favourite Drinks!

Based in no particular order, with no reason. What would your favourite character order?

Tailgate: milk. Strawberry if he’s feeling spicy that day.

Cyclonus: Wine.

Whirl: Oil.

Drift: Boba, so that he can fire the tapioca at Rodimus.

Rodimus: red bull.

Ultra Magnus: just straight energon. Water, basically.

Minimus Ambus: tea!! Any kind will do.

Riptide: river water

Rung: some sort of soft drink, non-alcoholic and carbonated

Fortress Maximus: hot cocoa!! There has to be marshmallows in it.

Red Alert: water but there has to be a lot of ice, he chews on it.

Ratchet: rye whiskey on ice.

First aid: beer, wrecker wannabe.

Ambulon: 2 shots of vodka (you know the meme)

Skids: rum and coke

Nautica: Mountain Dew

Velocity: Long Island iced tea

Swerve: milkshake!!!!!!!! He likes to match with tailgate and get strawberry.

Rewind: mango passion fruit smoothie

Chromedome: brain matter Monster energy.

Feel free to add if I missed someone!

#mtmte #headcanons #transformers #maccadam #tf #idw #lost light #fortress maximus #sfw #cw alcohol #tw: alchohol mention #rewind #Chromedome #Rodimus #drift #whirl #tailgate #Cyclonus #ultra Magnus #minimus Ambus #ratchet #rung #riptide #Ambulon #first aid #skids #red alert #nautica #swerve #velocity

[giggly-squiggily]

So I was going back and reading through some of your old fics, and I found this GEM. I think it’s from the million yen question. And like??? Ma’am??? Did you just pull this out of your brain??? What???

I agree with this accidental Headcannon, and now please excuse me because I need to rant about it immediately:

-I think douma would be stupid (or smart) enough to try/ask him?? Because he noticed and he has no self preservation at all

-Personally I think he would just ask, because…screw it, because I think it would fluster muzan more and just YES. “Lord Muzan, did you know all of the uppermoons react the exact same to this one spot? Is it your ticklish spot, Lord Muzan?~” and muzan is STUNNED because he didn’t know his body affected the uppermoons???

-he immediately scoffs and dismissed douma (a flustered mess I might add-at least on the inside) and he proceeds to watch every single tickle fight they have and, yep, they all react that way. (He then gets curious and asks douma to try-no one will believe him if he tells.) Yep. He reacts the same as all the uppermoons, if not a little more extreme.

-going with my fic and personal headcannons, Douma adds this to the growing dictionary (yes-it’s a real life dictionary book that is sorted by people and then spots. He has all the uppermoons, Rui and Enmu, and newly added Muzan) of Muzan’s tickle spots and how he reacts. ANYWAY. That was my rant, thank you for providing and listening. ❤️

AHHH KEJRKJEKJREJRJ LETS GO!!! You know- I completely forgot about that headcanon ajkrkjearkje I think I threw it in as a joke but now that we're hear I'm so happy we get to talk about it jarjkekjrejk

HELP MUZAN STUNNED! He's got that one face he made after someone called him sickly in season 1- just O-O but mixed in the rage there's also mild embarrassment? What a strange feeling for the demon lord himself to feel, but he hides it well and just tells Douma to "return to your research on the Blue Spider Lily" meanwhile internally he's got a thousand questions running through his mind like: "Holy crap that TRANSFERRED?" Also him asking Douma to try it knowing not a soul will believe him is so canon kalkjrejkrjke Maybe Kokushibou might believe him but even he's not dumb enough to share that information. I love the idea of Muzan's reaction being the most reactive given it's his own tickle spot akjrkjerkjeajkr

HELP THE DICTIONARY! He makes it out of ice so no one can really physically find it or read it without him- it's full of all kinds of nifty information from tickle spots to preferred blood types to that one time on Lunar New Year when someone (Douma) mixed hard alcohol with the blood and got Muzan WASTED (he wiped all their memories but Douma made sure to catalog it- he's the only one who truly remembers that day)

Thank you for sharing these delightful Headcanons!

#squiggily speaks #ask #flyinginvelaris #friend :3 #tickle #tickle headcanons #demon slayer #muzan kibutsuji #tw: blood #tw: alchohol mention #douma has zero life preservation but somehow skates by cause Muzan is almost impressed by it #like- Douma is an enigma and Muzan can't truly let him go you know?

[apersonwholikeslotus]

Denmark: We're going to do what us Germanics have always done when things go wrong!

Netherlands: ignore our problems and drink heavily?

England, already half-drunk: Ignore our problems and drink heavily!

#this is not supposed to be implying things about the countries themselves #just the hetalia characters :p #aph netherlands #hws netherlands #aph denmark #hws denmark #aph england #hws england #hetalia #hetalia incorrect quotes #tw: alchohol mention #germanic!family