#I'll settle for looping them

[stained-glass-cicada]

Cannot believe on the very day we are meant to rank these songs Bug and Matt fuckin drop The Lighthouse and Orchids

They are trying to make this difficult!!

I've said it before that Bug's supernatural songs have a special grip on my brain and now I have to live with the idea of The Chase, The Hook, and The Lighthouse being in sequence. Insane. And the imagery in the lighthouse is like actively making me wanna be a better writer

And Orchids omg they had me from the cool guitar shit and then this Story?? Oh yeah the horror of watching something That Is Not Me take over my life and it is doing a better job anyway so all I can do is peer in at my own life through a pane of glass. Horrifying, it rules.

[dameronology]

matt murdock headcanons

i have about 4000 words to write for my thesis so instead i am writing these. enjoy xx

matt takes his coffee black. nothing else added, literally just black. anything else overwhelms his senses. for the first six months of your relationship, you kept accidentally leaving little coffee grounds floating in the bottom that made him want to die, but he loves you so he did not say anything.

actually, matt is the king of "i love you so i won't say anything." if you burn dinner or wear that one scratchy jumper that overwhelms him or flood the bathroom so it's a gosh darn slip and slide, he won't say anything. why would he? he loves you as you are.

matt doesn't need you to guide him in public but he will hold your arm or hand just because he wants too. he especially likes when your hands are loosely intertwined and he can feel your pulse against his skin. it's calming for him.

sometimes he forgets that you weren't always in his life. he'll tell a story from college as though you were because it just doesn't feel right to have lived a life where you weren't in it.

matt rarely calls you by your name. it's always sweetheart, and sometimes baby.

although one time foggy heard him call you the latter and then called matt baby girl and babycakes for a week until karen threatened to beat them both up

on the subject of foggy & karen -- they both love you!! they'd always been protective of their little trio but you fit in perfectly.

those two quickly become your best friends.

josie's for drinks after work on a friday is standard. matt will always have an arm looped around your waist, or a hand on your thigh, or just any form of physical contact really. mostly because he's over protective.

matt doesn't get hungover and it's really fucking annoying. you've seen him pound back pint after pint, just to wake up feeling fresh as a daisy the next day.

the good news?? he's vision impaired so he won't open the curtains when you're hanging out your absolute arse !!

he's the best at looking after you when you're hanging, though. he'll make you a smoothy and a greasy breakfast.

actually, matt is just the best in the mornings anyways. you'll always have a cup of coffee made before you're awake, with breakfast on the counter.

living with matt is domestic bliss tbh

that's not to say you don't argue -- you're both human and in his line of work, both day job and night job, it comes with its bad days and times when he keeps shit bottled up

so you prod and you poke until he explodes and finally, you argue and it's cathartic as hell

matty is very overprotective too, which has lead to tension

it was a little over the top at first, but you settle for having life 360 on both your phones and letting him know when you arrive places safely

even when you have really bad arguments, you always find your back to each other

one time you joked "i'll send you a text if wilson fisk murders me" and he didn't find it funny

actually he almost cried

the be all and end all though is that against the back drop of new york city, and even though you're in the arse, you are everything that's pure in matt's world.

[ervotica]

fix your head

pairing; perv!stepbro!rafe cameron x fem!stepsister!reader

warnings; stepcest, smut 18+ only, fingering, p in v sex, somnophilia, free use kink

a/n; just been having brainrot abt stepbro!rafe so here’s a lil drabble/thot abt him! (yes i am insane)

A rough palm presses to the small of your back as the covers lift, a chill twining around your suddenly exposed skin that has goosebumps raising even in slumber. You whine, brows scrunching as lax fingers loop around his wrist and you twist further into the sheets. Your eyes open and desperately try to acclimatise to the darkness of your bedroom, but all you can decipher is a looming silhouette that begins to crawl on top of your slack body.

"Shh, shh," Rafe soothes. His breath is hot against your prickling face. "'S just me. Go back to sleep. Just g'na fix your head a little."

"Mm, okay." You settle once you realise it's only your stepbrother, eyes fluttering closed once more. His touch immediately has your pert nipples hardening, the soft sheets beneath you enough stimulation to make you squirm even in your half-asleep state.

Bruising fingers curl around your hips, lifting them until your back arches and your face smushes into the pillows beneath you; he makes light work of your panties, pushing them to the side as his big palms knead the fatty flesh of your bum.

A finger sinks into your weeping hole and you gasp, pushing back into the touch as he curls it just right to rub over your g-spot. Your gummy walls contract at the newfound pleasure and an arm flies back in seek of purchase against Rafe's wrist.

"I know, I know," he coos, slipping in another digit and picking up the pace until the delicious friction has you stifling moans into the sheets. "Keep quiet for me, kid. Wouldn't want your mom finding us, would we?"

The feeling of fullness is gone as quickly as it appeared and you're still for a few moments, features crumpling in vexation.

"Don't get bratty on me now, you little shit," he chuckles, watching as your face falls once more when he lines his mushroom head up with your drooling entrance. You garble and gasp as your cunt parts and flares around him, fluttering walls hugging him and moulding to the shape of his curved cock.

Fingers splay against the base of your neck, effectively silencing you as he starts to rock his hips; fingernails dig into the delicate flesh there and you whimper, tears tickling at your waterline as he presses you further into the pillow to keep you quiet.

"Got this pussy trained f'me, haven't I, kid? Attagirl, nice and quiet for me."

He twines an open palm into the length of your hair and tugs to reveal your blissed visage, watching with rapture as your expression changes the more he toys with you.

You squeak as he reaches down to pinch and roll your swollen clit between two fingertips, teeth baring into a growl when he clasps a merciless hand over your whining mouth.

"I told you to be fuckin' quiet, slut. Too much of a whore to take it nicely, hm? Too ungrateful?"

You shake your head vehemently, tears pooling at the base of his fingers as his thrusts pick up speed, head of his cock kissing every spot inside of you until you can't think of anything but how good he's making you feel.

He wrenches his hand free and you sag like dead weight, a punched breath of air expelling from your lungs with every cruel rut of his hips.

"There's my girl," he croons with a wicked smile, satisfied now you're fucked too dumb to do anything but drool onto the pillows beneath you. "You just, relax, kid. I'll be finished with you soon.”

[rin-may-1103]

The Wrong Robin Au (part two?)

Previous | Master Post | Next

"Alright, kid." Danny sighed as he walked back into the motel. "tell you what, you tell me everything you think you know about me and bats, and I'll be Robin. Deal?"

Tim's eyes widen in surprise, "wait, really?" he asks, dropping the third Oreo he had been trying to balance on Sam's forehead. Sam snored, her nose twitching in agitation for a moment before going back to normal.

Tim leaned back, keeping an eye on her. "do you really mean it? you'll come back and fix him?"

Danny sighed, "I can't promise that I'll be able to fix him, but I can promise to do my best."

Tim nodded his head, "That's all I ask." then the kid stood up, holding his hand out for Danny to shake, "We got a deal, Robin."

Danny smirked, unable to keep a straight face at how cute the kid was being. Reaching out, he shook his hand.

"Right, first things first. Who's Batman, and why do you think so?" Danny asked, making his way over to the table. Tim followed behind him, his face brightening up in excitement.

"Bruce Wayne of course," Tim cheered, plopping down onto the chair across from Danny.

Of course, another rich fruit loop would be Batman. Why not? What's next? Lex Luther was Superman's archnemesis? Oliver Queen cosplayed Katniss Everdeen?

"I thought Dick Grayson, Bruce's ward, was Robin at first. It had made sense, or at least mostly did but I wasn't completely sold on it. I only really thought it was him because Robin was able to do a quadruple backflip, and only Grayson's family was able to do that. but then I saw you! and it makes perfect sense!" Tim smiled excitedly, leaning forward as he continued.

"You were able to do the flip, AND you acted just like Robin did! Dick doesn't act like Robin in public, or ever really. But you do! You did the flip, you make puns! you even bit that one mugger!"

Danny blinked before slowly nodding his head; Well, at least his personality wasn't going to be a problem. "right, makes sense," not. it did not make sense, but who was Danny to crush this kid's hopes. also, how long ago was this? because Danny hadn't done the flip this time... he's definitely bitten a criminal or two over the past two weeks, but the flip? that had to have been back when he first got his powers... he vaguely remembers his parents dragging him around the country on some trip Vlad set up for them.

see, it was totally Vlad's fault.

"and who was the second Robin?" Danny asked, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"Bruce's second kid, Jason Todd," Tim replied, not smiling anymore. "The Joker killed Robin over in Ethiopia. Jason went missing and was declared dead around the same time."

"Right," Danny coughed, glancing away from Tim. "and what else do you know?"

"Well, I know Commissioner Gordon's daughter, Barbara, was batgirl..." Tim trailed off with a wince, obviously not liking the conversation anymore. Danny had to agree, the whole class had been informed about the dangers of Gotham City. Barbara Gordan had been one of the examples they used.

"I know that you're using a fake name!" Tim suddenly added, looking more lively now. Danny blinked before sighing, "Yeah? and why's that?"

"you used your bat training to make a fake identity to throw Bruce off your trail! That way you would have more time to settle in with your new team! and it worked for a while, that is until he caught up to you and your team. it doesn't seem he knows about this identity, so you've been using it ever since Jason's death. because you're mad at him."

"and why am I mad at him?" Danny asked, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. Just what had he gotten himself into?

"because he didn't tell you about Jason's death." Danny glanced back at the kid, watching as he looked away and out the window. "just like he didn't tell Dick..."

had he finally connected the dots? had he finally realized he got the wrong person?

"why would he not tell you two?" Tim asked, turning to look up at Danny. Danny shrugged, turning to look back at the ceiling. "grief makes people do things they never would have before." like becoming a billionaire and spending twenty years scheming on how to murder a single man. or it could make them more obsessed with their work.

Danny knows grief; he's had to deal with it for years now. It's the only thing he understands about why Batman has changed so much. Grief, especially for someone you love, changes you. It holds onto your heart and never lets go. It can drive you insane if you let it.

"he was so caught up in his own grief he didn't realize that there were others who needed to grieve with him."

"Oh," Tim replied.

they sat in silence for a moment before Tim spoke up again.

"I know where the Batcave is."

Danny blinked. Right. Batman. Batcave. the bat-themed vigilante had a secret lair and it was a cave. That checked out. At least it wasn't in the basement.

"yeah?" Danny prompted, "And where's that?"

"under the manor," Tim replied, crushing any and all hope Danny had for Bruce Wayne.

It was official. All billionaires were fruitloops. Danny didn't care if they didn't all have secret basements, they were fruitloops.

Next

[shouyuus]

Eating vi out like she was doing to Cait in the sex scene 😍

BUT CONSIDER. having to tie her up/restrain her to get her to take it like she's supposed to MHM.

very 18+, mdni pls

"just humor me, okay? i know you can get out of these any time you want but --"

vi groans, tugging against the bright pink, padded handcuffs snapped around her wrists, clanking against the metal rungs of the headboard, her neck and cheeks flushed pink, a light sheen of sweat already shimmering over her skin.

you lick your lips, letting your eyes flicker over the sight of her -- nearly naked, with her boxers tugged halfway down her thighs, her cunt shining with slick in the dim half-light of the bedroom.

"fuck -- fine -- just --" she bite her lips, hips kicking up as you bend down to place a kiss to her hipbone, "d-don't tease --"

you hum as you trail your lips along her thighs, nipping at the skin there, grinning as her muscles flex and relax each time, her hips jerking up as you get closer and closer --

"tease?" you drag the word out over your tongue, shimmying yourself down to settle between her legs, "you mean... like you do? all the time?"

vi whines, high and loud at the back of her throat as you lean forward and puff out a hot breath against her clit. her wrists tug against the handcuffs again, making them clank loudly against the thin metal bars of your headrest, the entire bed inching forward slightly.

"i swear, if you break my bed --"

"then you'll know it's your fault -- oh fuck --!" vi hisses, head tossing back as you drop your mouth to her cunt and lick a long strip along her slit, flicking the tip of your tongue over her puffy clit, your eyes dark as you watch her writhe.

"mm, yeah?" you flash her a sharp, lopsided smirk before burying your face between her thighs, sinking your tongue into her silken folds. you moan around the taste of her, mouthing at her even as she clamps her thighs around your head, her legs shaking around you.

"fuck fuck fuck -- mm-ngh --!" she lets out an incoherent string of curses as you inch your hand up and push two fingers into her, thrusting them in and out in tandem with your tongue. you feel her fingers fist in your hair, the sting of it making your own pussy ache, and you squeeze your thighs around the dull twinge of want, redoubling your efforts as you slowly tongue-fuck vi into oblivion.

it's not till you work her up to an orgasm, her having to physically jerk you off her twitching clit, her pussy pulsing around your fingers that you frown.

"when'd you get out of those?" you ask, motioning towards the handcuffs hanging against your headboard, completely devoid of her wrists.

vi's chest is heaving, her eyes unfocused as she blinks up at you, frowning slightly, the fucked out look on her face soothing your mild irritation.

"huh? oh. dunno -- must've -- must've slipped or something --" she shrugs, tugging you up for a sloppy kiss, moaning into your mouth at the taste of her own juices on your tongue.

"violet..." you say, pouting as she pulls back.

she sighs, slumping back, "princess, when you've lived in the lanes as long as i have, gettin' outta handcuffs is like second nature. but next time, i'll -- i'll try to keep them on if it'll make you happy, yeah?"

you grin, an eyebrow twitching.

"next time?"

vi stares at you for a full three seconds before groaning, tossing an arm over her eyes.

"w-whatever. it's -- just forget it."

you giggle, tucking yourself into her side even as she shimmies her boxers back, looping an arm around your waist to cuddle you closer.

"so you liked it after all, huh?"

vi sighs, "gee. what gave it away? the insane orgasm i just experienced or...?"

you smile and give her a sweet kiss, "or... maybe i'll just get better handcuffs next time."

[a-suspicious-number-of-ducks]

Hermit-a-Day May, day 5: False + cross stitch.

[Image ID: A pixel art of Minecraft Youtuber Falsesymmetry. Behind her is a large, ornate clock face in shades of teal. False is wearing a dark teal overshirt, a red and white striped shirt, and a pair of gray steampunk goggles on top of her head. Her hair is blonde and straight. She has a neutral, thoughtful expression. /.End ID]

Welcome to my first post of Hermit-a-Day May 2025! I've actually half-finished every single day prior to this one, but haven't had anything ready to post until today, so. Here we go. This year, like last year, I will be challenging myself to use a different style or medium for each and every day of the event. Some of those will just be finishing up last year's pieces, since I am eternally full of hubris and am bad at estimating how long projects take. Some of them, like this one, are new!

Today's style/medium is cross stitch. Unfortunately, I didn't actually finish the...cross stitching part of the project on time. I'll be making this in real life eventually, but what you see pictured above is the digital pattern I created for the piece. Details about my process and additional images are under the cut!

I don't really have specific references for this one, other than False's skin and a google images page full of results for "fancy roman numeral clock." I'll take you through my process instead!

I started with pencil thumbnails to get my ideas down, and I settled on a clock background because... y'know, Cogsmeade. I know that's not technically Hermitcraft iconography, but I like it anyway. Then, I painstakingly measured out a pixel art clock in Krita, only to immediately cover up most of it. Here's the clock by itself, in all its glory!

[Image ID: Pixel art of an ornate teal clock face with Roman numerals representing each hour. The clock's hands are elaborate, with spirals and loops along their lengths. /.End ID]

Next, I added False herself. The colors and vibes here are my actual "vision" for the piece--the cross-stitched version is unfortunately limited by what colors of embroidery floss exist and are available at my local craft store.

[Image ID: The same pixel art of Falsesymmetry as earlier in the post, but with slightly different colors. The teal shades of the clock are lighter and more subtle, and the blonde shades of False's hair are more saturated and golden. /.End ID]

Finally, I exported the Krita image to flosscross.com, which is a delightful and extremely helpful tool to convert images into cross stitch patterns, complete with matching the nearest colors of floss available. That's how I got the image at the beginning of this post. Hopefully, before too long, I'll be able to show y'all what this looks like in real life!

(If you read this far, you have my respect and eternal gratitude. Thank you, and happy arting!)

[generalsmemories]

sensitive

✧ sunday x gn!reader

✧ synopsis: the wings by his ears are far too sensitive for what you're both about to do to them.

✧ contents: just a lil scenario for the piercings on sunday's wings. and the hc (that has probs become every writers canon take) that his wings are oh so sensitive. established relationship, mildly suggestive cause why not, uhh, mentions of blood? sunday being utterly weak against his lover. ooc sunday cause goddamn i have NOTHING on this man.

✧ a/n: breathes in. listen i don't believe in any god but good lord i would start praying for this man if he asked me to.

jing yuan wips still in order, i just want to be on my best self mentally when writing for my eepy general so have this brainrot so i can function this week at my work and hopefully i'll write something more <3 thank you once again for your patience!

NOT BETA-READ THIS WAS WRITTEN WITHIN AN HOUR CAUSE THIS BRAINROT HAS BEEN BREWING INSIDE THE MIND FOR A MONTH, IM SORRY FOR THE ALL OVER THE PLACE WORDS - I HAVEN'T WRITTEN SINCE THE LAST JING YUAN ANGST PIECE.

Your fingertips have barely grazed the very edges of the feathers when the distinguished leader beneath you flinches in surprise. The fingers that grip your hips tightening further which causes your body that was previously hovering above him to settle down on Sunday's leg. You can hear a tiny sigh leaving his lips before you feel his head rest against your shoulder, the action causing you to chuckle.

"The longer you delay this, the more nervous you'll get, you know?" you muse, threading your fingers through his hair in an effort to coax him to lay back in the same position he previously was in. You're barely able to touch his right wing again before a gloved hand shoots up from his side and you feel a sharp nip at your neck in warning - causing you to immediately halt all of your actions.

"It would've gone a lot faster have you decided to not do it in such an orthodox method, dear." Sunday retaliates with a sigh, pecking the bite mark as some sort of apology, an apology that you knew was not sincere in the slightest.

You giggle once again, settling down comfortably on his legs whilst slightly leaning back to fully look at your lover. Your arms loop over his neck while cocking your head to the side in slight confusion, although said confusion doesn't reach your mischievous eyes or the huge grin on your face. "Why I thought this would help calm you? It was your idea to pierce these wings of yours after all," you remind him, tapping the piercing gun that you're currently holding onto on his shoulder.

The man before you sighs, seemingly in exasperation over your usual antics whilst shrugging away the piercing gun that you're continuously tapping him with. You can however clearly see the slight reddening on top of his ears, while his wings tuck a bit behind his ears - clearly a signal that he's feeling a bit embarrassed.

"You're well aware of the effect you have on me, my love." he admits, the hand on your hip moving from its spot to instead rest against your neck. "Hmm? Then I suggest that you hurry along to let me pierce your wings before said effect makes you lose your patience," you tease with a quiet laugh. "I do have a lot of experience with this lil' gun of ours after all." you cheekily say - causing Sunday to direct his gaze towards your own ears, which have a few more piercings than your average person.

"... I'm well aware." Sunday replies.

Well aware of how sensitive your own ears are, almost as sensitive as his own wings that have yet to be pierced. He could let out a breath beside them which causes you to tremble, a small peck would make you gasp softly, but if he were to use his tongue-

"You're thinking of inappropriate things again, dear." you mutter into his ears before unlooping your arms from his neck to rest against your sides, your whole weight supported by the singular hand Sunday has on your hip.

"Hardly."

For someone not of Halovian descent, you're somehow able to discern his thoughts immediately - quite a hassle to be honst.

"Well then, my dear? Why don't you relax so we can get this over with so you can return to your duties?" you whisper, moving your body to sit between his legs so that you can get a closer look on his right wing, where he preferred the piercing to be on.

"... Just- don't say anything when you're about to do- Ah!"

The single clicking noise of the needle piercing his wing before retracting back to it's original spot makes Sunday jolt in surprise, the grip on your hip increasing in pressure, but you're too busy looking at the placement in glee to care for your distraught lover right now.

You notice the edges of the piercing reddening a bit, extending your finger to gather the tiny bits of blood that had escaped from the wound. Glancing at Sunday, you notice his slightly glossy eyes that immediately diverts from your gaze.

The quiet laugh you let out makes Sunday glare at you, but his eyes widen slightly when you lick his blood away from your fingertips with closed eyes. "It wasn't that bad, was it?" you ask, opening your eyes again to lock eyes with Sunday, diverting your gaze slightly to his right wing.

You decide not to comment on his glossy eyes, deciding to instead scoot closer to peck the corner of his eyes, "Sorry that I surprised you, but as you said - Doing it this way is far more convenient for the both of us," you explain, lips pressing against Sunday's to coax him into relaxation.

"Mhm, thank you for indulging me, dove." he whispers, arms wrapping around your waist, the tension in his shoulders finally leaving.

"Although..." you murmur in between various pecks against Sunday's lips, your lover raising an eyebrow up in confusion and imploring you to continue speaking.

"I think you said you would go for 2 of the same piercings if the first one looked nice, no?" you say before pressing your lips against his once again. Sunday was barely able to understand the meaning behind your words before he could feel the same pain of the needle shoot through his already overly-sensitive wing.

The loud gasp he lets out is swallowed by your lips, his open mouth letting your tongue slip inside while the piercing gun in your hand slips away from your lips now that you've done your part of the deal. Your hands settle themselves against Sunday's cheeks now- wiping away the few tears that have now slipped down from his glossy eyes with your thumb.

There's a certain desperation in Sunday's hands by your waist. He had first bunched the material of your clothes upwards by surprise, but now he's slipping his gloved hands beneath them and quickly traveling further up - he moves in a way that you don't know if he's trying to push you away to scold you, or press you closer to him to feel your warmth.

He eventually decides to push you away. His cheeks are reddened and he's heaving for breaths while he's glaring down at you in mild disappointment and a hint of excitement - and yet the hands that's dragging the buttons of your shirt from inside to snap them open tells another desire from the esteemed leader of Penacony.

The same mischievous smile is present on your lips when you part ways, your lips are a bit swollen but it doesn't stop their journey from grazing against his now incredibly sensitive right wing, the jerk of his entire body not bothering you in the slightest as your lips glide over his feathers, your lover shuddering a bit when you let out a breath right over his newly pierced wings.

"All done now, my love," you mutter into his ear, shrugging off your now ruined shirt off of one shoulder, "Do I get any reward for doing this so smoothly and quickly?"

Sunday lets out a scoff, rolling his eyes at your triumphant expression before shoving you down onto the couch the two of you were previously resting on. "I'm thinking a punishment is more fitting for how you didn't warn me of your actions twice, no?"

[yonch]

it's been 15 years and you can see better than ever

(design notes under the cut) (there are spoilers)

ok this got really long. here you go

sif:

ditched the cloak. it was collecting dust in their closet until recently, but they realized they don't need to cling to their grief so much anymore. someone else will need it more soon.

ditched the eyepatch. the prosthetic eye is a labor of love designed by isa, as is literally everything else they're wearing.

they cut their bangs finally and started braiding their hair back so it wouldn't obscure their vision as much anymore.

they like darker/tighter clothing and prefer function over form but unfortunately their gay ass boyfriend keeps treating them like a dress up doll so they're stuck wearing waistcoats and a fancy cloak. (they don't mind. it's designed to look like loop.) they keep flowers in their many pockets to give to people.

they're a woodworker in their free time. they don't usually talk about being any sort of savior so he just becomes sif the guy who's really good at carving birthday presents for people and also tags along with isa to charity parties and fundraisers

41 year old 5'1" they/he absolutely zero intention of Changing. bonded to isabeau. they adopted a kid who leo or i might post about some other time i think. her name is estelle.

isa: i'm not taking credit for the design that's by my friend @fembard /@leoweooo. i'll include his design notes

isa dresses mostly for comfort, he doesn't like wearing stuff that might get stained or ruined when he's dyeing clothes or chasing stelle around in the mud or something, all his fashion sense goes into his handiwork

he Changed a few more times over the 15yrs, eventually settled. picked up she/her pronouns again on the side but was never really able to ditch the name isabeau and he kinda ran out of names anyways...

kept the long hair, kept a few inches in height, very happy to fulfill the role of male (space) wife

can't ditch the kimono jacket it's the piece de resistance. odile influence and Wisening Of Age means its made with a little more knowledge of ka buan technique but still very clearly an Isa Design. the fabric is imported silk sif!!!!!!

39 year old Tall with a capital T he/she "i swear i'm not a weeaboo i'm just really into ka buan fashion" vaugardian indie clothing designer in your area help support this man in his attempts to use his family members as living advertisements for his brand

mira: with design input from @jastertown thank you my friend

i took a lot of inspiration for the sparkly, sheer fabric on her dress from euphrasie. she's not head housemaiden yet because she doesn't feel like she's ready but everybody knows it'll be her

speaking of inspiration. she's been taking a lot of fashion cues from a certain lady in dormont that she thought was kind of scary, but it turns out she's very nice? they're besties now.

she got rid of the earrings for a little bit but then she realized she just liked how they look on her. so now they go ding ding! it's for her and nobody else, and that's how she likes it.

moved her ornaments to her skirt because they ding ding more often there. her necklace also jingles with merriment.

38 year old she/her advanced cisgender+ legend who's realizing that people are trying to get her to be the pope but all she really wants to do is write yaoibait fiction that looks like it came straight off of ao3

odile:

my glorious hag. she started shrinking about 3 years ago. all those years of bending over books has finally caught up to her. her hips are fuuuuuucked. but she has a sick cane that sif carved for her so everything's okay

she was already pretty comfortable and settled in her sense of style when she was nearing 50 so i don't think she would change much. darker clothing maybe. ditched the high-waisted pants for some looser slacks.

she's started writing a familytale of her own. the only person she's told about it is bonbon, who caught her up way past their bedtime, and scribbled all over one of the pages. she'll pass it on to sif when the time's right, after she's written down everything she can remember about their family.

64 year old she/her wasian researcher recovering from hernia surgery who's getting really into things like "political activism" and "body craft law reformation in ka bue" and "making sure people aren't sourcing their hrt from back alleys"

bonnie:

prefers to go by boniface these days. it's cooler. more mature. please stop calling me bonbon that's a nickname from when i was 10 guys c'mon guys ugh fine frin you can still call me bonbon but not around my girlfriends ok (nobody calls them boniface except for odile)

speaking of which they have 3 butch lesbian girlfriends. this got established as a joke but i think they have it in them. they're still young!!!!!!! they should be at the club!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

they traveled for a while with everybody but eventually settled down back in bambouche to start a little family owned restaurant with nille featuring dishes from all over the globe. people travel from all over to get a taste of boniface's good eats... bambouche is bustling. (they have a few recipes that are sourced from the country. they meet people every once in a while who find something achingly familiar about it, and they usually direct those people to jouvente to get in contact with frin.)

26 year old they/them "i dont know how tall i am but i'm taller than za" chef cooker whose restaurant keeps lighting on fire because this time i swear nille i can figure out how to do cooking craft i swear i wont explode the kitchen this time please i promise

loop:

ok. this is where lozy gets to just talk about what he thinks happens post game. i think they stick around for way longer than they really should and follow the crew around on their travels (mostly invisibly) because they're sooo fucking scared of change they're sooo scared and they're so scared of their wish fucking up beyond belief. they're kind of incapable of aging or dying in this body and theyre like permanently 26 which is what spurs them to finally move on.

i think they go back to their timeline eventually after making a Brand New Wish to "go back to their real family." alas the universe leads and we can only follow. and it turns out loop has actually made a real family in stardust's world also. this is my justification for why they can pop in between sasasap and isat worlds without much repercussion. i think they're always permanently loop shaped in isat but i imagine they can probably go back to their original body in their home timeline... might design that later. who knows. i'm fucked like that

i just think they deserve a chance for their own happy ending you know. isat's a game about how it's never too late to communicate and how you shouldn't punish yourself forever and ever. and i think theyve punished themself enough you know.

ok tank you for reading if you read this far. it's really big and long so i would understand if you didn't. but i hope you liked it. thoughts appreciated. here's a little something for the people who read all the way through.

[skiesuconn]

daydreams of us

paige bueckers & azzi fudd

യ notes: hey beautiful people, before you wonder where 'fireflies of virginia' is, don't worry — it's still in the making. this little piece just came to me over breakfast. i'd love to hear what you think. it feels like younger pazzi to me, but i'll leave that for you to decide.

wishing you a sweet read.

there might be a part 2

the lake exhales a lazy hush against the dock pilings while a crimson‑gold dusk unfurls over the bueckers’ cabin, painting the pine tops like burnt sugar. supper smoke still hangs sweet in the air—charred bratwurst, maple‑kissed corn—blurring at the edges like a half‑remembered dream. the minnesota heat finally loosens its grip, swapping noon’s heavy breath for a velvet evening pulse fired with cricket chatter.

paige pads across the clearing, arms stacked with split birch that smells of winter fireplaces and childhood win streaks. splinters braid into her palms, but she barely feels them; ritual keeps her weightless. behind her, drew carts the smaller slivers, tongue poked out in fierce concentration, every step a promise he’ll carry more next year. their dad, bob, leans on the porch rail—calloused thumbs hooked in belt loops, face lit by the warm bruise of sunset—quietly clocking the same tradition replay in softer focus.

azzi claims a patch of grass by the pit, legs folded beneath her like a prayer. camp‑smoke curls through her curls, haloing sweat‑kissed freckles the minnesota fair left behind. paige drops the logs, settles beside her; their knees knock, then stay—tiny frontier staked between worlds. azzi’s jean shorts brush paige’s bare shin, leaving a spark that feels louder than drew’s metal tongs clanging in the background.

bob clears his throat, voice low. “azzi, wanna start the fire?”

azzi glances sideways. paige is already grinning that reckless toothy grin,  azzi rolls her eyes, snatches the matchbook. “of course”

she crumples last year’s sports page—paige’s stat line circled in neon highlighter—and tucks it under the birch. one flick, sulfur bloom, and the paper sighs into flame. azzi shields the newborn blaze, coaxing it the way she coaxes timid freshmen at open gyms: gentle, certain, patient. flames ladder up bark, licking resin until it pops like tiny applause.

drew whoops. “chef’s kiss, azzi!”

bob chuckles, pride rumbling in the timber of his chest.

paige slips a hand to azzi’s thigh, squeezes—a silent attagirl—thumb tracing slow circles just north of denim seam. heat isn’t only in the fire; it’s pulsing where their skin meets, an ember neither quite knows how to bank. azzi’s shoulders soften; she tosses paige a sidelong beam, equal parts smug and shy, and the moment hangs syrup‑thick in the twilight.

above them, the first stars blink awake, like scoreboard lights waiting for tip. somewhere in the treeline an owl asks its eternal question, but for once paige doesn’t need an answer. the fire crackles, marshmallows wait their turn, and she’s certain—down to the woodsmoke buried under her nails—that this is the kind of win that never makes the box score but fills every column just the same.

evening slips toward nightfall, fire popping soft punctuation into the hush. smoke swirls like a half‑remembered hymn while conversation ambles—loose shoes on gravel—between stories that matter and ones that just feel good on the tongue.

bob nudges a cedar log with his boot. “told azzi yet how you used to call cinnamon ‘simmanin’ till, what, eighth grade?”

paige groans, cheeks warming bronze on bronze. “dad, c’mon.”

azzi snorts, curls bouncing. “sim‑ma‑nin? that’s adorable.”

bob’s weathered grin widens. “she’d stand on the kitchen stool, fistful of toast, and swear she’d never need to say it right to make the shot.”

“accuracy over articulation,” paige mutters, tossing a pebble into the flames. it sparks like a tiny meteor.

bob isn’t done. “or the kindergarten talent show—she tried reciting ‘peter piper’? turned into ‘pader paper picked a peck’—”

azzi’s laughter cracks open the night, bright and honest. paige tries a scowl; it melts just as quick.

finally she huffs, playful surrender. “okay, roast master, we need skewers. mission time.”

bob points with a graham cracker. “grab the stash by the tool shed. bring options.”

hand in hand, paige and azzi slip into the trees, giggles trailing like comet tails. the shed—a weather‑stained boot of a building—smells of sawdust, old campfires, carnival sugar somehow trapped in the grain. jars of nails line up like sleepy soldiers; a bundle of roasting sticks leans in the corner, still perfumed with last summer’s molten marshmallows.

paige rifles through sizes, explaining each like draft picks: “jumbo reach for s’more hogs… sharpshooters for some caramelization…”

but azzi isn’t listening to any of that. her gaze maps the freckles blooming on paige’s sun‑kissed cheeks, the faint tan line ghosting beneath her collar. late light drips amber down paige’s throat; every shadow feels like a secret directory azzi suddenly needs to memorize.

paige glances up, caught. “az, which one?”

azzi steps into her space, heartbeat sure. “this one.” she fists paige’s hoodie, pulls her in. lips meet—slow, wondering, then certain. paige’s hands slide under the hem of azzi’s tee, palms settling on the curve of denim and warmth. azzi laughs into the kiss, breath hitching like a guitar string.

wood creaks, dust motes waltz. time forgets itself for a dozen heartbeats.

when they part, paige’s grin is wobblier than a calf on ice. “i like that one.”

azzi shoves her gently, mock‑exasperated. “go pick an actual stick, lovergirl.” she steps out into twilight, pulse drumming a victory march.

back fireside, bob raises an eyebrow. “what took you girls so long?”

azzi bites her lip, shoulders hitching. paige tosses a shrug. “azzi’s… a bit indecisive.”

she glances down—empty‑handed. realization sparks redder than the coals. “oh shoot.” she pivots, jogging toward the shed, hair flying like a white‑gold banner.

azzi’s laughter chases her. drew watches over the rim of his soda can, smirk borderline criminal. fire pops again, as if in on the joke, and the night settles back into its slow, sweet simmer—stories, smoke, and the secret taste of cotton‑candy kisses no one will spell out loud.

the fire has collapsed to a red‑eyed hush, coals winking like tired satellites beneath a lattice of ash. night presses velvet to the clearing; every cricket note feels hand‑picked by the moon. azzi nudges a charred husk of corn away from her plate, nose scrunching. “i love you, but marshmallows and corn is a crime.”

paige grins, skewers a gooey cloud, smashes it against the buttery kernels, and brandishes the mess. “open up, taste‑bud coward.”

azzi’s protest is swallowed—literally—as paige gentle‑but‑force‑feeds the concoction. sugar crashes into salt, silk into crunch. azzi’s eyes flare wide. “okay, betrayal never tasted so good.”

“knew it,” paige gloats, sticky victory dimpling her cheeks.

bob stands, joints creaking like old stadium bleachers. “bedtime for the elder league. douse the fire before you crash.”

“night, dad,” paige calls. azzi echoes a soft goodnight. drew lumbers over, hugs his sister, then wraps azzi in a hold that lingers a beat too long—sincere and a little star‑struck. azzi ruffles his curls. “sleep tight, pookie.”

paige fakes offense. “i’m not your pookie?”

azzi only smirks, the answer simmering unspoken.

once footsteps fade into cabin wood‑groans, the girls stretch on the grass, the world tilting so the stars slide right into their pockets. azzi’s calves drape over paige’s thighs, her head pillowed on paige’s arm; their breathing syncs, slow tide on moonlit grass.

they’re laying sideways, tangled — azzi’s calf draped lazy over paige’s thigh, toes brushing the worn fabric of paige’s shorts.

paige tries — she really tries — to count the freckles scattered under azzi’s eyes, but she keeps getting wrecked by the curve of azzi’s mouth, pink and tilted into a slow, private smile.

her stomach flips. hard.

"hey," paige mutters, voice cracking like cheap vinyl.

"can you make pancakes tomorrow? drew’s been begging."

azzi laughs low in her throat, so soft paige feels it before she hears it.

she leans in, presses a quick kiss against paige’s cheek, lips featherlight and stupidly warm.

"of course," azzi mumbles, brushing her nose against paige’s.

paige watches her — the curl falling across her forehead, the shine in her eyes, the way her tank top shifts with every slow breath — and she just… says it.

"he’s been looking at you like a role model, you know," paige says, thumb brushing absent shapes into azzi’s hipbone.

azzi pulls back just enough to blink at her.

"really?"

"oh yeah," paige grins. "he’s been asking about you all summer. you’re basically his whole personality now."

azzi’s smile turns crooked, shy but proud.

"he thinks he’s your number one fan," paige adds, voice teasing-soft, "but, like... you know that ain’t true."

azzi’s eyes spark, playful.

"jealous of a kid, bueckers?"

paige snorts, feels herself flush under the weight of azzi’s gaze — the way it sticks, heavy and sure.

azzi leans in, thumb hooking into the loose collar of paige’s hoodie, pulling her closer until their mouths brush — soft, slow, devastating.

paige catches the tiny moan that slips out of azzi, swallows it between smiling lips.

her fingers find azzi’s curls, loose and damp with night mist, twirling them lazily around her knuckles — holding her there like she’s something fragile, precious, real.

paige exhales a strand of hair off azzi’s brow. “why are you looking at me like that?” azzi murmurs.

“like what?”

“you know like what.”

“swear i don’t.”

“you so do.”

azzi shifts, the firelight brushing her eyes with a soft bronze glow. she bites her bottom lip—the soft click of teeth to skin—paige’s gaze drops, traction lost. azzi leans in first; paige meets her halfway. marshmallow‑sweet and hops‑bitter glide across tongues. a startled moan slips free, tiny and real.

paige breaks for air, thumb drawing worn-in paths across the warm stretch of azzi’s ribs. “this okay?”

azzi’s answer is to tug her closer, the meadow becoming a single heartbeat. paige’s hand slides beneath azzi’s white tee, fingers mapping the gentle rise of her stomach, the curve of her waist. azzi clutches paige’s shoulders, grounding herself in muscle and trust.

kisses trail south—jaw, throat, the tender dip where collarbone meets promise. vanilla lotion, bonfire smoke, and summer sweat weave a spell. paige nips azzi’s shoulder, earning a breathy laugh that tastes like victory on home court.

then azzi’s palm settles against paige’s cheek, halting the descent. “wait.”

brown‑blue eyes lock. cicadas pause, as if eavesdropping.

“we can’t do this here,” azzi whispers.

paige brushes her nose along azzi’s. “could.”

“shouldn’t,” azzi counters, smile curving. logic threaded with longing.

paige rolls off, offers her hand. “okay, lead the fast break.”

they stand up, grass seeds clinging to clothes. halfway to the porch, azzi gasps, “fire.”

“shoot.” paige pivots, snags the waiting bucket her dad stashed. she pours slow; water meets ember with a hiss like soda fizz, steam curling up to kiss her face. the last sparks die courteous and soft—fireflies bowing out.

she watches the smoke swirl, feels a small pride unfurl; lessons passed down in crackle and caution. then she sprints back, sneakers thumping hush‑heavy earth.

azzi’s silhouette waits by the doorframe, haloed in warm cabin light—safe harbor, open arms. paige slips inside, fingers laced with hers, door whispering shut behind them. outside, the lake catches starlight like scattered confetti; inside, two heartbeats learn a quieter rhythm—slow dribble, sure shot, summer night still stretching its promise long after the flames have gone to sleep.

[sommerbueckers]

BABE OKAY I HAVE THE BEST IDEAAAA

okay so paige and r go out on like a really cute date and then at the end paige sets up the camera to propose but when she does r pulls out a ring too and they both just start DYINGGGG and btw i literally love you so freaking much

𝟐𝟒𝐊 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜

___________________________________________________________

✰ ❝𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫❞

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟏.𝟕𝐤

___________________________________________________________

PAIGE WAS DELICATELY HOLDING your heels in her hand, careful not to hit them against each other and scuff the ends. The two of you were strolling along an empty beach in Kill Devil Hills, the sun disappearing over the horizon as the hours ticked by. Your girlfriend had fallen in step with you, her hair blowing to the side as the sun casted a golden glow on her tanned cheek.

"You look so pretty baby," you murmured smoothly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

A shy smile crossed her face, and she turned away for a brief moment to release a breathless laugh. You loved how nervous she got whenever you complimented her.

"So do you mama," she said, one of her arms breaking free from the hold she had on your shoes to snake across your shoulders. She pulled you closer to her, drawing a giggle out of you as she placed a kiss on top of your head. "Lemme take a pic of you."

Paige fumbled in her pocket for her phone, feeling her hand brush over the tiny velvet box that she'd been waiting all night to bring out. She couldn't decide on the write time, she wanted you to be completely caught off guard. But you were making it harder than ever, you hadn't taken your eyes off of her the entire time.

"Is the lighting good? Make sure you can actually see my face," you told her, glancing back at the sun and slightly shifting in the other direction. "Stand over there so you can see me better."

The blonde shook her head, "How 'bout you turn around and i'll get you looking that way."

"Oh, good idea!" you grinned, twisting around in the sand. You were silent for a moment, giving her a chance to take a few photos before you glanced around. "Should I change my pose?" you asked.

"Turn around!" she laughed, her other hand quickly retreating from her pocket. You were making this harder than it needed to be without even knowing it. You had your own thoughts running wildly through your head. Your curls were up in a bun on the top of your head, and concealed within the bun was a ring tied to a string.

You had no where else to put it.

You had everything all planned out; you'd start by telling her how much she means to you, how the thought of settling down used to make you nervous but now you could do it with confidence because that's how secure she makes you feel. You'd tell her how proud you are of her basketball career and that she stayed true to herself, to God, and to you. You'd thank her for the patience she had with you and your journey through medical school. All the late nights she had stayed up with you to help you study for exams even though she had practice early the next morning. You'd express to her how you had never felt more certain of a decision than you did right now, and that's when you'd do it. You'd take your hair down as majestically as you could muster, and then you'd get down on one knee and ask her, the love of your life, to marry you.

You spun around on your heel, "Okay, let me see them now."

You looped your arm with hers as she swiped through the pictures, favoriting a few as she went by. When she got to the last one, she smiled and shut her phone off, staring down at you. It was the perfect moment, and you would've taken advantage of it if Paige hadn't decided to interrupt it instead.

"You wanna do a fit check?"

"Aren't you supposed to do that before you go out?" you quirked your eyebrow, but the blonde wasn't listening. She was already heading away from the water and toward a couple of rocks that she could set the phone up on.

"You go first." She clicked the tiny pink button and backed up to you.

"How long is this?"

"I put it on ten minutes," she laughed, gently nudging your shoulder with her hand. "Now go."

"Okay guys, this dress is from Hello Molly, all my jewelry and stuff I got from a little shop here, and my heels," you pointed to the shoes that Paige still had dangling from her fingers, "are Christian Louboutin."

She kissed your temple briefly.

"Aight so the shirt and the shorts is a gucci set 'cus y'know I keep it fresh, the shoes are from StockX, and.....the ring is from Verragio."

You stared at the camera for a moment with a smile before turning to look at her outfit. You remembered the day you had picked out the set for her, casually pointing out how you liked the patterns on it as you walked past. Next thing you knew, she was at the register with it in her hands. But there was something else you noticed about her, about her hands; she wasn't wearing any rings.

"What ring?" you frowned.

She reached into her pocket, taking a deep breath as she pulled it out. "This one."

Your eyes widened as she held up the box, her hands trembling slightly. Paige's eyes searched yours, her expression a mix of hope and nervousness. She didn't wait for you to say anything, she was afraid that if she didn't get the words out immediately then she would never have the chance to.

"For as long as i've known you, you've always been the one to make me feel understood. You know exactly what to say after i've had a bad, you never complain about having to massage my back, or my legs, or my feet," she flashed that familiar gummy smile. "You always stay late with me at the gym when I wanna get in some extra reps, you offer to grab my rebounds and play one on one with me even though you don't know a thing about basketball. All that matters to you is that i'm happy.

I love how you never let us go to bed angry at each other, how all your apologies always start off with you offering me food. I love how you anytime you try a new recipe or make a new sauce, you always want me to test it — even though you know it's already perfect. You're always doin' spontaneous things like cutting your hair or taking random trips. I love how determined you are — like you're the only person I know who has the mental capacity to go through medical school. You're so strong willed and independent, and those are things that i've always admired about you. Those are the traits I want you to give our children...someday...in the far future.

You know it's gonna pay off in the long run, and I love how you focus on that instead of how stressful the work is that you're putting in now. But most importantly, I love the way you love me. You make me feel heard, you make me feel seen. And if the world were to end right now, I'd spend my last breath telling you how much I love you. I want you to know that I see you too. I want you to make me the happiest woman in the world and marry me."

It was then that Paige got down on one knee, opening the velvet box and revealing the most gorgeous ring you had ever seen. A white gold, square diamond ring, the kind you had always talked about wanting when you'd go on your tangents about getting engaged. Paige had been listening the entire time, she had heard you. She was staring up at you with red-brimmed eyes, she had started crying. You were crying too, you weren't sure when you had started.

"Baby," she whispered, voice trembling. "Will you marry me?"

Your hand moved to cover your mouth, to cover the choked up cry that you had let out. You had been planning to propose, you hadn't planned on being proposed to. You had come to realize that it was an entirely different set of emotions to prepare for. You fanned for face to dry the tears, laughing and rolling your eyes at her.

"On one condition," you say, reaching up to pull your hair tie from your bun. Shaking your hair loose, you catch the string before it falls to the sand. You hold it up to her, her eyebrows furrowing. It caught the light, a simple yet elegant band that perfectly captured her style—understated, but undeniably beautiful. "You marry me first."

She stood abruptly, glancing back and forth between you and the ring. A breathless laugh escaped her, "You're unbelievable."

You threw your head back and laughed as well, "Dude! I had it all planned out and you beat me to you!"

"You told me you wanted me to propose to you! Forgive me for not expecting you to pull a ring our your hair!"

The two of you were smiling uncontrollably, your cheeks beginning to hurt. Paige's hands were in yours, her lip between her teeth.

"What do you say?" you beamed.

"Yes! Wha— yes!"

You slipped the ring onto her shaking fingers, and she did the same to yours. You squealed at the way the diamonds caught the light, sparkling with a brilliance that seemed to echo the joy in your heart. Paige laughed, the sound full of relief and happiness, her own eyes transfixed by the ring now resting on her hand.

Paige’s smile widened, and she pulled you into a tight embrace, the warmth of her body the only thing keeping you from practically floating with excitement. You were both trembling, hearts racing in sync, as if they too were celebrating this perfect moment.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were misty with happy tears. "I love you so much," she said, her voice catching.

She leaned in, pressing her forehead to yours, and you could feel the cool metal of the rings against your skin. The world around you seemed to slow, the moment stretching out, filled with nothing but the two of you and the love that connected your hearts.

"I love you more."

___________________________________________________________

[leashybebes]

fuck it friday

snippet from a 5+1 learning things about each other fic i'm working on. also, sal is here. hi sal!

As soon as he steps out of the Jeep, Buck narrowly avoids getting taken out at the ankles by someone's wheeled suitcase. "Still love LA?" 

"C'mon, baby, leading question. No one loves airports."

"I missed you," Buck says, and it's like the six hour flight just melts off of Tommy immediately, his eyes going soft and that beautiful, crinkly smile Buck loves so much spreading across his face.

"I missed you, too."

There's a grunt from behind them as Sal hoists a case up into the back of the Jeep. "Sure, you guys carry on, don't worry about me."

"We won't, and also shut up," Tommy says cheerfully, pulling Buck into a quick, warm hug. "I love you. Sorry about this guy."

"Hey, don't apologize for me, I did nothing wrong."

Tommy's eyes flick away from Buck's face for a second. "Don't act like an asshole and I won't have to. Did you thank Evan for picking us up?"

"Sure, whatever, thanks kid."

"Oh, uh. No worries." 

"Great, cool, can we get in the fucking car and get out of here?" Sal asks, from where he's already settling into the back seat. 

It's probably entirely to annoy Sal, but Buck doesn't object when Tommy pulls him in for a soft kiss.

"I really did miss you," Tommy says, one finger hooking into Buck's belt loop to pull him closer.

"Yeah? Not gonna leave me for the east coast any time soon?"

"Ew."

Buck fits his thumb to the cleft in Tommy's chin and steals another kiss. He opens his mouth to say something disgustingly sappy and is interrupted by the sound of the Jeep's horn blaring.

"I'll kick him out as soon as we get up to speed," Tommy promises.

Buck pats Tommy's chest, carefully doesn't let his hands wander. He likes Sal - he thinks - but he hasn't quite got a read on him yet, so he opts not to irritate him more than they already have. 

"C'mon. The sooner we get in the car the sooner I can get you home."

This time Tommy's smile is small and sly. "Promises, promises."

Once they're sat next to each other in the front of the Jeep, Buck lets himself look at Tommy because it's not like they're going anywhere any time soon. He looks tired, but he looks good too, because of course he does.

"How was the flight?"

Tommy makes an unhappy noise. "Honestly, I fucking hate flying."

"What?"

"Commercially. As a passenger."

"Oh, someone has control issues," Buck jokes as he manages to nudge the Jeep forward a little.

"That can't honestly come as a surprise to you," Tommy says.

"Come on, guys, there's other people present."

"Shut up, Sal, you're not people," Tommy says absently. The passenger seat jerks as Sal kicks it, and Tommy reaches back without looking to slap at him. "Don't fuck with my boyfriend's car, you animal."

Buck grins. Sure, the pickup area at LAX is a nightmare, and the theoretical thirty minute journey is probably going to be more like ninety, but he wouldn't change it for the world.

[strangerstilinski]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 — 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤

minors/ageless blogs please DNI.

REBLOGS are important. please reblog to share/save.

| 𝐩𝐭. 𝟏 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟑 | ⋆ | 𝐩𝐭. 𝟒 |

By the time you hear the telltale crunch and scuffle of footsteps approaching through the trees, you've been waiting for so for long that your butt has begun to go a little numb from the cold where you sit on the ground, knees hugged to your chest and back pressed against the trunk of a wide tree.

It hasn't quite reached the level of chill that'll have you seeing foggy clouds of breath as you exhale, but it's definitely nearing the time of year when it will be too cold to wait for Stiles outside like this. The late night temperature now is still just shy of it, warm enough that the crickets still chirp happily in the distance, frogs making their own music in the brook that you know winds through the woods just a little ways away.

The drink that you'd still been nursing when you snuck away was long gone, and your intoxicated buzz has settled into nothing more than a pleasant giddiness that swirls warmly beneath your skin to help fight the chill while you wait. Fallen leaves underneath your thighs are a mix of soft and crunchy beneath your fingertips when you pick at them impatiently, the rainstorms that passed through the day before having left the bottom layers damp and smelling strongly of dead earth.

You definitely hear Stiles coming long before you can see him; the quiet curses as he stumbles through the woods, the thump and scuffle of his feet getting caught every now and then on rocks and exposed tree roots. It's hard to say whether his difficulty is a product of his own intoxication or simply his penchant for clumsiness, but you find yourself stifling a quiet giggle as you watch him trip once more, his feet kicking up while his arms fly forward to brace himself for a fall that never comes.

He calls your name once he regains his balance but the lingering alcohol in your brain has you holding your tongue, a wide smile tugging at your lips as you carefully pull yourself up and peer around a tree to spot the dark shape of the boy just a few yards away.

Stiles spins on his heel when a twig snaps under your weight, his startled expression barely illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the steadily thinning autumn foliage on the trees above. He calls your name again, this time a bit quieter, his tone hushed as his feet carry him right past where you're hiding.

“If you're out there and trying to scare me, it's not gonna work,” He says somewhat weakly, his words not at all convincing, “Not to mention if you gave me bedroom eyes and then lead me out here only because you wanted to try and make me piss my pants, I'll kick your cute little ass.”

His delivery of the second statement is more believable, but the teasing only has you grinning wider, heart thumping with excited anticipation beneath your ribs.

“Babe, c'mon,” Stiles urges in a soft voice, “Seriously, where are you? If something happened to you and you're dying right now, Scott will actually kill m-”

“Hi, handsome.”

You murmur the words directly over his shoulder and Stiles flinches so hard in surprise that he nearly smacks you in the face as he spins in your direction. You only narrowly dodge his arm with a small squeak of surprise that quickly melts into a laugh and Stiles shakes his head in irritation even as his chest heaves from the scare.

“Jesus christ!” He exclaims quietly.

You only smile.

“Aw, I'm sorry, Stiles, did I scare you?” You tease sweetly as you close the small gap between the two of you, arms already looping around the back of his neck so that you can plant a kiss to his mouth. His lips taste of pizza and beer from the pack game night that's still taking place just a little ways up the hill. You want to lick your way inside of his mouth to get a better taste, and you're gearing up to do so when his head cranes back to break the kiss as his hands fall to your waist to hold you in place with a tight grip.

“You are such a shithead, McCall,” Stiles tells you with about as much annoyance as he can manage with your breasts pressed so tight against his chest, “I was starting to think something actually might've gotten you. I was about to stumble upon your body, and then, y'know, I figure whatever got you was likely to eat me next-”

“Mm, if you were really set on it, I could still eat you up,” You murmur against his mouth, your tongue flicking out to brush his lips in a teasing touch, “Though, with a house full of werewolves a hundred yards away, don't you think someone would've heard me scream?”

“Not if it went for your throat first,” Stiles retorts a little too easily, “Plus, the music's pretty loud up there.” He adds after a moment.

“Loud enough that no one'll hear if you make me scream?” You question seductively, fingertips trailing up from the nape of his neck to tangle into the soft strands of his hair.

His breath stutters as it slips out in a warm wave from his lips and onto your own, his hands falling to the curve of your ass and tucking into the pockets of your jeans to give it a squeeze. The action has heat pulsing between your thighs and lust has you pressing yourself against him a little harder, until you can feel the warm line of his cock where it's stiffening up beneath his pants.

“I, uh, I'm not sure it's that loud. Y'know, if the sound of your screams were, like, repetitive — I think someone might be more likely t-”

“Stiles.”

His words cut off with a quiet clack as his teeth snap together, eyes searching your own in the dark.

“I need you,” Your fingers comb through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp softly as warm breaths continue to mingle in the barely existent bit of space between you, “I need you.” You repeat, the words a little softer with vulnerability this time, a little more desperate.

“Right, yeah,” Stiles is already looking around the forest with wide eyes, the quick rise and fall of his chest moving your own where you're pressed together, “Shit. Fuck. Um, we.. We could-”

You're far too worked up to find his racing thoughts as endearing as you normally would, “Stiles I can literally ride you right here if you just-”

“No,” He cuts you off, smacking a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth in apology for his interruption before he's grabbing a hold of your hand and dragging you back through the trees toward the edge of the backyard, “No, you'll scrape up you knees like that-”

The sight of the house in the distance has you digging your feet in a little as he pulls you along, “Stiles, where are we- Are you seriously going to say no to sex because you don't want my knees to get a little dirty-?”

“Fuck, no,” Stiles looks back at you like he's contemplating just how well you even know him to make a deduction like that. In his distraction, Stiles trips over a tree root jutting up from the ground and nearly takes you down with him, narrowly managing to keep his feet underneath himself as he tries to keep you from stumbling.

“Then where are we going?” You question again.

“You'll see,” He glances back to catch the tail end of the eye roll you send his way, “Babe, just c'mon.”

Once at the edge of the yard, damp grass underfoot, Stiles banks left and you spot the shed that he seems to have set his sights on. Your arms snake around his waist from behind as he pulls at the loose padlock on the door, the hairs at the base of his tummy are soft under your fingers and you can't help but dip you hand beneath his waistband where the hair spreads further.

“Fucking-” Stiles fumbles with the door when your fingertips just graze his cock, the skin silky smooth under your palm as you push a little further so you can wrap your hand around him, “You're a f-fucking.. menace.” He tells you, not an ounce of bite to his words, more of a groan of approval than anything.

Your only response is to press your lips to the side of his throat, snapping a small nip of your teeth against his shoulder as you work your hand torturously slow.

Distracted by your touch, Stiles swings the door open with with a bit too much enthusiasm. He dives forward to catch it before it can collide with a pile of paint cans stacked against the inside wall and only narrowly gets a hold of it in time.

As soon as the door is secured behind you again, you're dropping to your knees in front of him, metal and leather clinking and slapping beneath your quick hands as you work his belt and get his jeans open enough to tug out his cock. It springs up as it's released, bobbing in front of you like it's taunting you for just how badly you want him. You eye the tip where he's flushed dark pink, shiny and dribbling already, noticeable even in the low light coming in through the windows.

Stiles lets out a groan that sounds more like a whine as you take him in your hand again and lick at the tip, savoring the small beads of precome that meet your tongue. You hum at the salty tang of them, dragging your mouth down the length of him, tracing the soft vein along the underside of his cock with your lips and tongue.

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles moans, his hand finding it's way into your loose hair nearly immediately, “You.. You don't have to-”

You lean back from where you'd been swirling your tongue around the head, giving his length a couple of short tugs as you look up at him through your lashes with a huff, “Maybe I want to, Stilinski. You ever think of that?”

He balks, hips jerking minutely and incidentally thrusting his cock toward your pouting lips, “I.. Um-”

“Maybe I want to suck you off. Did that not cross your mind? Huh? That maybe I like having your dick in my mouth?” You continue, voice dropping a few octaves.

A soft whimper falls from his lips when you lean back in to suck lightly at the tip and the sound has your thighs clenching together against the wave of arousal that curls in your tummy.

“Do you?” Stiles asks in a quiet groan, “Like it?”

“Mhm,” You hum around him, pushing further down his length to take in more of him, letting him feel the way your throat constricts around the head of his cock when you gag before pulling all the way off again, “Love it. Can't believe you didn't know that already.”

“I just thought- God. I, uh. You.. Shit. You're certainly ohmygod- g-good at it.” He struggles to get his words out when you take him back between your lips, but then he's huffing a quiet sigh of distress when you remove the warm heat of your mouth from his length once again.

“Good..?” You repeat in question.

“Huh?”

Stiles is blinking down at you dumbly, his hand flexing in your hair as he tries to clear his head. It's infuriatingly cute.

“I'm ‘good’ at sucking your dick? It's.. ‘Good?’” You say the word with distaste, one eyebrow ticking up on your forehead in challenge as you place his tip back against your lower lip. You let it rest there, one hand coming up to his waist to keep his hips from jutting forward as you part your lips and let a warm breath wash over the wet head of this cock.

“Did- Did I say good? I meant great! I, uh, phenomenal! M-mindblowing-” He moans loud around the word when you reward him by taking him into your mouth again.

You let him rest heavy on your tongue, sucking and bobbing your head in slow drags while he sighs out a desperate little sound at the feeling.

“Fuck. You- You're perfect, baby. You know that. Know how much you- Ohh-”

The whimper that cuts him off has you soaked beneath your panties, moaning around his length in response.

“-How much you rock my world.” He finishes weakly.

You pull off to give him an amused smile, jerking him in earnest with one hand and wiping spit from your lips with the other, “Oh, I rock your world, huh?” You tease.

“God damn it,” Stiles breathes the words, dragging you up by your shoulders until you're standing in front of him again, “You can't make fun of the things I say when you're suckin' my dick. New rule, enforced starting now.”

His mouth is on yours before you can respond, tongue breaking through the seam of your lips with a wide palm encasing the back of your neck as he leads you a few steps backward. Your feet drag carelessly over the uneven floorboards, loose nails and debris kicked aside as you both move farther into the dark space.

Where he's guiding you, you're not entirely sure. You're too lost in the way he licks into your mouth, enough that you can finally taste the beer on his tongue. It's some stupidly expensive ale that Theo always insists is ‘brewed through a better process’ and ‘tastes more full-bodied’ and Stiles is the first to mock him while still stealing a few for himself every time just to see the frown on Theo's face when he finds that they're all gone. The flavor is bitter and entirely too hoppy for your taste but when Stiles' tongue brushes it soft over yours, you find yourself moaning and tightening your hold on him, wanting more of it, needing more of it.

Your backside bumps into a hard surface and you yelp quietly in pain, the curve of your spine aching as you reluctantly pull away from the kiss to find you've run into a messy wooden worktop.

“Sorry!” Stiles says immediately, placing a small kiss of apology to your lips as his forehead falls against yours, “Shit. Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. Didn't realize it was that close.”

“'s okay,” You assure him, already frantically working the button on your jeans and simultaneously toeing off your shoes, “I'm fine.”

Stiles matches your enthusiastic pace as he strips out of his sweatshirt, reaching around to spread it over the dusty surface of the workbench behind you in an unspoken and endearing display of chivalry before he starts to strip out of his tshirt. You're in the process of pulling your own shirt over your head when he grabs ahold of your thighs, a quiet murmured demand of ‘up’ from his lips. You do as he asks, giving a little hop just as his grip tightens and he lifts you up the few remaining inches, dropping you to sit at the edge of the table, the material of his jacket soft underneath you as your naked skin settles over it.

“You're so hot,” Stiles tells you while he crowds forward, your thighs caging him in as his mouth meets the underside of your jaw, chests flush and moving a little rapidly in excitement, “Like, truly so fucking hot. 's actual torture to watch you play games on a team with Isaac n' Theo. Watch 'em both flirt with you and get absolutely nowhere because you're already mine.”

Your head falls back with a sound of approval as he nips at your skin lightly, carefully, kissing and licking the expanse of your throat in lue of leaving any marks. His hands grapple with the band of your bra all the while, unhooking the clasp while you simultaneously try to push his jeans farther down his thighs. Your bra straps fall loose around your arms and Stiles helps rid you of the article. He tucks the material into his back pocket for safe keeping before finally helping you out by pushing his jeans down to his knees, metal and leather of his belt buckle kissing in the silence between your bated breaths.

“Fuck me,” You beg softly, unashamed in the way you cant your hips as your ankles wrap around the backs of thighs, fingers digging into his shoulders in an attempt to pull him closer, “Please. Now. Need you now.” Your words fall from your lips in a whine as you watch him fumble with a condom, but you don't care, not as long as it gets him to give you what you want.

“I know. Shit, I know,” Stiles finally grabs ahold of his cock, dragging the rubber-covered head through the length of your folds, collecting some of the dripping wetness at your entrance and dragging it back up to rub soft over your clit. You gasp at the stimulation and he keeps it up, rubbing his tip over the bundle of nerves until you're tightening your legs around him in an attempt to force him closer with a whimpered plea. “Alright, alright. Got'chu babe, gonna give it to you.”

When his tip breaches your hole, the sharp stretch has you letting out a keening moan. He pushes in torturously slow, the glide smooth with the wetness of your arousal. Stiles settles his hips against the inside of your thighs once you've taken him all the way in, your cunt stretched wide around the thick base of his cock. He doesn't immediately move, breathing heavy as he tries to let you adjust, but after less than a minute you're using your legs around his hips to urge him forward in tiny jerks, not letting him pull out just yet, but forcing him to nudge at the deepest parts of you as you get used to the stretch.

You moan into his shoulder at the gentle grind of his cock inside you, fingers combing through his hair as you continue to guide his movements.

“That good, babe?” Stiles asks softly, hands rubbing nicely into the base of your spine, fingers digging into your skin, “You like being stuffed full of me?”

“Mhm,” You agree, loosening your hold on him to lean back and bring your foreheads together, your thumbs dragging soft along the length of his throat, “'s so good, Sti. So full. You always fill me up so, so good.” You murmur against his lips.

He groans softly, nose brushing yours, hips still rolling, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You gasp, “You're so good to me. Fuck me so good. S-such a good boy.”

There's something about the way he tugs you against him in response, his hands digging into the curve of your spine as he drives in as deep as he can go, like he doesn't quite even mean to do it — the intensity has you crying out in time with his own shaky groan.

“Ohmygod,” You gasp, relishing in the slight sting between your thighs from the rough treatment, “Fuck.”

“Sorry,” He says breathlessly, sobering quickly, “Holy shit 'm so sorry, sweetheart. 're you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“'m okay.” You assure him immediately, still slightly reeling as you process what exactly it was that made him lose control, “No, 'm okay, it's okay, I'm.. I'm good. Ready.”

You loosen your legs in signal for him to begin thrusting for real and he looks into your eyes like he's checking that you're sure before he follows the silent command, pulling out in a slow drag and then driving his hips back to yours in a hard thrust. You wait until he finds a rhythm, until both of you are groaning soft between parted lips, before you choose to delve a little deeper.

“You are a good boy, baby.” You tell him, fingernails digging into the nape of his neck a little when his eyes pinch shut with a pathetic whimper, the sound ringing in your ears sweetly. Your puckered lips find his flushed cheek, then the corner of his closed eye, and finally the edge of his mouth, “You like when I tell you?” You ask breathlessly, “When I tell you how good you are? How good you fuck me?”

His fingers dig into your hips a little desperately as the pace of his thrusts pick up, the wet sound of his cock pounding into you growing louder in the otherwise quiet air of the small shed.

“Jesus.. I fucking- Babe-” Stiles pleads, though neither of you are entirely sure what he's pleading for.

“I.. I think you do,” You tell him, voice a little shaky against the hard slam of his hips against your own, “Think you fucking love hearing how good you make me feel. Love.. Love being reminded how f-fucking good your cock is.”

Another boyish-sounding whine claws its way up his throat and your cunt tightens around him like a vice, the noise igniting warm sparks of pleasure down your neck, down the curve of your arched spine.

Stiles licks into your mouth then and it's a messy thing, hungry and wet, all teeth knocking and heavy breaths mingling, but you rake a hand down his back all the same, blunt nails leaving tiny streaks of reddened flesh in their wake. Your hips cant in the hopes that one of his thrusts will finally catch on that spot inside you. You can feel how close he is to kissing it with his length, can practically taste it at the back of your tongue, and when Stiles pulls your ass just a little farther over the edge of the worktable, one of your hands forced to drop behind you to maintain your balance, the head of his cock all but slams into the spot you'd been aiming for.

You cry out into his mouth, the sound swallowed up by his tongue before your foreheads come together again, lips barely brushing. He drives in again and the same keening noise rips from your throat.

“Yeah?” Stiles breathes into your mouth, “That it? That right where you need me?”

Your brows furrow together as you nod, the lines of your body tense with every thrust that he sends exactly where you want him, “Yeah,” You finally manage in a hoarse moan, “Yeah, r- fuck! Right there, Sti. Please.”

You're not entirely sure what it even is that you're begging for, but somehow Stiles knows — because he can see that pinch between your eyebrows, the tremble in your thighs, feels the way your fingers are threaded into his hair like you're holding on for dear life.

“Holy shit.. You getting close?”

You intend on responding, on giving him an affirmative yes, because you are close, can feel your impending orgasm lighting up an inferno across every inch of your body, but before you get the chance to tell him, Stiles is dropping a hand over your heat and flicking his fingertips soft over your swollen clit.

The surprised moan that comes out of you is a strangled sounding little thing, and it pushes a shaky sigh from Stiles' chest as he redoubles his efforts.

“Ohmygod,” You finally manage to cry into his parted lips, “Shit. Fuck, I-I'm so close. I'm so, so-”

“Yeah?” Stiles pants, “I'm close too. Come on, baby. Come for me, c'mon.”

You try to speak, something beyond the soft little ‘ah, ah, ah’'s that escape with every pounding thrust to the bundle of nerves on your inner wall, but you're mouth does little more than gape for a long minute. Your orgasm creeps closer, eyebrows relaxing as they push up your forehead, fingers slipping from Stiles' hair so you can drop your arm around his shoulders.

“S-so fucking good,” You slur breathlessly, “You're so good. Baby.. Baby, you.. You're so.. Fuck.”

Stiles' hips stutter but the fingers working your clit keep steady, “Wanna.. Shit, just wanna.. give it to you like you deserve. Y're so perfect, pussy's so perfect-”

“You do! You do, you do, you do,” You tell him desperately, voice taking on an edge that leaves your words coming out a little higher than normal, “Fuck, Stiles. No one could ever- You're so good! So, so so-”

Your head falls back of it's own accord, Stiles' lips catching your chin as your thighs tense and your hips roll and you clench tight around his cock. He fucks you through your orgasm, his hips stuttering when his own high crashes through him. He's got a tight grip on your ass, his large hands squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises right in the dimples of your spine.

The heavy thump of your heart echos loud in your ears, rattling your bones with its sheer strength. Stiles' warm breath falls against your cheek as he presses a soft kiss to the apple of your cheek, a sweet thing that coats your insides like a warm syrup as he moves in a line and presses another to your jaw, and then your chin, and the corner of your mouth.

The hard peaks of your nipples are still pressed to his chest, scarce hairs around his own nipples catching against your sensitive skin in a way that has you leaning back just a touch, your lips meeting his for a sticky kiss.

“That was good.” You tell him earnestly, still a little breathless.

“Oh, ‘good’, huh?” Stiles repeats in a grumble, “Just ‘good’?”

Your tinkling laugher fills the quiet shed, eyes crinkling in the dark as you tip his head to the side to scrape your teeth threateningly against his jaw, the sharp scratch of stubble meeting your skin.

“Better than good,” You correct, lips pulling up in a teasing grin as you run your fingers through the soft length of his hair, “Can I tell you a secret, though?” You whisper softly.

Stiles nods, his fingers drumming and drawing restless patterns over the skin of your thighs.

You lean close, lips brushing the shell of his ear as you fight to hold in a breathy laugh, “You kinda rock my world too.”

He pushes away from you with a grumble, spent cock finally slipping out of you and causing you to wince with a gasp as he tosses your bra and tshirt in your direction.

“So cruel, y'know that?” Stiles huffs, his smile giving away his true feelings.

Your laughter rings out again as he begins to pull on his clothes and you follow suit, securing the clasp on your bra and pulling your shirt over your head, “I'm only teasing you a little,” You tell him as you jump down from the edge of the table and flip your hair out from under your collar, “That was at least eighty percent genuine compliment.”

“Uh huh, I'm sure.” Stiles says unconvincingly as he approaches where you're tugging your jeans up over the curve of your ass with a little hop. He crowds you, a hand reaching toward your face as he pinches a piece of debris between his thumb and forefinger and pulls it from your hair with a small grin.

Just a few minutes later, your laughter continues despite Stiles’ constant shushing, two sets of stumbling steps thumping through the forest as he drags you along, his big hand warm where it's wrapped around your own.

“Stiles!” The two syllables drag slow from your tongue and you pull against his hold as you follow after him in amused confusion, “Where are we- Oomf!”

His arm curls around your waist, pulling your chest flush to his and smothering your words with a kiss that you can't help but sink into. One hand drags down your spine, grabbing a fistful of your ass through your jeans and hauling you up against him as his tongue flicks soft against yours. You can't hold back a moan, a sweet little noise of contentment slipping out into his mouth.

“Gotta be quieter than that, sweetheart. The music didn't sound nearly as loud back at the house at it was earlier. All our friends have supernatural hearing, yeah? I know it's hard to hold back, when I'm so-”

“God, shut up,” You groan, your fingernails digging a little meanly into his muscles forearm, “You're.. You're so fucking cocky sometimes-”

“You love when I'm cocky.” He says easily, and there's not much you can say to that, because, well, you do.

“Shut up.” You repeat against his lips petulantly.

He draws back from you with an entirely too smug grin, giving your ass one final squeeze before he's taking ahold of your hand once again and continuing his trek through the trees.

“Seriously, where are we going?” You try again, “I know you're not great with directions, but surely when we left the backyard you must've realized that the house is in the opposite direction-”

“Such a brat,” Stiles grumbles under his breath, dragging you further into the trees. You would normally be worried about getting lost in the dark, but Stiles' self-assured steps keep you from being too concerned. While it feels like the two of you are wandering blindly, Stiles walks as if he has a destination in mind, like he knows exactly where he's leading you, “Listen, you know what has to happen now, right?”

A snort of laughter breaks free at just how serious he sounds as slows he and pushes up behind you, warm chest pressed to your back, his hands on your hips so that he can continue to lead you forward.

“Jesus,” You laugh, “What- Are you about to murder me?” You tip your head back onto his shoulder in time to catch his unimpressed glare, “Sti, if this is about me teasing you, I'm sorry, but it's true! You rock my world! Your dick-”

“It's not that,” Stiles disagrees, his voice struggling to hide his own amusement, “And just for the record, if I wanted to murder you, we both know I'm creative enough that you wouldn't see it coming.”

“So reassuring.” You scoff, to which he merely shrugs, “Okay, ha ha. Now, seriously-”

Your words fade into a whisper before they die off altogether because you've just broken through the edge of the treeline and your gaze is focused on the house that sits up the bank in front of you. The patio and pool that take up a majority of the backyard are shrouded in darkness with scant moonlight, but the windows in the house itself are lit up, a surprisingly large number of rooms displayed brightly even at the late hour.

But Stiles is still nudging you forward with slow steps, his hips pressed flush to your own, urging you further into the yard.

“Ah, gee. Looks like someone's home,” You murmur when he doesn't say anything after a few seconds, feet skidding slightly when you try to hold your ground as you round the edge of the pool, “Bummer.. Looks like we'll have to explore your kink for breaking and entering another nigh-”

A hand pushes hard into your waist and cold salt water crashes around you before you get the chance to finish your sentence, the sound of it thundering in your ears. Your clothes are leaden with the extra weight as they soak through and the fabric is heavy as you push back up to the surface. You've barely broken through and begun to wipe salt from your eyes when a splash erupts right next to you, water spraying as Stiles plunges after you.

When he pushes up through the surface of the water, head shaking side to side before flicking back to flip his hair off of his forehead in an easy move, you're already landing a hard punch against his shoulder.

“Ow!” Stiles complains in a hushed whisper.

“What the hell-!” You scold in an equally quiet but wholly enraged hiss, water clinging to your lashes as your fist delivers another blow to his bicep, “-is wrong with you?”

“Ow.” He complains again and grabs your wrists with a chuckle, your body weightless as he pulls you toward him through the water. The hard planes of his chest are warm through soaked cotton when your forearms meet them and push the billowing fabric flush to his skin. His thumbs stroke the sides of your wrist as he tries to placate you, “Baby, baby!” Stiles says with a hushed laugh when you go tense but are no longer actively thrashing in his grip, “The pool is.. We needed to wash away the smell. Y'know, arousal, sex..”

Your gaze flicks slow over his dripping face, eyeing the painfully earnest look in his expression. You fists tighten in his grip once more as you heave a disbelieving sigh, eyes pinching shut for a moment as you rein yourself in.

“Stiles..”

“What?”

Your eyes snap open to meet his, purposefully even breaths falling from your lips, “How are we going to explain why we're soaking wet?”

“Easy,” Stiles laughs, “We tell everyone you dragged me over here to shove me in the pool.”

Whatever snarky remark you're gearing up sticks to the tip of your tongue as an outdoor patio light flicks on, the glow of it illuminating the far side of the pool. Stiles meets your wide-eyed gaze, his arm already wrapping around your waist to push you up out of the pool in a rush.

“Shit.”

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞��𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢'𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝟓𝐤. 𝐢 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝. 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲… 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲. 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐛𝐯.

again, REBLOGS are so important.

please have the curtesy to reblog to share/save.

[vampire-matcha]

Thinking about Mechanics!141 and fem reader with a shitbox car (totally not me). You're in there every three to four weeks with something going wrong with your death trap of a car. The boys aren't sabotaging your car or anything. They don't need to. Your car is just that bad. It's a miracle it hasn't killed you yet. You're trying to save up for a newer car, but your shitbox keeps burning a hole in your wallet with every light blinking on your dashboard. It's to the point that the boys recognize you as soon as you walk into the shop. They hear the bell ring and they just know it's you again.

(Contains: sex as payment, oral sex/blowjob, fingering/masturbation) but of a different style from BitW but enjoy. Not proofread :p

"What is it now?" Price asks, wiping the motor oil from his hands on a greasy rag. You're already looping the key fob off your keychains.

"It's shaking whenever I get above 45."

"What part of the car is shaking?" He asks, pulling up your information on the computer.

"All of it," you say, slapping the key onto the counter with a huff. Price gives you a sympathetic look.

"Darling, you should really get yourself something more reliable," he tells you. You sigh and lean your elbows on the counter. His eyes glance down to your chest and the low-cut shirt you were wearing.

"I'm trying, Price," you say with a little more attitude than you intended. "It's impossible to save money when everything goes back into this fucking car!" You run your hands over your face. "I'm gonna die in that thing," you mutter, only half-joking. Price stops typing for a moment, thinking to himself.

"What if we could work something out?" He asks tentatively. You look up at him to see him already staring you down.

"Like... a loyalty discount?" You try to clarify. Surely he didn't mean...

"I was thinking something more along the lines of... an alternative method of payment." He leans against the counter in front of you, his face close to yours. He smelled like what you'd expect: motor oil and engine grease and musky, manly sweat. "Something under-the-table..." Your heart skipped a beat at the double-meaning of his words, allowing him just enough plausible deniability if you chose to not accept. You swallowed hard.

"What do you have in mind?" You ask softly, your heart pounding in your chest, and with how hard Price was staring at your cleavage, you think maybe he could see it. You reach a hand out to stoke a finger along his arm, feeling the coarse hair all over it. The corner of his mouth quirked up.

"I think I have something in the back office that might work. Follow me and I'll show you."

It wasn't that you were totally desperate. Well, you were. This car had cost you thousands more than it was worth and you needed to save any penny you could when it came to it. But you wouldn't have followed just any mechanic into the rinky-dink office at the back of the auto shop. This was John Price. And he was all man.

"You want that discount, you're gonna have to work for it."

Broad shoulders tapering into a narrower waist, but still lined with the perfect ratio of hearty muscle and soft belly, all leading down to an alluring bulge and plump ass, and finally, those thick, beefy thighs. Not to mention his hands: thick, strong, and calloused from years of hard manual labor, and forearms and biceps that twisted and flexed underneath his button-down work shirt.

He holds the door open for you, his body crowding you into the tight space. The office is more of an oversized closet with a desk and an old computer. He closes the door behind you both and settles himself into the rickety office chair, which creaks under his weight. He sits with his legs spread and his hands on his thighs and gestures for you to come closer.

You kneel between his legs and he smirks, adjusting his hips in the chair while you work open his belt. He lets you open his trousers for him but pushes them down for you so his semi-hard cock can spring free. He sighs when you take it into your hand, stroking him to full hardness.

He isn't much of a moaner, you didn't expect him to be, but his chest puffs as you take the tip into your mouth and suck on it lightly. Your hand moves up and down his shaft slowly, your fingers moving to meet your lips. You lick around the head and push the tip of your tongue into his slit, making his hips jerk lightly.

You close your eyes, letting yourself fully focus on his cock, letting desire and submissiveness take over your mind as you work to please him on your knees. You take him deeper into your mouth, widening your jaw and rocking your mouth side to side to fit him farther down. Your other hand slides up his thick, meaty thigh to massage his balls while you find yourself in a gentle rhythm. You bob your head, going down just far enough, but not enough to gag you, and sucking hard on the way up as your hand holds and twists the base. You melt onto him, the feeling of him in your mouth quieting your mind, leaving any thought of hesitancy far, far behind. All you need is John Price's dick in your mouth, and you think you could reach enlightenment between his thighs.

You barely register the fact that you're moaning around him until he's teasing you for it.

"Yeah? You like this, don't you? Letting me drag you to the back of the shop to suck my cock like the little whore you are." You whimpered at the filthy words he was spitting down at you. "Knew you would- the boys and I- knew you'd like us usin' you like this," he says with a grunt as he watches your eyes roll back. "Go on and touch yourself for me, dear."

You let go of his balls and quickly open your pants to sneak your hand inside. Your pussy is soaked, your fingers gliding through your lips with ease. You moan louder as you circle your clit, the motion sending sparks through your pelvis and thighs.

"There's a good girl. So obedient. I can hear how wet you are for me." He places a hand on your head, not pushing, just guiding your pace up and down his length. You press your tongue to the underside of his cock to add pressure while you touch your clit, the wet nub buzzing with electricity.

"Just like that," he puffs. He holds up his shirt and you see through your fluttering lashes the way his abs constrict with pleasure. "Go on, make yourself cum like that. Think you can do it? You think you can cum with my cock down your throat?" His hips jerk up into your mouth again with more urgency.

Your thighs twitch as your stomach tightens. His vulger words send you over the edge, and your hips stutter against your hand. Your body twitches and thrusts on the floor between his thighs.

"Good girl- good fuckin' girl," he says, his voice deep and strained, and he fists your hair harder and pulls it tight. The rush of euphoria makes you moan around him low and loud, and he cums into your mouth with a grunt. You choke on the salty fluid, swallowing what you can, but some of it slips out of your lips and drips down your chin.

He pulls you off and takes a good look at how ruined you are, your lips swollen, your eyes unable to focus, your hand down your pants, and best of all, his cum decoration your face. He smiles at you and hands you a relatively clean rag to clean your face. Little black streaks preplace white droplets on your skin, and he can't help the fond smile that creeps up on him. He's marked you now in more ways than one.

He untangles his hand from your hair and let's you rest your head on his knee until you catch your breath. You take your hand out of your pants, and he motions for you to raise it up to him, and instead of wiping it with the rag, he leans forward and sucks your wet fingers into his mouth. He holds your eyes and you feel his tongue swiping across the pads of your fingers, until he releases then with a smack of his lips.

"I'll let the boys know about our little arrangement. They'll collect their own payment when you pick it up tomorrow," he says with a wink. He helps you stand up and walks you back to the front, leaving you with one final squeeze to you ass. "Oh, and you might want to wash your hair," he adds as he opens the door to the garage. He hands up a greasy hand. "Got motor oil in it. Sorry."

[angel-of-the-moons]

Chocolates vs Aliens

Eddie/Venom x Pregnant!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Fluff, details of pregnancy , childbirth mentions. Venom loves babies! This! Is! A hill! I will die on!

A/N: The winners of the poll! I'll do the Moon Boys next! Also okay its not a drabble but enjoy this hot word vomit asdfghjkl idk should I make a part 2??

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

"SHE IS OUT OF CHOCOLATE?!" Venom's voice boomed inside his head.

"Relax, buddy, we can hit up the 7/11 down the street." Eddie scoffed, adjusting his wireless earbud. Thankfully it looked like he was on the phone, so he could talk freely to Venom without anyone thinking he was insane.

And well, he kind of was, a tiny bit.

Just a tad...

"BUT I CAN SMELL IT!" The symbiote whined childishly as Eddie scooped the frozen egg rolls into the wiry basket looped over his arms.

"Yeah yeah, I know. Mrs Chen could have eaten the last one, Vee. Just chill. How about some chocolate ice cream?" Eddie grinned at the pun.

"No! We always get brain freezes!" He entity huffed.

"Because you scarf down the whole tub in one go." Eddie chuckled.

Venom grumbled again, and a tendril snaked out from beneath Eddie's sweater and dropped a box of brownie mix into the basket. "Fine. I can settle with these."

"Whatever you say, love, but you're helping me bake the shit." The man shrugged in reply as he remembered to grab a carton of milk. He'd need some eggs, too... Well, at least his landlord let him move the chicken coop to the roof in exchange for some free eggs.

Those chickens were fat and spoiled, and Venom loved the little critters dearly, which Eddie always found humorous. Now, whenever Eddie made the joke of turning them into KFC, Venom would be aghast and headbutt him, citing that Sonny and Cher were his "babies".

He'd been talking like that a lot lately, Eddie realized. Venom apparently had a paternal streak in him. Eddie noticed that as well when Venom would find homeless kids or runaways, helping them and trying to seem as non-threatening as possible, even going as far as to change his fangs so they were blunt. (One of the kids assured him that was far creepier than the monster fangs, which made Eddie nearly keel over in laughter...)

"Deal." Venom purred happily, the tendril receding back to slip beneath Eddie's shirt and wrap around him like a hug.

"Alright, alright." Eddie chuckled, grabbing an extra box just in case as he walked around the shelves, sparing a glance at his phone to check the time.

"Eddie." Venom's voice said.

"What?" Eddie lifted his gaze, feeling Venom's haste flood him and put him on alert.

His eyes trailed the store until he landed on the checkout counter, where you were sitting. Not Mrs Chen, but cute, innocent, blissful you.

You were happily munching on a chocolate bar, one of the very ones Venom wanted. It would seem you had claimed it, eating the sugary morsel happily.

"Oh." Eddie mumbled.

He felt it as Venom seized control of his legs suddenly, sending him forward in jerking motions until he practically ran into the counter, making you jump in surprise.

"Oh! Sorry!" He smiled awkwardly, a faint blush to his cheeks.

'Venom, quit it! I'll get you chocolate later!' He said mentally to the alien inhabiting his body.

"No, Eddie. Wait."

"I, ah... Got a bit sidetracked and tripped over my feet." He added.

You smiled at him, "Oh, god. Yeah, I feel you. Lately it's like dragging my heels through wet cement." You chuckled.

Huh. You were... God, you were cute. He could tell even Venom thought so. With your cute fluffy turtleneck and your hair all done, your cheeks nice and rosy from the blush you'd applied.

Which... brought up the question.

"I've never seen you 'round here before." Eddie commented. "Mrs Chen is usually the only person I see in here..."

"Oh! I'm new in town, I live just down and street and she saw my situation and offered me a part-time here. I have a work from home job and everything, but ugh, just staying cooped up inside is so boring!" You say the last part with a groan.

"Damn, would've been nice if she offered me that job a couple years ago." Eddie chuckled.

You giggled a bit at him and looked at his basket, "Is that all for ya, hon?"

"Oh, yeah!" Eddie said, carefully organizing the things onto the glass counter. His eyes flicked to the candy bar you were still steadily breaking pieces off of.

"Bit of a sweet tooth, huh?" He teased.

"Ugh, god... lately? Yes! The craving for it has been absolute hell." You sigh exhaustedly. "Almost everything in my apartment is chocolate flavored or scented now!"

"... Cravings?" Eddie echoed, raising a thick brow.

"Okay, I know what you're thinking and no. It's not "that time of the month" like your brain is probably saying." You snort.

Eddie watches as your hand trails down to your midsection and you pat your belly beneath the plush fabric of your sweater, where a gentle swell stood out a bit more prominently as you smooth the fabric taut over your stomach.

"I just have a certain little jellybean who thinks they can dictate what mama wants to eat all the time. And apparently, chocolate is what's on the menu for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And... in between." You chuckle.

"OH." Eddie and Venom thought in unison.

"That's why she smells like that!" Venom barked, realizing the underlying scent of chocolate on you was laced with something else. Hormones. He was picking up on those, too.

"Oh! Uh, congrats!" Eddie said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I'm sure you and your, uh, partner are probably super happy, huh?"

"Oh, no, it's just me." You smiled with a hum, taking another little sweet square between your lips.

Eddie's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Okay, so I'm not gonna be rude, but I will explain." You snicker. You seemed infinitely patient and polite about the subject. Apparently this very thing must be a common occurrence with you, that random people must constantly ask this same question, and how tiring it surely must be to answer it again and again...

"No, I don't have a partner, husband, or anything. No daddy."

Eddie awkwardly pointed to your belly. "Then how did y'know... that get in there?"

Eddie controlled the flinch he wanted to make when Venom pinched him. "You did NOT just call her baby a THAT!"

"Yeah, yeah I know. But there's something everyone forgets, and that it doesn't always "take two to tango"." You smile at him again, ringing up his items with one hand, chocolate still clutched firmly in another.

"I decided that I wanted to be a mom. But I didn't want to just go out and get pregnant willy nilly. I have a good job, steady income. But I don't have time to date and there's always the concern that I'd be left a single parent if whoever I was with decided parenthood wasn't for them, y'know?"

Eddie nodded patiently as he and Venom listened to you with rapt attention.

"I went to a fertility clinic, did what the doctor said, then had my egg fertilized with a sperm donor. And then boom," You point to your belly. "Jellybean."

"Oh, that... Yeah okay I forget fertility clinics are a thing." Eddie laughed, shaking his head.

"Well I'm glad you're so open-minded about it!" You grin. "Most people judge me and go "oh your baby needs a father!" and the ever so classic "you don't even know who the father is?" line."

Eddie frowned, and he could tell even Venom was irritated on your behalf. "You don't need to have a partner or spouse to raise a baby. Seriously. What is this, the 1940s?"

"I knoooow!" You giggle again. "And besides! I can support me and my baby just fine, and I'm already happy and so far the pregnancy has been a breeze!"

Eddie could feel a tugging sensation from Venom. The symbiote was curious, and wanted to touch. But Eddie knew that was not only rude as hell, but to some people, socially unacceptable if you don't know the person or ask permission first.

"How uh, far along are you?"

"I just hit my second trimester." You chirp proudly, patting your belly. "The baby's tiny, but I'm finally showing, now."

"Ohhh." Eddie snapped his fingers. "Hence "jellybean", right?"

"Yes!" You laugh.

Eddie pulled out his card and swiped it to pay for the groceries. "It's a cute nickname. Have you thought of any names yet?"

Your brain did a record scratch, and Eddie could see the look on your face.

Nope. Not at all.

You hadn't thought of a damn one. Especially because you didn't know the sex of your baby yet.

"Uh...."

Eddie started snickering at your expression, "Ahhh. My bad." He shoots you a cocky grin, "If I can recommend a name, Eddie is a pretty strong one!"

"Weak." Venom mocked.

"Eddie?" You echo, blinking.

"Oh, don't listen to him, girl." Mrs Chen snorted as she walked up to you two, whacking Eddie with a rolled up newspaper. "This boy is nothing but trouble!"

Her words were jabbing, but not spoken without affection, so you could tell they had a history together.

"Ow! Hey!" Eddie pouted, rubbing the top of his head.

"Oh please, I'd need to shoot this out of a cannon to dent that hard head of yours!" She huffed with a smirk, crossing her arms.

She tilted her head and noticed the candy bar in your hand, and made the mental connection with Eddie and Venom. Riiiiiight. Venom needed chocolate. Mrs Chen tossed it to you when you started scrolling through your phone for door dash orders for chocolate cakes from local restaurants to sate your cravings.

"Oh, right. Sorry about your chocolate fix." Mrs Chen replied, her gum smacking softly. "Gave the lady one to help ease her stomach."

The flush to your cheeks made Eddie smile as you looked at the candy in your hand. "I'm sorry!" You sputtered.

"Hey, man, you got a baby in you. You can't exactly tell the little, uh.... eh. The little person they can't have it?" Eddie struggled. He wasn't sure how the whole cravings thing worked, honestly. Would you indeed cry if he didn't accept your offer? Would your baby get hungry? Was that a thing? He knew jack and shit about babies in general, man.

"Pff, moron."

'Parasite.'

"I AM NOT A PARASITE!"

"Oh, I know but uh..." You say, your eyelashes fluttering as you think, looking from Eddie to the bar in your hand. You decided to finish breaking off the pieces you were working on, and extend your hand giving the rest to Eddie. "Here! I'm good, if I need more I can nab some from the gas station down the street."

"Oh! Uh... I don't wanna, y'know. Take anything from you and your baby." Eddie said, waving his hands.

"Eddie, if you refuse to take it, she could cry." Mrs Chen teased. "You don't want to make a pregnant woman cry do you?"

Eddie's face was hilarious as panic started to bubble up within him as he looked from you, to your outstretched hand, to Mrs Chen, who stood as proud as can be at the chaos she had just sewn.

"Hey! I'm not that hormonal!" You retort to the older lady. But... you deflate a tiny bit. "...Okay, well not yet but still!"

Eddie was still going through the moral dilemma of accepting the kind gesture vs taking candy from a literal baby in somebody's womb.

Venom made the choice for him, extending our Eddie's hand and letting him take it.

"I, uh... Thanks." Eddie blabbered quickly.

"Now let's go home before you make an idiot out of us further." Venom cackled gleefully at the socially awkward situation.

Eddie grabbed the plastic bags and gave an awkward wave and a smile before skittering out of the store with his tail between his legs.

"Geez, he needs to get laid once in a while." Mrs Chen scoffed, going over to check inventory.

You barely had a moment to collect yourself, stopping before you laughed so hard you peed yourself.

That was the first time you and Eddie ever met. It would not be the last.

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

Eddie shopped at Mrs Chen's place pretty regularly, her prices were easy on the wallet and she was close by to he and Venom's apartment.

You steadily built up a rapport with Eddie over the next two or three weeks. Venom was inexplicably drawn to you, wanting to constantly convince Eddie to touch your belly.

Eddie kept reminding him that it was frankly rude as shit to do that, and that hell, it would probably make you uncomfortable.

Not long after that, Eddie and Venom discovered--to Venom's utter glee--thay you lived in the same building, the apartment just above his. They found this out when Venom insisted on making sure you made it home after your shift at Mrs Chen's ended, knowing how vulnerable a pregnant lady looked to crooks and criminals.

Twice Venom caught and ate the brains of lowlifes who tried stalking you.

Venom, despite you not knowing of his existence, was fiercely protective of you. And... well he liked you. They liked you.

Eddie hated how quickly both he and Venom became infatuated with you, listening to you talk about your baby, your cravings... They could tell you were lonely despite your cheerful demeanor. Yes, Eddie and Venom had each other already, but they quickly thought about adding you to the mix.

But again, you didn't know about the alien slime monster living inside of Eddie. That subject would have to definitely wait...

He would check on you, leaning his head out his window on occasion to talk to you as you looked up, it brightened up the monotony of your at-home life in between work, asking about how you were feeling as your pregnancy developed. He even texted you lists of different baby names and their meanings to help you out!

When he first asked you out, you were floored. You've never met a man who was interested in a woman pregnant with somebody else's baby, before. You've heard about it sure, but... You were more surprised anyone was interested in you while pregnant with some guy's baby. Let alone your cute downstairs neighbor who apparently babied his pet chickens that were kept on the rooftop.

He even introduced you to them! You didn't hold them of course, for fear of bacteria, and chuckled as he furiously disinfected himself before even coming within three feet of you, all for you and your baby's health.

A man who was sweet, considerate, caring and he loves animals? Add the looks to that bill and that was a difference you were willing to pay. How was he still single?!

But... Well. That changed after your first date, and he was glad you accepted it all.

And it wasn't long after that (several weeks actually) you discovered he wasn't, in fact, single. He didn't have a girlfriend or anything but he certainly had a partner.

Said partner... was some kind of ooze-critter that lived inside of him. And you only found this out when you came home from a late night convenience store run for some triple chocolate chunk ice cream, walked into your apartment...

And saw him.

Venom, in his hulking form, stood awkwardly in your apartment, looking like a deer trapped in headlights when you flicked your lights back on, the ice cream in your bag forgotten.

As your door slowly swung closed due to angled flooring, you opened your mouth to scream.

Venom cut you off, his massive hands shooting up and he waved them, "DON'T SCREAM!"

You snapped your mouth shut, your teeth making an audible click as your heart hammered in your chest.

"We were worried! You weren't responding to our texts or when we knocked on your door?" His deep and rumbly voice growled out.

You shudder at the timbre of his voice, eyes never once leaving the rows of jagged fangs in his maw. You drop your plastic bag and step back, covering your belly--now very prominent as you were later in your term--protectively.

That seems to... upset him? He frowned, looking at the carpet as he lowered his hands, his large eyes narrowing as he carefully thought, trying to think of ways to alleviate the fear bubbling through you.

He took a slow step towards you, like you were a frightened animal caught in a trap that he had to be gentle with, lest you struggle or flail and get hurt.

"We were worried about you. We--" His head snapped to his left and he snarled. "Yes! "We"! You were worried, too! Don't try to say you weren't!"

You watch, in shock as he has essentially a one-sided argument with himself, getting exasperated, saying the word "love" and "dear" here and there.

You stayed, scared, until the ugly sensation of your nausea reared its ugly head and you dropped the plastic bag, literally shoving past this gigantic creature in a mad dash to your bathroom or you were gonna blow chunks right then and there.

You didn't even shut the door before you collapsed to your knees, hugging the bowl as you heaved the contents of your digestive system into the pearly white porcelain, leaving what could only be the Venom, the creature that supposedly stalked your city eating people, in your living room.

By the end of the nausea fit, your eyes were watery, your nose was runny and your face blotched with color, the whites of your eyes glassy from the strain. You felt lightheaded and dizzy as you rinsed your mouth with water right from the tap, gargling and spitting until the foul acidic taste went away.

You felt your now empty stomach growl and your first instinct was to go get food and eat again, to replenish the energy you just spent hurling everything you ate that day.

But then you remembered...

The big guy.

You didn't have any sort of object to wield as a weapon, so you merely sheepishly peeked around the corner, watching as the creature called Venom gingerly moved about your kitchen, things that looked like tentacles reaching out and grabbing a cup, some ice, and a can of ginger ale from your fridge and pour it into the cup; all the while making a sandwich. Nutella with your banana/mango spread. A favorite you'd started to enjoy in the past week.

But the only person you ever told that to was...

You froze when he turned around, locking eyes with you as he set the food on your breakfast island, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

"We... We know that you're probably hungry after... So we figured..." He said, gesturing vaguely to the food and drink in front of him.

"How do you know..." You breathed.

His colossal shoulders heave as he sighed, walking around the island and over to you, stopping just a mere few feet away.

"Promise not to be mad? Or scream?"

You weren't sure why in the hell he asked you that, but you felt already too far gone into shock to really argue. Plus, throwing up took all urges to scream from your poor sore throat.

So, you nodded.

"Okay."

You watched as the strange black goo peels back layer by slinking layer, until a man is revealed beneath.

But it's not just any man.

It's fucking Eddie. Your neighbor-turned-recent-boyfriend.

"You--!"

"We can explain! Just please, please don't be mad at us!" Eddie winced.

You felt another dizzy spell start to hit at this revelation. "How long--"

"A few years. Look, we planned on telling you. It's just... not tonight. When you didn't answer my texts or calls, I got worried and..." He sighed.

You watched as Venom's head moved out from behind Eddie's shoulder to peer at you, the thick black goo that made up the appendage holding his head up moving almost like water. He offered you a smile, and part of you wished that'd solve the tension in the air, to assuage your increasing confusion. But sadly, it didn't.

"Vee didn't want to fucking wait an extra ten minutes when you didn't answer the door and climbed through your window, which you should start locking I mean I know we're on the upper floors with no balcony or fire escape, but it's still a safety concern and with the baby--"

You interrupted Eddie's rambling. "Vee?" You echo.

"Uh--okay. That's what I call Venom when he isn't being an incorrigible shithead. Or a parasite who takes control of my body." Eddie sighed.

You almost laughed when Venom headbutted him in the side of his head.

"Stop calling me that! It's rude!" Venom snarled.

"No, what's rude is breaking into somebody's apartment!" Eddie retorted, jabbing a finger at Venom. "We talked about this!"

"You were worried, too!"

"Yes but I wasn't going to crawl through her goddamn window!"

Your eyes darted from one to the other as they started bickering like a... like a... Oh.

Yeah. It was after a two hour long conversation that Eddie told you everything. About his ex, the Life Foundation, finding Venom, fighting Riot, then the whole thing with Carnage, Venom's offspring... and of course, their actual relationship with one another, now. They argued like a married couple because they basically were one, complete with... well. You weren't ready in the current situation to imagine how the bedroom situation worked between them, yet.

You took it better than he expected. Way better.

"Honestly.... The only thing scarier than Venom is childbirth." You said, sitting next to him on the couch, your hands on your belly.

"...Eddie." you said slowly.

"Uh--yeah? What's up, sweetheart?" He asked awkwardly, Venom's eyes immediately drawn down to where your hands caressed the bump beneath your thin t shirt.

"How come you haven't asked to touch my belly yet? I'm... surprised. I've had random people come up to me and ask, but not... you."

"Wait... uh. So. You're giving... Permission?" Eddie asked, blinking his big, ridiculously lashed eyes at you.

"Well, yeah, and--"

"FINALLY!" Venom hissed.

In a black blur, Venom lurched forward over Eddie's shoulder, straight for your tummy. He pressed the side of his head against your belly, tendrils of his strange slime-like flesh wrapping around your midsection; listening to the baby's heartbeat and feeling for any movements.

Eddie meanwhile, looked equal parts horrified and embarrassed as he facepalmed, blushing all the way to his ears. "That's why. He's been fucking obsessed with you and your baby since he first realized you were pregnant."

You looked down as the symbiote cuddled you, and by extension, your baby, your jaw agape at how he was purring while he nuzzled into you.

"...That's why you're always so concerned about me?" You asked dumbly, blinking over at Eddie, who gave you an awkward smile and shrug in reply.

"Yeah, hate to break it to you, doll, but... Vee has kinda... claimed you two." He said.

"Claimed me." You repeated.

"Yeah. He has this thing... with kids?" He rolled his hand to try and think of words to describe it. "He's overprotective. He's the same with Sonny and Cher, it's just... he doesn't interact with many pregnant people so when he met you, that weird little drive kicked in. The fact that we both started feeling something for you outside of that kinda blindsided us, but..."

"So what?" Venom scoffed, resting his chin on the curve of your belly, looking up at you with a grin. "This is our baby now, and we will protect the both of you."

"Venom!" Eddie snapped.

"You claimed us?" You were having a difficult time wrapping your head around this. All of it. The whole situation in general. First your boyfriend has a boyfriend who technically isn't a boy but identifies as one because gender was a foreign concept to his species, they were together before they met you, Venom is a literal alien--

And now... was he saying...

"L-Look, I know it's early on and we haven't been dating long, but..." Eddie rubbed his sweaty palms on his faded-out jeans.

"Are you two saying... that you want to be with me? Rest of the pregnancy, birth, and all?"

The hell was your life, some kind of weird, cheap, sci-fi romance novel? The dashing, handsome alien(s) swoop in and offer to help raise your baby? What kind of parallel world were you in?

Eddie was quiet, and Venom merely stared at him, before looking back at you.

"Yes." He said. "Eddie is too much of a pussy to say it, but he likes the idea of taking care of a tiny you."

"Venom! Fuck! Stop calling me that!" Eddie snapped at the symbiote as he protectively snuggled your tummy.

Venom merely stuck his tongue out at him, "I will when you stop calling me a parasite!" He looked back up at you, giving you the best rendition he could of a hurt puppy. "Do you see how he talks to me? Despicable!"

You snorted a short laugh before you could stop yourself, and covered your mouth.

"Hah! See? She thinks I'm funny! So shut it!"

"Oh, my god, that does not count--"

"Yes it does I already won." Venom said contentedly.

"Look!" Eddie groans. "Just... We are willing to be with you. Take care of you, and help with the baby. If... you'll have us. I know this whole situation is weird, but..." Eddie trails off, looking at you hopefully.

The decision wasn't as difficult as you thought it'd be. Eddie and Venom haven't given you a reason to be afraid--other than scaring the shit out of you earlier because Venom apparently has fucking anxiety--and, well... They were so sweet, and gentle... And if Venom doting on your unborn baby currently was any indication, the affection would probably increase a hundred fold after your little bundle of joy arrived.

"Okay." You said.

All the tension seemed to drain from Eddie's body and he sighed, a relieved smile blooming on his face as he looked at you with a look in his eyes that had your heart doing a little flip in your chest.

"Thank God..." Eddie sighed happily.

Venom grinned widely at you, before shooting back to Eddie and seizing the body again, his inky black mass covering Eddie entirely.

Your couch creaked under the added weight of Venom's increased mass as he leaned over, dwarfing your whole body as he wrapped his thick, tree-trunk arms around your tinier body, nuzzling into your cheek before giving you a kiss. Thankfully no tongue, because you thought you'd probably choke if he did that.

When he pulled back, your face was flush at the boldness of his actions, and looked up at him as his opalescent eyes narrowed sweetly down at you.

But something Venom said clicked into your brain, finally, once it rebooted from the kiss.

"Venom, you said you two wouldn't mind helping raise a tiny me." You began. "But I don't know if I'm having a boy or girl, yet."

"Oh, we can." Venom grinned. "I could tell when I was holding onto you. It was easy."

"What?!" You sputter.

"You're having a little girl, by the way."

🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫🍫

You booked an appointment two weeks later. And damn, Venom was right. You were having a girl! At least the naming situation was easier, now that you narrowed down the sex.

Many people said you and Eddie were moving fast, but you ignored them because they didn't know the real situation. Your apartment was bigger, two rooms, one for you (and now Eddie and Venom) and the other was the nursery for the baby.

Eddie was affectionate, but Venom was downright clingy. He was almost always wrapped around your belly in some way or another, purring as he used his weird slimy body to massage you. He helped with your back strain surprisingly, how he would massage you. Eddie proposed maybe letting Venom bond with you for the remainder of the pregnancy to ensure safety and good health, but Venom shot the idea down himself.

He explained it like it was a bit like an organ donor match, if you weren't a match for him you could get sick, or God forbid both you and the baby could die. And to Eddie's surprise Venom made the nature decision to settle for massaging your back and tummy to ease the strain.

Venom jumped at the chance to rub your coconut oil into your belly to help ease the risk and appearance of stretch marks, too.

Through the mood swings, crazy cravings and nesting phases and all, you two boyfriends stayed with you through all of it. Several times you woke up to Venom and Eddie cooking in the kitchen, making sure you had a decent breakfast in the morning.

The only problem was... well. They cooked like broke college boys. So, you spent time giving them cooking lessons, which was one of the funnest things you'd done in a while. The messes were worth cleaning up, the cute recordings you made were memories that'd last a very very long time.

Nighttime cuddles were great, Venom slinking beneath the blankets to wrap around both you and Eddie to snuggle, massaging you the whole night. It really helped when he would conform a certain way so you could lay on your side comfortably and ease the strain on your poor spine and hips.

Who needed a pregnancy pillow when you had a symbiote, right?

Eddie and Venom read up as much as they could on the subject of babies and childbirth and to say Eddie was terrified was an absolute understatement. The photos and diagrams alone had him chewing his nails (getting a swift smack from Venom) and he felt himself getting queasy when he found out that apparently you would be delivering the placenta as well?!

How much did you have to go through, making a tiny human?!

This whole situation amused the fuck out of you, however, as you'd done all this research and merely accepted it. A bit of blood, etcetera after delivery seemed easy to deal with given you've dealt with your period since puberty and that alone was a mess by itself...

But watching a man learn more about it? Oh, it was hilarious.

But hey! They were excited for a cute little baby girl to snuggle and kiss!

One night, you were laying in bed as you scrolled through various baby items online, saving a few cute things for later. Eddie had his head on your shoulder, watching a movie, with an arm draped over your belly, now painfully (sometimes literally) obvious bump, feeling the baby shift and move around as she kicked inside of you.

Venom had encapsulated Eddie's arm, his massive hand stroking your tummy idly.

Apparently, a thought had been bouncing around in Venom's brain and he finally decided to ask it. His head morphed from behind Eddie and peered over at you.

"The baby is a girl." He said.

"Yeah, Venom, that's been established." Eddie snorted, moving until his cheek was resting on your chest.

"Eddie, that's mean." You chuckle, running your fingers through his hair. "Venom, continue."

"Thank you, sweet thing." Venom purred at you, shooting Eddie a glare afterwards.

"But anyway... If the baby is a girl now..." He tipped his head to the side. "What if the baby decides or realizes when she's older that she isn't one? Or either?"

You lower your phone, eyebrows raised at the gravity of his question. Even Eddie sat up on his elbow to look at Venom, surprised at the depth of the question coming from his symbiote. Honestly though, the subject made sense coming from a species that technically didn't have genders in the first place...

Venom seemed happy with your reply, and looked to Eddie expectantly. He already knew what his opinion was, but he wanted him to say it out loud for you.

"Well..." You begin. "If she decides she wasn't born the right gender, or feels like she's neither, or even leaning on both scales... I won't have a problem. I just want our baby to be happy and healthy, not conformed or trapped in any way. That includes the identity she will have as she realizes things about herself."

"Well, I don't have room to talk on gender identity." Eddie snickered. "Considering how you didn't really decide to go by male pronouns until you bonded with me and stuck with that identity because it fit for you... so, yeah. Whatever the baby decides when she's old enough is fine with me."

You grin and kiss Eddie on his temple, ruffling his hair as Venom nuzzles into your belly.

Yeah...

Safe, happy, and loved. That's what your baby would be, no matter what. With her two weird dads and her mom who puts up with their nonsense.

[ikinremu]

KINKTOBER DAY 7 | HAIRPULL/SPANKING X TOMMY SHELBY

Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

Tags: Hair Pulling, Spanking, Pussy Spanking, Punishment, Degrading

"What'd you think you're playing at, eh?" Tommy scorned, slamming the door firmly behind him as he followed you into his office, "Making me look like a fool infront of everyone, hm?"

It took no time for you to realise your attempt at hiding your amusement was sub-par at best, "Sorry, Tom, I was only-"

"Don't wanna hear it, darlin." He raised a single, tamed brow as he settled himself in his desk chair, "Sorry won't cut it, you know the consequences. Over my lap."

Your heart began pounding against the wall of your chest, and your immediate response was to bargain - not that you even knew where to begin, "Tommy-"

His expression hardened, leaving no room for disagreement, "I said over my lap. Or do I have to make you?"

You folded your arms tightly over your chest, stood a mere few feet's distance from him and his ever-expectant expression.

You couldn't quite bring yourself to submit so easily, so you remained stood boldly before Tommy, which he took clear distaste to.

"Alright." He uttered, suddenly thrusting his hands to the dip of your waist, hauling you over his lap as if it was no inconvenience at all.

Your breath hitched in response, body writhing atop his thighs for a moment. Despite your short-lived protest, you felt heat spread through your skin. "I'm sorry, Tom-"

He cut your words short with nothing but his hands. His touch ventured to the waistband of your skirt, tugging at the costly fabric until it ruffled around your knees, baring your behind to the ferocity of his stare.

"You embarrass me, I'll embarrass you. Only fair, eh sweetheart?" Tommy taunted, marvelling at the sight of you laid across his lap.

His palms swept gently over your skin, testing the thin silk of your underwear against his callous hands. A shiver danced down your spine as his hands explored your flesh.

"Much better like this, hm darlin? Bent over my lap all pretty instead of running that fucking smart mouth of yours." He scolded, punctuating his words with the sudden, rough smack of his hand against your backside.

You gritted your teeth, jolting slightly at the harsh sensation, revelling in the warmth lingering on your skin.

Tommy's vacant hand entangled itself in your hair, practically yanking your head upward, bringing his mouth to loom by your exposed neck, "Manners. Thank me."

You exhaled deeply, determined to not push him further, "Thank you.." You whispered.

His hand came down once more, this time on the opposing side, "Thank you, who?"

You couldn’t help but hiss at the slap, “Thank you, Mr Shelby.” Your skin burnt beneath his palm, stomach fluttering as he kept your head raised firmly.

“There you go. Not completely useless, eh?” Tommy mocked, giving a tender squeeze to the skin he’d just slapped before alternating to the other side once more.

You took offence, and not quietly, twitching at the utter impact of his palm as you retorted, "I am not useless!"

The moment the response escaped you, he cocked a brow, landing another harsh spank to your behind.

“No, no you’re not.” He chimed, “Just perfect for using, aren’t you?” He teased, fingertips dancing along the delicate fabric of your panties, "Bet this little cunts just as pretty as this perfect arse, hm?"

Without the passing of another second, Tommy hauled the underwear down your thighs, allowing them to rest around your buckled knees. Keeping one hand looped tightly through your hair, he spread you with a single hand, presenting himself with a better view.

You gasped slightly as he disposed of your underwear, although you’d be lying to deny the excitement the entire situation was causing you.

After a few greedy moments, he released his grip, planting yet another hard hit, "Such a sweet fuckin' cunt."

Your body jolted once again, feeling your skin grow hotter as it tingled with the lingering heat.

“Fuck!” You cursed in response, and Tommy strengthened his grasp of your hair, pulling your head back the slightest amount.

“Watch that mouth.” He warned, bringing his hand down in a sudden flurry of stern, alternating spanks.

“Sorry.” You whined, features wincing as he clutched your hair, loosening his hold as you apologised.

Abruptly, his hand came down swiftly between your legs, giving a slightly lighter spank to your bare cunt, drawing a strained, shocked sound from your throat.

Tommy chuckled, "You're soaked. You like being bent over my lap and spanked like the dirty whore you are, eh?"

Somehow, your skin grew even hotter, undoubtedly embarrassed at the revelation. Arousal was slick between your upper-thighs, cunt drenched and twitching from the force of his palm.

"Answer me." Tommy grumbled, "You a dirty little whore, hm?"

Your hips bucked as his hand came crashing down on your pussy once again, "Yes, Mr Shelby-"

He let out another rich, deep chuckle as he slid his hands over your now sensitive ass, ghosting over the flesh he’d previously smacked. For several dire moments, you anticipated a following hit, though nothing fell.

"Up." He commanded, and you complied, feeling the sting of your behind as you stood flushed before him, seizing your sodden underwear as it pooled round your knees.

Tommys large hand suddenly encased your wrist before you could complete the task of readjusting them, "I'm not done with you yet. On your knees."

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Please note that in the process of kinktober works releasing, I’m also working through requests - if you’ve sent one in then thank you as always for your patience!!

[terresdebrume]

This assaulted me as I woke up, and I'm carefully keeping it to make sure I'll be able to use it for I'm down on my knees someday ^^

"Could we," Edwin starts, but cuts himself off.

It feels so fragile, this moment. He and Charles in the same bed, side by side, Charles' head tucked against in shoulder... And between them, the promise that Charles will still be there when Edwin wakes in the morning. It feels so fragile. Like a dream, in those brief moments where the mind is both dreaming and aware that it dreams. Edwin never could hang onto his dreams half as long as he wanted, and the prospect of this one slipping between his fingers terrifies him.

"Could we what?" Charles asks eventually, his voice quiet in the dark.

He sounds... Tender, yet nervous, and when he hooks one of his fingers around Edwin's the gesture feels tentative, like he's still not sure he's allowed. Oh, how Edwin loves him.

"Could we... Spoon?"

Charles chuckles, soft against Edwin's shoulder. He pushes himself on his elbow as Edwin does, and Edwin sees the darker outline his arm reach for his waist.

"Oh," he say, catching Charles' wrist as delicately as he can, "no, I meant—"

He doesn't dare say the rest, half afraid to wake himself up if he speaks too much. Instead, he gives Charles' chest a gentle push, first met with resistance and then the sort of tension born of incertitude. Gently, so gently, Edwin coaxes Charles to lay on his left side, head resting on his arm as Edwin slowly slides down to mold himself to Charles' back, curling his legs up until he can tangle them with Charles' own.

Charles has always been on the leaner side, elegant and gangly in turns, but solid also. Strong in ways even Edwin's wider, stockier frame doesn't manage. Tonight, as Edwin settles behind him, he feels delicate in a way he's never felt before. Edwin loops an arm around his chest and feels it move under his hand, oddly bird-like and so, so regular.

"Is this alright?" Edwin whispers, barely daring to rest the full weight of his arm over Charles.

"Mhm."

Charles' breathing continues in the same slow, one-two-three-four rhythm. He still feels so fragile, here in Edwin's arms, like a figure of spun sugar. Edwin, unsure what to make of that, makes himself ask:

"Charles, are you—"

"I'm fine," Charles cuts in even as the up and down of his ribs speeds up. Deepens.

"Charles..."

"It's fine," Charles says, strangled with the urgency of someone trying to speak before emotion overtakes them. "Just don't. Don't make me talk."

"Oh, Charles," Edwin sighs, finally bringing his arm down to pull Charles to his chest and hold him closer. "I love you."

A harsh sob erupts from Charles' throat, deep enough to shake his entire frame, fast enough that he can't prevent the sound from echoing around his bedroom. Edwin presses a kiss to the back of his neck, and Charles sobs again, right arm coming up to lay on Edwin's, his hand gripping Edwin's hand so tight it feels like it'll bruise.

Edwin kisses the back of Charles' neck again, kisses the top of his shoulder, kisses the joint where the delicate lines of Charles' new tattoo are still fresh enough for Edwin to feel them with his lips.

Charles Rowland once jumped into a pool to save a teenager he didn't know, even though he knew it could cost him his life. He laughed in the face of bullies, and he built a life for himself after his father destroyed the one he should have had at home. He faced years of prejudice beaten into him, just for the sake of not hurting Edwin more than he had to.

The least Edwin can do, now that he is finally allowed to, is tighten his arm around Charles and guard his heart as best as he can. Guard the knowledge that, when Charles finally lets himself fall apart, it is because he is undone by love.