#actually pretty overwhelmed with how much there is to do and learning how things work in the game

[virtual202]

Seems like the influencer word is really a German thing then. And yeah, it doens’t fit perfectly either. But then we’d have to create a whole new word and I think people are too lazy for that.

And— yes. People tend to not care about what they don’t feel— or maybe it’s just my philosophy because I believe people to be inherently selfish (due to the reasoning in sentence above). However, that does cause them to demand more and more for their own gain, forgetting that others are sentient beings as well. The more abstract something is, the more we alien-ize* (for example, we understand ‘animals*’ less and sympathize with them less**) things. At least some people realize they’ve been pestering someone and stop when they’re being told.

I think it’s true when you say that we’ve been straying farther and farther from the idea that work can be fun AND raise money, and that what you do is primarily for enjoyment, not raising money. Our society just doesn’t work like that anymore due to everything being monetized (capitalism?). However, that is a problem of the society, not of the small amount of people protesting against it— like many problems the society has.* And Like most, if not all problems of society, this is incredibly hard to fix.

Not to mention, social media is incredibly young. Older than AI, but still very young. Humans are a fast adapting race, but I don’t think we’re supposed to adapt this fast to new changes, especially when you are, essentially, a large group banded together and not a single person who makes their own laws. New things constantly come up and overwhelm the old, removing it from the display shelves at a rate that we can barely keep up with. Society is changing slower and the official laws are adapting even slower. Social media is, essentially, a wild running horse with no one to stop or redirect it, and that causes such problems like shifting priorities and public opinion/behavior that leads to things like the posts mentioned above.

*: (did I write that right? Is that a word? Because my keyboard is saying I wrote that wrong but there’s also no word like that)

*: Even though we’re animals ourselves, we often seem to ‘forget’ about that and assume that the other person is talking about every animal that is not human.

**: for example, people often say that one should not weight one life against another, but were one to choose (if you take the trolley problem here, for example,) between saving a dog and five humans, the choice would undoubtedly (for the major majority) fall onto the human. In other words, only a select few would go for the dog, or make no choice at all.

*: For example, there has been… (I am unsure what it’s called) something like under-maturity going on and people have been calling it out. Problem is that people feel like 15 when they’re physically 18. I’ve seen another post of someone saying to ‘suck it up’ the other day and that ‘everyone feels like this’ and I wanted to scream and tell them that no matter if the majority feels like this or not, this is not supposed to be! This isn’t okay! There are reasons for this! And if it’s where the human life’s are going because there is more and more to learn at school, more competition and less time for people to mature, maybe the law must be changed! Society should learn to adapt to the generation, not the new generation should adapt to society. However, since it’s common for veterans to show newbies how things are run, this is often pretty hard. Actually, it’s a tradition atp. Slow dev. is often better than fast dev. but you can’t always stay the same. Actually, it has to do with other factors as well and that’s how the development is set. Hold on this is way too much to think about.

idk how to word this properly but wrt the fanfic thing you reblogged earlier. Why do fanfic writers have such different expectations than any other content hosting platform?

Like lets take youtube as a point of comparison, Engagement like comments and likes largely exists to boost the works place in algorithm, thats why youtubers put in calls to action and other engament bait. Few with decent reach even read the comments and the audience shouldnt try to develop any weird parasocial relationship with the youtuber. Fanfic authors ask for likes (kudos, because the websites gotta use nonstandard language for some reason) and comments despite them not having any impact on an algorithm, and seem to want the audience to try and develop a relationship with the author based on tumblr posts like that one.

Why the radical difference in behaviour away from the norm? And honestly with all the (usually) metaphorical blood spilled online about parasociality why are authors really surprised that the audience tries to keep their distance as is best practice with any other content producer?

okay I am going to answer this as kindly and as calmly as I can and try to assume that you are asking this in good faith. because my friend, the fact that you feel the need to ask is, to me, The Problem.

[this is, for the record, in response to this post]

fanfiction writers are not *posting content.* (I also have reservations about engaging with the term "content producer" or "content creator" but let's put that aside for now, I'll circle back to it.) you say "they seem to want the audience to try and develop a relationship with the author" as though it is strange, off-putting, and incomprehensible to you, when in fact that is the point of writing fanfiction. it is a way of participating in fandom. it is a way of building community and exchanging ideas and becoming closer with people.

if authors wanted to solely ~generate content~ that would get them attention (?? to what end, the dynamic you have described seems to equate algorithmic supremacy as winning for winning's sake, as though all anyone wants to do is BUILD an audience without ENGAGING with them, which I cannot fathom but let's pretend for a moment that is, in fact, true) then like. if that were the case why on earth would they choose a medium in which they categorically cannot succeed and profit, because it isn't their IP?

you are equating two things that are not at all the same thing. to the degree that parasocial relationships are to be avoided, and "that person is not trying to be your friend they are trying to entertain you, please respect their boundaries" is a real dynamic -- which it is!! -- like. you have to understand that the reason that is true for the people of whom it is true is because it is their JOB. they are storytellers by profession, and they are either through direct payment, or sponsorship, or advertising, or through some other means, profiting off of your attention. i don't say this to be dismissive, many wonderful artists and actors and comedians and any number of a thousand things that i enjoy very much go this route but they do so as a *career choice.* and so when you violate the public/private boundary with them, you are presuming to know a Person rather than their Worksona. the people who work at Dropout or who stream their actual play tabletop games or who broadcast on TikTok or YouTube are inviting me to feel like i know them to the degree to which that helps them succeed in their medium and at their craft, but there MUST be a mutual understanding that that's a feeling, not a fact.

however.

a fanfiction writer is not an influencer, not a professional, and is not looking to garner "success." there is no share of audience we are trying to gain for gain's sake, because we are not competition with one another, because there is nothing to win other than the pleasure of each other's company. we are doing this for no other reason than the love of the game; because we have things we want desperately to say about these worlds, these characters, these dynamics, and because we *want more than anything to know we are not alone in our thoughts and feelings.* fanfiction is a bid for interaction, engagement, attention, and consideration. it is not meant to be consumed and then moved on from because we are NOT paid for our work, nor do we want to be. the reward we seek is "attention," but attention as in CONVERSATION, not attention as in clicks. we are not IN this for profit, or for number-go-up. there is no such thing: legally there cannot be. we are in this because we want to be seen and known.

like. please understand. i am now married to someone i met because of mutual comments on fanfiction. our close friend and roommate, with whom i have cohabitated for over a decade now, is someone I met because of mutual comments on fanfiction and livejournal posts. that is my household. beyond my household, the vast majority of my closest personal friends are people with whom I built relationships in this way.

you ask why fanfiction writers want THIS and not "the norm," but the idea of everything being built to cater to an algorithm to continue to build clout, as though the only method of reaching people is Distant Overlord Creator and Passive Receptive Audience being "the norm" is EXTREMELY NEW. this is not how it has always been!! please think of the writers of zines in a pre-internet fandom, using paper and glue and xerox to try and meet like-minded people in a world that was designed for you to only ever meet people in person, by happenstance, in your own hometown. imagine the writers of the early internet, building webrings from scratch to CREATE a community to find each other, despite distance. imagine livejournal groups, forums, and -- yes, indeed, of course -- comment threads IN STORIES -- as places where people go to *converse.* in the past, we had an entire Type Of Guy that everyone knew about, the BNF ("Big Name Fan") whose existence had to be described via meme because it was SO DIFFERENT THAN THE NORM. treating fellow fans like celebrities or people too cool for the regular kids to know was an OUTLIER, and one commonly understood to lead to toxicity.

in the past, I have likened writing fanfiction to echolocation. i am not screaming because I like hearing the sound of my own voice, though i can and do find my voice beautiful. i am screaming so that the vibrations can bounce back to me and show me the world. the purpose is in the feedback. otherwise it is just noise.

does this make any sense? can you see, when i describe it that way, why an ask like yours makes me feel despair, because it makes us all sound so horribly separate from one another?

perhaps I will try another metaphor:

a professional chef who runs a restaurant will not have her feelings hurt if you never fight your way into the kitchen to personally tell her how much you enjoyed the meal. that would, indeed, violate a boundary. professional kitchens are a place of work, and you have already showed her you enjoyed the meal by paying for it, or by perhaps spreading your enjoyment by word of mouth to your friends so they, too, can have good meals. you show your appreciation by continuing to come back. if a bunch of people sitting around randomly happen to have a conversation about how much they love the food, it wouldn't hurt that chef's feelings to not be included in the conversation. however: EVEN IN THIS INSTANCE, it is ADVISABLE AND APPROPRIATE to leave a good review! you might post about how much you like this restaurant on Yelp, and it would probably make the chef feel great to see those positive comments. but the chef doesn't NEED them, because the chef is, again, *also being paid to cook.* that's why she started the restaurant, to be paid to cook!

i am not being paid to cook.

i am at home in my own kitchen, making things for a community potluck where i hope everyone will bring something we can all enjoy together. some people at the potluck are better bakers, some better cooks; some can't cook at all but are great at logistics and make sure there's enough napkins for everyone; some people come just to enjoy the food, because that's what the party is for. and if I, as this enthusiast chef who made something from my heart for this reason alone, learned after the fact that a bunch of people got together in the parking lot to rave about my dish but no one of them had ever bothered to tell me while I sat alone at my table all night, occasionally seeing people come by to pick up a plate but never saying anything to me -- of course that would bother me, because I am not otherwise profiting off the labor I put in. this is not a bid to be paid, because if someone WERE to say "hey, great cake!! here's five bucks for a slice" i would say no, friend, that is not the point and give them the money back. i'm not trying to Get Mine. I am in it to see the look on your face. I'm in it so you can tell me what about it moved you, so that I can say back what moved me to make it in the first place. so we can TALK about it.

because what happened in the first place is this: one time I had a cake whose sweetness, richness, flavor, intensity, and composition moved me so much that I *taught myself to bake.* so I could see how much vanilla and sugar was too much, so I could learn how to make things rise instead of fall flat, so I could even better appreciate the original cake by seeing for myself the effort and talent and inspiration that goes into making one even half as good.

learning to do so is a satisfying accomplishment in and of itself, yes.

but I also did it because at the end of the day we should EAT the cake. and it's a lonely thing, to eat alone when a meal was always designed and intended to be shared.

so, to answer your last question: i'm not surprised, i'm just sad. because somehow two things that were never meant to be seen as the same have been labeled "content," and thus identical. and it diminishes both the things that ARE intended to be paid for AND the things that are not, because it removes any sense of intimacy or meaning from the work.

i hope you know i'm not mad at you for asking. but i'm frustrated we've come to live in a world where the question needs to be asked, because the answers are no longer intuitively obvious because we're so siloed.

[curated-hdg]

Let's Check In On Sheepwave!

One could quite accurately accuse me of being a Sheepwave "fan". In fact, one could quite reasonably claim that Sheepwave has a hand in most of the best things coming out lately. I've spoken at length in the past about Good Sensory, On Domestication of Masters, and From Pawn to Princess; all three of those continue to be incredible and very much worth your time. But, because that apparently wasn't enough, we've got more.

To wit:

The Princess and The Predator by sheepwave, Slylittleprincess

Released: May 2025; Ongoing; part of the HDG Princessification Writing Jam

18k words; 5 chapters released

Significant Tags: AU, Vampirism, Forced Age Regression

Lynn Walsh is a thermal management engineer fighting for her life after her ship crashed on an icy forest planet. Tamai Armetisia, Ninth Bloom is a huntress affini looking to do a rescue mission. When Lynn’s ship is finally found, the two are fated to meet, and maybe they're exactly what the other needs most.

The premise here is pretty simple: what if Tamai Armetisia of Cat and Mouse was the affini who found Lynn Walsh? The result is a dark mirror of From Pawn to Princess. Slylittleprincess and Sheepwave working together isn't just for powerful, traumatic, deadass affini, it's also for blood-drinking "Mommies" who really wants to molest their little girls.

Y'all... Tamai is fucked up. It's great. There's so much blood! Mind the tags on this one, it's a spicy meatball. However, having just read the fifth chapter, I can confirm that it's also incredibly funny. Like, these two are having fun with this, and it really shows. If you liked Cat and Mouse, you'll love this.

And speaking of fucked up...

Hazing at the Floret Party by4WheelSword, sheepwave, and Slylittleprincess

Released: May 2025

26k words; 7 chapters; ongoing

Noteworthy tags: sorority/frat house sex basement

Abby is a nineteen year old independent college student surrounded by floret friends. her focus on her studies has put her in the target of a wellness check. she doesn't want to risk being domesticated, so she decides to go to a floret party. All she has to do is make an appearance, stay sober, and avoid pushy affini, and she can go back to studying for her finals. what's the worst that could happen?

Hey. You. You know that feeling? That feeling when your friend drags you to a party you didn't really want to go to? And someone hands you a drink, and you realize it tastes kinda funny, and then things start to get completely fucking out of hand?

Y'wanna kink off that feeling in a dark comedy where nothing truly awful can actually happen (well, nothing worse than getting taken as a pet by a benevolent mind control alien, anyways)?

NOW HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT PISS?!

I can say from interaction with their work that 4WheelSword, Slylittleprincess, and yes, Sheepwave, are all extremely normal about both piss (noun) and piss (verb). I would like to briefly quote from chapter 4:

“I know how much you like the catheter, my love. Treat yourself.”

And I swear to god, this is the authors speaking directly to each other. Now, I've long ago given up any pretense of pretending I don't have at least a piss (verb) kink. And if you haven't... this one might get to you. I will also add that there's a running gag in every chapter and with every single chapter it gets funnier and funnier. You'll see what I mean.

SPEAKING OF OUTPUT...

Good Sensory (Omegaverse) by sheepwave

For Slylittleprincess.

Released: June 2025

81k words (???!?), 18 chapters (!?!?!)

Notable Tags: Not HDG, Omegaverse

An autistic kinky romance story about learning to unmask and be loved as the person you actually are, rather than the one you think you're supposed to be. Sally Fable is a 22 year old transgender omega who doesn't click with most people. she is easily overwhelmed. bad textures, bad sensations, all of it. she also has a lot of experience being made fun of for how passionate she can get. Marsha Lywick is an alpha in her late forties who wasn't born as one, who wants to break Sally's masking habits and turn her into the cutest little bonded companion imaginable.

You've read Good Sensory, right? The kinky, fun romance story? With an affini who stalks the main character, drugs her nonconsensually, and otherwise acts like a dangerous predator, but it's genuinely fluffy and nice? Like, in chapter 2 of Good Sensory, Marsha figures out what's good sensory for Sally, then remodels her home and her own body to match it, and that's kinda crazy but also kinda neat and believable for an affini?

I want you to imagine for a moment what it might look like for this story to be transposed into the real world. Where Marsha is not an affini bound by benevolence, but a human. Where her power is enabled not by the compact, but by other means. What might that look like? What might Poppy Versiona look like?

The answer is. Um.

Woaw.

Let me tell you, without the context of HDG and the compact, the scenes where Marsha drugs Sally sure do pick up some new connotations!

So one major difference is that they're all humans. Another change is that they fuck. Like, rather a lot. It's a rather central point at this moment. This story is disgustingly filthy, pulls no punches, and somehow takes every horrifying yandere thing about the original Good Sensory and cranks it up to 11. I will confess, I am only a third of the way through it, as I've been savoring it to read to a partner, but the things it's setting up, the things it's doing... This story is goddamn incredible.

(It has been presented to me that the latest hot gossip on the street is that Sheepwave and Slylittleprincess might be more than just coauthors. I take no position on these allegations, beyond "Okay, yay!" It would certainly explain this output!)

[abandonedpie]

So I got into Cookie Run: Kingdom, and uh. Let's just say I've found it quite difficult to put down. Low-key it's kind of a problem ahdgkhsk

[pearlessance]

Cupid's Chokehold — part two!

PEARL NECKLACE

[previous chapter] [next chapter]

summary: Uncle Tommy gives you everything you want for your twenty first birthday.

pairing: step uncle!Tommy Miller x f!Reader

warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, stepcest, age gap (reader is 21, Tommy in his mid thirties), size difference, praise kink, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk, unprotected piv, begging, dom/sub undertones, tommy yearns bad in this one, a bit of angst mixed in, alcohol overconsumption, reader is made uncomfortable by someone at a bar, references to being drugged (but doesn't actually happen), allusions to addiction, reader gets a facial

note: if you haven't heard yet, i'm turning this into a little mini series!! you can let me know here if you'd like to be added to the taglist. thank you to everyone for the support on this one, I'm so glad you all love uncle tommy as much as i do. let me know what you think of this chapter, i love love love talking to you guys and i promise there's more to come!

wc: 10.8k

[series masterlist] [main masterlist] [AO3]

Tommy Miller is a high functioning addict.

Self aware enough to admit it, hedonistic enough to only manage it. Has been that way for as long as he can remember.

He likes the head buzz of nicotine and the dizziness of liquor and the adrenaline rush of a real bad decision. His favorite high, though, is you. His favorite sound, his favorite taste, his favorite sight. 

His favorite girl.

After that fateful night in his apartment, the two of you get good at the balancing act. The push and pull. You ride the line of too much and not enough religiously. Have gotten it down to a goddamn science.

But the problem is that an addict never knows when to quit.

He does well for a while. Truly. Learns that it’s a whole lot easier to manage his longing with witnesses around, and goes out of his way to avoid being in an empty house with you. He interlocks his fingers together and squeezes when the urge rises in him to touch you. To cradle your pretty face, to run his thumb over your mouth when you make some filthy joke and smile up at him. He bites the inside of his cheek when you’re sitting beside one another and turn to whisper something in sync, bringing you face to face, so overwhelmed with a craving for the taste of your tongue that his heart hammers against his sternum.

For what it’s worth, Tommy tries. Loses sleep over it, even. Stares up at his ceiling for hours, warring with what he wants and what he knows is right. 

The right thing would be to wean himself off of you. Cut back a little at a time. Day by day, until eventually the thought of you becomes less persistent. Until he stops smelling the faintest trace of your shampoo in his sheets, until he stops transferring that half-smoked cigarette with cherry lip gloss on the filter from pack to pack.

But then, sometimes, he catches this look in your eye when you’re listening to him speak. He could be talking about something shitty that happened at work or telling you about a song he heard on the radio that he thinks you’d like, and you just stare at him like he hung the moon in the sky.

He’s important to you, and you make him feel it. And it’s this, this that he can’t give up. The way you trust him so completely, the way you love him without a trace of doubt. 

You say it once, in passing. Everyone’s sitting in lawn chairs in the backyard, enjoying the nice weather before the rainstorm moving in from the west hits. You’re sitting next to Sarah, but your feet are resting in Tommy’s lap.

Sarah’s talking animatedly, telling everyone about her college English professor and how they’ve been playing matchmaker all semester. On three separate occasions, they’ve paired groups together, and couples have emerged from them. Sarah thinks it’s intentional, but your mom and Joel aren’t so sure.

Tommy stays quiet for most of the conversation. But then he says, “Definitely a little weird. But, uh…anyway, I wanted to let everyone know I’m a changed man. Dropping the whole blue collar act and going back to school to study English.”

Everyone laughs, and you kick the side of his thigh lightly with a shake of your head. Through your giggles you say, “I fucking love you,” and it fills him with so much warmth he’s overflowing with it.

He rides that high for days. Gives you shit for it, even. 

When he steals your half finished slice of pizza right out of your hands and you call him a dickhead with a smile on your face he says, “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

You don’t deny it, and even that makes him feel special. Tommy takes every crumb of affection you throw at him and eats it up with a fork and knife like it’s the most delectable meal he’s ever had. Consumes your sweet words and your closeness so thoroughly, it’s almost comical. Like he’s a dog with a bone, desperate for it, because he is.

He stays balanced, though. Never lets it go too far. Can feel right when his desire begins to cloud his judgment and knows when to call it. 

But things change one night at the dining room table.

You and Joel sit beside each other. He‘s in front of that shitty laptop he bought decades ago, trying to write an email that sounds both professional and assertive without using the words asshole or fucking idiot.

He’s grumbling and typing with his two pointer fingers and a single thumb on the keyboard, shaking his head as you explain, “You have to capitalize her name, Joel. You’re not sending an email to your friend, she’s a CEO.”

“Yeah, well, capital letters are meant for people. Not for corporate lizards trying to fuck with my company.”

You catch Tommy’s gaze from across the table, making you both snort and fall into rambunctious laughter, earning you a glare.

“It’s not funny,” Joel says sharply. “Stupid I even have to do this. I don’t know why people don’t just leave well enough alone.”

“Everyone wants a piece of the pie,” you explain. “You’re making good money doing good things, and she wants to be a part of it. You guys keep taking on more projects this year, and inquiries like this are just the beginning.” 

“It’s a good thing, ain’t it?” Tommy shrugs. “Means you’re doing somethin’ right.”

“Exactly,” you agree. You lean across the table and swipe the glass bottle from his hands to take a sip. 

Tommy knows you don’t like beer and isn’t surprised when you cringe at the hoppy flavor, wrinkling your nose at him. He thinks maybe you drink it anyway not for the alcohol, but to put your lips to the same place his were seconds ago. He tries not to let the warmth that idea elicits in his chest spread too far. 

“Well, I don’t need some uppity lady who works in an office telling me how to do my damn job,” Joel adds.

“So say that,” you tell him. He starts typing on the keyboard again, so you lean in close, peering over his shoulder. “Oh my God. Not word for word. You have to paraphrase.”

Joel throws his hands up in the air and groans in frustration. “How do I say fuck off in a nice way?”

You and Tommy both laugh again, which only serves to piss Joel off even further. It’s not funny, not really; it’s just the dramatics of it all. And, truthfully, Tommy finds everything funny when he's with you.

“You write it,” Joel says, pushing the laptop towards you. 

“That’s not gonna solve anything,” you say, shaking your head. 

“What if I pay you?”

“Then you’ll be in the same situation next time. You’re gonna have to learn how to be a business owner, Joel. Not just a contractor.”

“Okay, so make it permanent, then,” Joel says, shrugging. “Like a…a receptionist. Come work for me and quit that coffee place. They don’t even offer health insurance.” He says it with such disdain, and Tommy knows exactly why.

They’d discussed it on the way home from work one afternoon. Too god damn smart for a place like that, Joel had said, and Tommy could do nothing but agree.

“I can’t quit my job to write your emails for you,” you argue.

“Not just that,” he says. “Can be in charge of payroll and schedules and the licensing bullshit. All the things I’m bad at. Weekends off, whatever hours you wanna work. I’ll pay you double what you’re makin’ now, and you get health insurance.”

Hesitation shows on your face. Tommy knows his brother means what he says, and he thinks you know it, too. But it’s a lot to consider. A big change.

“You’re good at talkin’ to people,” Joel continues, closing the laptop. “An’ it would mean a lot to me.”

That’s what does you in, Tommy knows. The nail in the coffin. He sees it in the way your shoulders drop and your eyes soften. Selfless girl, he thinks. Always taking care of the people you love. “What if I don’t like it?”

“You will,” Tommy answers. Because he knows Joel will take care of you, too. Make sure you have everything you might need. But more importantly, Tommy knows you. And even though he can sense the way it threatens his balance on that already thin line between safe and depraved, he knows you’ll enjoy it.

And he’s proven correct on that very first day.

Joel sets you up in the air-conditioned trailer they haul from job site to job site. Mostly, they use it to cool off during lunch, everyone piling into the small space for half an hour before going back out into the Texas heat.

The two of you spend most of the day going over all the contacts Joel’s acquired over the years, and how to schedule a consultation, and where to order materials. He gives you all of his passwords and clears off the cluttered desk that never gets used. 

Everyone on the team is awfully eager to meet you, and Tommy’s no fucking idiot. He knows exactly what goes through their heads as they shake your hand and introduce themselves and stare a little too hard at the shadow of red lace beneath your thin white top.

They conveniently wait until Joel’s out of earshot before the comments start pouring out of their foul mouths.

Pretty little thing, ain’t she?

Joel’s got that livin’ under his roof? Christ. Poor old man.

You see the way those jeans fit her?

Is it too early to start callin’ Joel ‘pops’?

Tommy wonders briefly why they feel so comfortable saying shit like this in front of him, knowing who he is to you, but then realizes he’s said far worse in the past about girls half as pretty. They feel comfortable because in any other situation, he would be joining right in.

Noah’s the worst of it. Takes things a little too far when he says, “Stepdaughter videos ain’t number one on the hub for nothin’.” 

Tommy clenches his teeth. Keeps his head down. Tries and fails to fight his smug ass smirk when you come grab his truck keys a little after four and return to the trailer wearing his Carhartt hoodie, the one he’d left in the back seat a couple days ago.

Later that night, Tommy follows you up to your room. Door wide open, with Sarah just across the hall and Joel and your mom downstairs. Not that he has any intentions other than checking in after your first day. It’s just…precautionary—an added layer of security to prevent a backslide.

He flops back in your unmade bed, hands folded behind his head, and watches a little too closely as you bend over to unlace your sneakers. “Well?”

You unclasp your necklace and drop it into a ceramic bowl on your dresser. “I loved it,” you admit. “It was a little stressful, but…I don’t know. I liked feeling like I could make a difference. Like I’m not just going in there to do my job and go home, I felt like I was being productive. It was nice.”

Tommy’s pleased to hear it. Loves the way your voice sounds in his ears. Happy, satisfied. He knows right then and there that he needs to set a firm boundary with Noah because you’re never going back to that coffee place, and Noah’s not going anywhere near you. “Said you’d like it, didn’t I?”

With a roll of your eyes, you sit beside him and pull your legs close to your chest, resting your chin on top of your knees. “Joel’s kind of a hard ass.”

It makes him laugh because it’s true. Can’t count on both his hands just how many times his brother has nitpicked the way things are done. He can only imagine the pressure you'd felt in that trailer, likely being told how to talk to this person or that one. “Only the beginning, darlin’,” Tommy says. 

The sunlight leaks in through your bedroom window, sheer lace curtains casting rays of gold over your skin. You’re beautiful, Tommy thinks. Painfully so. Sometimes he’ll catch you at a certain angle, just like this one, and it makes his heart rate stutter.

In another world, Tommy wouldn’t let you out of sight fucking ever. Would accompany you whether you were going to a nightclub or if you were just going to the corner store. Because he knows from experience that all it would take for a man to fall to his knees before you is a single look from those pretty eyes. In another world, one where he wasn’t your Uncle Tommy, one where he could just be yours, he’d make damn sure you’d never need anything from another man. 

Never need a door opened for you, never need to pay for a meal, never need to confide in anyone else. He’d take care of you. Do it all. Satisfy you in every way of the word because it’s what you deserve. He wants to take care of you, wants to be a provider. 

Tommy supposes it’s what he’s always wanted, despite his actions reflecting the opposite. He wonders if maybe he’s just been waiting for you this whole time.

You ask, “What are you thinking about?” 

And he doesn’t lie. “You.”

With a scoff, you playfully pinch his side. A sliver of his abdomen is exposed where his t-shirt has ridden up, and feeling you there is a shock to his nervous system. 

And when your touch lingers, his body tingles, and his brain becomes foggy. Tommy Miller has never wanted anyone the way he wants you. Is reduced to the simplest, most carnally driven man just at the feel of your delicate fingertips on his skin.

Your attention is centered on your hand as you slowly move it across his soft belly, eyes hooded and filled with desire. 

Tommy knows that look now. Knows the filthy thoughts invading your brain, knows exactly what you’re reminiscing about. He knows, too, that the balance is skewed. The longer he lies here with you, the closer he comes to caving. “Your turn,” he says. “Spill your guts.”

When you speak, your voice is quiet. A barely-there whisper. “It would be so easy, you know.” 

He does. Has rolled the idea over in his head a million fucking times. “S’the problem,” Tommy explains. “Can’t stop myself twice.” 

“Then don’t,” you say simply, continuing to run your fingers over his skin. He sees his favorite troublesome smirk begin to form on your sweet mouth and has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep himself from finding too much joy in it. “Could do it right here. Bet they’d never know.”

The edge of your pinky finger dips just below the waistband of his jeans. Barely there, but Tommy notices everything you do, and this is no exception, hyper aware of your every movement. He lets out a slow, shaking breath and swallows hard. He can’t bring himself to move or push you away like he knows he should. All he manages are two, hesitant words. “Ain’t right.”

Your response is quick. Honest and true. “I don’t care.”

It only makes his will to abstain that much harder. Knowing he isn’t alone in his longing, knowing you’re suffering in such a similar way…it hurts him just to think of it. But it’s different for you. Easier. Because you’re just at the beginning of your life, while he’s nearly halfway through his.

You have time to bounce back from this. To choose someone your age who’s a lot less twisted. Someone you don’t have to hide from the people closest to you, who you can kiss out in the open without shame.

And Tommy’s…well, Tommy knows there will never be anyone else for him. Has sat with that fact for quite some time. Accepted it by now, and considers himself lucky just to have had that one, stolen night.

Slowly, you move further down the mattress. The same one he once slept on that now belongs solely to you. You slot yourself between his strong thighs and his cock swells as you look up at him through your lashes.

There’s an experiment here, Tommy knows. The two of you are just alike. So similar that sometimes it frightens him. He can see the challenge in your eyes, testing the waters, seeing how far you can go before he pulls you back. 

You lean forward, bracing yourself with your hands on his hips. And when you press your lips to the bulge in his jeans, Tommy bites back a moan. 

This is too far, he knows. Way too fucking far.

His heart hammers in his chest. The door is still wide open, and everyone is home. All it would take is one person to walk down the hallway, and it would all be over. 

But it would be easy. Quick, too—Tommy’s never had much control when it comes to you.

With a quick flick of your thumb, you pop open the silver button. Saliva gathers between your parted lips, mouth watering for a taste of him. 

Tommy Miller is weak. Corrupted. Sick and twisted and perverted and— “Beautiful, baby,” he whispers. “You’re so fucking…Christ. You got any idea how fuckin’ pretty you are?”

He gently strokes your hair, and when you smile up at him, he grins right back. His cock is already hard but then you pull his zipper down with your teeth and Tommy thinks he might die without relief.

Sarah calls your name from across the hall.

You scramble away from each other, sitting at opposite ends of the bed seconds before she rounds the corner. 

“Do you remember Summer? That girl from my biology class?” Sarah pays Tommy no mind as she sits beside you.

It’s not out of the ordinary for him to be in your room, after all. He’s the first to lend a helping hand when you get the urge to move your furniture around and has carried up your laundry from the basement countless times.

“Yeah, of course,” you say. “The one you…”

Sarah flushes a deep crimson. Her eyes flicker between your face and Tommy’s, and he’s smart enough to read the room.

“Guess that’s my cue,” he says, standing from the bed, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt.

You grab his hand as he walks past. Just briefly, but it turns his insides molten. One more lingering touch before he leaves. A way of saying, I don’t want you to go, but I know you have to.

Once out in the hallway, Tommy zips up his jeans and takes a few long, deep breaths before he goes downstairs to say goodbye to your mom and Joel. The two of them talk briefly, and Joel asks how you felt after your first day.

He says, “An’ I know you know that girl like the back of your hand, so don’t lie. She like it or not?”

Tommy isn’t quite sure why the words leave him feeling dizzy, but they do. He likes that he knows you so well and likes even more that the closeness you share is so visible. If he can’t outwardly call you his, if he can’t outwardly be yours, then he’ll take whatever this is. “She likes it.”

Joel’s shoulders sag in relief. “Good, cause she’ll make my life a hell of a lot easier.”

The next morning, Tommy stops by at seven to pick you and Joel up before heading to the job site. You carry a steaming travel mug in each hand, and before you climb into the back seat, you poke your head through the open driver's side window. “Just milk and sugar,” you say. “Right?”

He doesn’t know why you ask when you know the answer. “You didn’t have to do that, darlin’,” he says. But he happily takes the coffee anyway and takes a careful sip. It’s the perfect ratio. Tommy’s not surprised. 

There’s a playful lilt to your voice as you say, “I usually take mine with cream, but we were all out. Thought maybe you could supply me with some.”

He laughs hard and shakes his head. “Un-fuckin’-believable,” he says through his mirth. He glances over the top of your head to see Joel locking the front door behind him.

You uncap the lid. “Well?”

His face burns, but Tommy thinks he’s never had such a perfect start to his day. “Get in the truck before you start somethin’ you can’t finish.”

“But that’s my favorite thing to do,” you whine, pushing your bottom lip out into a dramatic pout. You listen, though. Replace the lid and climb into the back seat behind him.

Tommy scoffs and says with a grin, “Don’t I know it.”

It doesn’t take long for you to get awfully good at your job. That first week alone, you manage to slice their payment for materials in half just by haggling with the lumber mill Joel’s bought wood from since the nineties. You accompany him to a handful of consultations, learning what to look for in a client and how to pick and choose which jobs are worth taking.

You convince Joel to buy a mini fridge for the trailer that you keep fully stocked with bottles of water. And when you bring in those electrolyte drink mixes, it’s all anyone talks about for days.

Noah says, “The peach one is my favorite. Wanna taste hers next.”

Everyone finds humor in it but Tommy.

The words come out sharper than intended. “Quit sayin’ shit like that, man.”

Noah laughs. Like it’s funny. “You’re telling me you don’t want a piece of that ass?”

“What I’m telling you is to shut your goddamn mouth,” Tommy answers. He stops digging through the sand they’ve been moving for the last hour, left hand squeezed tightly around the red handle of his shovel.

“It was a joke, Tommy. Lighten up.”

“Don’t care what it was,” he says, staring Noah in the eye. “I hear some shit like that again and I’ll fuck you up. You understand what I’m sayin’?”

Noah sizes him up, and for a split second Tommy thinks he just might be brave enough to step. But Noah just sneers and returns to the task at hand, an awkward silence lingering between the group of them.

But Tommy doesn’t care. Sits in that silence happily knowing he won’t have to listen to anyone speak about you like that anymore.

Joel cares, though. And on the way home, he says, “Mike told me about you giving Noah a hard time today. You two gonna have a problem?”

“Wait, what happened with Noah?” You slide to the center of the leather seat in the back of the cab.

“Nothing,” Tommy lies. “Ain’t gonna have a problem.”

Joel narrows his eyes in warning. “Good. 'Cause that’s the last thing we need right now. Behind enough as it is.”

He thinks that’s the end of it.

But then you say softly, “He asked me out the other day.”

“He what?” Tommy and Joel say it in perfect unison. Equally floored and equally irate.

Joel turns almost completely around in the passenger seat.

You raise your hands in surrender and look at Tommy through the rearview mirror. “Said he wanted to take me to dinner, and I told him I’d rather starve.”

“Listen to me,” Joel says with that stern, no bullshit dad voice he sometimes still uses on Sarah. “I don’t want you anywhere near those boys. Ain’t a single one worth a damn. Liars and cheaters and fucking criminals. All of ‘em.”

A crease forms between your brows. “So why the fuck did you hire them?”

“Cause they’re good at what they do,” Joel explains. “But that don’t make them good. Deserve better than that. You hear me, kid?”

“Yeah, I hear you. Keep it professional with everyone,” you say. “Except for Uncle Tommy.”

He chokes. Tries to cover it up with a cough, but it doesn’t work in the slightest. His hands pale around the steering wheel.

“Exactly,” Joel says.

Later that night, Tommy is smoking on the back porch when you step outside to join him. It’s the first moment he’s had alone with you all day. “You tryin’ to get me killed or somethin’?”

“Or something.” You lean back against the siding and shrug. “Kinda sounded like Joel’s blessing to me.”

“You’re fuckin’ trouble, girl.” Tommy chuckles and passes you his lit cigarette when you reach for it. “Joel wasted all that breath warnin’ you about those boys when he should be warnin’ them about you.”

“Yeah, probably. But you love it.” 

Tommy can do nothing but agree because it’s the truest thing he’s ever heard. “Your birthday’s comin’ up soon,” he says, watching as you take the nicotine deep into your lungs. “Twenty-one. Anything you want?”

That too familiar smirk forms on your face, and Tommy knows what you’re going to say before you even open your mouth. Can see all those filthy thoughts behind your eyes, can almost hear whatever dirty joke you’ve got locked and loaded on the tip of your tongue.

“Don’t even fuckin’ start with me,” he warns, a playfulness to his voice. But there’s no weight to it. Your inability to take anything seriously is one of his favorite things about you. 

Your lips part in a mockery of surprise. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“Didn’t have to,” he says, plucking the cigarette from between your fingers. “Give me something realistic.”

“Okay…” You tap your index finger against your chin, contemplating. “What about…a pearl necklace,” you say with the sweetest, most innocent smile.

Tommy laughs. Can’t help himself. “Alright, you know what? I take it back. You only get gifts if you’re good.”

He thinks the sound of your giggling might be the only thing that’s ever truly brought him peace. Finds comfort in your joy, in knowing you’re happy. But when your laughter dies down, there’s a sad sort of look in your eye. A melancholic longing. 

Then you quietly say, “I just want you.” And Tommy’s ears ring.

This is what hurts him the most. The heavy truth of it. 

He’d known that taking your closeness to new heights would change him in irreparable ways. Known that nothing would ever compare, and he was ready and willing to live the rest of his life with that dull ache in his chest. Welcomed the haunting of emptiness with open arms because it was you and it was him and that one fucking night was yours.

But Tommy wasn’t the only one who’d been changed by it. Wasn’t the only one to suffer in the aftermath. 

He wants to comfort you. Wants to take your hands in his and kiss each of your knuckles until his lips turn blue. He doesn’t move, though. Not even an inch. Because he’s never felt nearer to a relapse than he does when you look at him like that. Like you see him. Like he’s all you see.

“I’m right here,” he says. “Always will be.”

Tommy means it. He thinks he would follow you anywhere just to feel the faintest warmth of your affection.

It seems to satisfy you. For now, at least. You give him the tiniest smile, a half effort, but it soothes the sting for him, too. Just a little. 

Your birthday falls on a Friday. Tommy gets up early and stops at a bakery before heading to Joel’s, and is pleased when he uses the key under the mat to find that the house is quiet. Still.

He creeps up the stairs and slips soundlessly into your room. The day is just beginning, and the light of dawn spills through your cracked window. Tommy sits on the edge of your bed and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

When he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, you stir and stretch out your limbs. Your voice is tired and filled with sleep as you ask, “Uncle Tommy?”

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he whispers. He cradles your face in his hands and strokes your cheek with his thumb as clarity slowly finds you.

You smile up at him with starry eyes, and Tommy’s stomach flips. You’re so good, so perfect that sometimes he wonders how the fuck you’re even real.

“C’mon,” he says. “Sit up for me. Got you somethin’.”

Tommy holds your hands when you reach for him and pulls you forward. You push yourself up the rest of the way and fold your legs over one another beneath the blankets.

It’s only at that precise moment that Tommy realizes you’re wearing one of his t-shirts and the sight of it steals the air right from him. He likes it—loves it. Loves that a piece of him lives here with you. In your closet, in your room, in your sheets.

He’s not quite sure how you ended up with it, though. Thinks he might’ve left it on a lawn chair after spending an afternoon in Joel’s pool, or missed it in the dryer when the ones at his apartment were out of order.

But then you say, reading his every thought, “I stole it.”

Tommy laughs. “Think you’re supposed to ask before you take things that aren’t yours.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You lean forward, lips an inch away from his ear. “And I know I’m not the only one with sticky fingers, Uncle Tommy.”

His face burns. He thinks of your cherry lip gloss on his bathroom sink and your tank top on the right side of his bed and your lace panties in his nightstand. Tommy thinks he should know better than to hide things from you anymore. You’re too close, too similar. “Caught me,” Tommy mutters.

And then he digs his lighter out of the front pocket of his jeans and lights the ten cent candle he’d found at the back of Joel’s junk drawer. He sticks it into the center of the cupcake he’d picked out just for you—lemon flavored, with vanilla frosting and lime colored sprinkles. 

He holds it between you and says, “Make a wish, birthday girl.”

The flame flickers as your gaze darts between Tommy’s eyes and his mouth. You smile widely, and he can’t resist mirroring your joy. Feels it as thoroughly as if it were his own. Tommy’s never cared much for his birthday, but he feels overwhelmed with gratitude for yours. Thankful.

You close your eyes, make your silent wish, and then blow out the candle. He unwraps the wax paper for you, crumbs sticking to his fingers, and laughs when you take a bite and let out a blissful moan. “Holy shit,” you say.

Tommy feels pride bloom in his chest. Thinks pleasing you might be his favorite thing on the planet. “S’good?”

“It’s fucking amazing,” you answer. And then you turn the cupcake towards him. “I’m not kidding. Try it.”

He does. Leans forward and takes a careful bite right from your hands. You’re not wrong, either. The lemon is refreshing, and the vanilla buttercream is the perfect sweetness. Tommy nods as you take another bite. “Christ,” he says. “Worth every damn penny.”

You touch your thumb to the corner of your mouth. “You’ve got frosting on your face,” you say with a teasing grin.

Tommy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I get it?”

“More to the left,” you instruct. But when he tries again, Tommy knows it’s still there when you hold in your laughter. And then you say, “Can I…?”

Tommy doesn’t understand right away why you even ask. You’re always laying your head on his shoulder or draping your legs over his or running your hands through his hair. This is no different, nothing out of the ordinary. 

But when he nods, you lean forward and lick the frosting off his bottom lip. 

It freezes him in time. Seconds feel like minutes as they tick by. He can feel the wetness of your tongue on his mouth, and you linger. Close enough that he can taste the sugar on your breath.

His morals hang in the balance. Sobriety threatened. Tommy Miller wants you so badly that he starts to wonder if you’re some fucked up form of punishment. Karmic justice for all those hearts he’s broken in his youth, just to be denied the one woman he’s ever truly wanted.

When you speak, it’s breathless. Nearly inaudible. “Kiss me.”

It is your birthday, after all. 

He fights the intensity that batters against his every impulse and instead presses his mouth to yours gently. Unhurried. So much different than the first kiss you’d shared. Your lips move against his in sync, one soul split into two bodies, whole again for the first time in months. 

Tommy thinks it’s just instinct when his tongue meets yours. You taste just as he remembers. A little warm and a little honeyed and a little like opium.

When you pull away, he feels the loss like a knife.

But then you cover your mouth with your hand and laugh, elation spilling through your fingers, and it’s like a balm to his heart.

Around another mouthful of confectionery, you insist, “Here. Have some more.”

Tommy sits there with you, waiting for the sun to rise, and the two of you share your birthday cupcake before the rest of the world wakes. You close your eyes and drop your shoulders as if it’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten, giggling between each bite.

It’s such a soft, quiet moment. Only the two of you. For just a little while, you have nowhere to be, no one to perform for. It’s just you, and it’s just him, and when you take the last bite, Tommy licks the frosting from your fingertips.

Joel’s alarm echoes down the hallway, and Tommy taps the tip of your nose, delighting in the pretty way it scrunches in response. “I’ll see you outside,” he says. “Happy birthday, darlin’.”

On the way to work, Joel asks about your plans for the weekend, and you tell him about how your friends are taking you to that new bar that just opened up downtown. He warns you to be careful, tells you it’s been packed full of people every time he’s driven by it, and says to call if you need anything.

You promise you will. 

For dinner, your mom makes all your favorite foods, and Sarah gifts you a handmade pony bead bracelet. She wears a matching one on her wrist with the colors inverted, and they both say 4EVER in little black letters.

When Tommy returns to his empty apartment that night, it’s with a deep sadness. He tries to drown it out. Showers off the sweat of the day and watches something mind-numbing on television. But the main character in the sitcom rerun makes a dirty joke, and he can almost hear you laughing at it beside him. 

Everything reminds him of you.

He thinks about calling one of the women he’s hooked up with on and off throughout the years, but the problem is that Tommy knows how that ends. Knows he’ll ask them to leave halfway through, and he’ll lie there, unsatisfied and painfully in love with a girl he can never have.

His longing chokes him until he’s devoid of breath, of life. Just a shell of a man without you. 

This is the wretched low he pays for those highs, Tommy knows. And he pays it without complaint because the highs are heavenly. Fucking spiritual.

He goes to sleep every night without regret. This emptiness is oppressive, but his love for you is transcendent.

His phone rings a little after one in the morning.

Your voice is slurred when you speak. “Uncle Tommy?”

Something’s wrong. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he does. Can hear it in your voice. “Where are you?”

There’s faint music in the background. “That new bar on Sixth Street. Can you…I’m sorry. Can you come get me?”

He’s out of bed and pulling on his jeans before you finish asking. “I’m on my way, baby. What happened?”

You say, “I’m not…I’m not sure,” and Tommy’s heart sinks.

Because whatever it is is bad. Can feel it in his fucking bones. “Are you alone? Who’s with you, sweetheart? Where are your friends?”

“No, I…I’m just really—I had too much to drink, I think. There’s just so many people and I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

The new bar is halfway across town, but Tommy makes it in six minutes. It’s at capacity, just as he’d anticipated, all the townsfolk trying to see for themselves what all the hype is about. Tommy might recognize a few faces if he gave anyone but you half a second of thought, but he doesn’t.

He makes a beeline for the women's restroom at the back of the bar and ignores the scowls he receives from the two girls touching up their makeup in the mirror. He calls your name and finds you in the very last stall, sitting on the floor, arms wrapped around your legs.

Tommy breathes a little easier when he sees you. Knows that with him, you’ll be safe. He kneels at your side and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Hey, sweetheart.”

You let out the softest whimper. “Uncle Tommy,” you say, voice filled with affection. “You came.”

“Course I did. S’alright. C’mon.” He tucks his arms beneath you and pulls you to your feet. Supports your weight almost entirely as he leads you out of the crowded bar and back to his truck.

When he leans over your slumped frame to try and buckle your seatbelt, you start peppering the side of his face with sloppy kisses.

He says, “Okay, alright一would you just一sit still一”

But he doesn’t mean it. Not really. You’re a giggly mess of a girl, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt and sliding your cold hands over his too-warm skin. “You’re just.” Kiss. “So.” Kiss. “Fucking cute.” Kiss.

Tommy’s smiling hard, but pushes you away as much as he hates to. “Cute, huh? Don’t know about all that, sweet girl.” He finally latches your seatbelt and quickly rounds the truck to the driver's side.

You're reaching for him the moment you can, arms outstretched and fingers grabbing for him. “Hold my hand,” you say, and of course he does. Kisses your knuckles as the engine roars to life.

Tommy says, “Let’s get you home.”

And you respond sleepily, “You’re my home.”

He tries not to read too much into it. Knows you’re just sappy and drunk. You don’t mean it. Not really. Tommy’s seen you trashed before. Has covered for you countless times and has all those drunken texts you’ve sent him memorized. You’re always like this. Loving and overly affectionate, a happy drunk to your core.

But you’ve never said anything that moved him quite this much.

Home.

What a perfect way to describe it.

But he just shakes his head. “How much have you had, kid?”

You toss your head back and laugh like it’s the silliest question he ever could’ve asked. “Too much! That’s why I called!”

Still holding tight to his hand, you roll down your window all the way. The air is cold but fresh, filling the cab of his truck with the scent of the early morning dew. You lean your head against the leather frame and close your eyes.

Tommy’s not quite sure when you fall asleep because your hand remains in his, squeezing tight even in your unconsciousness. He checks on you every couple of seconds, monitoring your breathing and the soft, slumbering noises you make.

He hates to wake you, but does it anyway when he returns to his apartment. You groan in defiance when he makes you stand, and it takes everything in him not to give in and carry you. 

“I know, baby, I know. But I need you awake for a little while longer,” he says. “Gotta get some food and water in you first, okay?”

You fight him each step of the way. Defy Tommy’s every instruction, once bubbly demeanor now replaced with agitation. But once he’s got you inside, he lets out a sigh of relief. He lays you on the couch and disappears into the kitchen for only long enough to make some toast and fill a tall glass with icy water. 

He holds your head up with one hand and tilts the cup against your mouth with the other, doing everything for you apart from the actual hydrating. You eat the toast slowly and argue between each bite, but he persists.

While you sleep, Tommy sits on the floor beside you. Half monitoring, half admiring.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you for a single second. Even though exhaustion weighs down his limbs, Tommy is more concerned about you than he is about himself. He spends the night stroking your hair and making you drink a little more water each time you stir in your sleep.

A few times, you wake up completely, turning over to try and find comfort. You whine and sniffle, and Tommy repeats the same tender words until you fall back asleep. “You’re alright. I’m still right here. Uncle Tommy’s got you.”

It’s late by the time you sober up, almost noon. Tommy’s back aches from sitting on the hardwood for so long, and he needs a coffee or a nap or both—but the important thing is you. Always you.

You smile when you see him, and it’s so warm. A kindness that he’s only ever received from you.

It’s a visceral reaction, his mouth pulling up at the corners. Like he just can’t help it. He sees your happiness and feels it, too. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you say. And then you grab his big hand and press it against the side of your face. Tommy can feel your joy, can feel the way the muscles strain as you fight off your sleepy giggles.

He runs the pad of his thumb gently over your cheekbone. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like my head’s going to explode,” you say, voice filled with so much faux cheer that it’s comical. 

Tommy chuckles and stands to his feet, knees cracking. “Let me get you some aspirin.”

He’s not at all surprised when you follow him to the bathroom, never far for very long. While he sifts through his medicine cabinet, you sit on the edge of the tub. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always,” Tommy promises. He dumps two aspirin into his palm and hands them to you.

It takes a second before you speak. You turn the little pink tablets over and over in your hand, eyes downcast. And then you say, “I was too drunk and overwhelmed last night, but that isn’t what scared me. Noah was there.”

Tommy’s heart sinks to his feet. His jaw clenches, his knuckles turn white. 

“He kept…I don’t know. He wanted to take me home, and I was dodging him all night, but he just wouldn’t take no for an answer. Followed me for an hour, trying to change my mind. He didn’t…didn’t do anything, but it freaked me out.”

Tommy thinks he’s never wanted to hurt another man so badly in his life. He takes a deep breath, makes sure his rage isn’t fueled by any rash decision. And then he leaves the bathroom and finds his shoes. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Wait—Tommy, please don’t.” You follow, clawing at the back of his t-shirt. “Please.”

The fear in your voice stops him. He thinks maybe you don’t quite understand the gravity of the situation, so he tries to explain. “Can’t let this one go,” he says, shaking his head. “Not—Christ. Not this. He doesn’t get to make you that uncomfortable and get away with it. Fuck no.”

“I love that job,” you reason. “And I promised Joel—!”

“He’ll be just as pissed when he finds out—”

“I don’t want him to find out. Please, don’t.”

Tommy takes your hands between his. “Do you understand how much worse it could have been?” Tommy feels sick, thinking back on all those times Noah had made jokes about roofies and Tommy had just discounted it as dark humor. “Ruined your fuckin’ birthday,” he grumbles. 

You say, “He didn't ruin it. I got to spend it with you, didn’t I? That’s all I wanted.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. Tommy can’t hear such sweet words when he’s like this—hot and angry and murderous. “No.” He shakes his head. “He doesn’t get to—”

“If Joel fires me for this, I will never forgive you,” you suddenly say, voice holding a cutting edge.

Tommy doesn’t understand. “What? Sweetheart, he’s not going to be mad at you, okay? You’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing. Joel will understand why I have to do this. He’s going to be mad at Noah, baby, not you.”

“Who I swore not to cause issues with!” Tears well in your wide eyes, and Tommy feels something inside his chest crack wide open. He’s never seen you cry before, not like this.

He pulls you into an embrace. Holds you tight against his chest, arms wrapped around your shoulders. His hands shake, unable to get a handle on either his anger or his despair.

Against his shoulder blade, you murmur, “Promise me you won’t tell Joel.”

And Tommy does. Swears to keep this as far away from you as possible. He refuses to make matters worse for you and, Christ, the sight of you crying makes him fucking miserable. He’s never hated anything more.

Once you sniffles subside, you lift your head and say, “I smell fucking awful.”

Tommy laughs, tension bleeding from his shoulders. “Go shower. I’ll find you some clothes.”

He picks out an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring, sets them on the bathroom sink and decides to make you breakfast. But Tommy notices quickly that his eggs are expired, and the box of cereal on top of the fridge has gone stale. He has nothing to offer you, and he’s not sure why, but the realization leaves him feeling hollow. 

Eternal bachelor with nothing to his name. You can never be his, and Tommy knows this, but he thinks maybe if he were…better, somehow, that maybe you could be. But you’re too good for him. Too sweet, too lovely, too you.

And Tommy’s…well. He’s Tommy. And just because you look at him like he puts the stars in the sky doesn’t mean he actually does. He’s not like Joel, never has been. Has always gotten into trouble, doing things he knows he shouldn’t. Fighting or drinking or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tommy’s never had his shit together a day in his life, and you deserve someone who can take care of you. Someone less disappointing.

Someone who can make you breakfast, for fucks sake. 

He feels you before he sees you一your warmth at his back. Tommy’s eyes flutter closed when you slip your arms around his waist and lay your head in the space between his broad shoulders. 

You say, “Thank you for always keeping me safe,” and Tommy wonders how the fuck you always know exactly what to say. Like you’re in his brain, somehow—a sixth sense finely tuned precisely to him. 

Emotion bubbles up in his throat. Thick and smothering. He loves you, Tommy knows. Has never and will never love anyone like this again.

“You make me so happy.” There’s a tenderness in your words, soothing his every ache. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

Tommy turns in your embrace. Cradles your face in both hands and promises, “You’ll never have to find out. M’always gonna be here for you.”

You kiss him, and Tommy lets you, even knowing he shouldn’t. It’s a little different than the one you’d shared at dawn in your bedroom. A little more heated, filled with clear intent.

He can sense it. Feel it in your every movement. Knows just what you want, what you need, and slips his tongue into your mouth when your lips part anyway. Let's you tilt your hips against his, feeling the growing hardness there, and swallows up your moan as he slots his knee between your legs. 

His breath comes fast, and he’s aware of just how wrong it is, but you make him feel so important. Like you really, truly want him. Not for the things he does but just for him—flaws and disappointments and all.

An addict who always craves your fix.

You rock your hips against his knee and breathe a sigh of relief into his mouth. Tommy helps you, grabbing at your soft thighs and pulling you back and forth to increase the friction. 

It’s too much. Too far.

This isn’t a drunken night. It’s the morning after. Stone cold sober, inexcusable.

“We should stop.”

“I know,” you say. But neither of you takes your own advice. He only kisses you harder, soaking up all of your benevolence for as long as he can. You slide your hand between your bodies and palm his cock through his jeans.

The surety of your touch is dizzying. You want him. It’s clear as day, but he wants to hear you. “Say it.”

You don’t hesitate, reading him like an open book. Tommy suppose, for you, he is. With sugary sweet words, you admit, “I need you, Uncle Tommy.”

He’s never been good at denying you anything. “I know, baby.” In one swift movement, he lifts you off your feet, and your legs wrap instinctively around his waist. He kneels down and lays you back, right there on the kitchen floor, and tugs your borrowed sweatpants down your thighs.

You kick them out of the way, and he pushes your t-shirt up over your breasts. “Touch me,” you sigh.

Tommy presses his mouth to the center of your chest. Inhales deeply, taking the familiar scent of you into his lungs. He cups your breasts in his big hands, the rough pads of his thumbs grazing over the peaks of your nipples.

He kisses and licks and bites down the center of your belly, leaving shallow indentations in the shape of his teeth on each of your hips. When he presses his mouth to your pubic bone, Tommy leans back just enough to get a full look at you. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

A soft flush crawls up your cheeks. “I’ve missed you so much,” you say.

Tommy understands. Even though he’s been right here, right by your side, he hasn’t been completely honest until this very moment. Not with you, and not with himself, and not since that night in his bed.

It’s like being unclothed. Bare boned. You both know the truth of it, know that he’s your Uncle Tommy and that it’s corrupt and perverted for him to be here, kneeling between your legs. But he’s here anyway, and his mouth is watering, and he fucking loves the sounds you make when his slides his tongue through your slit.

He licks up the wetness that has gathered, groaning at the heady taste of you. Your hands tangle in his hair when he circles your clit with a pointed tongue, drooling down his chin. 

With one arm wrapped tightly around your thigh, keeping you in place, Tommy uses the other to gently press his two middle fingers into you. The sight of your arched back is extraordinary; the kind of goddess-like beauty the poets write about. Your pussy clenches around his fingers when he twists them inside of you and pushes firmly against that spot that has you writhing.

“That’s so一” You inhale sharply. “Fuck, it’s so good.”

It pleases him to hear it. Loves knowing that in this, he can never fail you. Tommy sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over the sensitive nerves, and thrusts his fingers a little faster. He thinks he’ll never grow tired of this. Of the way you taste, the way you sound, the way you call his name.

“Oh, God. Please don’t stop, please.” He wouldn’t dream of it. Your body shakes beneath him, thighs trembling in the grip of his rough palm. He can feel your walls pulse around his fingers, and Tommy knows you’re close. 

When he pulls his mouth away, he slides his thumb easily through your folds to swipe it over your clit. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your soft belly. “Your pretty pussy always get this messy?”

You shake your head and say brokenly, “No, it’s just…just for—hmm—just—oh my God—”

“Shh,” he coos, chuckling lowly. “S’okay. I know it’s just for me. I know how much she likes it when Uncle Tommy kisses her like this.” He angles his hand and pushes it deeper inside of you, cock throbbing at the way you soak his fingers. “Give it to me.”

With a stuttering breath, you let out a salacious moan and your orgasm hits you hard. Your hands tug at the curling strands of his hair, your every muscle tenses, and your spine bends off the linoleum. His name falls so fucking beautifully from your sweet mouth, and Tommy wants to taste it. 

So he does. Slides up your body and presses a kiss to your lips. You whimper into his mouth and he swallows down the sounds of your bliss like fine wine. “There you go,” he whispers tenderly. His thumb on your clit doesn’t slow until he’s sure he’s pulled every last drop out of you. “S’that feel better, sweetheart?” 

You nod and giggle softly, a wide grin stretched across your face. The moment is filled with such happiness that it warms him from the inside out. 

And even though his cock aches, Tommy thinks this alone is enough to satiate him. Enough to curb that craving, just seeing your pupils blown wide and the pretty flush on your face. Knowing you’re fulfilled and content and that he’s the one who’d brought you to that high does wonders for his confidence. 

“You’re so good at that,” you say, and it makes him laugh. 

“Can’t get enough of you,” he explains, kissing you hard. “Could eat you all fuckin’ day and still feel hungry.”

Tommy laughs when you turn your head to press your face into your shoulder, hiding the way your nervous smile grows. 

“Don’t go gettin’ all shy on me now, darlin’,” he says, pressing his stubbled cheek to the side of your throat. He presses his lips to the curve of your jaw and grins when goosebumps form on the back of your neck. “Uncle Tommy just had your pretty pussy in his mouth. Least you can do is look him in the eye when he tells you how fuckin’ good it tastes.”

He can feel the way your spine bends, pressing your body firmly against his. But you’re a giggling mess beneath him, squealing at his filthy words as if worse hasn’t come out of your mouth.

“S’alright if you ain’t got nothin’ more to say,” Tommy tells you. “Gonna have to start from the beginning ‘til you learn to use your words again.” His mouth moves down the column of your throat, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone.

He’s slow in his pursuit, listening to the way your breaths become shallower and shallower as he lowers his head to the valley between your breasts. When he makes it to that sweet spot just below your navel, he stops.

“Wait,” you say, and he does. “I want…more.”

Tommy knows. He knows, and yet still, he urges, “Tell me, baby.”

“I want you.”

He thinks suddenly about the conversation you’d had on Joel’s back porch. The last time you’d admitted that you wanted him, that he’s all you wanted. Tommy doesn’t understand it, in truth. Will never understand what the fuck you see in him or why you not only give him the time of day but why you seek him out.

But what he does understand is this.

Tommy sees your need and matches it. Exceeds it.

You slide your hand down your body, fingers slipping through the wetness between your thighs. “Want you here,” you say. “I need it, Uncle Tommy.”

He knows he shouldn’t.

But you want him. And that’s the best high of all. 

“M’comin, sweet girl,” he promises. He leans back on his knees and grabs his shirt by the back of the collar, pulling it over his head. You watch him with half-lidded eyes as he undoes the button of his jeans and pulls down his zipper, and Tommy watches you. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs, shoving the denim down around his hips just enough to take his heavy cock out. 

You take him in your delicate hand and press his tip to your clit, sliding it slowly through your slick folds. Such a gentle movement, but it has his breath stuttering already, and Tommy has no fucking idea how he’s going to make this last. “Go slow,” you say. “Wanna feel every inch.”

Tommy notches himself at your entrance and does just as you ask. Pushes into you so carefully it’s almost painful. His every instinct urges him to surge forward, to split you open and bury himself inside of you. But the whimpers you make as you adjust to the stretch he creates keep his head on straight.

It’s the most pornographic image he’s ever seen, watching your sweet pussy greedily swallow up his cock. You’re so wet, dripping for him, and it makes these obscene sounds with each pressing inch that has Tommy’s heart beating hard against his sternum.

“Shit,” he hisses. “You feel so good, baby.” Once he’s fully seated inside you, his waist pressed against yours, Tommy rolls his hips, and the movement has you gasping. He can feel your walls clamp down around him, and it only spurs him on more. He does it again, a gentle pressure at the deepest part of you he can reach.

“It’s so—so big,” you whine, fingernails clawing at the back of his shoulders.

Tommy only smiles. Kisses your mouth tenderly and says, “You can take it. Hm? My perfect girl. Made just for me.”

One of his hands slide up the back of your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist, while the other comes to circle your clit. He can feel your body’s reaction, can feel the way you squeeze tight around his cock.

You nod frantically, the beginnings of tears welling in the corners of your eyes. You breathe out the word, “Yours,” and he feels his orgasm threatening already, building at the base of his spine. “I’m all yours.”

Tommy circles your clit and sets a steady pace. Fucks you slow, fucks you deep. Just how you need it, delighting in your moans. He presses his mouth softly to your temple, your cheek, and spends a little extra time with his teeth at that spot just behind your ear. “Look at me, baby,” he says, nudging his nose against yours.

When you do, your eyes are all starry in that way he loves, filled with awe. You’re the only person to ever look at him like that, with not an ounce of disappointment. It’s like you’re just happy he exists, and Tommy feels emotion build in his throat. 

“Don’t stop,” you say, and so he quickens his pace, circling your clit faster. “Don’t stop, God, I’ve—I’ve missed you so bad, Uncle Tommy.”

It’s the most dizzying thing he’s ever heard. It nearly tips him over that edge. But he needs to feel you first, needs to make sure you get everything you need. “Yeah, I know it,” he says tenderly, thrusting in deep. “Missed my baby, too.”

He thinks it’s an understatement. Feels wrong, saying he’s only missed you when he’s thought of nothing else.

Tommy knows you’re close, can feel the way you pulse around him, breathe stuttering. “That’s it,” he mutters. “You gonna cum for your Uncle Tommy? Hm?”

“Fuck, fuck, I’m—”

“S’good, baby,” he whispers against your mouth, keeping his rhythm. “So fucking good for me.”

Your moans echo off the walls as you reach that peak, thighs trembling around his hips. He can feel a rush of moisture against his cock and he tears a low sound from somehwere deep in his chest.

He doesn’t stop, chasing his own high, even when you start to squirm beneath him. His fingers stay circling your pretty clit, ratcheting the pleasure higher and higher until—

“My face,” you suddenly say. “Want you to cum on my face.”

Tommy thinks you’re going to be the death of him.

Perfect, filthy girl. 

He pulls out of you quickly, orgasm dangerously near. You prop yourself up, palms against the kitchen floor behind you, while Tommy takes his cock in his hand and squeezes. “Goddamn,” he groans. “Ask me nice.”

With the prettiest, most innocent smile, you say, “Cum on my face, Uncle Tommy. Please, please, please.” You stick out your tongue and look up at him, and that’s what does him in. The fucking love in your eyes.

Tommy cums hard, stroking his cock over top of you. Sticky, white ropes of his release coat your face, leaving splotches on your cheeks, your chin, down your chest. It’s disgusting. Easily the worst thing he’s ever done in all his life.

But when he’s finished and his cock begins to soften, you swipe the mess off your chin and push it onto your tongue and moan. Like it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. And any remorse he once had vanishes into thin air because how can he be sorry when you look so happy?

You giggle and say, “Guess I got that pearl necklace after all,” and Tommy has to look away to keep from laughing too hard.

He cleans you up with a hand towel and water from the kitchen sink, shoulders a little lighter. And once you’ve got his borrowed clothes back on, Tommy watches with reverence as you move around his kitchen as if you belong in it. 

You open the freezer and go right for the half empty carton of mint chip ice cream. It’s your first choice. Not expired eggs or stale cereal. 

Seeing it gives him a flicker of false hope. 

Because he knows he can’t be what you need forever. Knows he won’t keep you in the end, knows that whatever this is isn’t sustainable. But maybe he can just…keep you happy to the best of his ability. Just for now.

You only grab one spoon but offer him the first bite. “Mint chip is the best flavor by a fucking mile,” you say. “And anyone who says otherwise is delusional.”

“Keep that up when Sarah finds out it’s your favorite,” Tommy insists. “Cause she’ll fuckin’ tear you apart. Believe me, I know from experience.”

Laughter falls from your lips when he hands you the spoon. “Oh, I know. Was a victim of her chocolate chip cookie dough defense monologue, too.”

Tommy’s phone rings on the kitchen counter, and he swallows hard when he sees Joel’s name flash across the screen. When he answers, there’s a trace of alarm in Joel’s voice as he asks if he’s seen you. “Just a little concerned is all. Figured her phone’s dead or somethin’ but…haven’t heard back since last night. Just wanted to make sure she got somewhere safe.”

He’s never lied to Joel in all his life, and Tommy knows he would sense it the minute he tried. So he tells as much of the truth as he can. “Yeah, she uh…called me early this morning. Picked her up from that bar an’ let her crash on the couch. I’ll be bringin’ her home in a minute.”

You gather your things, and Tommy tries not to let that sliver of emptiness trickle in too fast. You’re still here, still with him, and this moment still belongs to you even at its close.

Like always, you sense his gloom before it’s even fully hit. And when he pulls into Joel’s driveway, you thread your fingers through his and say, “Stay for dinner. I miss you already.”

Tommy knows he shouldn’t. Knows that feeling lightheaded just from your words alone is a real problem for him.

But he’s never been good at telling you no.

taglist; @theretrofuturista @chuutu @gabymalikk @nana90azevedo @alidiggory92 @marisemonteiroo @ivyinthesun @hollowgracie @moyavsemoya @madadadison @polkadotsocks1993 @malewifejoelmiller @mmmunson @ssssc0m @skye-44 @tateypots @joelscowgirl69 @dbs5647 @cuntyhunty22 @thaliagracesgf @whossbunny @jamespotterismydaddy @whatdoyoumeanhesnapped @rainydayathogwarts @urfavhanna @subconsciouscollapse @worhols @joyridinginzombieland

[divider by @bernardsbendystraws]

[passionwillow]

I’m here to beggggg you for more obsessive! Jack 😫. The thought of this man being insanely protective over you just does something to me. He needs to have your location, know who you’re going to hang out with (if he even lets you go by yourself), measures how short your dress is with his fingers, and makes it known that you’re his & he’s yours so there’s no chance anybody can think the opposite. He raises your standards so high to the point there’s no chance you’ll find better. He cares for you so much that you wonder how you even survived before meeting him, how you even survived without his love. He mesmerizes every little thing about you, he knows when you’re overwhelmed, knows how you like your coffee, knows your dinner favorites

Possessive Jack is a necessity. 😩 I finished season 5 of YOU so I may be taking some ideas from there.. PLEASE don't actually let a man treat you this way, this is just fiction and for fun.

Jack made sure he had your location months ago. He swore it was just so he could make sure you got home safe, but he's always checking where you are. Out with friends? At that bar? It's a sketchy area, just making sure you're safe.

He isn't a fan of most of your friends (especially the guy ones). "Who are you going out with? I'll come along, babe. No, it's okay. I wanna make sure you're safe."

He hates when you wear short skirts or low cut tops out. "Showing off what's mine, baby? I don't think so. Go put on those jeans I bought you. That's a good girl."

Always marking you. Even when it can't be seen. Hickies on your neck, his teeth and lips bruising your sensitive skin as you squirm and moan, his hands keeping you pinned to the wall. Hand prints on your ass, smirking as you cry and moan with each smack. "That's a good girl, look at that. All fucking mine."

But he takes such good care of you, it makes him being overbearing so worth it. He can read you like a billboard. You're in a good mood, you're upset, you're stressed, you're mad, you're horny. He can take one look at you when you wake up and know.

He knows everything about you, down to your coffee order. How you like your showers, your dinner, your drinks. How you play with the pages of your books when you read, that sore spot on your shoulder you always need rubbed out. That little squeal you make when he pinches your clit, how you go breathless when he curls his fingers just right.

You're stressed about work? Sit down and talk to him, he's waiting with open arms to help you. You had a good day? Sit down. He already has dinner ready and can't wait to hear. You're stressed out? Sit and let him hold you, he'll give you some advice.

He doesn't try to be a sugar daddy, but sometimes he may as well be. Any money troubles? Let him take care of it. Matter of face, just give him your bills. He'll take care of everything for you. He doesn't want you worrying your pretty little head over it.

He's your biggest supporter, always pushing you to be better and try new things. Wanna go back to school? Tell him where, he'll make sure it's covered. Wanna learn something new, an instrument or new line of work? You'd be amazing no matter what you do.

No one could ever love you better, take better care of you, support you more, be more loving and protective. He's all you need. ❤️

[followmybadreligion]

Thinking about bf!art who’s so obsessed with you that it borders unhealthy…

You’re the first thing on his mind in the morning; what do you want for breakfast, is that position you’re sleeping in comfortable, are you going to kiss him good morning or just say the words— all questions he sifts through. He doesn’t even have time to wipe the sleep out of his eyes before you consume his thoughts.

Most of the time, he sits on his side of the bed and gazes at your serene figure glowing softly in the early morning light. He hates to disturb you, knowing how upset you usually are when he does, but seeing you like that never fails to awaken an almost desperate need for you within him. He’ll fight it off for as long as possible, but as you release a deep sigh and shift your head his way, showcasing that pretty fucking face, he just can’t help it. So, in the blink of an eye, he’s pressed his body against you, one arm underneath your torso and the other on top of it, caging you in his warmth. He’ll lay there like that with you, matching your rhymic breathing like it were the beat to his favorite song, until you wake for the day, ready and willing to give him all your love.

And boy is he demanding of your love.

Art's like a battery of sorts when it comes to affection. When you've given him enough, charged him with your kisses, affirmations, or whatever else you were willing to give, he's at his best and brightest, going through the world with a big, lopsided grin and tingles in his chest. This is where he likes to be--- full of your love. However, if he feels as if he hasn't gotten his fair share, and starts feeling a little neglected or ignored, be prepared for a completely different boyfriend.

He'll show his discontent in small ways at first-- way more touching, little whines and grumbles when you're focused on something else, pointless reminiscing just to get you to talk-- all ways of him trying to scratch his itch for your attention. But if all that fails, and you're still not giving him what he wants, he gets more and more demanding. You were working on an important work project? Guess who just shut your computer! You were in the middle of a phone call? Guess who has the overwhelming urge to kiss you now! You were on the way to meet up with a friend? Guess who's not letting you out of the house (at least without a fight)? He just can't help it. When it comes to you and your love, he needs all of it and then some.

But, he's also incredibly aware of how smothering he can be sometimes. It's one of the things he's most insecure about in your relationship, actually.

To him, his want for you never runs dry. He could sit in an empty room, with nothing but you to entertain him, and he'd feel as if he'd just sailed the seven seas. So why don't you feel the same? Why do you constantly seem to push for space? Why don't you want all the love he has for you?

He'll rarely ever bring that insecurity up, though. To him, it's pointless-- you can't make yourself want more of what you already have. Instead, he'll just try to find new ways to present it to you.

Naturally, he likes to show his love through his money and his time.

In the beginning, you had to get used to his on-a-whim, thousand-dollar restaurant dates or his random weekend vacations for the two of you. You had to learn how to accept the designer clothes he bought you, or the big bouquets of roses he sent to your house and your job. You had to learn to lean into having a man who was willing to drop any plans he had the second you called him.

And it was a lot.

Sometimes too much, and Art started to pick up on that.

So he adjusted.

Instead of buying you lavish gifts and taking you fancy places all the time, he started to cut back to maybe once or twice a month (still insane but he's trying). He planned smaller, quieter dates for the two of you, like cooking dinner or baking together, or trying new desert shops around the city, and can you tell this boy really likes to feed you? He began to focus his efforts on being more helpful to you, as well. Need him to pick up some dry cleaning? Done. Sick of washing dishes? He's got it covered. Forgot to order groceries for the week? He's already made a list. Any and everything he could do to make life stress-free for you, he'd do.

And then don't even get me started on the sex.

Art is absolutely drunk on you. Your body, your scent, your voice-- all of it.

Before you two were together, Art was ashamed of the way he lusted after you. It made him feel perverted and dirty sometimes, the way he’d be practically drooling at the slightest glimpse of your shape. He was always the first to view your Instagram stories, (because he had your page notifications on) and at first he told himself that he was just eager to see your cute little selfies or your adorable little fit checks. The amount of cleavage you displayed was just a plus! But soon after, he found himself fiendish over the detail pictures you’d post, showcasing your tight-fitting shirts, or the necklaces that dangled just above your tits, or the low-waisted jeans that curved artfully around your ass. The way you presented yourself was just so enticing to him. A little at a time, just a glimpse per picture. Enough to let his imagination run wild, but not enough to fulfill his fantasies.

So you can imagine that from the time Art got his first fill of you and then on, he was in heaven. You were better than every fantasy, dream, thought- everything he’d ever dreamt up. The second you pulled off his shirt and told him to lay back, that you’d give him what he needed, he was a lovesick puppy under your care, and he loved that. He swore with every command you gave or moan you drew from him, he was falling deeper into you.

However, this also ignited a new passion in him. He had to be the best, just as he felt you were. Had to be good for you, or else what was his purpose?

So, he spent hours and hours studying the porn you watched, trying so desperately to mimic the strokes and moans of the men you got off to. He studied the positions you liked and even did a little research on his own to know which ones would feel the best for you. He wanted to make you throw your head back in bliss, moan uncontrollably, and glow from how good you felt, time and time again, and he was determined to do what it took to make that happen. He'd do it all and then some, and all he needed to hear was you saying his name.

Oh, and speaking of saying his name, that's one of his biggest turn-ons. He likes to say there's a certain tone you use, intentionally or not, that mimics the sultriness of a siren, and he can't stop himself from getting hard every time he hears it. Maybe it's the tone itself, or the fact that you're calling him in the first place, but he can't help the way his mind gets all fuzzy from it, only focusing on your voice and the way your lips move to say the syllable.

There’s nobody else on the planet that has ever, or will ever make Art feel the way you do. You make his body feel ways it never has, make his heart light up with feelings he didn’t know existed. In such a short span of time, you’ve become his everything, and that’s why he’s determined to keep you as his for as long as he can.

As long as he can. As long as you let him. Because he’ll be only yours for forever and ever.

Your sweet, lovesick bf!art.

part 2

this was just a massive brain dump for art since he’s ben on my mind since i watched the movie LOL. want him SO BADDDDD

[pastorpresent]

Wade LOVES Halloween. Absolutely LOVES it, but his first Halloween with Logan, he decides not to go too overboard. After all, the apartment is Logan's safe space, and he knows he gets easily overwhelmed and filling it with a bunch of loud things that jump out doesn't feel the best option for his PTSD.

He puts up a few decorations, and leaves it at that.

Logan doesn't realise how much the holiday means to Wade until one of his lunch meet ups with Vanessa. She makes a comment about how odd it is that Wade isn't hosting his usual Halloween party this year, and Logan frowns.

"I didn't think he was that into Halloween."

Vanessa snorts, "you kidding me? Our apartment used to look like party city in October."

Logan is confused, until he remembers the way Wade had subtly asked everytime he put up a small Halloween decoration, asking Logan's opinion on the placement, and it clicks in his head that Wade probably thinks he wouldn't like the apartment filled with Halloween stuff.

And yeah, it's not really his favourite holiday, but it seems to be Wade's and he'll be damned if the merc doesn't celebrate it on his accord.

He goes all out. He's not all that familiar with Halloween traditions, so he consults Laura for help. She explains what a 'boo basket' is, and he just sort of stares at her, "why would Wade want a plastic bucket filled with halloween versions of crap he's already got?"

"You're such a man," is her groaned reply, and Logan just adds it to his list of stuff to do.

By the time Halloween rolls around, he's honestly a bit nervous. He spends all day decorating the apartment while Wade is out. He learns from Ness that Wade hates actual pumpkin carving because he can't stand the smell or the feel of the pumpkin guts, so he sets their pumpkins on the coffee table, covered over with a spooky table cloth, with a variety of paints to decorate.

Every inch of the apartment is covered in the tackiest Halloween decor possible. Laura helped him make Halloween cupcakes. Wade's bat basket is sat on the kitchen table, filled up with his favourite candy, a ghost blanket and a little pumpkin stuffed toy. He loads up Hocus Pocus on the TV, since Ness told him it was one of Wade's favourites.

The couples costume is the one thing he insisted on figuring out himself. He'd honestly spent an embarrassingly long amount of time working something out, and he's a little nervous Wade will hate it.

"Honey I'm-"

Logan squirms in the following silence, feeling uncharacteristically anxious. He really wanted to get this right, and he really hopes he hasn't missed anything important and that Wade doesn't think the whole thing is just stupid because he really did try here.

"Are you... Finn?"

"Yeah. I got you uh, princess bubblegum, and..." he whistles for Mary, who waited ever so patiently behind the couch, and she comes scampering out in her Jake costume.

Wade is still just staring, and Logan shuffles awkwardly, "Laura's gonna be Marceline. if you don't want to dress up that's fine. Or if you don't like all this... I can take it down? I wasn't sure what-"

And then he's got an armful of Wade, who's fully wrapped around him, and Logan just barely catches him.

"You like it?" Logan asks, because even if the reaction is pretty telling he needs to know for sure.

"Like it? Like it?! Peanut I fucking love it! I fucking love you," Wade emphasises, tightening his grip, and Logan feels his body relax finally.

"You'll have to thank Laura and Ness. I wouldn't of had a clue what to do otherwise-"

Wade shuts him up with a kiss.

"Thank you, sweetheart. Honestly, you're the best," Wade smiles, a decent that nickname always makes Logan's knees feel a little weak.

"Anything for you, bub. You not realised that by now?"

And it's not a joke, not really, and he can tell Wade knows that by the way his smile softens.

They go to Vanessa's Halloween party that night, and Logan's convinced she crowns them winners of the costume contest out of pity for all of Logan's effort the last few days, but it doesn't matter anyway because of the way the matching 'best dressed' sashes make Wade somehow light up even more for the rest of the night.

[whatlurksbean]

Hello! I’ve been reading WLB from some time now, and I am still absolutely loving this comic every time.(on my 4th reread lol) WLB has inspired me greatly along with WC content and (also great!)creations by other creators to the point that I am almost about to script my own comic, with a few scenes that WLB had a huge influence on. Though, I can’t help but be a little overwhelmed when I actually think of creating one, mostly because of the fact I lack the skills to draw comics. Believe me, I am shit at panelling lol. But also l‘m a bit scared because even if I actually end up making my own series it absolutely could end up flopping and that would probably make me lose enthusiasm. I don’t necessarily want to make money out of my comics but rather show others my stories and characters that I love, but I have a history of making and posting oc art just for nobody to watch and kinda giving up.(even though I’m aware of the fact that this happens to practically everyone all the time, it still hurts) The (real)question is if there is some advice you can give to beginner/wanna-be comic artists, and how did you feel when you first posted The Recruit if that’s your first comic. I’m sorry if this sounds like a vent, and feel free to pass this if you want-just know you’re a great inspiration for many people. Stay safe, remember that YOUR well being is number one, and Love from Korea♥♥

Hello! I'm very glad you've enjoyed WLB!

A webcomic can for sure be a daunting and overwhelming thing. Most artists are a one man show, and knowing how to do Every Aspect Perfectly is an impossible task. I think it's important to remember everyone starts somewhere, and it is hard to get better unless you Start.

I mean, the first comic pages I drew digitally looked like this.

The comic lasted 6 pages before I got tired of it, and then I started The Recruit.

(which was over 430 pages long and started and had quite a style/writing change throughout the 7 years I worked on it)

You learn so much by just doing. There are a lot of helpful free resources online now a days to make the learning faster! There are tutorials on how to panel! And I think just reading comics in general is a great source of learning. Pay attention to the things you like (paneling, simplification process, color palettes ) and implement them in your work!

I think it's really important to figure out the level of detail you want the comic to be. I don't think it's wise or sustainable to put 100% effort into every aspect of it. It will burn you out. It's good to consider what level of shading (if any) you'll be willing to do for hundreds of panels, what level of background detail, how many colors the characters should have, and figure out what your focus is.

I've met a lot of comic artists over the years, EVERYONE has a different method or different focus. Creating is not a universal experience!

As for having your work be seen, it is honestly a lot of luck. Back in the day for TR I would just submit to all of the deviantart warrior cat groups and people would find it that way. deviantart groups are pretty dead now so I am unsure if that is any good now.

I personally really think ComicFury is a wonderful place for new artists. It's default page always shows the latest comic, so everyone always has an equal chance to be seen. You can be on the front page every 12 hours (i think, it might be 24..) and with a striking icon and consistent posting, you WILL find people.

It's not the largest site, but it is my favorite for comics.

I do not like the mindset of a comic "flopping." I think it takes time to build an audience. It is very unlikely for people to find your comic overnight, it will very likely take at least a few months of consistent posting to find a few engaged readers. I know it sucks to feel like no one is seeing your work, but it's just something that takes time.

Cat comics do tend to find readers faster though, so if that is your goal, I do hope you find success!

You could also post your updates in comic/art related places, like discords or post panels on bluesky or instagram. really any site or app that posts an image.

I also think consistent uploading is a strong key to building an audience. And to do this, it really helps to have a backlog. Meaning you draw like the first 10-20 pages of you comic (or however many) and upload one or two pages a week. The more your comic is seen popping up on their feed, the more likely people will be to finally click it. I usually do not click on comics I see once or twice, it usually takes a few weeks of me seeing it pop up before i decide to check it out. (talking about on Comicfury to be clear)

Once you've established you are dedicated to your comic, people do not mind if you take breaks. (and if they do, fuck em)

Also, having a community of friends or creators is a huge motivator. Show your work to friends! Share in a community of comic creators! Some things my friends have said to me about my comics has lifted my creative spirit more than anything.

This is turning into some 3am ramblings but to summarize my points:

•Find a style that will work for you to sustain a comic. (do not make 100% effort art pieces)

•Upload on comicfury (great comic site, equal opportunity for new comics) (I would also cross post to other platforms and link back to CF as a primary comic site)

•Work on some pages in private, so you can upload consistently once you begin your comic! (I would update daily for maybe a week and then switch to weekly pages, just to get the best chance of being seen + consistent posting. so that would be good to have at least 10 pages of backlogs. 7 for the first week, plus 3 weeks of backlog at that rate)

and the point most dear to my heart;

•Don't be scared of change.

I know a lot of folk wait and wait to make their comic until they are perfect artists or writers, but like, you'll never make anything if you wait for that. Change is so natural and normal in webcomics, in all art really. I think if you shade for 10 pages and decide you hate it, it's okay to change how you shade or drop it entirely. Change your art style. Change how you panel pages. Change how you do backgrounds. Change anything and everything you want. Enjoy the process and tell the story you want to tell.

Best of luck on your comicing journey, I hope you really enjoy it.

[ryker-writes]

Hello 👋 Ryker!

Can you write more headcanon of Dating Idia and Malleus (Poly relationship) maybe how each of the family or friends react to their relationship.

Of course! It makes me very happy that people liked the poly headcanons so much and want to see more! And I’m happy to deliver!

Request rules and masterlist

First part

More general thoughts:

Idia and Malleus are quite the pair to be dating

Once the students around the school are able to confirm it’s true that you are, in fact, dating both of them, news spreads quickly

Malleus doesn’t care so much about the news, why shouldn’t people know you’re together?

Idia however, is very overwhelmed by it all

Regardless of how long you’ve been dating, he still sometimes has these moments of thinking “How did I get here? Did I upgrade my charisma stats without knowing? Was it the charisma stat that made them fall, or was it a different stat?”

And as someone who prefers to stay in the background and avoid the public eye, the fact that everyone at school knows you’re dating him and Malleus causes a lot of panic

We’re talking like barely leave his room even just into Ignihyde kinda panic

It takes a while for him to calm down, and he gets spooked when people bring it up thinking they’re comparing him to Malleus

He might subtly be inviting you to his room more often because he needs the support without saying he needs he support

Speaking of support, let’s talk about how they want support/show support

Now these two are more reserved people, and tend to keep a lot of their thoughts inside and tend to stray away from large crowds. That being said, they simply enjoy your presence being in the same area as them, double the effect if both you and the other are there

Malleus enjoys having you and Idia there, and Idia enjoys having you and Malleus there (regardless of how out of place Malleus looks in his room)

Idia prefers doing his own thing while you guys do your own thing in the same area, while Malleus prefers doing activities together

But oh boy, these two feel most supported if you listen to them

I hope you’re a good listener, because wow these two can go on for hours if you let them

Idia and Malleus both love when people they care about get interested in the things they love, and get even more excited when they ask questions

They aren’t too physically affectionate people though

Idia gets nervous and panics at small unexpected touches, and Malleus keeps touches light and respectful

Most of the times it’s hand holding, a hand on your lower back as you walk, and maybe a hug if they’re feeling it

They coordinate surprisingly well when it comes to special events like your birthday, holidays, or school festivals

Instead of spending time one on one with them, they both are there for you during events

Idia likes it because people tend to steer clear of Malleus and there's guards keeping things out of his way, so Idia doesn't have to worry as much about dealing with people (the only unfortunate part is dealing with Sebek)

You basically get the royal treatment just by being with them, and that's the way they believe it's supposed to be

They are very mindful of each other during these events too. Malleus is careful about going into largely populated areas, and Idia tries to make sure Malleus is included in activities (in Idia's awkward way)

The dynamic being in a relationship with both of them works pretty well!

And then there's the friends/family

Lilia:

Lilia is actually very happy about this

Briar Valley culture is a bit...reserved and old fashioned, but Lilia is a man who's open to seeing and experiencing new things, so he's happy to see Malleus is too!

Having one partner is great, but two? He's very happy for Malleus

He does worry about how things will work out in the future with Malleus being royalty and having two partners, but that's an issue for later

He's pretty happy it's you and Idia of all people too!

Lilia loves video games, so he helps Malleus learn about them so he can communicate and bond better with Idia, and he's happy because then Malleus can play with him too

He feels like a proud dad watching Malleus with you and Idia

Silver:

Silver hasn't interacted with Idia much, so he can't speak on Idia's character, but he knows you! And he thinks you're good for Malleus, so he has no objections

As long as Malleus is happy, he really doesn't mind however Malleus chooses to have a relationship

He's pretty accepting of almost anything, so he doesn't even question the three of you dating or anything

He does try to get to know Idia more because of this though! Since Silver is the most calm among Malleus' guards, it actually goes pretty well and him and Idia communicate well

Sebek:

What do you expect, really? Of course Sebek is freaking out

His Liege has TWO partners?! What?!

Don't get him wrong, he has nothing against people having multiple partners, to each their own

But this is Malleus! The future ruler of Briar Valley! Sebek is going crazy that Malleus even has one partner and is of course judging them heavily to see if they're good enough for Malleus, but now there's two to judge!

Yeah, Idia avoids Sebek as much as possible

Sebek really doesn't want to question Malleus and his decisions, but he doesn't see the appeal of Idia

Malleus is quick to shut down Sebek's judgement and criticisms once he's aware of them, and Sebek will feel terrible

Ortho:

He's ecstatic!

Ortho has been trying for so long to get Idia out more and among more people, and you and Malleus help him a lot with that and he can tell you both make Idia really happy!

He's very proud of Idia and has no issues with you or Malleus

Sometimes he worries about Idia comparing himself to Malleus, but he's seen you and Malleus reassure him before, and how deeply the two of you care for Idia

Ortho feels like he doesn't have to worry as much about Idia since he has the two of you with him

He knows in his heart that the three of you will last a very long time

[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly Chapter 7

Fic Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Chapter Summary: Eddie gets close to you, and you sacrifice your dignity.

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, one-sided enemies to lovers, one-sided pining, miscommunication trope, anxious-ish!Reader, fem!Reader, Reader is not described, no use of y/n, Rise of Hellfire characters

Word Count: 4.2k words

Master List

Author Note: Okay, look. There's not a lot of Eddie in this chapter but this is setting up a LOT of things I have planned for this story. This is a load baring chapter.

Your wrist had ached all day, and you blamed the weather. What was originally promised to be a mild spring day had turned into a rather warm and stormy one. Normally, you loved this kind of weather (as long as there was no tornado warning), but with the pain in your cast it only annoyed you. 

In Ms. Benson’s class, your mood was dampened further as your tests were passed back. You didn’t need to look at it to know that it wasn’t going to help you with your grade in class. You tried to pay attention in class, you really did. But no matter how much you stared at the book you were all supposed to be reading, the more your mind drifted to other matters. How could you get Eddie to let you at least sit in on a Hellfire meeting? How could you thank Stacy for sacrificing her favorite makeup shop while you two let the heat die down? You really didn’t have an interest in Spring Day but you really wanted to spend more time with Eddie. 

You wrote down character ideas, occasionally glancing at Eddie. You ran through each class and race in your mind, trying to come up with different combinations. You were leaning towards elf or half-elf, and a more magical class but maybe you should try something with brute strength? Or maybe something more complicated to impress Eddie?

Okay, no, that was a bad idea. Stealing and learning the game was pathetic enough, you had to make sure you were at least doing part of this for yourself. And there was the problem, you were a little overwhelmed with choices on what kind of character you’d make if you were allowed in Hellfire. 

When the bell rang you had written out every single combination of the class and race list, marking the ones you thought would be most interesting. The rest of the page was filled with dumb joke characters. 

They were stupid, but it was important to get the stupid out. The harder you tried to think of what you might actually want to play (not that you could anyway) the more blank your mind became. Sometimes, having too much creative freedom was stifling. 

And so, Fighter Betty of the Crocker clan, the Wizard TAB, and Ziggy Stardust the Druid, were shoved into your backpack, between the pages of the handbook you were carrying around when the bell rang. If anything, they amused you and that’s all that would matter. 

You took your time when the bell rang, trying to figure out a way to talk to Eddie or say hi or make any sort of small talk. 

Why was it that you didn’t have this problem with anyone else in this stupid town?!

You were so focused on thinking about Eddie, that you completely missed that he was standing right in front of you.

“Uh- what?” you blinked, realizing now that words were coming out of those very pretty lips of his. 

“Do you need help with your books?” Eddie asked slower, pointing to your backpack. You couldn’t tell if he was talking slow because he thought you were an idiot, or because he smelled so subtly like weed. 

“Yes. Yeah, yes.” you tried to get your mouth to work. You tried to pretend he was Stacy or... shit, you didn’t have any other friends here. 

Eddie grabbed your bag and you followed him out the door to your locker again. What a strange sense of deja vu. 

“How’d you do on the test?” He asked as you opened your locker. 

You tensed and shrugged. “About as well as I thought I’d do. You?” 

Eddie shifted in his spot. “Yeah, about the same.” 

You glanced at him, seeing how uncomfortable he looked. Had you both failed? You shouldn’t be surprised, but you were. 

“I guess our not-detention is gonna be awkward. Hopefully, Benson’ll leave us alone to do whatever task she has for us.” You sighed as you swapped books and grabbed your lunch box. 

“Maybe we can sneak out again.” Eddie suggested. 

“If we do that there might not be a Spring Day. Shouldn’t this be the student council’s job anyway?” you asked. “I don’t see why she’s so bent on us making this happen. No offence.” 

“None taken.” Eddie held up his hands. “I have as much school spirit as a rock.” 

“You looked like you would have been anywhere else during the pep rally.”

“I tried to skip, but I got caught.” He ran his fingers through his hair with a world weary sigh. 

“Try breaking your wrist next time. It got me out of it.” you lifted your arm to show off your cast. 

“You broke your wrist trying to apologize, I wouldn’t apologize to anyone in this shithole.” Eddie said. 

You wanted to be offended, but you couldn’t blame him. If you were Stacy, or if he were anyone else, you might bat your lashes at him and ask if that also applied to you, but you couldn’t. You weren’t Stacy, and Eddie was still Eddie. 

“Not even your friends?” you settled on. 

“If I had an issue with one of my friends we’d talk about it.” Eddie looked at you, a sharpness in his eyes that made you want to shrink. Why was he looking at you like he was accusing you of something? You had apologized, right? And he’d accepted! Did he want you to apologize again? 

“Thank you for delivering my friend safely, Eddie.” Saved from the awkward encounter by arriving at the lunch table with Stacy. “Are you sure you won’t be joining us?” 

“Alas, I am still honor bound to my little gang of misfits.” Eddie sighed holding his hand over his heart.

“Fine, be a buzzkill.” Stacy replied. “Shoo.” 

You couldn’t decide which was worse, Stacy shooing the love of your life off or Eddie giving you that accusatory look. 

The look. That was worse. 

“One day he’ll either eat with us or ask us to join them.” Stacy said, trading her cookie with the pudding cup in your lunch bag. 

“You could go over there and sit with them, and they’d be too stunned to tell you to leave.” You laughed. “You’d be Queen of the Freaks by the end of the period.”

“I could, but that’s a title I’m saving for you.” Stacy said supportively. 

“Hey Stacy, were you a cheerleader?” You asked as you remembered your conversation with Eddie. 

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I didn’t tell you that? So embarrassing.” She shook her head. “I was on the squad for about two and a half years before I got kicked off.” 

“You got kicked off?” you looked at her in surprise. 

“Yeah, I got caught smoking. Turns out that’s a big no-no when you’re on the squad.” Stacy was saying this like it was just a bad date she had been on. 

“Smoking? Since when do you smoke?” This was also news to you. You had never seen her with a cigarette or even a lighter before. 

“Only socially.” Stacy said. “It’s not a big deal. I’m not exactly torn up about it. I was only on the team because mom made me, and because I didn’t want to get rusty in gymnastics.” 

You had known that Stacy had been very into gymnastics in her younger years, there were few medals and trophies scattered in her room. You glanced over at a table on the far side where a few jocks and cheerleaders were. 

“So, why aren’t you sitting with them? Are you not friends anymore...?” you couldn’t help it, you were a little nosey and wanted to know more about your best friend. 

“Of course.” Stacy looked confused. “Chrissy Cunningham is one of my dearest friends.” 

“Then why are you sitting with me and not them?” Any insecurity you might have had was overrun by confusion. 

“Because that’s not what we do here.” Stacy said, as if it were the most normal answer in the world. “You sit with the cheerleaders and jocks if you’re a cheerleader or a jock.” 

“But... you’re friends.” you said slowly. 

“Yes.” 

“....Are you sitting with me out of pity? Please be honest with me.” 

“No, dumbass, I’m sitting with you because we’re friends.” 

“I... I don’t get it.” you sighed. 

“Listen, I know things might have been different before you got to Hawkins, but this is just how things are. I’m sitting with you because you’re more interesting than the latest basketball or football game. Plus, with you I have more options.” 

“What?”

“Well, you’re an anomaly.” Stacy said. “You came in late, and so you don’t have an assigned group that you’ve been with since Kindergarten. You talk to whoever you want, and you haven’t made any enemies with anyone here. People like you, you know.” 

“You make it sound like I’m popular or something.” You said. 

“Not popular, but something else.” Stacy gave you an analytical look. “If you had really tried, I think you could be in any group you wanted.” 

“Any group except one.” you glanced longingly at Eddie’s table. He seemed to be in a good mood now, if the impromptu air-guitar solo he was performing was anything to go by. You didn’t know what song he was listening to through his headphones but he seemed really into it. His friends seemed less impressed as they talked amongst themselves.

“I can’t believe you’re really this intimidated by Eddie Munson.” Stacy rolled her eyes. 

“Why not? Everyone else seems to be. And stop distracting me! If you have other friends why aren’t you sitting with them? Or why are you sitting with me? Or why aren’t we sitting with them?” 

“You’re taking this so personally.” Stacy pat your shoulder. “I’m here because I want to be, I don’t sit with them because I don’t want to, and I don’t invite you to sit with them because you’d be miserable and they wouldn’t appreciate the drama that is your crush on the Freak.” 

You groaned and rubbed your face. “At my old school we just sat with the people we liked and called it a day.” 

“Good news, I like you so it’s not that different.” Stacy said. 

The rest of lunch was uninteresting, as you and Stacy talked non-stop about the worst gossip and her latest date. You stole glances at Eddie, wondering if what she had said was true. Could you have been part of that group if you hadn't had your head so far up your ass? You had tried so hard to not make friends this year. You just wanted to take your diploma and go. 

The storm was picking up when the final bell rang, and your wrist twinged in annoyance as you bumped it while grabbing the books you’d need for the homework that you weren’t sure you’d even do. Ms. Bensen wasn’t expecting you and Eddie for at least fifteen minutes, enough time for the school to clear out and the buses and cars to make their way out of school. 

Feeling restless, you made your way to the lesser used side parking lot that was reserved for teachers and any former alumni who knew that if you were picking someone up there’d be less traffic. Under the awning, you were taking just a moment to get some fresh air and enjoy the stronger gusts of wind after a day of stale school air. You doubt you and Eddie would be able to sneak off anywhere to hide inside the school, and you didn’t want to assume that he’d want to anyway. 

Amidst the sound of the rain, a faint sound of wheels on concrete drew your attention. Zack, the skater from your science class, was sitting by the payphone rolling his skateboard back and forth as he stared out into the parking lot. 

“Payphone eat your quarter again?” You asked, walking over and leaning against the wall next to him. 

Zack looked up, recognition crossing his face and he shook his dirty blond hair. “Nah, not this time. Just waiting for my older brother to come and pick me up. Can’t board in this storm.” 

“I think it’d be surfing at this point.” You nodded, watching deep puddles start to form in the parking lot. 

“Heh, no kidding.” 

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you for a moment before a car pulled up in front of you. Instead of Zack running to hop in, the driver hopped out and hurried under the awning while the car was idling. 

Zack’s older brother looked strikingly like him, but with much longer hair and thick glasses. Under his denim coat he was wearing an ADCD t-shirt and an old faded pair of jeans. He took off his glasses and used his shirt to wipe off the rain. 

“Dude, get back in the car I wanna go home.” Zack groaned. 

“In due time, young one.” His brother patted him on the head, condescendingly. “I have a side-quest that I must complete before we go.” 

Why was this guy talking like Eddie?

“You there, what is your name?” He said, looking at you. 

You stuttered out your name, not expecting to be acknowledged. 

“What is your quest?” 

Quest? Why did this sound familiar? And why did you feel like you were being tested? 

“To just- fuckin’ survive.” That was the only thing you could think of at the moment. 

He smirked and pushed up his glasses.

“And what is the airspeed velocity of a swallow?” 

Oh fucking hell, you were caught up now on what he was doing. 

“African or European?”

The smirk on his face morphed into a genuine smile, and he offered his hand. “Good answer. I’m Kenny, Zack’s brother.”

“Can you stop being weird around all my friends?” Zack groaned as you shook Kenny’s hand. You and Zack were friends?

“How else am I supposed to know you keep good company?” Kenny shrugged. 

“I do have a real question for you, because my brother is useless-” 

“Hey!”

“Do you know where I could find one Relgar, the half-orc?” 

“Could you please talk like a normal person, dude?” 

You had no idea who the fuck Kenny was talking about, but you could narrow it down. 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, but Hellfire Club meets on Fridays.” you said. 

Kenny seemed to light up more. “Excellent! It’s Tuesday so I have no reason to be here any longer. I wanted to drop something off if he was still around.”

“Thank god.” Zack muttered. 

“Which one is Relgar?” Curiosity killed the cat-

“Nowadays he is known as the most sadistic Dungeon Master that has ever dared to run a game in Hawkins.” Kenny said. “But in school he just goes by Eddie.” 

-But satisfaction brought it back. “Munson? I’m actually about to see him. I can deliver it.”

“Are you in Hellfire?” Kenny asked. 

“Not exactly, but I’m going to see Eddie in a second. We have extra credit we have to work on.” You said once again. 

“Extra credit? That doesn’t sound like Eddie.” He looked at you suspiciously. 

“Man, come on, just give her the damn thing so we can go home. You already said she’s cool, and she loaned me a quarter once so I could call you before.” Zack groaned. 

“Well, if Zack says I can trust you then I have no choice. Besides, MacGyver is almost on and I don’t want to miss it.” Kenny pulled a booklet out of his jacket that you recognized as a D&D module and handed it over. “Let’s go.” Zack groaned and hopped into the car, using his board as the worst umbrella in history.

“That better get to Eddie, or I’ll know about it.” Kenny said. 

And that’s when you had to run for your life because you had all of 30 seconds to get your ass to Benson’s classroom. You were panting when you finally dropped down into the desk next to Eddie. 

“Nice of you to join us.” Ms. Benson said dryly. She placed some papers between the two of you. “Look, I am trying to help you both out. You both know what you got on your last test. I’m giving you this chance to try again. Put your desks together, get your books out. You two can work together, it’s open book.” 

“That’s... generous.” you said, looking up at her. 

“I’m tired of seeing adults in high school.” 

“Ouch.” Eddie winced. “And here I thought we were finally getting along.” 

“We'll get along better once you’re gone.” Despite Ms. Benson’s flat tone, there was a hint of a smile on her thin lips. 

Eddie was close. Too close for your comfort, but also not nearly close enough. Eddie had grabbed your desk and pulled it over to his, so that you two were sitting very very close to each other. You had never been so close to him before, and you were sure you were going to get a worse grade now that you could see the details in his heavy rings. 

The space was crowded, and you tried so hard to keep to your own space. The two of you took turns reading the questions, and flipping through the textbook the two of you were sharing. You did everything you could to focus on the make up test. 

It was hard to tell if Eddie’s presence made the test easier or harder the second time around. On one hand, you wanted so badly to not look like a complete idiot in front of him; on the other hand you could feel your brain turn to mush every time his arm brushed against yours. 

Eddie was a leftie, you noticed. 

“At least the vocab section is easy.” Eddie leaned over to look at the glossary, and your brain was threatening nuclear meltdown with how near his voice was. 

You sucked it up, and over the course of the next 30 minutes the two of you managed to cobble together something that had to be a passing grade. 

“Eddie, your handwriting is awful.” you said without thinking, staring at the chicken scratch on his paper. “Even if everything’s right, you can’t pass if she can’t read it.” 

“She can read my writing.” Eddie said, waving you off. “Isn’t that right, Ms. B?”

Ms. Benson didn’t look up from her papers. “I’ve grown accustomed to reading hieroglyphics.” 

You looked over your papers, made Eddie re-write a few words on his test and the two of you finally turned in your tests. 

Ms. Benson put aside what she was working on and immediately graded the tests right in front of you both. She looked at the final grades, then her grade book, and then back at the tests. 

“Good enough.” she declared, and handed them back. There was a B written at the top in red marker. “You’re done here.” 

“Pleasure doing business with you.” said Eddie as he turned to leave the classroom. 

That was it? No Spring Day work? Fine, at least that was over. You followed Eddie, now having a full half hour before your mom was supposed to pick you up. Maybe you’d just hang out in the library until then- 

You lost Eddie. 

You were so lost in your own world that you blinked and the guy vanished from sight. Normally, this would not have been a big deal and you’d simply lament that he was no longer in your vision. However, you had something in your bag that you had promised to give him and you were hardly about to let this opportunity to talk to him again run you by. 

So you picked a direction and hoped that it was the right way. 

Your first instinct was to go to the parking lot where his van would be parked but it was still there. You stood outside for a few minutes, but gave up on waiting when some asshole leaving detention splashed you with his car, leaving your front drenched but your backpack was thankfully dry. 

Fuck everything, you had one job and you’ve already blown it. You did your best to dry yourself off in the bathroom before circling the school three times. You were so pissed, you were wet, your wrist hurt, you didn’t give Eddie his stupid D&D module, and you were ready to just give up.

You tried to tell yourself that there was always tomorrow, but that didn’t bring you much comfort.  

The telltale sound of someone getting slammed into a locker echoed through the hallway. 

Keep your head down, don’t make waves, and just get your diploma and go. Don’t get involved, don’t make friends. You aren’t gonna be here long enough. Besides, you already told yourself that you were giving up today. 

Your feet ignored your brain and you ran towards the sound.

When you turned the corner you found the standoff in one of the less frequented hallways. A basketball player looked like he was ready to throw down while Eddie was picking one of his freshmen up off the ground. You recognized the curly hair and brightly colored shirt, topped with a baseball cap but you didn’t know his name. 

You did know the basketball player, he was in your remedial math and was always talking louder than the teacher. You had no idea what the fuck was going on, and you should probably mind your own damn business but as usual your brain was ignored. 

“Holy shit, Danny! I’m so glad I found you!” you rushed over, putting yourself between him and Eddie. You hoped that being still wet from the rain made you look pathetic enough to distract him from whatever he was pissed out. 

Danny had not anticipated anyone to catch them and he looked at you dumbfounded. Then his eyes drifted down slightly and you resisted every urge to cover your chest. Why the hell did you wear a white shirt today?

Between him glancing down at your chest, and up towards your face in confusion it gave you enough time to think of a lie as to why you were interfering. 

“I- uh-” You faltered, and found yourself shaking. What the hell were you doing?! “I- I forgot the homework!” your voice sounded as if you were in pain. “Please tell me you wrote down the assignment. If I- if I don’t do it then my grade will drop to an F and my mom will actually kill me.” 

Danny opened his mouth a few times like a fish and looked behind you at Eddie and his freshmen. There was still a spark of fire in his eyes. 

“Look, give me a second and I’ll-” 

“Forget about the freaks, I need your help!” Your voice was loud and shrill, and so unfamiliar to you. Anxiety shot through you, and you hated that you had to resort to name calling. There was no way in hell that Eddie would ever want to sneak off with you now for any reason. 

Danny was shocked and just looked behind you, with a resigned expression. “I’ll deal with you later.” he said and ushered you towards his locker. 

Something hot slid down your face as you followed Danny. Oh, fuck it all you were crying. Frustration tears had welled up and were sliding down your face and you wiped them away with a wet sleeve. 

Fuck today. Breaking your wrist at the pep rally wasn’t as humiliating as this. 

Danny finally handed over a torn up piece of paper which had the page number and problems you were supposed to do tonight. 

“Here.” he said, looking at you with pity. 

“Thanks.” you managed to choke out. “I mean it. You’re saving my ass.” 

“Just let me copy your work tomorrow before school and we’ll call it even.” Danny shrugged. 

You had wanted to skip school tomorrow, but now you had no choice. Now you actually had to do these stupid problems as well. 

“Sure.” You stared at the floor in shame. “...What were you doing with those guys anyway?”

“Dipshit freshman pissed me off.” he said. “Had to teach him a lesson, but then the Freak showed up.” 

“Why are you picking a fight with a freshman so late in the year?” you asked. “If you got caught, all of you probably would have been in big trouble. I heard Mrs. Click stopped Patty Marshall from walking the stage at graduation because she got into a shouting match outside her classroom.” 

This was a big fat lie, but you were willing to do anything to get the basketball team to leave Eddie and his friends alone. 

Danny slammed his locker shut. “Whatever. He’s not worth the effort anyway. You better meet me tomorrow so I can copy your work.”

“Right, right.” you said. “Yeah, I’ll meet you.” 

You hurried out of school, pissed and cold and your stupid eyes were still leaking. Mom was already waiting out front for you as you got into the back seat.

From where you were, you couldn’t see that Eddie was watching you from his van as the storm picked up over Hawkins High.  

Author Notes: If there is one thing you should know about me, it's that any time we get even a tiny bit of Eddie lore I WILL use it in whatever I'm writing. Say hello to Kenny from Rise of Hellfire, the original DM! Next chapter we'll get more from his POV, and you'll have more time to hang out with Eddie very soon!

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[ipegchangbin]

— dawn

🏷️ sub!changbin. dom!reader. oral & handjob (changbin receiving). sensual ass eating. 

There’s nothing to be seen in this darkness. The air is cool, refreshing; it bites your skin in molecular particles. Then, big and warm kisses interrupt the mint of the breeze, peppering your neck in little bits of love, slight reddish marks forming in their wake.

Changbin’s smile ghosts across your naked body and you feel it without seeing it. His spirit is warm and you can sense him, from his eyes down to his heart, even while you’re on top of him while he’s well rested against his bed. The heat pools in his lower half too, and it prods at your body before his erection does.

Maybe it’s from the chill, maybe it’s from the heat.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers. “You’re pretty and you’re mine.” 

You laugh at that and it tickles him. He loves being in love with you. You love being in love with him.

The dawn makes it hard to see, but you have the clearest image of his body. You’ve memorized him. There are no lights except the hints of his silhouette in the slight orange streaks of the setting moon, highlighting the contours of his chiseled shoulders and contrasting soft tummy. And you know that if you reach up, he’ll shiver, as squeezing his pec is something you’ve done one too many times — even in the dark.

His body isn’t all that you’ve learned by hand. You know him well enough that he’ll hold your hand, intertwine your fingers, kiss the back of it, then kiss you ravenously. 

And so it happens. With every swirl of his tongue he eats your soul, as if he operates on this expression of love by design. There’s purity in every bit of love that leaves him and marks you. You’re not any better, you think, as your body reacts the same as it always did whenever he kisses your mouth. You lean further into his touch, your fingers tightening their grip on him. You roll your hips, and he can’t see much of you, but he feels you through the flow of your body.

“My baby’s so needy,” you whisper. He doesn’t contest it, only confirming you with a smile.

His other hand guides your hips, encouraging you to feel his hips too. His plush fingertips reassure you, that he’s familiar skin, that this is what you both have known to love.

Love like this, having sex at dawn with Changbin, isn’t as routine as it sounds. It just happens a lot because you relish in it. It’s his favorite time to do it too. Dawn feels intimate, awaiting the sunrise while feeling you, so who is he to resist?

 But you figure to switch things up.

You break away from the kiss with a flick of your tongue on his bottom lip. It teases him, leaves him lingering for a second longer, only to realize it’s an unfamiliar gesture. That doesn’t bother him — nothing does — but before he gives it any more thought, his brain turns into mush.

Your free hand trails down from his chest down to the middle of his stomach, pliable skin greeting your fingernail, all until your palm finds the dip on his hip area. Then, you work your way downwards, gliding your fingertips in a spider-like crawl towards his thigh.

The fire of his general crotch area is overwhelming. Some of that shoots up to his cheeks and chest, heaving with a warm breath that’s slowly but surely becoming unsteady. He tries to look at you, make sense of what you’re doing, but the bluish-orange tone of the lights reveal nothing but your smirk.

You squeeze his thigh.

Changbin exhales in response, and there’s a nervousness in his shaky breath, but you know that it’s cold anticipation.

Another kiss, initiated by you this time, greets his lips and bids it goodbye too soon. Before he could chase it again, you latch onto his neck, then his collarbone, then the middle of his breasts, then each nipple individually — it’s almost in rapid fire, at least that’s how it feels to him, but you’re actually sosensually slow in your movements.

Writhing slightly, he tries to grab ahold of your shoulders while you peck your way down his body. Your two hands are on the sides of his strong thighs now, squeezing lightly and getting a feel for his instinctive bucking hips. He’s so hard, chubbed up until it’s solid, the short thing twitching right under your chest as your lips make it past his navel.

“Oh fuck. Wow.” He isn’t sure what he’s saying.

All elegance in his words are gone. One of his hands caresses the underside of your chin, urging you to look him in the eye one last time before you do anything worse.

You wink. Changbin reacts immediately, his cock bouncing at that.

Fingers swipe past his skin again in featherlike touches, barely scraping the surface of his body, all before stopping at the base of his penis. Your one hand is still on his thigh, the hard hunk of muscle tensing beneath your palm. You can feel the pulse of his bloodstream panic while you cup one of his balls ever so softly.

Changbin’s private areas are incredibly sensitive, and you know this. Even in sensual moments — ones like these — he’d cry as if you’ve been rough. Right now, he’s tearing up, adorably blinking as you feel him down.

For the lack of better words, he’s just so fat, you think. His cock is short yet incredibly thick, and his balls rival in width. They smell pleasant and he’s well-groomed; you never cared for any visual preferences though, because you can’t see much other than the highlight of slick precum dripping down his tip. 

That, and all you care is if it feels nice. This is better than nice, you always conclude.

But unlike always, you dare to kiss his tip this soon into the night — you engulf the peak of his cock with your lips, but quickly slide down his short shaft to meet his base. There, you continue to kiss, but work your way to his sensitive balls, which twitch at your swift movements.

Moans fill the air as you’re doing this. The morning minty chill flows with his humid, sticky groans, dragged out whispers of your name leaving his throat, pleading for you to be gentle. He trembles slightly, fighting against his body to not close his goddamn legs around your head. You know that he could crush you with his sheer strength.

But what you love the most about him is that he won’t. And you know he won’t, because you’ve miraculously strained him by simply holding his thighs lightly.

No strength at all, yet he’s a puddle of nothing under you.

“I need you,” he pants, “please—fuck!”

He throws his head back onto the pillow, a cold sweat running down his forehead while you surprise him. You suck on his balls, tongue lapping up at the sweetly rounded shape, all before you take him in your mouth. Your cheeks hollow and your spit coats the base of his cock completely. His world spins and he starts feeling hazy.

Kryptonite never felt this fucking addictive.

“If you keep doing this I’ll—”

“Cum? Then cum,” you pause with a pop of your lips off his balls. “I’m not stopping you.”

Changbin lets out a whine akin to a wounded puppy. “But it’s so soon.” His voice is in a pitch too adorably high for his face. 

“You’ll be hard again in seconds, don’t sweat it.”

He only whines again, defeated, knowing that you’re absolutely right. He can’t prove you wrong now though, not when you’re finally putting a hand on his cock, a ring of precum and slight sweat following your fingers as you slowly and gently pump him.

Much to his shock and your delight, your mouth abandons his balls and finds his tight little hole.

Changbin’s chest pumps, his head juts up, and his muscles begin to pop. There’s no shot that you’re doing this so casually, so lovingly. His sweat is cold but he’s warm all over. A fever almost creeps throughout his poor pliant body, surges of heat circling from under his skin as you dip your head to his ass.

The kisses you leave on his hole are as sweet as he tastes. With every pucker of your lips shoots a burn on the entrance, letting him clench and relax cutely against your mouth. It’s so satisfying to you, feeling him, tasting him, and then entering him. You slip the tip of your tongue past his entrance and he invites you warmly. His hole hugs you while he whines and cries and holds onto your head.

You palm the tip of his cock, caging him from an orgasm, delaying it more than he wants as you taste more of him. His walls close in on your tongue as your muscle wiggles through him until all you can sense is Changbin. He’s dripping, you’re drenched, sweat and spit and slick and precum mixing altogether. But you don’t care, neither does he; Changbin simply arches his back, pushing his hips further onto your head, letting you dig deeper and deeper into his hole.

The heat in his core is too much. Nothing stops him anymore, not even your skilled hand working him up. The more riled up he gets, either by your mouth, your hands, or your presence alone — the closer he reaches his peak. He’s crying ever so softly, the pleasure leading him to a new height of ecstacy, and he’s so weak yet his strong muscles wriggle against the sheets: he’s “so fucking close, s-so close,” and—

“Fuck!”

Cum spills out of his cock at the exact same time your lips leave his hole. To his surprise, you opened your mouth to catch his load just in time.

The sun peeks out more now. You can see him more clearly now, see the body you’ve ruined through nothing but gentle love. He puffs, staring at you with glassy eyes, a gaze you could never get tired of. 

Then, he rests his head back on his pillow — now drenched in sweat — and he giggles. You come up to sit on the bed again, resting your legs on his still-trembling thighs, and laugh with him.

Lowering your head, you plant a kiss on his flushed cheek.

“My baby!” Changbin laughs. “What was all that for?”

“Nothing really. I just wanted to eat you, ‘tis all.”

A burst of laughter erupts from the both of you. With the chill of the night leaving, it’s much warmer in the room, bodies blushing against each other while you both process what just transpired.

Except, he’s not exactly done. Changbin’s hard again, just as you said earlier.

He realizes it only a second later, but before embarrassment washes over him, your hand reaches for his sensitive shaft.

“I can do this all morning, you know.”

[slytherinshua]

◍　FALLING DREAMS　( 이석민 )

genre fluff , period comfort , established relationship , seokmin x fem!reader   cw cramps/nausea/headaches/other period stuff mentioned but no blood , not proofread   wc 804   request for @seokminfilm lyr my love this will cure ur cramps 100% (i hope)   note slytherinshua svt fic era WE ARE SO BACK (i'm not actually in an era only for my pookie lyr) ++ listen to falling dreams while reading   net @kstrucknet

You’d been cursed with painful cramps on your periods since you were a teenager. Coupled with nausea, headaches, and soreness, it was safe to say you loathed whenever that week of torture came around. Most people thought you were being dramatic about how much it hurt, even when sometimes it was too hard to even stand up because of the pain. 

The worst was whenever you had to bring up the topic to men. Calling in sick for work became more trouble than it was worth due to your prying boss who was stricter than reason. And God forbid you mentioned your time of the month as a reason for your absence. You’d been laughed at, threatened, and humiliated multiple times to the point that you avoided it at all costs. It was easier to suffer through the pain all day at the office than try to fight your way for a reasonable excused sick day.

But you were lucky that there was at least one reasonable man in your life. Your boyfriend Seokmin took your time of the month more seriously than you sometimes. He was always more than willing to get you anything you needed, and was extra affectionate and loving. Although he didn’t know how it felt to go through the painful cramps, he could imagine just how painful it must be. Seeing you grimace your way through every long day saddened him. He tried his utmost best to make it even a little easier for you.

Which was why now, after a long day at work and several breakdowns throughout the day due to the hormonal rollercoaster your body was riding, you were now lying in bed listening to the soft sound of Seokmin’s singing from the kitchen. He was making your favourite brownies as was tradition. 

It started years ago when you first started dating. You were a bit too shy to ask your boyfriend of only a week to help you with anything relating to the pain. Meanwhile, Seokmin was both confused and concerned on why you kept wincing every few minutes while trying to watch a movie. When he finally coaxed the answer out of you, he was unexpectedly sweet about it all. 

You laugh at the memory now. Of course Seokmin was the sweetest ever when he heard about the pain you were experiencing. It was perfectly in character for him. You soon learned that the attractive man who always made you laugh was also one with the kindest soul you had ever met. You knew from that day that you had chosen right. Seokmin was a dream. 

“Baby, I just put them in the oven, okay? Thirty minutes and they’ll be ready,” Seokmin called as he made his way back to your shared bedroom. A pretty smile graced his face as he caught sight of you wrapped up in the blankets. “How are you feeling now?” 

His soft question made your heart melt a little, and with a gentle hand reaching to brush back your hair, you felt overwhelmed all at once. What did you do to deserve a man as perfect as him?

“Still feels like someone’s stabbing my insides repeatedly, but you’re making it better,” you told him, raking your hand up to meet his, interlacing your fingers together. He frowned slightly at your response, hating to see you in such pain, even if it was a normal thing. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Seokmin’s voice was gentle, soothing to your ears. Whenever you were around him, all the pain you felt seemed to subside, even just a little. His touch was delicate as he pulled you up from the pillows for a hug, squeezing extra tightly when he heard the muffled whimper of pain escape your lips. He knew after years that this is all you needed. A warm hug, comforting words, and delicious fudgy brownies to distract from the pain.

Tender kisses were what came next, the first few pressed to your cheek before he travelled lower to your lips. You giggled with every exaggerated ‘mwah!’ that Seokmin added after every peck, attempting to lift your mood in any way. And it always worked wonders. 

It worked too well, in fact, judging by the whine of protest that left your lips as soon as he stopped kissing you. But he remedied it as quickly as he could, lips falling back onto yours, hands holding your waist gently, cautiously, as if you were in danger of breaking at any additional pressure. To Seokmin, you were the most precious part of his life. He made it quite known with his selflessness and caring towards you. And if you were to ever doubt it, all it took was one bite of brownie to be reminded again.

Seokmin was a dream. And he was all yours.

svt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @cham3li,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @wonwooz1,, @blossominghunnie,, @haecien,, @amara-mars,, @okshu,, @parkjennykim,, @wootify,, @svtoose,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @starshuas,, @raevyng,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees,, @xikskrrrs,, @cupidslovearrows,, @nicholasluvbot

[vanishingstarrs]

pancakes for dinner ( k bakugo x nurse!reader, pro hero era, established relationship, just soft and pure vibes, down bad bakugo aka my boyfie fr, slight smut at the end, NSFW, minors DNI ) ( guysss i’ve been so sick and i’ve been suffering having to work still bc #hispanic we ain’t eva allowed to call out )): i’ve been wanting to write please please please x bakugo but haven’t had the energy, meantime hope y’all enjoy this little fic <3 just wholesome mushy stuff for y’all but then it turned smutty at the end because why not lol also i’m pretty new to writing explicitly so pls lmk how it came out !! idk if i'll do that again lmao we shall see i guess )

You were exhausted.

Mentally and physically.

Work had been a tad overwhelming lately, with extra things being piled onto your already heavy workload after a big merger between two of Japan’s biggest hospitals, which in turn caused a lot of people to be let go. Not only had it been stressful wondering whether you’d make the cut or not after a “re-interview”, but when you learned that you had been accepted you’d also been asked if you could take on a few extra duties.

You had never been one to back down from work, always taking initiative and being happy to help any one of your coworkers that might need it.

Lately though, it seemed every single person needed help. Your coworkers, your patients, and if it wasn’t those two then it was your boss asking if you could help her with management duties that had nothing to do with the extra work you’d been assigned to do on top of everything else.

You were sick and tired.

Your muscles cried out as you pushed your apartment door open and immediately kicked off your shoes, groaning as you bent down in order to place them onto the shoe stand. You were sure you heard your back crack as you stood straight once more to hang your purse and keys.

You didn’t bother unpacking the lunch you never got time to eat, leaving the bag you packed it in tied up and in the fridge before heading into your bedroom and immediately shedding your scrubs. You hated doing skincare, but thought about how dirty your face must be after dealing with so many patients and dragged yourself into the bathroom to get it over with.

By the time you were finished doing everything, your body was begging you to lay down for just a minute.

A little power nap never hurt, you told yourself as you fell onto your bed face first and sighed. You hugged your pillow to your aching body and allowed yourself to relax for just a little while.

Though “a minute” quickly turned into three hours as the sun went down and the night sky pulled you further into dreamland.

You didn’t hear the front door open or close, you didn’t stir when your boyfriend started removing his hero equipment, much less wake when those heavy gauntlets he somehow wore all day hit the floor or when his pounding footsteps carried across the hardwood as he made his way to your shared bedroom to check on you.

You missed the brief smirk on his face as he found you lying on his side of the bed, on your right side with a leg propped up for comfort.

Katsuki knew how hard you’d been working lately with the merger between the two hospitals and how stressed it made you. With him working as a hero, he encountered many people that wound up needing to go to the hospital. On top of that, you also had all the other sick people that hadn’t been involved in some villain attack. You likely dealt and saved more people in a single day than he did in a month, he knew this, he was proud of the fact, actually, and incredibly proud of you.

He was damn lucky to have you.

And for all these reasons, he was happy to see you rest for a bit.

He’d often come home late and find that you’d already done all the cleaning around the house, as well as meal prep for both you and him, and still found the time to bake desert on top of making him dinner. You went above and beyond in all aspects of your life, often even calling and checking up on his parents when he hadn’t done so in too long. He’d receive texts from his mother scolding him and making sure he was taking good care of you the way she knew you did him, he swore you were the favorite and he understood why you were.

Everyone loved you.

He adored you.

Except he hadn’t been doing his part as well as he should be lately.

And so, while you slept, he quietly changed into some loungewear before carefully shutting the bedroom door closed behind him.

He tried his hardest to be quiet as he went around cleaning up throughout the house, he swept, he steam mopped the floors (and prayed he didn’t miss a spot), he did your laundry, took your work shoes and scrubbed them clean for your next workday, he took your old lunch and tossed it out before setting to work on preparing you something delicious for tomorrow.

Being in the kitchen was actually soothing for him, he liked being able to experiment with recipes and different things for you to try. He hated that he hadn’t made the time to recently. He cooked enough dinner to pack lunch for both you and him, then last minutely decided that you’d definitely want something sweet when you woke up and pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes from scratch.

You liked it best when you had pancakes for dinner, not breakfast.

He was extremely pleased when they turned out light and fluffy just the way you liked them and he set out to cut up some fruit for you to put on top, making sure everything was ready before heading back to your shared room.

Katsuki was less quiet this time around, as he slid into bed next to you. He propped himself up on his elbow as he buried his fingers into your hair and gently scratched your scalp.

You were exhausted, and likely wouldn’t have woken up if not for him leaning over and placing kisses from your neck all the way up to your ear. You felt his hot breath as he whispered for you to please wake up, which made you groan softly.

You’d yet to open your eyes, but who else would it be? You asked,“Katsuki?”

“Made you food, baby, c’mon, I saw you didn’t eat your lunch, you gotta put somethin’ in your belly.” He explained as he removed his hand from your hair and lifted the material of your shirt to rub up and down your stomach, you felt him inch closer to your chest before stopping himself and tugging your tank top back down to your waist.

You turned toward him, quickly finding the divet in between his shoulder and neck to plant your face in. You were barely awake, not really comprehending what he was trying to say.

“Missed you.” You relaxed further into him.

“Missed you so much, sweets.” You felt him kiss your forehead,“Hate to pull you from bed, but you really gotta open your eyes for me.”

You did as he asked, smiling as his face came into view, lit up by the soft light streaming in from the hallway. “Hi, honey.” You managed to get out as he smushed your cheeks (cuteness aggression) and placed three kisses onto your nose.

You grinned as he said hi back and repeated that he’d cooked for you.

You beamed, you hadn’t had his cooking in a while, but didn’t exactly make a move to get up from bed. It wasn’t until he revealed that he’d made you pancakes, that had you up in seconds.

He chuckled as he followed you down the hall, lightly smacking your butt as you happily made your way through the apartment. You turned to him with surprise,“You cleaned too?”

“Course.” He scoffed as he tugged on your hand and sat you down at your small table that sat four people max. “I’d do it more if you didn’t always beat me to everything, I was thinking I should be doing a bit more around here anyway.”

“I can handle it.” You said, like always.

He rolled his eyes as he brought over the plate he’d prepared for you.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, I’m just saying you don’t have to give a hundred percent every day, you know? You could give me thirty and I��d be more than happy to give the remaining seventy.” He began to explain,“I wanna take care of you too, and that starts by you not doing everything.”

You silently watched him cut up your pancakes before placing some fruit onto them and drizzling maple syrup all over, he gave you tea to drink and pulled his chair closer to you while you ate.

He ran his fingers through your hair again as you told him all about your day before asking about his and what time he’d gotten home. He let you feed him a couple bites of food and you snagged a few extra kisses each time you lied and told him he had syrup on his face.

When you finished, he asked if you’d like a bit of real food, claiming he wanted you nice and full. You agreed, happy to eat what he’d prepared.

You were less tired now, satisfied with your belly full and sitting with your lover as he recalled a story about retrieving someone’s lost kitten in a tree. You laughed at the classic save and felt your mental load becoming lighter the more the minutes went on.

After eating, the pampering continued.

Katsuki demanded you allow him to run you a bath, and he quickly made the bathroom up with a few candles. He set up a movie for you to watch on your laptop as he came into the room with you and offered to wash your hair. You requested he get in with you then, and he obliged quickly, taking his time when it came to massaging his hands through your hair and pressing kisses against your back at every opportunity. He held you against his chest as you relaxed into him.

You honestly started to get sleepy again.

And then it was ripped away from you once more as Katsuki led you to bed, not to sleep, but to have you spread out against the mattress for him to plaster his tongue against you and demand he get his dinner now.

“Wanna take care of you.” He’d said.

He quickly had you squirming and writhing underneath his touch and the feel of his fingers inside as he worked you until completion. He sung you praises about how hard you’d been working lately, telling you how you deserved this and more, as well as making sure you knew how good you always did for him.

“One more, baby.” He begged.

One more turned into two then three, and by the time he finally lined himself up to your entrance you were spent. He worshipped your body, kneading your breasts and holding one of your hands back so you couldn’t hide how flushed your face had become from not just his compliments, but from the way he fucked you.

“Katsuki,” You moaned,“Close.” Again.

“Cum with me, baby, please.”

The movement of his hips was starting to get sloppy, but neither of you noticed through the haze. He whined in your ear as you latched onto his back with your hands and wrapped your legs around his waist, your walls squeezed him and he moaned one last time as he got lost in euphoria. He didn’t make a move to remove himself as he pressed his sweaty forehead against your own and kissed your cheek and then your neck and then your collarbone, making a line all the way down to your bellybutton.

He occupied himself with making sure you stayed awake despite your eyes being closed as you attempted to catch your breath, he sucked hard enough to leave a few marks along your chest and before you knew it you started to feel him become hard inside of you again.

Your eyes snapped open as you gave him a look.

Katsuki smirked as he rubbed your hip and stole your mouth briefly,“Gotta make sure you’re nice and full, baby, one more time f’me, please?”

“You’re insatiable.” You told him.

And yet, how could you say no to him when he looked at you that way?

It was a good thing you’d taken that nap earlier, especially now that your body would soon be aching for a different reason.

[heretherebeturtles-comic]

Hello! Many people have said this but ill say it too, I LOVE YOUR COMIC SO MUCH ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

I really wanted to ask you about how you do the backgrounds? (Something i struggle with) whats the process? Like from start to finish, also, to do the rise backgrounds do you use reference from the show and generally real photo of ny? Or do you come up with them? And last question- The shadow and light on the background- Like HOW

i know it’s a lot of questions but i’m just so curious qwq and wanna learn to be better, thank you again in case you read this and respond, in case you don’t, i hope you have a nice day and a wonderful life uwu keep up the great work! (≧◡≦) ♡

Backgrounds are a really broad subject and I'm always a little overwhelmed when asked this question. Just like drawing the human body, backgrounds take time, repetition, and practice!

My answer got a bit long, so it's going under a read more :) but if you digest info better in video format I found this on youtube

It pretty much goes over everything I wanted to say, but in a much better way. I wish I had found it before writing all this out lol

ok, first of all, I'm not a teacher nor was I built to be one of those cool helpful art tutorial people who do a full coloured tutorial filled with illustrations. This is just going to be a messy "how I do backgrounds / environment layouts from start to finish." kinda thing.

... lets start with a sight tangent.

Sketch from Life!!!

If you want to get better at backgrounds I recommend doing some sketching out in the real world!

When I was first getting into doing backgrounds I went to cafes and parks to just sketch the buildings and objects. Sketch rocks, flowers, clumps of grass, garbage cans, bottles, tables, street signs, etc. If you are drawing a tree observe how the trunks twist, how the bark flows, or how the leaves are bunched.

If you can't leave the house the same still applies! Sketch the interiors of your house, the walls, or common objects like chairs and bookshelves. How are objects stacked? items on the floor?

If you aren't comfortable with drawing outside or in public you can take some photos to draw from! They are good for practice and you can use them again as references later. Alternatively you can find pictures online of buildings and objects to sketch as practice.

All spaces have objects in them, it becomes easier to draw those kinds of spaces when you already have spent time observing and sketching them.

ALSO! They don't have to be good sketches! It's just to build out your mental catalogue and strengthen your perception of perspective.

now the actual thing...

BACKGROUNDS

(the pictures used for this are my own. I dug them out of my 2022 folder)

Backgrounds have slightly different rules based on what you are making them for. Videogame Environment Concept Art vs Animation Layouts vs Comic Backgrounds vs Illustration backgrounds.

They all follow the same basics, which I will go over here, but the intention and function of those designs are going to be different. It's all about how you set up the scene and what it's purpose is!

Brainstorming and Thumbnailing

I like to think about a location as though it is a character. An abandoned old house with creaky sagging floorboards is very different from a futuristic space ship with sharp metal floor panels. A gas station has a very different feeling from a library.

I usually start by asking what is this location's story? Why was it built and for what purpose? What kinds of things does this room need to fulfill that purpose? You don’t need solid answers, but its good to be thinking about it while you are working.

Next, sketch some ideas for how this place is going to look. For me, this usually involves drawing the idea from multiple angles and then making lists & small sketches of the objects I think should be filling the space.

Example: The main character of my original work is a Wanderer. They collect a lot of things on their travels, but those items have to be small enough to be easily carried in a backpack. I wanted his room to be in the corner of an attic, walled off by curtains, and filled with trinkets. You can see some of my brainstorming above.

References

I only look for references after I've done some sketching and planning; this is to solidify my idea first so that I don't accidentally copy anyone else's work. I will make a moodboard with pictures of lighting, colours, items, rooms with specific ceiling beams, old chairs, etc. basically whatever I feel fits the vibe.

Honestly, I don't use references as much as I should. For ROTTMNT fanart I look at backgrounds and screenshots from the series to study the style. I also reference actual photos of NYC to get a feel for how Rise condenses the visual information.

In general, it's good to have references of real life objects/locations, because there are so many details like cracks in pavement, stickers on polls, crowning on buildings, fancy fencing, weird chair legs, etc. that you might not think of. It's the imperfect details that can make a location feel more alive.

Perspective

Once you have your chosen sketch we move to.... the infamous perspective boxes. Doing backgrounds is just learning to be comfortable drawing So Many boxes and carving items out of them.

Many better artists than myself have made videos on perspective, vanishing points, and all the technical bits. Videos like THIS ONE and THIS ONE are helpful (this post is great too!!). There are probably a lot of classes to be found on Skillshare or Schoolism. I learned a lot of this in my college art course, so I can't give you a specific video which helped me.

You can get by and be a good artist without learning this stuff. There are quite a few successful artists who have admitted they never bothered to learn perspective (one of these people even made a whole graphic novel series).

I personally avoided properly learning this stuff until I was in my 20s because I thought it would be boring and difficult to do. tbh I really wish I had learned it earlier because it's so much fun to make those silly little boxes imo. It looks scary and complicated but, just like drawing humans, it just takes time, repetition, and practice to develop the knowledge and skills.

Cleanup

You have your boxes and lines! Cool! Now to make a scene out of it. Fill in the details, get everything placed were you want it! Generally, the lines of each item will point back towards the horizon line, but they can have different perspective points.

Generally you would want to clean it up and get your room completely sketched before doing the lineart. I tend to combine the steps (not recommended)

Lineart

I've mentioned how I do this before. Closer objects have thicker lines and more detailed inside. Further objects have thinner lines and less detail. I didn't quite achieve that balance with the image below, but it's close enough.

Colours and Shading will have to be a separate post. In the meantime, I highly recommend the book "Color and Light" by James Gurney. I used to borrow it from my local library and a good chunk of my knowledge was learned from it :)

[thatartsyej]

I’m bored at work rn so imma just drop some hc for Toby LMAOOOO

(This is more based in my au btw lol)

Ticci Toby Headcanons

- Very big guy, like big big. As an adult stands at 6ft 4inches (193.04 cm ) and 185 lbs (83.92 kg)

- Used to be pretty scrawny as a teenager but gained some weight as he got older thanks to Brian and Tim borderline forcing this guy to eat

- Still a skinnier guy but definitely got some weight to him.

- Pretty much one of those guys who doesn’t LOOK like he’d be that strong only for him to be able to actually throw another person if he wanted to LMAOOO

- Dudes arm strength is insane. But when you you’ve been throwing around hatchets and axes since 17 that’s to be expected.

- But no seriously dude could throw you and has definitely thrown people before

- When he first became a proxy though Toby actually struggled a bit with the whole killing thing. Not cause of the morality issue but more so because dude was an anxious mess.

- Toby was ,,,,, a bit awkward to say the least. Was very wary of everyone and everything. Didn’t trust Tim and Brian. Honestly was slightly scared of them

- Would freeze up sometimes during his first missions because he would get so overwhelmed with everything going on.

- Finally put actual effort in to getting better at fighting after Tim told him straight up if he couldn’t take care of missions successfully, the operator would kill him.

- Brian gave him the advice that it’s easier to do it if he just took all his pent up anger out while doing missions.

- Yeaaaa he definitely took that shit to heart bc when the next mission came around? Oh boy

- Safe to say he realized that he isn’t a little kid who couldn’t defend himself anymore. That he is the one people were afraid of now.

- And boooyyy did that feel great

- When it came to actually completing his first mission on his own he was a nervous wreck. Took Brian an hour to calm him down. For the first year or so he had Tim and Brian to fall back on when things got tough, now it was gonna be just him though.

- “What happens I- if I fuck it up?”

“You won’t “

“ but what if I do?”

“Toby just go do the damn job. You’ll be fine”

- He did do good, a little too good actually. Soon Toby would have more successful missions than he did failed ones. And was a lot more confident in himself than before.

- Which made Slender’s interest in him peak. Whether that’s good or bad depends on who you ask.

-Nowadays he usually will stick around whatever area Masky and Hoodie is in but will still go off on his own.

- Hates being away from them for long. They’re kind of the only “positive” father figures he’s had his entire life, but would rather jump into oncoming traffic than admit that.

- Still an anxious person, has just learned how to conceal it very well.

- Personality wise, it can really vary what version of Toby you get depending on what the situation is.

-If you’re a fellow proxy, Toby can be fairly laid back, hyper even. Likes to hang out with Kate and Rouge when they’re around. Will do whatever with the others, he’s just happy to tag along.

- If you’re someone he doesn’t like, he is quite insufferable lol. Will purposely go out of his way to antagonize you and pick on you.

-Will also call you the wrong name on purpose. Sometimes it’s not even close to what your name is, he just thinks it’s the funniest thing ever.

- If you’re a target? R.I.P

- Will not say a word. Nothing at all just stares you down silently.

- He’ll just watch you for a long time before he actually makes his move. Will just ever so slightly move things in your place when you’re not there. Maybe the photo on the wall is slightly crooked, or a favorite item of yours is missing.

- just little things that you might not notice right away, but when you do you think “huh that’s weird”

- then it escalates to windows/doors being slightly ajar, unlocked or even just straight up opened all the way.

- He wants you to be nervous. The more scared you are, the less able you are to think clearly.

- You hear him before you actually see him. The small sound of bones popping and quiet grunts and swear words

-Then you see him

- Whether it’s at the end of your hallway, the corner of your room, or in the woods.

- He stands there for a moment, not moving an inch besides the occasional tic

- At this point there’s nothing you can do. You can’t outrun him and you sure as fuck can’t out power him. You’ll still try and like all the others, fail.

- There is a small blessing tho, and that is that your death will usually be quick.

- Toby is not one for torture. Not very good at keeping people alive long enough for that but better believe he can sure as hell make it hurt

- Definitely enjoys it a lot more than he is willing to admit. Not that he would need to admit it everybody knows

- When he’s not working or hanging out with others, he tries to find anything else to distract himself. He’s actually quite good at drawing, but gets frustrated with it when his tics mess him up

- Will also just go on walks. And not just short lil ones either this man will go missing for HOURS

- Made Tim and Brian panic at first when he started doing that but eventually just accepted he’ll come back at some point.

- Absolutely will smoke weed to chill out as well too. It helps with his nerves and tics. Also helps when he is having manic/ depressive episodes.

- Just does anything to preoccupy himself. He hates doing nothing because then all he has is his thoughts which never leads anywhere good

[artistsfuneral]

lol I promise I’m not her!

How about uh… you know when someone has long hair? Beauty and the beast style, kiss their hair and say something unintentionally lovely, and then realizing uh, that wasn’t very platonic of me, was it?

Oddly specific asks, I got them 😂🙈🥰

You can tell by the first line just how long this has been in my ask box 👉👈 oops?

tags: Lambert/Aiden, pure fluff, hair braiding

Late in the evening, Lambert watched Aiden struggle with his hair from across the campfire. The sun had already vanished behind the tall tree tops, leaving the forest around them in the shadows. As a result, the flickering flame of their campfire was the only light scource around and Aiden's dark skin was bathed in a golden, almost ethernal light. He looked unbelievably pretty and there was nothing Lambert could do about it but stare at him dumbly.

Stare and silently watch him struggle with his long, dark waves. Under normal circumstances, Aiden would have long since braided his hair into a complicated wreath that settled around his head like a crown, but hours earlier the two of them had gotten into a fight with a group of mountain bandits, in which Aiden had sprained his wrist - already weak from an old injury - in a way potions couldn't fix. So Lambert watched as the cat grew more and more frustrated with his terrible, one-handed attempts at his usual braid, hoping that he'd somehow find the courage to do help.

In the end it was Aiden's short temper that made him act. When yet another attempt failed, the cat let out a loud sound, full of overwhelming frustration and the tired desperation that had built up over the last hour or so. Tears sprung into his pale green eyes and Lambert needed a moment to remind himself that Aiden was not actually hurt, that it simple were Aiden's mutagenes kicking in, making him "feel big emotions over little things". Even so, the wolf found himself unable to watch any longer.

Walking around the fire, Lambert sat down behind Aiden and forced the comb out of his hands. "What the fuck?! Piss off, Lambert," Aiden protested, angrily wiping the tears from his face. "Shut up. I'm being nice to you."

"You are?"

"I am. Now sit still!" Flustered by their close proximity - even though it was Lambert who made the decision to walk over, it still feels like a sudden change - the wolf grumbled and growled under his breath. Yet his hands were gentle as they combed through Aiden's locks. Sectioning hair into equal parts, he let his muscle memory take over. As soon as Aiden understood what was going on, he asked full of astonishment, "You can braid?"

Lambert huffed out a breath, fingers gliding through the cat's hair, picking up strands, layering them, over and under and over again in a pattern all too familiar to him, while holding the rest securely between his free fingers and the palm of his hand. "Of course I can braid."

"Of course? Lambert, there's no "of course" about this. Why the fuck do you know how to braid?" Aiden demanded to know. "I grew up with three older sisters. Most witchers of my school wear their hair long. I have a twelve year old niece. My best friend's hair is long enough to reach the middle of his back," he replied, the last sentence coming out quieter than the others. Aiden didn't need to know that he spent hours upon hours learning how to braid all of the cat's favorite hairstyles. Just in case that knowledge would ever be needed. His brothers had laughed at him, called him a lovesick fool, but now the just-in-case scenario was happening and Lambert could confidently wrap Aiden's long wavy hair into a braided crown and secure it in place with the ribbon he snatched out of Aiden's hands.

Proud of his work, he squeezed the cat's shoulders to signal that he was done, then gently patted over the intricate braid. "There, you're perfect."

Before he realized how much his voice had given away the love he felt for Aiden, he had already placed a gentle kiss on top of his head.

Aiden's head shot around in an instant and his eyes, wide open and searching, found Lambert's panicked ones. A single breath escaped Aiden's lips as he realized.

"Oh."