#at least do it over the toilet!!! jesus christ

[tecchan]

Local cis man starts having periods and loses his fucking mind

[falling-endlessly]

Boomerang (part 2)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: After being faced with a dilemma, Vox tries a new approach to get you back. All hell breaks loose.

<—Part 1 Chapter Index Part 3—>

"You're shitting me right now," Velvette's eye twitched as she stared at the snoring TV demon sprawled across your bed. "For fuck's sake, what am I? A babysitter?"

"At least he's knocked out," you crossed your arms, raising a brow. "You won't have to listen him try and tell you that he lost his hat, only to realize it was on his head the whole time, and then start crying because he forgot he owned such a cool hat."

Velvette smacked her forehead audibly, dragging the hand down her face. "Jesus Christ," she hissed under her breath, before glaring at you in irritation. "You know, none of this would have happened if you hadn't left, right?"

"Vel," you said tiredly, rubbing your temples.

"Do you know how fucking annoying it is to hear him bitch all goddamn day about you?" She growled, waving her hands around aggressively. "I'm this close," she held her fingers a millimeter apart. "To pouring water all over his monitors. This. Close."

"Vel—"

"And then there's Valentino, who's also in a fucking mood. You know what? Forget about the water. I'm going to shoot both of them in the—"

"Velvette!" You raised your voice, making her grit her teeth. "I'm not coming back. He made his choice," you glanced at the demon in question, currently drooling all over your pillow. "It's not my problem anymore."

"Is that what you think?" She snapped, crossing her arms. "That you can just, what, leave your shit in a mess and walk out? Sorry to burst your bubble bitch, but you aren't fucking Cinderella. Things aren't just going to magically work out if you hide from them."

"I'm not hiding—"

"Bullshit!" She growled.

Your jaw set tightly as you both stood in a tense silence, glaring at each other.

After a few seconds, you sighed, shaking your head. "He already knows what he has to do if he wants to fix this," you said firmly. "I'm not going to change my mind."

Velvette pressed her lips together, before letting out an irritated breath. "Always fucking cleaning up everyone else's messes," she muttered angrily under her breath as she roughly hoisted Vox's limp body over her shoulder. "I'm going to kill him. Pathetic piece of shit—keep up a good image my ass."

She was almost out of the window when you called out, "Vel."

Velvette turned to give you an annoyed what now look over her shoulder, scowling impatiently.

"Thanks," you said sincerely.

She didn't answer you, instead turning and vaulting herself out of the window, disappearing from sight.

****

Vox woke up feeling like his screen was being forcibly bent in half. "What the ungodly fuck?" he whimpered, grabbing fistfuls of his sweaty bed sheets as he tried to control his breathing.

His stomach roiled ominously, making him gag. "Nope, nope. Not here," he stumbled out of bed, staggering to his attached bathroom like a desperate zombie and nearly running face first into the wall.

Vox dropped to his knees, flipping open the toilet lid and shooting out an unholy amount of chunks.

"What the—ugh, holy shit!" Velvette coughed from the doorway, shielding her face. "God, that smells worse than that skit when Angel got shat on."

Fuck you, he wanted to say. What the fuck are you doing in my bathroom?

But instead what came out was: "FUghhhuckk!"

Velvette watched him, unimpressed and disgusted. "You're an idiot."

"Not. Helping." Vox growled miserably, screen flickering as he gripped the edges of the toilet bowl.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Velvette jeered unsympathetically. "Who dragged your pathetic drunk ass back here last night? Oh, that's right!" She snapped her fingers in a mock eureka! moment. "I did. How about a little gratitude?"

Vox lifted a weak, trembling hand and flipped her off.

Velvette rolled her eyes. "Ungrateful bitch," she muttered under her breath.

Vox heaved loudly into the toilet, making her cringe. Gross. She grabbed the hand towel off of the rack, before throwing it at his head. It landed on the top of his monitor, hanging off the corner, before he grabbed it and sluggishly wiped his mouth. "I th-think I'm sh-short circuiting," he groaned, gripping his head in pain.

"You'll be fine," Velvette closed her eyes in frustration, but internally her thoughts took a different turn. She hadn't seen Vox this fucked up in ages. Val maybe. But not Vox. He cared way too much about his public image. This erratic behavior was very, very unlike him, and it was starting to become...concerning.

"What happened?" Vox coughed, leaning his monitor weakly against his forearms. The last thing he remembered was the fight with Val, and then—a garden...? The hell?

"Well, apparently, your dumbass thought it was a good idea to pay Y/n a visit—" Vox froze at the sound of your name "—to personally deliver her flowers at three in the morning. Then you cried about your stupid hat, passed out in her room, and she called me to pick you up like an incompetent child. The end."

By the end of her rant, Vox's expression looked even more pained, if that was even possible. "Shitttt," he moaned, curling in on himself. "Fuck. Shit. Fuck."

He looked so pathetic and distraught that Velvette almost felt bad for him. Almost.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were Vox's labored breaths and Velvette's judgmental stare. The silence was starting to border on stifling when Vox finally broke it.

"Did she like it?" He asked quietly.

"What?" Velvette scowled, crossing her arms.

"The roses," he continued, making her raise a brow. So he did remember buying the flowers then, she never told him what kind they were. "Did she like them?"

She was about to dismiss it when a sudden memory struck her, making her pause. "She kept them. In a vase on her night stand."

Vox slowly lifted his head, a warmth (not bile this time) blooming in his chest. You kept them. Even though he'd made a fool out of himself and probably ruined your night. And you didn't kick him out, either.

You still care, he realized, with a fragile, growing hope.

And that meant—he had a chance. Not baseless hope this time, an actual, legitimate chance to win you back. A slow, goofy grin started to climb his face.

"What—what the fuck? What's with the idiotic look on your face?" Velvette cringed away, disturbed. Then realization hit her as her eyes rolled skyward. "You're going to do something incredibly stupid, aren't you?"

"Maybe," he grinned, before another bout of nausea hit him, making him retch violently into the bowl.

"Idiot," Velvette reiterated.

****

"Oh, hell no," you heard Vaggie say, making you glance up. The moth demon looked incredibly hostile, spear pointed at whoever was at the door.

Concerned, you lifted from the lounge chair you were seated in, taking a few steps towards them, only for a firm hand to land on your shoulder.

"Toots," Angel Dust laughed nervously, moving to block the scene with his body. "Maybe you should let the others sort this one out, yeah?"

"Angel, I know I don't look like much, but I'm an overlord," you raised a brow, peeling his hand off of your shoulder with ease. "I can probably help."

"Shit! Wait, you're not going to like this," Angel groaned under his breath, but it was too late. You'd already seen him.

Vox caught your eye, a charming smile quirking his mouth. "Hey, doll."

Your fists curled by your sides, eyes flashing dangerously as you started to dematerialize, glowing green code dancing along your skin. You glitched out, growing substantially in stature as your mouth distended horrifically.

"Ohhh shit," Angel cursed, taking cover behind the bar counter.

"What's wrong?" Charlie's confused voice came from the stairwell, only to gasp at your demonic form, glitching horribly as your voice raged like gravelly static. It almost sounded like there was another, deeper voice speaking in tandem with yours.

"Woah!" She bolted to the scene, catching sight of a pale Vox, shocked Vaggie, and gaping Niffty. Husk, Pentious and Angel had done the smart thing and taken cover behind the bar.

"Y/n," she smiled placatingly, raising her hands in a show of non-aggression. "What's going on?"

"Gonna kill him," you spat, making everyone wince. "Can't have one goddamn moment to myself without this fucker appearing like a fucking genital wart—"

 "Hey," Vox laughed nervously. "I'm not here for any of that, I promise. Just—sweetheart—could you maybe not hover over me like that—"

"O-kay Y/n," Charlie stepped between the two of you. "Maybe just calm down, take a few deep breaths, and let's hear him out."

"Charlie, he blew up the hotel two days ago," Vaggie hissed through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, well, so did Pentious," Charlie raised a brow, wincing at said demon's faint protest.

"Pentious blew a hole in the wall," Vaggie argued. "This guy blew up half of the building!"

"Charlie!" Angel yelled, voice strained. "Do something before we all die!"

"Alastor's going to kill him," Niffty said cheerfully.

"I'll kill him first."

"Guys—" Charlie pleaded.

"I'm here for redemption!" Vox's voice cut through the air, making everyone freeze. It even shocked you out of your demonic form, the glowing code disappearing as you shrunk to normal proportions.

"You what?" you snapped.

"I want to...make things right," he glanced at you, making you grit your teeth and turn away. "I'm not here to cause trouble I swear—"

The door slammed in his face, cutting him off.

"Charlie," Alastor grinned, finally pulled from wherever the hell he'd fucked off to in his free time. "Tell me you're not thinking of letting this mongrel stay, are you?"

"What is this?" Vaggie hissed, dropping her head in her hands. "Overlord central?"

Charlie looked down, pursing her lips. "Well, it would be wrong of us to refuse anyone. It is open to everyone, after all."

"Think of Y/n!" Alastor said desperately, smile twitching as he clasped his hands on your shoulders, holding you out like some sort of charity case. You gave him an unimpressed look. "It's obvious he's only here to harass her!"

"And what were you here for again?" Charlie raised a brow. "To see demons trip and tumble down into the fiery pit of failure," she deepened her voice to imitate his, making him let out a screech of radio feedback.

"Look, I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself," you said, disgruntled as you shrugged off Alastor's uncomfortably tightening grip. "Charlie, do what you want. But I can't promise I won't kill him."

You were starting to accept the fact that there was nowhere in hell you could possibly go to escape your ex if he didn't wish it. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t put up a fight, though.

"Oh fuck," Angel dragged a hand down in face. He already knew what Charlie was going to decide. "Shoulda fuckin' stayed over with Cherri."

Charlie took a deep breath, and despite everyone's silent pleas, reached for the door handle and twisted it open. Vox perked up, turning towards her attentively.

"Welcome to Hazbin Hotel!" She attempted an awkward, welcoming smile.

****

<—Part 1 Chapter Index Part 3—>

Taglist: @pooplyface1423 @spookysisters @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @neito327 @hxzbinwrites @coleisyn @bababahannah

[pepsiconcoction]

Bathroom Breakdown | Bang Chan x Reader

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

tags: insecurity, comfort, fluff, chan is so sweet y'all, minor explicit language

requested? nope, this was all me baybee!

wc: 1,450

If you had to say, getting in your own head was probably your strongest skill. You do it a lot, more than most people, but the funniest thing is, you don’t even realise you’re doing it half of the time. The thoughts in your head are so common that you truly believe them now, they’re just facts!

The recent topic of discussion inside your brain has been your love life. Specifically, your wonderful boyfriend, Chan. He really is wonderful, he’s kind, generous, funny, smart, and handsome as hell. You consider yourself lucky to be his girlfriend for the past six months. Insecurity has been slowly eating you recently, gnawing at you in the back of your head. You know everything that it’s saying is wrong, and that he loves you, and he’s lucky to have you too, but there’s just something convincing you he’s lying, that one day he is going to turn around and decide to leave.

Sniffling, you fold up a wad of toilet paper and bring it to your face, wiping your eyes one last time. You throw it into the toilet from your place on the cold tile floor and grab onto the edge of the sink to help hoist yourself up. You see your reflection in the mirror and let out a long, shaky breath. You were seemingly done crying, using the last 45 minutes as a good release, and your legs wobbled as you stood. 

You turned on the tap, feeling the cool water on your fingers. Gathering some water in your hands, you bring the coolness up to your face, gently pressing your face, and massaging around your eyes, attempting to wrangle the puffiness of your post-sob face. The cold water was refreshing and helped to bring you back to reality.

A few minutes later you were ready to face the world again, the world inside your apartment at least. Unlocking the bathroom door, you take one final deep breath. You swing the door open and nearly scream. There, leaning against the wall opposite, is Chan. 

“Jesus Christ.” You clutch your chest.

“Sorry, I did text you but,” he trails off. Oh, right. You didn’t have your phone on you, you had left it in the living room.

“Oh, sorry, yeah, it’s in the other room. How long have you been here?” You ask. He must have let himself in with the spare key you had given him.

“Uh, not long, maybe 15 minutes?” He stands up, awkwardly. You think he’s lying to save you the embarrassment.

“Oh,” you say, neither of you really knowing where to go with this.

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Are you okay?”

You speak at the same time. Your eyes widen at his question, and you think for a second that you look like a deer in headlights.

“Ah, yeah, I got a free evening so thought I’d come over,” he explains. “But maybe I should’ve waited for a response.”

“No it’s okay, I was just, thinking too much.” You don’t know what to say. He opens his arms and you fall into them, wrapping around you gently.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He speaks softly into your hair.

“I think I’d cry again.”

“That’s okay, you’re allowed to cry.”

You take a deep breath hearing his words and you feel everything coming back.

“Hey, let’s get you somewhere comfy first, sofa or bed?” 

“Bed,” you mumble into his chest. He’s wearing a soft, black hoodie that smells just like him, the scent of his cologne faintly clinging to the material. With ease, he guides you to your bedroom, and you get into the safety of your covers. He excuses himself for a second, and leaves the room, returning a few minutes later with a few things. Your phone is one of them, your heart crying a little as you read his texts from earlier on the lock screen. He climbs into bed next to you and gets comfy. You keep him at a distance, thinking it would be better to put space between yourself. He insists on at least holding your hand.

“Okay, tell me everything.”

“I’m just feeling insecure. It’s stupid, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I feel like I don’t deserve any of this.” You begin to put it into words.

“This?” he asks, gently.

“You, Chan. I don’t deserve you, and I know I do, I know you’ll say I do, but my brain is so good at convincing me, and I don’t know how to get her to shut up. Like, I look in the mirror and I don’t understand why you love me, like look at you, you’re perfect, I’m not.” You see his eyebrows furrow but you don’t give him a chance to say anything.

“I just feel so fundamentally unlovable, which is stupid, but there’s just something in my head. And I’m so scared, I’m scared that I let you in fully, and get so comfortable with you, and one day you decide I’m too much, or not enough, or too weird, or too something, and you leave me for some stupid or shallow reason that I was a fool to think wouldn’t happen.” The tears are flowing now, not as hard as before but you wipe at them. You’re no longer looking at Chan, but down at your hands where your fingers are pulling threads from the bed sheets. 

“So I guess my head has just decided that you’re better off without me, and I want  to disagree so badly, but she’s so fucking convincing, Chan, I’m sorry.” You wipe at your tears roughly, but Chan quickly replaces your hands with his own, taking your face in his hands gently. His thumbs are wiping at the tears still slowly falling.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe.” You do as he says, and your tears begin to slow down even more. 

“Can I say something?” Chan says after a minute. You nod, preparing for the worst.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes look up and meet his, a look of sincerity in his own glassy eyes.

“I could never leave you, not as easy as you seem to think. No part of you could be too much or too little, or too anything for me. I love you. I love all of you. I love the parts of you I’ve seen, and I can’t wait to see the parts I haven’t seen yet so that I can love them too. I know this isn’t easy, I feel the same things sometimes, but you just have to believe me, and if you ever doubt me, I will fight you.” He ends with a chuckle. 

“Okay?” He runs his fingers through your hair gently. You nod, smiling.

“Also, who are you to decide who I love, hm?” he asks.

“An idiot,” you mumble, making him chuckle.

“I decide who I love, got it? I am choosing to love you.”

You nod your head, utterly defeated, and fall into his chest. He catches you swiftly, rubbing your back with one hand and petting your hair with the other. After a few minutes, you pop your head up to look at him. He looks at you questioningly.

“Be honest, how long were you here before I came out of the bathroom?”

“Oh, I, uh, think I heard most of it,” he says sheepishly. You groan, burying your face into his chest once more. You feel him laugh more than you hear it. 

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“I don’t know…” you trail off. “Loving me? Letting me cry? Being here? Something like that.” You play with one of his hoodie strings, avoiding his intense stare.

“Something like that,” he repeats quietly, half chuckling at your words. “Of course, I'd do all those things, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say, finally looking up at him. He’s smiling at you, eyes soft. You lean up and press a kiss to his soft lips. He accepts it, indulging you for a few seconds until he pulls back. You’re about to pout but he catches you off guard by planting kiss after kiss on your face. Your cheeks, nose, forehead, and finally your mouth once more. You’re giggling by the time he’s done, and he pulls back, eyes sparkling. 

“Feeling any better?” he asks.

“No, I think I need one more.” You giggle up at him. He rolls his eyes but leans down, capturing your lips in a soft kiss that the both of you are smiling into. The kiss feels right, and for the first time in a little while, the voice in the back of your head is quiet.

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lethallyprotected

[milkypompon]

Pink Interface

pairing: Nathan Bateman x F!Reader

summary: Nathan made you a period tracker... but it's nothing you'll find on the public market.

content: Fluff, talks of sex, period pains

wc: 1.1k

a/n: Nate... baby, your love language is being smart, an ass, and being a smartass.

Ex Machina Masterlist || Main Masterlist

–

A blanket of snow coats the ground, steadily thickening as it dusts the sky. Foxes usually come out to frolic, but today, there weren’t pawprints pressed against the white fluff.  They’re probably curling up in a hollow den. 

It’s hardly to be jealous about, given that you were pressing against shoulder to shoulder with Nathan as you trek up the mountain together — his warmth, a welcome pleasure, seeps into your body.

But this morning, out of all the goddamn days, you saw a familiar red stain. 

You wanted to postpone the hike, but he looked forward to it all week, and you didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. If anything, your hand-washed panty hanging on the towel rack would’ve been a giveaway, but you steered him away from the bathroom before he could see it. 

You claimed you nuked the toilet after drinking the annoyingly healthy green smoothie he made before the hike. 

Nathan frowned, “That’s an oddly graphic scene I didn’t need to imagine.”

At least it worked. 

Now, here you were, suffering from your own doings because you didn’t want to see a pouting Nathan. 

You clutch your midriff and come to a halt. “Nate, could we take a break?”

He frowns at your pained expression. Usually, you were the one dragging him up the mountains — pointing to the fox tracks or the last place you two sat down to drink hot chocolate. But now you’re a few paces behind him. There was definitely something wrong.

Snow crunches underneath his boots, making his way to you to hold you. His hand slips underneath your puffer jacket and thermal long-sleeve, you writhe under his touch. He’s confused at first before he begins to connect the dots. 

“Jesus Christ… are you pregnant?”

Your mouth gapes at the stupidity of his question. 

The pause was long enough for him to ask again, “Are you… pregnant?”

You huff and shove his shoulder. “What the fuck? The opposite, you dumbass! I’m bleeding out my uterine lining!”

“I know what a period is!”

“You had me there going for a sec because you spend more time with your vaginaless androids.”

He gives you a sideways smirk. “Hey, give me some credit. I started doing that when we got married!”

Then, Nathan sighs, a mix of relief and embarrassment washes over him. “Besides, can you blame me? We fucked in the rest-stop cabin after our hike last time.”

A ping catches both of your attention.

Your eyes land on his smartwatch. “I thought it was your scheduled wellness day today. Still got people messaging?”

He presses on the square screen and mumbles, “Oh, there was a bug in the code. Now it makes sense why I’m only finding out now.” 

“Huh?” 

Nathan gives you his signature smile — pearly whites that made women swoon and closed business deals… or when he was withholding information.

You were positive that it was the latter in this case. 

He wraps an arm around you and walks back to the facility. “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

The last time you let him build up anticipation, he revealed an android clone. He claimed it was for you to use when he was out on business trips as long as he had access to the live feed. You weren’t shocked, to say the least, considering this was Nathan Bateman.

Equal parts genius and horny. 

At this point, you wouldn't be surprised if he made one of you, too, so he could watch the androids fuck each other. 

–

You shed your jacket and settle into the crook of the couch, curling in on yourself to suppress the pain.

Nathan kneels in front of you, combing his fingers through your hair. “Baby, tell me what you need. Tea? A hot pad? Snacks?”

“You’re stalling.”

“Am not.”

“We’re not toddlers, Bateman. Give it to me straight.”

“Don’t get weird with me, ‘kay?” He sits on the couch and tugs you onto his lap. 

You roll your eyes, shifting your weight on him comfortably. “If you made an android of me so you can watch it have sex with Masturbateman, then color me utterly not surprised.”

He frowns and thumbs your hipbone. “I spent hours perfecting it, and that’s the name you gave my android?”

“That’s what you got out of that conversation?”

Nathan cups your asscheek and squeezes it. “If you keep getting snappy with me, I won’t show my new project.”

You huff but give in, nudging your face into the curve of his shoulder. 

He leans forward to grab his tablet from the coffee table, the screen displaying… a period tracker?

“What’s up with the pink interface? That’s such a gender stereotype.” You prod just to piss him off, but it does the opposite.

He grins as if he’s been waiting for you to ask that question. “The color is sampled from your urine mixed with endometrium when you’re nearing the end of your menstrual cycle. It’s aligned with hex code #FAA0A0–”

You steal his words from earlier today, “That’s an oddly graphic scene I didn’t need to imagine.”

“But look at this. It detects your four phases by inputting your BMI and medical history.” Nathan’s lips curl up. “You have a really regular cycle, y’know?”

You snort. “You’re the only man who would say that as a compliment, you fucking nerd.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just telling you the facts.” He pats your thigh. “Anyway, do you have a preferred date when you want your period?”

“Uh, what?”

“I can program the app to delay your period indefinitely. Want a three month break? It’ll happen. Want it to never return? Easy. So, what’ll it be, baby?”

“You’re doing overtime on the god roleplaying…”

He laughs, amused at your reaction. “Hey, I’m just answering your question. I can tell that it’s a big headache for you, so I figured I’d extend you an olive branch.”

“Wait, how did you link this up to my body in real time?”

“What do you think I’ve been sprinkling into the green smoothies?”

You pinch his cheek. “I’m not one of your androids, Nathan.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs. “But, you’re right. My androids wouldn’t complain.”

You hide your teasing grin behind a hand. “It could be easily solved if you get me pregnant, but we both know how you feel about that.”

There’s a quietness as he places the tablet down. Neither of you discussed this unless it was in passing when you’d comment on how cute baby mittens are and wondered what their blended food tasted like. 

He was well aware that raising a child wasn’t like building his projects. Raising a human was more difficult than creating artificial intelligence that could pass as a human. 

Nathan blurts, “I want you to have my babies.”

–

Nathan's hips thrust into yours, he leans into your ear and whispers, "The tracker tells me when you're ovulating too."

You say in between moans, "Mmm, I'm gonna shove you off, if you don't shut the fuck up."

I'd love to hear your thoughts and my inbox is always open for requests or if you want to chat!

[wynnyfryd]

Eddie’s casually leaning against the rails on the edge of the dance floor, savoring his second whiskey on the rocks and scanning the crowd for fresh meat when suddenly there’s a face he’s never seen before taking up his entire field of view.

The guy sways drunkenly into his space, grabbing the lapels of his vest for balance, and before Eddie can even get the ‘what the fuck?’ out of his mouth, pretty brown eyes are blinking up at him and the guy is slurring, “Hey. Hey, um. You’re really cute, do you wanna kiss?”

And Eddie laughs softly, blinks back at him, lazy and syrupy and shrugs, “Yeah, okay, cutie.”

The kiss is like, surprisingly fucking excellent coming from a guy who seems two sips of beer away from stumbling headfirst into a toilet. Eddie sighs into his mouth as their tongues touch, and it’s messy and wet and he tastes like rum and coconut and maraschino cherries.

Drunken Cutie pulls back after a moment, licks his lips with his eyes still closed, a sated little smile lighting up his face. Then he pats Eddie’s chest and hums and says, “That was… mmmm, really great, thank you.”

And then he’s gone.

He’s just…

Like, okay. It’s not like Eddie expected the guy to come back up to him that night and ask him out or give him his number or anything (he’d pinched Eddie’s cheek like a doting grandmother after he finished shoving his tongue down Eddie’s throat, so. Ya know. Hardly seemed capable of conversation), but he does expect to at least see him again. Run into him in the crowd the next weekend or something.

And nothing.

Zip. Nada.

Eddie’s starting to wonder if the good whiskey he sprang for that night made him conjure some blond twink hallucination as a panacea for his pathetic gay dry spell. Whoever Blondie is, he’s a fucking ghost. A sexy, sexy ghost, and Jesus, how is Eddie down this bad for a boy who may or may not exist?

Three weeks later, Eddie spots that swoop of caramel candy hair and goes marching across the bar like he’s about to pick a fight, grabs the poor, startled guy by the wrist and drags him out to the smoker’s patio without so much as a hello, and yeah, he’s like, maybe being a bit of a psycho right now, but whatever. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about those gorgeous eyelashes or that stupid pink pretty mouth for almost a month now and he still doesn’t even know the guy’s name.

“Alright, what the fuck?” Eddie demands as he whirls around and frowns with his arms folded over his chest.

“Me ‘what the fuck?’ What the fuck yourself!” the guy shouts, hands gesturing all over the place before landing on his cocked hips in a sassy little mom pose that screams explain yourself.

“Do you seriously not remember making out with me last time you were here? And then, like, vanishing into thin air?”

And Blondie goes adorably red at that statement for a moment before he clears his throat and collects himself. “Gonna be honest with you, babe, I don’t even remember seeing you last time I was here. I was pretty wasted that night.”

He pauses, eyes raking down Eddie’s face, his chest, his thighs, all the way to his heavy black boots and back up. “Having said that…”

He licks his lips, catches the bottom one between his teeth as he grins. Leers. Looks like he wants to eat Eddie alive. “Hmm. Yeah, I’m— I’m not mad about it,” and he takes a step forward, getting into Eddie’s space, just like before only sober and sure-footed this time around, and he practically purrs when he sweeps a lock of Eddie’s hair behind his ear and asks, “Think I could get a do-over?”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie’s not that easy, is he? Is he?

He totally is.

[dollyyss]

The idea of the main four + butters and how they comfort you when you’re sad and distant?

Idk I be in my feels lately 😭🙏 BUT UR WRITING IS SO GOOD PLEASE

I’m actually getting some requests and I’m so fucking thrilled you have no idea, but I’m trying to push this one out as soon as possible to try and cheer you up!!

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The main four + butters comforting reader who’s been sad and distant.

Established Reltionship ₊ ⊹

All characters are aged up! Highschool AU! ‧₊˚✩彡

Kyle, Stan, Kenny, Cartman and Butters 𐙚

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mentions of being sick in Stan’s part,

Kyle 🐇𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒🪐

- He’s the problem solver, the “tell me what it is I’ll fix it” rather then the one to comfort right away. Kyle isn’t so great with emotions, right away at least.

-He’s probably confused at first. He try’s to give you your space as that’s what you seem you need since you’re being so distant from him. But even when he is giving you your space, any class you two have together he’s glancing at you from time to time to make sure you’re okay. He’ll take down extra notes for you if he notices that you’re just not participating.

-He’s worried for you, when school is over and you won’t even let him drive you home like he usually does? That’s when he speaks to you.

-He finds you in the crowd of high school students getting ready to go home, on your phone putting your earbuds in to walk home until a large hand grips your shoulder “baby what are you doing?!” You look back at Kyle in slight shock not exactly knowing who was touching you at first. “Home?” It was the first time you spoke to him today and though he was worried about you he was at least happy you finally spoke. “Well I waited by your locker.. and when you didn’t show up I figured you’d be at my car, let me take you home please” he grabs your gloved hand and leads you to the car and once you arrive you take your hand out of his. This causes him to close his eyes tight and turn to look at you “look. Y/N I have no idea what is going on with you today okay and I’d love to help you but you can’t push yourself away from me. I understand if you don’t want to tell me but please don’t ignore me. When you’re ready to tell me we can fix the issue.” You look up at him with slight teary eyes and he’s a bit taken back “can you just hold me..?” Your voice is what breaks him. “I’ve just been really tired.. I’ve been stressed I just.. was having an off day..” Oh. He feels bad now for looking at the more logical side and wanting to fix it when all you really needed was for him to just be there. He slowly leans his back against the passenger door and pulls you in by your arm, his hands gripping onto you tight and pressing his chin to your head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you just needed me..” you snuggle into his open jacket, his warmth engulfing you as his thumbs rub at your back. “I love you, yknow that? But don’t ignore me next time please.”

Stan .° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ

- I think Stan gets a bit distant himself when you get like this. He doesn’t understand why you’re closing him out and not speaking to him so like Kyle he kind of lets you be. But I think it’s more due to his own insecurities. Wendy was like this before they broke up officially. So seeing you get cold on him.. he wants to throw up but not out of butterfly nerves no out of actual fear that you’re just breaking up with him. Buts it’s not the case, you’ve just had a really shit day and honestly all you wanted was Stan.

- once he’s done throwing up out of actual fucking fear he’s shaking to find you because it hits him that.. you’re just upset. And he shouldn’t be freaking out like this.

- “Jesus Christ Stan.” Kyle wraps Stan back up in his jacket as he stands back up, wiping his bottom lip and flushing the toilet rid of his vomit. “Just talk to them, I’m sure they’re just upset, maybe all they need is a hug, I don’t know maybe some time with their boyfriend” Kyle notes as he grabs Stans hat off the floor and swallowing slightly disgusted at how damp it was from Stan sweating so much from getting sick. “Maybe dude I don’t know they’re not usually like this when they get upset they’ve never been so cold to me like this.” There was silence as they walked out of the boys bathroom “there’s no harm in trying.” The ginger stated as he handed back Stan’s hat and walked off to get ready for his next class. When Stan found you, you were closing up your locker and running your hands through your hair. It was clear you were tired, your eyes had almost been weighed down, your hair was slightly messy, your coat seemed baggier, you just looked. Sad. Stan approached you softly taking you into his arms “Stan, there are like.. a shit ton of people around us right now.” He only sighed and placed his head in the crook of your neck “just, stand here for a minute please. I know you’re upset and I’m sorry I hadn’t realized sooner” he swayed you side to side for a moment, taking in his cigarettes and cologne before looking up at him. “Thank you..” he hummed gently before placing a kiss to your forehead, pushing back your hair “come to my place after school? We can watch a movie, anything you want. “Sure Marsh..” you paused for a moment “did you.. get sick.?” You looked up at him with curious eyes before he placed a hand on your face and pushed you softly “shut up.”

Kenny ₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉

-there is no being distant with Kenny. He knows when you’re upset and he acts on it so fucking fast. The minute he sees your eyes have changed in demeanour he’s there in a heart beat.

-He’ll never pry you with questions, he’ll never make you talk about It if you aren’t comfortable in the moment. He lets you take your time and he’s there for you to use to feel better. He’s always aware when something is off with you, he knows when something is too much for you, or you just need a moment. Kenny may be a little ass hat but he’s very aware and caring when it comes to you.

-“ Clyde you’re actually such a fucking dumbass” Kenny spoke up. His arm had been around your shoulders, both sitting in the cafeteria while Kenny spoke to his friends. The toothpick between his lips twirled between as him and Clyde went back and forth ripping on each other, for no reason at all. “You really think Bebe still likes you? News flash pretty boy she doesn’t, should have seen her at the party last night trying to get with every fucking jock she laid her eyes on” Clyde and him both laughed as Clyde punched his arm in a playful manner. As the rest of the boys chimed in Kenny softly looked at you. “Hey you, you’ve been quiet you okay?” His hand softly rubs at your shoulder, taking his toothpick out of his mouth and placing it on the food tray. You slowly nod your head before looking down at your hands; fidgeting with them. “No you’re not.. is everything too much for you right now? Too loud?” You look at him a bit teary eyed and he had his answer. He got up with you grabbing your hand and grabbing your book bag to walk with you through the back of the cafeteria doors that lead to some stairs behind the school. Once he got to the steps he set your book bag down, sat you on his lap and took his parka off to place over your body. “Kenny you’re gonna catch a cold.” You stated sniffling as he shook his head “don’t worry about me pretty baby, you’re what’s important right now” you rest your head on his shoulder, your arms coming to wrap around his neck and you cuddle into him. He lets you sit in silence with him, closing your eyes and relaxing into him.

Cartman 🎧✮🧺✧˖°

-Mm. Rather then the hugger he’s the stupid fuck that does stupid shit to make you smile. He’ll kinda go to outrageous lengths to get your attention, because he’s an attention whore for you so shut up.

-he honestly doesn’t like when you’re upset because he says it kills his mood but he also just wants you to be happy with him. So what’s better then to ruin someone’s else’s day just to make you feel better. He may or may not also buy you some food and a stuffed animal to cheer you up.. because him dicking around gets him a scolding from you.

-“.. what? What do you want me to say? I’m not saying sorry. That Jew totally deserved it.” You cocked a brow at him, arms crossed and foot slightly tapping on the ground as you looked up at him. Cartman swallowed. “Babe.. babe listen to me okay? I’ve always hated that ginger devil spawn anyway okay it was coming to him sooner or later” he said in a soft tone to cheer you up in which you only rolled your eyes at him. He sighed and looked down “I’m sorry.. here..” he grabbed the large bear and McDonald’s from the porch and placed them in your hands. “Now do you forgive me..? Will you be you again, you’re kinda killing my vibe here” “cartman you stupid fucking idiot.” A laugh escapes your lips when you take the food and bear and place them on your stairs. You pull him into a hug and kiss his cheek “I’m not an idiot..” he mumbles but smiles ever so slightly into the hug knowing that he was able to make you happy even if it wasn’t him doing some stupid shit to Kyle. At least he managed.

Butters ˚☆🐈*๑

-…He’s crying. I mean it. He’s balling his eyes out. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do when you won’t talk to him and you distance yourself from him. The boy is about 10 seconds from having a god damn panic attack.

-he’s gentle with you, he’ll pull out some colouring pages for you to do because he knows how much they calm him down and put him in a better state of mind so he lets you colour some. He’ll even print out any specific ones you like. And he’s there. At your hip. Not leaving your side until you have a smile on your face.

-he becomes really touchy, when you tell him you just aren’t having a good day he understands and he pulls you in close to him, his head resting in yours while he listens to your rant about anything that’s bothering you.

- “darlin.. your quiet, very quiet” his hands interlock together before pulling apart and his fingers then pick at his other fingers. “Well I don’t quite like you like this..” he mumbles to himself before he’s biting his lip. You look up at him with a gentle look, teary but gentle and he could fall apart right there. He almost starts crying with you “oh dear! Oh gosh heaven above!” He’s rushing towards you instantly his hands quickly finding anything warm to wrap you in and pull you to his chest “you wanna colour! It’ll help you stop thinkin’!” He brings up the option and if you say yes he’s practically flying towards his colouring sheets, many having intricate designs and patterns and some being simple. “Pick which ever one you’d like” he grabs some art supply’s and displays it all on his bedroom floor for you. “Butters..” he cocked a brow looking up at the sound of his name “hm?” You look at him gently and place a kiss to his chin “I’m sorry if I was being distant, just not having a good day is all..” you lean against him. “Well that’s alright! We all have those days, you can’t have good ones without em, you just scared me a little that’s all.. heh” he pushes some hair out of your face and squishes his cheek against yours. “You uh, you wanna talk about it?” With a quick nod he immediately is sitting criss cross beside you, his arms around you as you colour and rant to him about how you felt. His lips press to the back of your shoulder and he watches you contently listening to every single word that poured out of your lips. His hands rub your sides and he’s staring as lovingly as possible at you.

[scoops-aboy86]

Some Turbulence Ahead

Prompt Used: Summer fling (@thehairandthebanished) and mile high club (@steddiesmuttyseptember) | Some Turbulence Ahead | Rating: E | CW: semi-public sex, a hint of feeding kink, a lil bit of drinking | Additional Tags: chubby Eddie Munson, doting Steve Harrington, friends with benefits, feelings realization, the looming threat of possible unrequited feelings

also on Ao3

It was only supposed to be a summer fling. A natural carpe diem following a harrowing week of near-death experiences—or, as Eddie likes to spin it, a week of Death suffering from near-Eddie experiences. He’d thrown himself at Steve without really expecting the guy to catch him, just knowing him enough to know that Steve would at least let him down easy. 

Only, Eddie still hasn’t hit the ground. 

He’s literally thousands of feet above it actually, slipping into an airplane bathroom after a reasonable amount of time to allay suspicion… Though it’s not like anyone is paying attention. Apparently, when you’re in first class, you can do whatever the fuck you want. 

Including getting your… whatever they are to each other’s pants unzipped under the complimentary inflight blanket and fondling him in his boxers until he’s hard, then flouncing off to the bathroom after a heated whisper about doing something about it. 

Sometimes, Eddie kind of hates Steve. (Not really.) 

He hasn’t bothered to zip back up, so once he’s inside all Steve has to do is lift the bottom of his t-shirt to see where his cock is doing its best to escape threadbare fabric that used to hang loose on him. Still kind of did, before Steve ordered them the full range of snacks that flying the friendly skies had to offer, on the grounds that chewing would help Eddie’s ears pop. And a few rounds of complimentary champagne, to celebrate a long weekend away from Hawkins. Eddie had felt warm and flushed before Steve’s hands started wandering, and now that they’re on him again, pulling his jeans and underwear down together and grabbing hold with a spit-wet palm, he feels goddamn incandescent. 

Steve’s other hand is in Eddie’s hair, guiding him into a hungry kiss but pulling away slightly when he moans. “Gotta stay quiet, babe,” Steve murmurs, then sucks on Eddie’s bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” Eddie whimpers, but softly. It’s not like he wants to get caught in here either and get weird looks for the rest of the flight just because some stewardess saw his blindingly white ass.

Which Steve is now dropping to sit on the closed airplane toilet so he can grope, kneading and tugging him closer with intent. Eddie has to slap a ringed hand over his own mouth to smother the sounds that want to spill out. Jesus H. Christ, if he’d known before Spring Break that Steve Harrington enjoys giving head so much, he wouldn’t have wasted so much gas driving out to Indy on the weekends. Now, threading his fingers through that gloriously thick, soft mass of hair, he knows that he’s going to miss all this when it’s gone. When summer ends and Steve takes it away, to follow Robin wherever she’s going for college… Meanwhile, Eddie hasn’t saved up enough to strike out on his own yet, so. That’s that. 

Not that he’s thinking about the end of things now, with Steve’s tongue swirling around the head of his cock, teasing at the slit, and one of his hands drifting from his ass, pausing to squeeze briefly at his hip, then to his full stomach—which, fuck, that feels good. Everything feels good, sound muted beneath the roar of the plane engines and vibrations off the same moving through him from any surface he touches, and Steve sucking him all the way into his throat like he can’t get enough. Like he’s getting something out of this too, when he’s not even jerking off while he does it. 

“C-close, Stevie,” Eddie whispers through trembling fingers. “Hurry, befoooooh fuck, mm, before someone finds us—”

Steve moans around him, suitably muffled by how full his mouth is but Eddie can feel it all the way up his goddamn spine, and that’s what does it. Tips Eddie’s eyes back in his skull, curls his toes, pops the last remaining champagne bubbles ping ponging around inside of him. And, yeah, they’ve been in the air for a while now, but he feels like he’s flying.

By the time the haze in his head clears up enough to remember he’s in a tiny, tiny bathroom, Steve is already making him look presentable again: jeans back up, spent dick tucked away with a surprisingly tender goodbye kiss, nuzzling briefly at the treasure trail below Eddie’s soft navel before pulling his shirt down to hide his… still unzipped pants. 

Eddie is too blissed out still to devote much thought to that. Instead, he pulls Steve to his feet and pouts for a kiss, which he gets. Long and slow and deep, because he likes to taste himself in Steve’s mouth. He reaches down to return the favor, humming in confusion when he doesn’t feel the expected hard-on. 

Breaking the kiss with a shiver and a soft, overstimulated oh, Steve pulls away and reaches to adjust his slacks. He unzips and pushes them and his briefs down to reveal an obviously used condom sheathing his cock. “It was just in case,” he whispers sheepishly, blushing. It goes all the way down his chest, Eddie knows, unseen beneath a baby blue polo. “For, uh, easier cleanup.”

Stifling the insane urge to giggle, Eddie kisses him again before letting Steve shoo him out to get back to his seat. Steve follows a few minutes later, hair resettled into something more like ‘napped in a strange position during the flight’ than ‘I just inducted my friend-with-benefits-or-whatever into the Mile High Club.’ They exchange conspiratorial grins, giddy over getting away with it, and then a stewardess comes by with a final round of inflight snacks and they get more champagne to go with their little packets of peanuts. Steve pulls out the map of San Francisco, pointing out all the places they want to go that he’s carefully marked down in blue pen. 

The Golden Gate Bridge. AT&T Park. Chinatown, like the movie. Cable cars. Fisherman’s Wharf, Wax Museum, and Pier 39. The Ghirardelli chocolate factory. An old World War Two submarine open for tours at Pier 45, right next to an antique game arcade. Alcatraz. Even the Castro district, which Steve lowers his voice a bit to talk about but still brimming with obvious excitement. They’re going to stay in a nice hotel near Union Square and just be fucking tourists for a few days, courtesy of the inheritance from Steve’s Grandpa Otis that he gained full access to on his twentieth birthday. 

Maybe Eddie is a little drunk, or still riding the high of orgasm a bit… but for just a moment, he lets himself dream that this could be more than just a fling. There’s a real tenderness to some of the things Steve does for him sometimes, in how sweet he can be amidst the bitchiness and insatiable libido. And Eddie loves it all, because… he loves Steve. 

Wants to wake up with him every morning of this perfect vacation, start every day with a kiss and playful bickering about whose morning breath or bedhead is worse, and then just. Keep doing that forever. 

Huh. 

When did that happen?

When had he fallen fallen for Hawkins’ finest purveyor of Family Videos, the Paladin tank who defended young nerds with his own life, a perfect boy with a winning smile and a taste for spoiling his partners? Absolutely crazy. 

It was only ever supposed to be a summer fling.

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

[joelalorian]

Tides of Desire - Chapter Seven: From Stem to Stern

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI, alcohol, fluff, angst, smut (eventual), unprotected p in v (though Joel had the best of intentions), little bit of fingering and oral (f receiving). Reader is a badass. Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). No use of y/n, though reader is of British descent and has the nickname Brit (occasionally used).

AN: New mood board courtesy of the wonderful @janaispunk! Thank you so much, love!

The fun nakey times are finally here! Took them long enough, but Joel finally got his head out of his ass. Hope you enjoy!

Series masterlist

Chapter Seven: From Stem to Stern

A subtle ding sounded as the elevator reached Joel’s floor, jolting the two of you to awareness of your surroundings before the doors opened. The tingle from the merest brushing of Joel’s lips against yours had you floating on air as you followed him to his room, your mind a flurry of wonder. If that simple act was so damn good, what would if feel like to really kiss him, to run your fingers through his hair, to brush your hand over his hardening cock, to slip each other’s clothes off and climb into bed, to feel your bodies come together…

Jesus Christ, you were already hot and bothered as Joel swept you up toward another crest on the roller coaster you were on.

Once inside the room, you froze, wide eyes sweeping over the open concept, oversized room with a king size bed, a chaise lounge, glass exposing the large shower and garden tub to the rest of the room. It was a room for lovers, where nothing was hidden but the toilet. Joel booked this room with specific intent, or at least hope, that much was clear. He said you didn’t have to do anything, but clearly, this room was made for exactly what you wanted to do. The butterflies fluttering in your stomach became a flurry of activity equivalent to CAT 3 hurricane-force winds.

Holy shit.

Soft, cautious puppy eyes met yours, a hint of worry visible behind his glasses at your reaction to all this. A lock of dark curls had fallen over Joel’s forehead, giving him a youthful look. Your heart clenched. You wanted this. You wanted it so bad. Had he finally given in?

Your thoughts scanned through recent interactions, recalling Frank’s cryptic chat with you and the insight from Donna before her charter departed. Did they all know something you didn’t? See something you couldn’t?

Joel’s hand started to twitch waiting for your response to his silent question. Smiling brightly, you reached for him with urgency. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck. “It will shatter me if you change your mind halfway through or regret this, us, tomorrow.”

Those dark chocolate eyes seared into yours, etching his words into your soul as he spoke. “I want this. I want you. I’m tired of sacrificing the things I want because I’m afraid of history repeating itself. Everyone has told me I deserve to be happy, it’s about time I believe it myself. And you… you make me happy.”

He kissed you then, hard, tongue running along the seam of your lips until you opened them to let him in. Your tongues tangled in a mix between gentle exploration and heated passion. It was the kiss of someone starved of intimacy, seeking to feel, to consume, yet not quite devour., not yet. That would come later, you hoped.

Face cradled in the palms of his hands; Joel caressed your cheekbones with his thumbs as the kiss continued. Your senses were consumed with him – his scent, taste, touch, the sounds of his subtle groans and whines at the feel, taste of you in return. It was all encompassing and you wondered how you survived those five weeks being close to him without doing this…

Wait, had it only been five weeks? That seemed so short in the grand span of things, but everything about yacht life was exaggerated, more intense. Time stretched differently when you lived and worked in a confined space with the same people. Feelings developed faster, more deeply during ‘boatmances’. And they burned out quicker, too, if you weren’t careful. Almost everyone who worked on a yacht learned that one the hard way.

Still, the five weeks of dancing around each other, your feelings, only made you realize how much you wanted this, wanted him. It wasn’t just a fling. It could, would be so much more than a boatmance. You had been willing to wait the entirety of the season to be with him. That was evident of something real, something sustainable, something that could so easily become… love.

Part of you wondered what really happened to change Joel’s mind. He had been so adamant about not pursuing something on the yacht and now here you were, wrapped up in his arms, in the hottest kiss you ever experienced – granted you were in a hotel room and not aboard the yacht, but still, it was still season. What changed his mind, exactly?

Equally, another part of you wondered what happened in his past to make Joel so rigid and sacrificial about the rules to begin with.

The moment one of Joel’s hands slipped down from your face to skillfully paw at your breast, all thought left your head. The moan that emanated from the depths of your belly was sinful and you could feel Joel’s lips twitch toward a smirk against your own.

Minutes – hours? – later, Joel forced himself back with a deep-seated sigh. “We need to go, or we’ll miss dinner.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” you asked, raking in the sight of him looking so thoroughly snogged. You were not ready to let him go yet.

A chuckle rumbled through his chest as he speared his fingers through his hair, attempting to collect himself. “No, not as such. But I know we’ll need the energy later, sweetheart, so we better get to dinner.”

Now that you’d kissed, Joel calling you sweetheart hit a bit different, leaving you weak in the knees.

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

Lanterns filled with fairy lights were placed along the middle of the dark wooden table, elegant place settings in front of each seat. By the time Joel and you arrived, there were only two seats left, one across the table from the other. You slipped into the seat between Tess and Sarah when they waved you over and Joel sat next to his brother and Jake. Your eyes met across the table before Joel dipped his head toward his brother, a hushed conversation taking place. Tommy’s gaze shot to you with a leering grin before he turned back to nod at Joel, the movement of their arms indicating something was being passed between them beneath the table. You searched Joel’s face for a clue by he gave nothing away, simply taking a sip from the glass of ice water and continuing to talk to his brother.

“Soooo…” Tess drew your attention, “Where’s your room? Sarah and I are on the third floor.”

Willing the heat rushing your cheeks away, you forced yourself not to glance in Joel’s direction. “I’m on the sixth floor.”

“Ohhh reeealllyy?” Sarah chimed in, drawing out the words. “My dad is on the sixth floor, too. Quite the coincidence, don’t you think, Tess?”

The pair of them leaned across you, broad grins on their pretty faces as they teased you. “Definitely a coincidence. I heard the sixth floor only has a few, larger rooms… special ones. You know the kind, right, Sarah?”

You expected this ridiculousness from someone Sarah’s age, but Tess was almost worst in how much enjoyment she was finding in it. “Will you two quit it,” you hissed, though the inability to stop smiling lessened the effect.

“I’m just glad he’s manning up, honestly,” Sarah admitted once the laughter settled. “I know it’s probably weird to be concerned about my dad’s, you know, sex life, but I’m just really happy he’s loosening up.” After a beat, she added, “But I DO NOT want any details. None. Ever. Got it?”

Nearly choking on a sip of water, you nodded emphatically. “I have no interest in sharing any. Ever. Promise.” You hesitated a moment, graciously offering Tess a chance to add her two pence, but she only winked in return, broad grin gracing her face. “Can we, please, change the fucking subject now?”

As drink and dinner orders were placed, you glanced across the table to see that Joel hadn’t fared much better than you, his attention torn between his brother’s teasing and relentless questions from Jake. Your gazes met briefly, taking a moment to acknowledge each other, the hint of what was to come after dinner sparkling behind both your eyes.

Dinner could not be over soon enough. It was torture sitting across from Joel, sharing glances yet not really speaking, while also dodging Jake’s flirtatious attempts at conversation. You wanted so badly to temper your nerves with alcohol but didn’t want to risk drinking too much. Nothing could get in the way of a whole night alone with Joel. Instead, you sipped at a glass of cabernet and focused on chatting with Sarah and Tess.

Mid-way through dinner, a commotion sounded at the far end of the table, and you looked up to see Connor walking toward the group, one arm in a cast held tight to his torso with a sling. He looked a little worse for wear, but his young face was lit up with happiness at seeing everyone again. Emmy was nearly in tears as she jumped out of her seat to rush toward him, only calming when she glanced at his arm and pulled him into a tight side hug.

The rest of the evening past more quickly as everyone caught up with Connor. He was heading home the following morning and happily accepted Joel’s offer to join them for one last dinner.

When dessert was served, you excused yourself from the table with the excuse of wanting to relax in a bubble bath rather than hit the outdoor bar with the group. You accepted a fair amount of ribbing from the group for being an old lady, though two of the Millers and Tess teased you with knowing looks. The third Miller tilted his lips into a half smile, longing in his chocolate puppy eyes.

“Good night, mates!” you called over your shoulder, slipping through the tables to the lobby where you waited for the next elevator.

The resort was busy, it was near peak tourist season in the tropics with plenty of northerners seeking respite from the cold, and the elevator was packed. You squeezed between bodies and rolling luggage to reach the back corner of the elevator, knowing you were in for a few stops before you reached the top floor. The elevator slowly emptied floor-by-floor until you were the only one left going to the sixth floor.

Entering the extravagant room and kicking your strappy sandals off with a sigh of relief, you let the sundress you wore slip to the floor not far from the door. Dark blue lace panties and a matching bra were next to fall from your body, creating a trail leading to the tub. The thought of Joel spotting it all as soon as he walked through the door thrilled you as the large garden tub was filling with steaming water and the scented bubble bath provided by the resort.

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

Joel tried to escape as promptly as he could, the thought of you waiting – hopefully naked – in his room calling to him like a siren, but Tommy insisted that he join them for at least one shot at the pool bar before calling it a night.

“Big night, huh, brother?” Tommy teased, gulping heavily from the beer in his hand. Swiping the back of his free hand across his mouth, he grinned madly at Joel. “Ya sure ya remember how everything works? What parts go where and what not?”

“Asshole,” Joel grumbled, pink tinging his tanned face. “Let’s just do this shot already. I have somewhere much better to be.”

“Alright, alright. Here,” Tommy handed him the small glass full of amber liquid. “Cheers to your dick seeing some action finally.”

“Jesus Christ.” Joel rolled his eyes, tossing back the shot to let the liquid burn down his throat. “Behave tonight. Stay away from the married ladies. I’ll be too busy to bail your ass out of anything.” Clasping his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, Joel nodded to himself before turning to walk away.

“Enjoy yourself and make sure she comes first!” Tommy called after him much to Joel’s chagrin, the nervous captain glancing around to make sure none of the other crew heard. He didn’t necessarily want to advertise that he was about to sleep with a member of his crew.

His brother was such a little shit, but Joel was grateful that Tommy always had an extra condom on him. It had been so long, Joel forgot all about the importance of protection and asked his brother for one at dinner in a panic. Having come prepared for his own night of potential fun, Tommy had extras and passed Joel two beneath the table. It occurred to him now that he probably could have tracked some down for purchase in this huge resort, but whatever.

A man on a mission, Joel stalked through the lobby to the elevators, not so patiently waiting for the next available one to take him up to the sixth floor. He wondered what you were doing, his mind swirling with possible images – you draped across the oversized bed, naked and waiting for him, or neck deep in the garden tub, equally naked with bubbles hiding all your delectable bits from his view as you waited for him to join you.

God dammit, his pants were already becoming uncomfortable, his cock swelling at his thoughts alone. He would be fit to burst when he finally set eyes on you.

A nervous tick settled into his hands, thick fingers flexing as the elevator ascended. Part of him could not believe he was doing this – what the fuck was he thinking?! But another part of him overflowed with virility, eager to prove to himself that he was ready and able to feel something again.

Right then and there, in that boxy elevator surrounded by Muzak, Joel made a promise to himself to allow happiness and love back into his life without regard to past hurts or failures.

Small beads of sweat gathered beneath his glasses when he stepped into the hallway of his floor. Removing the frames, Joel wiped his face and shook the nerves out of his shoulders. It was go time!

Heart beating heavily in his chest, cock still half hard, he entered the room, the trail of your clothes visible in the dim lighting. He followed them like a homing beacon to find you in the large tub, instrumental music playing softly from your phone as you relaxed, immersed in fragrant bubbles. The sight stole the breath from his lungs, glasses fogging up from the heat emanating from his body and the humidity of the bath. He tore them from his face, tossing them toward the vanity with a careless flick of his hand.

Neither of you uttered a word, gazes clashing as you stared at each other in a haze of need and want. He was already stripping out of his clothes before words finally fell from his lips. “Mind if I join you?”

You stared back at him, flawless skin dewy from the water and eyes wide, the curve of an inviting smile upon your lips as you took in every inch of his broad form as it was bared before you. “I’ve been waiting,” you murmured, sliding forward to allow him to slip into the tub behind you.

Joel’s confidence soared as your gaze roved over his now bare body, lingering for long moments on his cock, now fully hard and glistening with pre-come. He felt like a man reborn, giving into something he wanted, needed for the first time in far too long. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

The tops of your breasts peeked above the suds as you sat up in the water, eyes alight with playfulness. “Mmhmm, I like everything I’m seeing. Get in here, please.”

He followed your order at once, slipping into the tub with careful movements, and pulled you back against his chest once settled, the hard press of him against your lower back. Momentarily disappointed that he hadn’t gotten the chance to see all of you yet, Joel wrapped his arms around you, eager hands already roaming your skin beneath the water, which was dangerously high with the addition of his broad frame.

 “You feel amazing in my arms.” Joel’s voice rumbled from his chest, and he could feel the gooseflesh spread across your skin as his breath washed over you. “I could so easily fall for you, ya know?” He felt you nod against him.

“Me, too, Joel” you breathed. Your hands wandered over every bit of him you could reach, both of you explored each other until the desire for more became too much and the water began to cool. “Take me to bed, Joel.”

He could refuse you nothing. Helping you from the tub, Joel gently wrapped you up in a bath sheet before drying himself off. When you dropped the towel to the floor, Joel pounced, sealing his lips to yours in an intimate kiss, a mere precursor to what more was to come as his own towel fell to the floor.

Stepping back, Joel bent down and fished around in the pocket of his pants for the condoms. A wave of lightheadedness washed over him as he stood up again, the sight of you naked and waiting for him too much for his senses. He grasped your hand, quickly bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss on your knuckles before leading you to the bed.

He you laid down on the bed, skin chilled from the air conditioning and Joel peppered your body with soft, wet kisses as his worked his way up to meet your lips. The kiss started as a gentle press of your mouths but quickly turned into a passionate tangling of your tongues and shared breaths. Joel could not keep his hands still, callused fingers caressing from the soft nook of your neck to the swell of your ass and everywhere in between. He could not get enough of you.

Your fingers tangled in his thick curls, tugging experimentally until he groaned with a deep rumble. One hand continued working through his hair as the other roamed, short nails scraping over his broad shoulders and back, along the softness of his belly and love handles, grabbing a handful of the ass you had spent many a moment admiring in his uniform pants. Finally, your hand moved between you to feel the heft of his cock in your grip, and watched Joel’s eyes roll back.

Loving the feel of your hands on him, Joel rolled until he was hovering over you, cock pressed against your lower belly. “Hi,” he whispered with a boyish grin, his left hand wandering down between your thighs, fingertips exploring your folds.

“Hi,” you giggled in return, squirming slightly at the intimate touch.

“You are mesmerizing, did you know that? I am completely under your spell, and I can’t fight it anymore. I don’t want to fight it anymore.” Settling more of his weight down on you, pressing his hardened cock further against you, Joel added, “Do you feel what you do to me, sweetheart?”

He watched your eyelids flutter shut as you nodded, his finger slipping inside you with a sigh. You were soaked and he murmured as much in your ear, adding a second thick finger, hitting depths he knew you couldn’t reach on your own. Joel used his thumb to pluck at your clit until you were a writhing mess beneath him.

“You gonna come for me, gorgeous? Lemme hear those delightful sounds, yeah?” He worked you faster, harder, watching as your eyes rolled back with pleasure. “That’s it, sweetheart. Show me how fucking good it feels.” His cock swelled impossibly harder at your moans as you tipped headlong over the edge into an abyss of pleasure. “You are fucking beautiful.”

Still high on your orgasm, you clawed at him, pulling him closer until his full body weight was on you, mouths meeting with sloppy kisses. A quick reach down and he was notched at your entrance, pushing into you with precision.

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, the breath swept from your lungs as you were filled to the brim with the enormity of Joel fucking Miller. Your arms clutched him, left hand coming up to tangle your fingers into the thick hair on the back of his head, and your legs wrapped around his hips.

Whispering your name like a prayer against your skin as he pressed open mouth kisses down your neck, Joel moved his hips in a steady rhythm, increasing the intensity as the tension in your bellies built and built.

“You feel so fucking good. Your pretty pussy is like heaven, I never want to leave. It’s so tight, gripping me like a fucking vice.” Words of appreciation and praise tumbled from Joel’s lips as he surrounded you, working you both toward that beautiful peak.

His thrusts lost their rhythm as you came, your walls squeezing him until he exploded, emptying himself inside you, moans and sighs echoing off the walls of the oversized room. You remained tangled together, chests heaving and sweaty, until Joel’s weight became too much. His softening cock slipped out of you as he rolled to the side, eyes catching the unopened condoms packets on the nightstand once he was on his back.

“Oh fuck!”

The sudden exclamation in the quiet room startled you and you sat up. “What? What’s wrong?”

Eyes squeezed closed, Joel’s hand curled into a fist, bumping against his forehead in frustration. “I forgot to put on a fucking condom. I’m so sorry.” Figured, the first intimate moment he had in a long while and he forgot protection.

Your small hand ran over his belly, curling yourself into his side, chin resting on his chest. “Joel, it’s ok, I promise. I’m on birth control and clean. I always stay on it, regulates the monthlies, yeah? Besides, it’s been a bit since I was with anyone.”

Arm falling to his side, Joel’s head raised to meet your eyes, relief flooding his veins. “You sure? I mean, I’m clean, too, and it’s been… a long while since I was with someone.”

“It’s settled then. We’re clean and protected against pregnancy. When can we go for round two?” You burst into laughter at the expression on his face.

“Sweetheart, I’m forty. Gimme a bit of recovery time. I can go all night with a little recovery,” Joel promised, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, then your forehead, before pulling you up for a soft kiss on the mouth.

Cuddled together, you filled the time talking, and you finally got some context on why he refused you initially. There was history with Sarah’s mom, whom he met on a yacht in the early stages of his career, and it was a disaster, nearly sidelining his captaincy. He didn’t share the gritty details, not yet at least, but it burned him, badly, and left him avoiding intimacy on or off the boat for a long time. He focused, instead, on Sarah and his career, having a few dalliances and short-term relationships over the years, but nothing he ever committed himself to. Until you. He could see himself in a life with you.

“You make me happy,” Joel said, kissing his way down your body.

“You make me happy, too, Joel Miller,” you squeaked as his tongue delved between your folds, licking upwards to tease that little bundle of nerves.

Round two, three, and four carried well into the early morning hours, leaving you both satiated and exhausted. You slept in, missing the crew breakfast and half the day at the beach club, though neither of you cared. You knew Sarah, Tess, and Tommy would make excuses for you if anyone noticed.

The thought of going back to the yacht, where you’d have to resume your professional relationship again – at least in front of the crew and guests – left you both feeling empty and sad, but you agreed to enjoy every single moment you had left together at the resort. Everything else could be figured out as the season winded down.

TBC

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Part two to this.

Dustin Henderson was furious and confused. How could Eddie do this? He was the only besides Robin and Wayne who knew they had started dating before he had left for the road, so it's not like he could tell anyone. He couldn't sleep all night, and when he woke up the next morning, he was very grumpy. He decided to bike over to Steve’s to check on him, knowing Steve hadn't been feeling well.

Dustin used his key and unlocked the door. When he walked in, he heard the sound of Eddie singing coming from the kitchen. He scowled and stormed into the kitchen, slamming the door open. Eddie shrieked and turned around, putting a hand to his chest.

"Henderson, man, you scared me!" Eddie exclaimed and turned off the stove. "You're just in time. I made breakfast. Should be enough for everyone."

"How can you stand there after what you did?!" Dustin yelled. "You son of a bitch!"

"Woah! Man, what the fuck are you talking about?" Eddie asked.

"You're going to pretend like you don't know exactly what I'm talking about?" Dustin asked and cracked his knuckles. "I'm going to try and beat the shit out of you. You can at least let me get one shot in, okay?"

Dustin raised his fists at Eddie, his eyes narrowed. That's when Steve came into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eye.

"What in the hell is going on?" Steve asked.

"Dustin wants to fight me," Eddie said, pursing his lips as he struggled not to laugh.

"Why?" Steve asked, laughing.

"This son of a bitch cheated on you!" Dustin exclaimed.

"What?!" Steve asked with wide eyes.

"No! I swear, Steve!" Eddie squeaked.

"I was shopping with my mom yesterday when Eddie came in and told the guy behind the counter all about how he was going to be a daddy," Dustin said. "There's no way in hell that he could have gotten you pregnant."

"Jesus Christ!" Steve said, breathing a sigh of relief and tilting his head back. "That was a misunderstanding. When he heard I wasn't feeling well, he drove all night. He overheard a conversation between me and Robin. In his sleep deprived brain, he thought the bat bites made it possible for him to get me pregnant."

"You know, there might be something to that," Dustin said, lowering his fists and tapping his chin.

"It was food poisoning!" Steve exclaimed.

"Oh, did Robin try to cook for you again?" Dustin asked.

"Hey!" Robin exclaimed as she stumbled into the kitchen. "That's rude. What's going on?"

"Dustin here tried to defend my honor," Steve said.

"It was very cute," Eddie said.

"He thought Eddie cheated on me," Steve said.

"Aww, Dusty Bun," Robin cooed, pinching his cheeks.

"Let's just eat, okay?" Dustin grumbled, blushing. "I'm glad you're back and that I didn't have to hit you, Eddie. Steve. . .Let's talk business. I'm officially calling dibs on me being godfather to your unborn child."

"I called dibs on being godmother!" Robin said excitedly.

"That doesn't surprise me," Dustin said.

"Oh, not this again!" Steve said, throwing up his hands. "Do I look pregnant?"

"I wasn't going to say anything," Robin said.

"Don't listen to them, sweetheart, I think you look great," Eddie said.

"Okay! No more baby talk! We are eating breakfast and we are going to do it quietly!" Steve exclaimed. "Understood!"

It was completely quiet as they ate. Dustin and Eddie kept trying to gross each other out by showing off their chewed up food. The only thing it did was gross the other two out. Steve had to throw a piece of toast at them. Steve had thought for sure he had been done throwing up, but he had been proven wrong shortly after breakfast. He pulled his head out of the toilet bowl long enough to try to speak to Robin on the other side of the door. Eddie sat behind him, rubbing his back.

"Robin. . ."

"Yeah?"

"Can you do me a favor?" Steve asked.

"Sure."

"Can you go out and buy me a pregnancy test?" Steve asked.

"On it," Robin said, and they heard her run off.

"Seriously?" Eddie asked.

"It wouldn't hurt," Steve said.

The four of them crowded around the test, waiting with bated breath. There was no fucking way, Steve thought. Why was this taking forever? Steve leaned against Eddie, tapping his leg anxiously. Eddie placed a hand on his leg, caressing it gently. The kitchen timer went off, and they jumped up all at once. They leaned over the bathroom sink.

"Oh, shit," Steve whispered.

Dustin and Robin whispered excitedly to each other while Steve looked at Eddie with wide eyes.

"Where's the baby going to come out?" Eddie blurted out.

"Steve’s butt, duh. I mean, isn't that where you put it in?" Dustin asked, and they all turned to look at him. "What? Am I wrong?"

Should I make a third part? If I do, you want to pick your poison? Should it be a false positive or an actual baby?

Part three

[bonny-kookoo]

hiii

from the ilysib couple i‘m wondering what jk‘s ex said/did to make him wanting to die or in general misreable

maybe a flashback he gets when oc says something similar what his ex once said (nothing really harmful, just something like maybe about his body/something he is insecure about) but he notices how different it sounds from oc‘s, like more loving instead judging or harsh and he‘s just so greatful for her existence 🤍🎀

"Jesus christ Kook, you're heavy!" You laugh as he cuddles up to you, rather roughly letting himself flop on top of you, feeling especially touchy today with you. He just wants to be close- sometimes, he just wants to be held and cared for, and he's in the very lucky position that you don't mind doing just that. Be it doing his skincare for him, washing his back under the shower, massaging his back or just.. holding him, like now. Sure, you complain- but he knows you don't mean it, because your arms are wrapped around him, his head placed on your chest by you.

'you're heavy.'. He remembers when that sentence sounded a lot different to him- when it was said with a lot more.. disgust. She'd always urged him to eat less, work out more, 'get in shape', even when he was in the lowest phase of his depression. When he wasn't even able to get out of bed.

But you're truly just teasing- playful, and it never hurts when you say things like that to him. You make him want to be better, you make him want to get up and do stuff and be alive- because he can only be with you if he's alive, after all.

He wants to do all these things because you truly leave him a choice. You love him even if he doesn't put as much effort into himself. You still care for him even if he's grumpy and moody and you still show your affection towards him when he himself just feels gross.

Another time when he noticed the extreme contrast of things that just feel different, was when you were both staying at a hotel, him having gotten sick on the car ride, leaving him hunched over the toilet, unable to really do anything but try and stay as quiet as he can to not wake you up- since you'd taken a nap while he offered to search up some restaurant you could go to.

But you woke up anyways, proving your cheesy joke that you make about 'not being able to sleep without him anymore' to be much more than just a joke after all. You'd just sat next to him, held his hair away, a hand running over his back while he just felt disgusted with himself.

She had left him, back when it happened on a trip with her as well. He just doesn't do well on too long car rides without a break- but if he'd taken one, you wouldn't have made it in time for check-in. So he pushed through, and even back with her, got sick from it.

She had just sighed in the entrance to the bathroom, before she'd left him by himself.

You had left him too. But different to her, you'd returned not even an hour later , and not after some drinks at the bar- but with a bowl of something in hand that you placed down on the small table in the hotel room, before you'd joined him back in the bathroom to help him rinse his mouth and lay down on the cool tiles, his head in your lap for what felt like hours so his body could relax and calm down again.

You'd gone down to the hotel's restaurant to ask for some light soup for him. You'd taken care of him, despite how this ruined the first night of your vacation- at least in his eyes.

It's moments like these that remind him that while you do share some behaviors, while you do say the same things as she did sometimes, you're not the same at all.

Whenever he tells you something about his day, you listen with interest, instead of trying to steer the conversation to be about you instead.

When talks about his achievements, you're genuinely happy, instead of trying to one-up him by bragging about your own.

Whenever he confesses his problems to you, you give your support however you can- or other times, you simply let him rant. You let him have his own friends. You let him have his own life. You let him be whoever he wants to be.

And you still love him whatever he does. And that enough makes him convinced that you're not the same.

You're everything she's not-

and everything he could ever want.

[number1jaymerrickhater]

Marble Hornets sleep headcannons bc I’m bored in math class

Jay

Jay is the type of guy who can sleep anywhere, at any time. It doesn’t matter where, when, or how uncomfortable the position is if he wants to sleep he will.

In college Jay was kinda known for being found sleeping in weird spots. At least once Alex found him passed out in a closet.

Definitely a stomach sleeper.

Despite being able to sleep in the loudest conditions (he could sleep next to a highway and be fine) he can’t sleep if its too quiet.

He’s so used to noise that he just can’t sleep in a silent room.

Doesn’t snore but will talk in his sleep.

And not just random mumbles bros having whole ass conversations with himself while he’s asleep

Alex records it to use as blackmail material because he finds it funny

Alex

Alex is the complete opposite

He needs 12 blankets, 4 pillows, and the perfect amount of background noise in order to sleep

One of those blankets is definitely a weighted one

Unless he passes out from pure exhaustion he can not fall asleep in a moving vehicle

Side sleeper, he doesn’t have a specific side he sleeps on but generally prefers to sleep with his back to a wall.

Bro is fighting demons in his sleep or something because jesus fucking christ does he move

Sometimes shoots of Marble Hornets would run late and everyone would just crash in Alex’s living room slumber party style.

Even though it was his house Alex would still join in sleeping on the living room floor bc friend bonding and shit he also would have felt like an asshole if they all slept on the floor and he slept in his bed

Everyone quickly learned not to sleep next to Alex unless you wanna deal with him kicking your ass while you sleep.

Alex would obviously feel bad and apologize but that didn’t stop them from mildly bullying him about it.

Tim

Tim sleeps like the dead.

He has insomnia so falling asleep is hard, but once he’s out he’s OUT

Nothing short of a world ending event could wake him up once he falls asleep.

This meant he was usually stuck sleeping near Alex because no amount of kicking could ever wake him up

He isn’t loyal to any sleeping position. He rotates like a hot dog when he’s trying to fall asleep.

He snores.

Not super loudly or anything but loud enough for it to be noticeable.

He isn’t a huge fan of blankets because he doesn’t like feeling trapped or confined.

He sleeps with a single thin blanket, a single pillow, and thats it.

Him and Alex get into frequent debates over how many blankets is the correct amount.

“What the fuck are you doing with 8 blankets? How do you not suffocate?”

“Well how do you not freeze to death under your single blanket that’s thinner than dollar store toilet paper?”

“Its called heat, its this fancy new invention you turn on to keep your house warm.”

“It’s not just about warmth its about being comfortable. How can you be comfortable with one blanket.”

He sets a million alarms in order to wake up in the morning

Brian

His sleep schedule is so normal its disturbing.

He gets exactly 8 hours every night, goes to bed and wakes up at the same time 7 days a week.

Sleeps on his back with his arms on at his sides.

Doesn’t move, doesn’t snore, he just lays there.

Multiple people have made jokes about him looking like a corpse when he sleeps

He is one of those weirdos who actually goes to sleep and wakes up refreshed???

Can not stay up late.

If he needs to pull an all nighter for something he needs an entire pot of coffee because once it hits a certain time his body just clocks out on him.

He got his body on such a good schedule that he doesn’t even set an alarm anymore, he just naturally wakes up on time

He didn’t get a healthy sleep schedule of his own free will, he’s just the type of guy who can’t function if he gets less than 8 hours

Drools in his sleep.

[abiiors]

hey! I loved your Matty sick blurb yesterday 🥺 idk if you’re still taking blurb requests but I’d love to read a Matty x reader one where the reader has hurt their foot/ankle or something and Matty gets really protective whenever they try to move and look after themself (as they do stubbornly do) rather than letting Matty do it

hello hello <33, this is the last blurb i’m doing for now so i am no longer accepting requests for new ones. i’m so sorry if i missed yours. sometimes, they just don’t inspire any ideas but it’s very possible that two weeks from now i’d come up with something for them. so idk, stay tuned? can’t make promises tho…

quite sappy, but what else did we expect from me...

“no, no, no, where are you going!” matty hurries over to you, arm instantly around your waist to help you sit back on the bed. 

he’s been like this since yesterday—the overbearing mother hen—ever since you got back from the a&e with a fresh cast on your leg; from your foot to your shin. 

“need to use the loo, baby,” you tell him patiently. he’s only worried about you, just being the concerned boyfriend. plus you are still in pain despite the painkillers so you don’t blame him entirely. yet matty has been watching you like a hawk. 

“so you need to call me!” he scolds, pulling you up again. “no pressure on your ankle, that’s what the doctors said.”

you sigh, giving in. he’s right and when he’s holding you, it hurts less. plus it’s nice being taken care of.

“get out,” you tell him gently but firmly when matty settles you on the toilet. “you’re not watching me pee, matthew, i am not a child.”

he looks like he’s about to protest, throwing his hands up like a teenager before he walks out. he stops at the door though, pointing a finger at you. “i’m standing outside, yeah? call me when you’re done.”

with narrowed eyes, you wait for him to leave. finally some peace. 

he’s been like this for 24 hours now, hovering and over-protective and frankly getting on your last nerve the more he insists on doing everything for you. so you take your time in the bathroom, breathing a sigh of relief and then immediately feeling guilty. 

he’s only worried. it’s not like he’s doing it deliberately. so you get up, grabbing the counter for support and flush the toilet, immediately cringing once you realise what’s about to happen. 

matty bursts in not even two seconds later. “i told you to call me! sweetheart, you’re going to hurt yourself again.”

the tone of his voice grates on you. irritation bubbles in your chest. 

“you could have at least knocked!” you scoff, hobbling over to the sink to wash your hands. his hands are on your waist a second later, steadying you. “what if i were still naked, huh?”

in the mirror, you see him roll his eyes. “i’ve seen you naked a million times.”

“and what if i was still on the toilet?”

“well, you weren’t.”

it takes saintly patience not to scream out in frustration, even more so when he insists on practically carrying you back to bed. six more weeks of this. and then four more weeks of physio after that. the irritation burns stronger. 

“i can walk!” you try not to push him away. “well… i can hobble.”

“absolutely not!” matty responds firmly, about to pick you up and that’s when the restraint snaps. 

“jesus christ, can you stop!” you snap at him, immediately regretting it when his face falls. one thing you know about matty is that he has the remarkable ability to look like a kicked puppy when he’s sad. and right now, it’s working too well on you, making the guilt grow. 

“no, i’m sorry sweetheart, i didn’t mean to snap at you,” you sigh immediately taking hold of his face. he’s just worried, your annoyance was entirely unwarranted. 

“it’s alright,” he tries to smile, “i know you’re in pain—”

“it’s not that,” you cut him off quickly. to your utter annoyance, a twinge of pain shoots up your leg right then, making you groan. matty is onto you immediately and you let him lift you this time, let him carry you back to bed. 

“it’s not the pain, matty…” you start explaining once he’s placed a pillow under your leg to make you more comfortable. “i just, you’ve been hovering, love. you’re crowding me a little…”

“oh.” his voice is still small, “um, sorry, i just. i thought you needed help.”

“i do,” you hurry to reassure him. “of course, i need help. i won’t be able to do so many things on my own for a few weeks at least. it’s just… i don’t need you being over-protective 24/7. that’s… i’m sorry, love, but that’s a bit annoying.”

matty listens patiently, nodding along. “you’re right,” he admits finally, “i should let you have some space. i just, i don’t like seeing you in pain.”

“i know, and i love you for helping me out so much since yesterday but i’m fine, sweetheart,” you reassure him once again, feeling a bit lighter when he smiles a little. “the painkillers are helping.”

“you’d tell me though, wouldn’t you? if you need help?”

you nod at him instantly, “i will, i promise.”

matty does smile then, a proper smile, bending down to kiss your shoulder. “do you need me to go for a bit? i can do my own thing. leave you alone if that’s what you want…”

surprisingly enough, you shake your head. “no, i… just stay. and cuddle with me. we can watch something. i do like your company, matty. i just don’t want you treating me like an invalid.”

“cuddles and netflix sounds perfect.” the bed dips as he gets in, pulling you into his chest. “won’t treat you like an invalid, i promise,” he smiles again, dipping to kiss your head. 

[gabessquishytum]

or how about another spin combining prostate massager and tentacle: little dreamthing tentacle creature that's very much just an extension of dream's consciousness and can just... stay inside hob. sometimes it curls up into a fairly unobtrusive ball. sometimes it stretches and squirms and writhes around inside him until he feels like it's woven through every inch of his guts. sometimes it plays with his prostate and makes him come over and over until it hurts. no matter what it's doing it keeps, at the very least, one tentacle latched over his prostate and pulsing, nice and slow, just enough to keep him constantly leaking.

🐈‍⬛

Babe. Honey. Sweetheart. I am. Slain. By this idea. Idk what it is about the idea of Hob having a part of Dream’s essence entirely inside him that drives me insane, but it does. Completely and utterly.

I'm very obsessed with Dream using his little creature and just edging Hob constantly throughout the day, so that he has to go to the staff toilets and cry a little bit because it's just so much and he knows it's not going to end. Constant torture, sweetly given and even more sweetly received.

And the little dream creature is a comforting pressure inside him. Hob probably talks to it during the day, because he's Like That,,, "where did I put my pen? oh, there it is! jesus christ don't squeeze there, please!"

[thornsnvultures]

Play Nice

Andy Barber x gn!Reader

18+ minors DNI, grumpy!Andy, suggestive language

~400 words

divider by @firefly-graphics

fluff/kinktober masterlist 🍁

"And last year my house got TP'd! It's a shitty holiday. The little brats don't deserve any candy."

You stand in Andy's kitchen, slack jawed and frozen in place. The cookies you just pulled from the oven completely forgotten on the countertop as you stared at your grump of a boyfriend.

"Jesus Christ, Barber."

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what'? Are you good? Who hurt you?"

"I mentioned the toilet paper on my house, right?"

"Is that all it takes? A little toilet paper is all it takes to ruin a whole ass holiday for you?"

Andy has the decency to look at least a little bit bashful. You smack his hand away when he reaches over to grab a cookie, they're still too hot to touch, let alone eat.

"I just don't see what the fuss is all about." He leans on the counter opposite you with his arms crossed, eyeing the tray of steaming cookies.

"Oh, stop being lame. It'll be fun! Now be a good boy and dump those bags of candy in that orange bowl for me," you gesture towards the bags sitting on the dining room table.

Grumbling Andy pushes off from the counter to do as he's told. He only stops for a moment as he passes you, placing a hand on your hip and whispering in your ear, "I'll play nice for now, but once that candy's gone and the little brats stop ringing my doorbell, you're going upstairs and putting that little red number you brought over on-"

"How did you-"

"Shh," you sharply inhale as Andy presses a kiss to that sensitive spot on your neck just behind your ear, gripping the counter as you knees buckle. Curse him for knowing how to make you weak in an instant. "Did you think I wouldn't know? You want me to be your good boy for a few hours? Fine. But when the night is over," Andy slides the hand on your hip down to your ass, squeezing it hard enough to pull a gasp from your lips, "this is mine."

Your eyes flutter shut as he runs his lips down your neck, pulling you by the hip back against the semi he's sporting behind his sweats.

"You belong to me, sugar," Andy reaches around you and grabs a cookie, giving your ass a firm pat as he lets you go.

"Goddamn it, Andrew," you grumble as you take the cookies off the tray. "It was supposed to be a surprise! Stop going through my things!"

Andy laughs from the other room.

[mariedreamlove]

Tw: swearing, mentioned violence, death, blood?

When Bruce died, and the other Ghostboys welcomed him, he couldn't do more than hug Vance.

He had known him, they had been friends, maybe more. He had missed him. He had searched for him with another boy, Vance's only other friend whose name suddenly disappeared into fog ins Bruce's mind.

But now he finally had found him again. He didn't fail at least this. He died, but this wasn't clear to him now. For all he knew, he had escaped the Grabber and was finally reunited with Vance and the other boys.

But Vance didn't return the hug. He just..let it happen. He didn't try to comfort Bruce, almost like he didn't know how of who he even was.

"I- i am so so glad I found you Vance!" Bruce finally was able to say something and looked at the blond one. Behind him, he could see two smaller and younger boys. They seemed familiar. He had seen their faces. The whole state knew their faces. Those were Griffin Stagg and the paperboy Billy Showalter.

He was confused. Those boys didn't look older than the day they went missing. It's been more than a year! Their hair was supposed to be longer, their faces not as child-like round. They were, as Bruce realized to his horror, bloody. Oh so goddamn bloody. His mind began to race, looking for any logical explanation for this. Maybe- maybe they were locked up somewhere else?

"Jesus fucking Christ! Oh god, we- we'll get you into a hospital!" Bruce didn't feel like he had taken a breath. Was he even breathing? God, he didn't feel like he could breathe. His heart was racing so fast, he didn't even feel it.

He wanted to walk forward to the boys, but the grip of Vance was stronger around his arms. Suddenly it felt like he finally snapped out of the trance he was in.

"It's over. Don't you get it?"

"what's over? Vance- what do you mean?"

"You lost. You lost the game."

The game? Bruce tried to remember. Baseball, but he had won this one. It was a close one, sure, but he had still won. What was the other guys name..? Finnley? Finney! Finney was it, that was the boy with the mint arm, he almost had him.

"No? No, he- he almost had me, but I still won."

The two boys behind Vance looked at eachother, looking almost pitiful at the black haired boy.

"His game." The one with a cut on his cheek said.

"You went up the stairs." The other one added.

That's when he begin to feel it. Images of dirt, s loose tile on the floor in front of a toilet. Old, badly salted and peppered eggs and stale soda. A mask looking like a demon out of the tales his grandparents sometimes told him about. Black balloons swallowing him whole. A door looking like the escape he desperately needed and wanted. A trap meant to cut short his life. Pain, fear and terror. Begging and screams. Blood. So so much blood.

He looked at the boy in front of him. He looked familiar- no wait. That was Vance! He had searched for him. But - but he remembered the Grabber. The pain he brought him and his escape attempt. Attempt. He had died. He was dead. And so was Vance, who as he now realized was bloody and everything about him looked dead. His hair, his eyes. Everything.

"I- I forgot." He whispered.

"You'll get used to it.. what did you call me?"

"Vance- Vance don't tell me- Griffin, Billy, what is going on? Don't - don't you remember your names?" He felt panic rise, but the others looked almost indifferent.

"you loose everything. Your name, your memories get hazy. All we know is him." The boy with the slit throat told him.

He let go of the bloody blond boy. He remembered baseball. The tile. The soda. The eggs. But- but where was his name? No no. He knew.. he knew he had it. It was just on the tip of his tounge, and yet it didn't come. It was locked away.

He looked at the boy again. He felt a bit of familiarity with the blue eyes and golden locks. But he didn't know why.

He just knew one thing.

When you die, the first thing you lose is your name.

[the-brainrot-central]

KOSAKU AU FANFIC - ROUGH DRAFT

Okay so I haven’t posted it yet because of so many gaps but here’s what I have so far of that silly little mpreg AU I had for Kira. Basically it takes place after he stole Kosaku’s identity and shit. Enjoy the silliness

CONTENT WARNING: Mpreg, discussions of sex, mentioned virginity loss, some cis-normative language

This was the third time in a week this had happened—the third time. He’d woken up horribly nauseous that morning and reluctantly, in fear of staining the carpet instead, dragged himself to the bathroom to throw up. It was horrible, he thought; he wasn’t used to feeling so sick like this. He took such great care of himself that he rarely, if ever, had bodily issues such as nausea or headaches. However, this unexpected turn of events was perhaps putting undue stress on his body—at least, that was his assumption.

Jesus Christ…did I eat something weird…? Fuck…

It wasn’t over yet, however; another wave of nausea washed over him, and once more he hunched over the toilet bowl.

Some time passed before his nausea assuaged—by then he was sure he’d thrown up any food that was left in his stomach. It was just awful…he hated being sick like this. He tried to make himself stand up, but found that he couldn’t: his body was too exhausted. Instead he succumbed to the heaviness in his bones, letting himself sink into sleep, head resting on the toilet seat.

When he next woke, he was surprised to feel someone gently stroking his back.

“Kosaku, are you alright?” Her voice was soft, pleasant—like dripping honey. Usually it was sharper, more nasally and grating and way louder than it should be, and Kira didn’t like it. However, her soft voice was soothing, gently tickling his ear, sending an inexplicable calmness through his body. He sighed.

“No…I feel sick…”

“Like nauseous?”

“Yes. It’s awful…” he groaned, indulging in her kindness. He did appreciate her in some ways, he had to admit—she was always doting on him, especially as of late with his bouts of fatigue and illness.

“You’ve been throwing up a lot, Kosaku…are you eating anything different?”

“No,” he whined, “I haven’t.”

She stroked some circles into his back, biting her lip as she contemplated.

“I think we should see your doctor, just to check things. Maybe he can help.”

He sighed, chest welling with anxiety. He knew this was coming—of course she’d want to take him. And he’d have to pretend to know the guy and everything too; it was such a hassle.

“Do I have to?”

—————-

It had started off simple enough. As all bad things do. Things were going well as Kosaku for now, and he was adjusting well to his new role as a boring, work-absorbed husband and dismissive father. However, after two months of living a lie, Kira began to feel strange—he was oddly fatigued, more than he was used to as Kosaku. He’d discovered via social osmosis that the man was somewhat of a workaholic, unfortunately, another bootlicker desperate to climb the corporate ladder. Consequently, in keeping this facade, Kira was forced to undergo much more work than he was used to, especially unpaid overtime; it was thoroughly exhausting. It was a nuisance, and a big one at that, but he could cope—anything to remain safe, to be unnoticed by his chasers. However, this fatigue only got worse as time went on.

Soon after this, he became frequently nauseous: he couldn’t keep much food down, as much as he tried to for the sake of not calling unwanted attention. However, it was wearing on him—his body felt terrible, and his mood was frequently sour. Despite all this, he made sure to put on a cool face for Shinobu and Hayato; surely this was a short-lived illness, and soon enough it would pass him over.

However, much to his displeasure, his symptoms did not subside—they only worsened. About a week later, he was vomiting every day, usually three times or more. Besides that, he’d noticed that somehow his stomach was bigger; while he used to have relative ease slipping into Kosaku’s pants and underwear, he now struggled to button up his fly.

Of course, Shinobu began to worry and urged him to see a doctor, which he tried to refuse, but she was persistent. Finally he conceded, figuring it was best not to put up a fight; Kosaku or not, he hated bickering and nagging women. He was anxious, for obvious reasons—he had to pretend to be a patient, one who had known this doctor for probably most of his adult life. That was not good news. Still, surely a physician wouldn’t have much reason to be suspicious of him, so perhaps there wasn’t much to worry about. And besides, even if he did suspect anything, he had no way of knowing the whole truth. If he asked if Kosaku was feeling alright, or called out his unusual demeanor, he’d simply bluff his way through, claiming he was under the weather perhaps, or stressed at work. Things would probably be fine if he stayed quiet and let the doctor do most of the talking. He’d explain his symptoms in a short, terse way, and that would be that.

The appointment went seamlessly—no slips in the facade. The doctor told him and Shinobu that watchful waiting was a good idea, to come back in a week if the symptoms persisted—he advised him not to put too much strain on his body in the meanwhile, and to avoid alcohol or other recreational substances. Easy enough, he supposed.

Unfortunately for him, another miserable week passed and he felt no better than before; the nausea was so severe that he’d even lost some weight, despite his growing waistline. Shinobu anxiously shuttled him right back to the doctor, practically whining as she begged him to help her poor, sickly husband. However, the doctor didn’t take much convincing at all—it seemed like he was expecting this, if anything. He didn’t seem shocked or worried, but rather expectant, if anything.

Anxiously, he walked into the doctor's office with Shinobu, mentally steeling himself to improvise and keep up the charade. Sure, it wouldn’t be that bad—he was just describing his symptoms, which were the truth. But still, he couldn't be too careful

Kira sat down on the bed, making the sheets crinkle loudly as he shifted his weight to be more comfortable. His hips and back were feeling stiff, and lately it was harder to find a position that didnt put uncomfortable pressure on the muscles.

“So, Kosaku, I take it things have been getting worse?”

Kira sighed, frustrated with this man.

“Well, what do you think, sensei? I’m back here, aren’t I?”

“Ah…yes. I apologize for being rhetorical.”

Kira rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “No, it’s fine—I’m just grumpy. Sorry for being rude.”

“Not at all; I can tell you’ve been under some stress, ever since our last session. You were so unusually serious, it had me worried.”

Kira pondered, a sharp pang of fear striking his chest. What does he mean by that?

“Oh, really?”

“Oh, come on, you’re always so lighthearted when I see you—cracking jokes, complaining about your wife and all. You’re never so quiet like you were.”

The doctor cleared his throat, refocusing on the situation at hand.

“Well, anyhow, I’ll stop skating around this—how are you feeling?”

Kira allowed himself another deep, heavy sigh—this would be in character for Kosaku, right?

“I’m just awful. I feel so nauseous all the time, and I’m fucking exhausted…It’s just so draining.”

“I see…is the nausea worse than when I last saw you?”

“Much worse—I’m throwing up every day, usually more than once. It’s terrible…everything’s making me nauseous—even foods I used to enjoy. Do you mind if I…lie down?”

“Of course, no need to ask. You're oddly polite today, Kawajiri-san…”

Kira’s heart skipped a beat at that—shit. His cover was slipping—why didn’t he realize? Now he was being too polite; Kosaku was always polite, from what he’d gathered from social osmosis…perhaps that was different when he was with his doctor. Quickly, he made something up.

“Ah, sorry—still in work-brain mode. Gotta suck up to the big guys, all that; you know how it is.” He laid himself down gently on the bed, overly anxious of moving in a strange way.

That got a brief chuckle out of the man.

“Indeed, I do, Kawajiri, indeed I do.” He jotted something down on his clipboard, before glancing back over at Kosaku.

“It’s every day, you said?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Have any new symptoms appeared?”

“Well…my stomach is kind of bloated, which is odd. It’s not painful, really, just a little distended—I haven’t eaten anything atypical lately, so I don’t know what’s causing it. I weighed myself, too, and I’m getting heavier.”

The man scribbled away at his clipboard, jotting down notes.

“Anything else?”

Kira was hesitant. Somehow he felt paranoid, like even describing his symptoms would somehow give him away; therefore, he was withholding some information. It felt like at any moment, he could crack—he would slip and let something loose and it’d be too late to recover. Nevertheless, he continued speaking—they were just symptoms, after all. Nothing related to his identity.

“Well…my back has been hurting more than usual. My hips are sore, too. Still feel tired, really tired…that’s all I can think of that’s changed, really.”

“Not to be irrelevant, but just out of curiosity—have you noticed a more frequent need to urinate lately?”

Kira pondered; now that he thought of it, he had. He didn’t really think to include that, since it didn’t seem relevant—and besides, it was a mildly irritating symptom, at best.

“I mean…now that you mention it, yeah. I kind of have.”

“I see. Interesting.”

“Doc, I hate to rush things but…do you know what it could be? Any ideas at all?”

Kira was growing impatient—this seemed to be going nowhere fast, and he was keen to get out of this dreaded doctor’s office as soon as possible.

“Well…it’s nothing serious, from what I can tell, but…it’s hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

The man gave him a nervous glance, as if gaging his potential reaction. He sighed lightly, adjusting his glasses, shifting in his seat.

“This may sound strange, but…have you ever heard of male pregnancy?”

Kira’s brow furrowed in confusion, convinced he misheard.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Male pregnancy—it’s rarely talked about, and admittedly kind of rare but…it’s still a possibility. Have you been sexually active lately?”

Kira nearly startled up and out of the mattress—what the fuck was this guy on about? Was he insane?

“Doctor, with all due respect, I’m a heterosexual man; I have a penis. I don’t see how I could possibly—”

“I understand your suspicion, Kawajiri-san, but straight men can become pregnant, I assure you—even with a penis. And based on your symptoms and your tests…I wouldn’t rule out the possibility just yet. Well, unless, that is, you haven’t been sexually active in the past four months—in that case, it’s impossible.”

What is he, insane?! I’ve never heard of this shit in my life! He’s out of his mind!

Kira sat up suddenly, too suddenly, which sent his head spinning. Ignoring the sudden nausea that spun, he began to talk rapidly, correcting the misguided doctor.

“Sir, there must be some sort of misunderstanding—I have no uterus, or ovaries, or anything of the sort! To think that you, a medical professional, would suggest something so…utterly inconceivable, is just completely—!”

“I understand your confusion and fear, Kawajiri-san, but please, just hear me out! I promise I am not trying to mislead you or say anything untrue.”

Kira finally shut up, deciding it’d be too difficult to argue back with this man constantly interrupting him. His doctor breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’d like to run a few more tests and an ultrasound, just to be certain. And, according to your records, you’ve never been officially checked for…unusual sex organs, or anything internal that might be hidden. Oh, speak of which…back to the question of sex; you didn’t answer. Have you had any lately?”

Kira averted his eyes, his body tensing up at the question—this felt so invasive.

“Um…yes…with my wife…” He cringed as he said this, remembering the thoroughly unpleasant encounter—she had insisted on it, claiming they hadn’t done it in a long while. She thought that they should spend more intimate time together, to strengthen their relationship. With much internal reluctance, he acquiesced, determined not to rock the boat. She seemed to enjoy it, fortunately enough. However, for him it was humiliating; he was so anxious that he barely managed to stay hard, let alone come. It didn;t feel good physically, either—to put it bluntly, it felt like wiggling his dick around in wet salami. He had been technically a virgin up until that point, and to have to expose himself to a woman who he still considered practically a stranger…well, it was frankly an awful experience. So many unpleasant emotions had brewed from it—he felt like he had been robbed of something, in some deep, intimate way, and that he would never get that sense of purity back.

“I see. Do you remember when you last had sex with her?”

He was beginning to feel nauseous and dizzy, overwhelmed by these questions. However, he masked his affect, maintaining an aloof, anxious appearance.

“Um…I think it was...about a month ago, maybe more.”

“I see…that makes sense. In that case, pregnancy is a possible diagnosis. However I cannot truthfully confirm that you are pregnant yet; that is just my strong suspicion. I just…wanted you to know it was a probability, from what you’ve said so far. You don’t have any symptoms to suggest something else is wrong, like your liver, kidneys or stomach. Would you be willing to do some tests and an ultrasound, so I can be sure? I won’t be able to know what this condition is unless I test you.”

Kira sighed. His head was practically reeling—he had absolutely not expected this to happen when he walked in here today. He’d expected this man to tell him he was sick with a bug, prescribe him a pill, and send him on his way. However, this??? This was beyond anything he ever could’ve predicted. Him, pregnant? That wasn’t possible!

However, the way this doctor spoke about it, so calmly and logically…it was starting to make Kira doubt himself. This man wouldn’t say such outlandish things if there wasn’t true cause to believe them…that was even more reason to worry. Sure, the doctor was being reluctant to confirm his hypothesis, but given that he’d been brave enough to share it in the first place was a sign that deep down, that man probably already knew.

That thought terrified Kira.

It was no use fighting him about it—Kira also wanted to know what was wrong with his body. Though in truth, he was afraid of what the tests would say, more than anything—then what would he do?? How the hell could he explain that to Shinobu?

Either way, Kira needed confirmation—he had to know for sure. Kira sighed, gripping his fingers around the edge of the bed.

“I—alright, I’ll do the tests.” As smooth as he tried to be, his voice faltered, stuttering and quavering a little.

“Okay. Thank you for cooperating, Kawajiri-san—I know this is very nerve-wracking. I promise that whatever happens, you’ll be okay, alright? I’ll make sure you’re in good hands.”

Kira simply nodded, avoiding eye contact. He didn’t know what to say—all of this was so confusing.

elephant????

When Shinobu came back into the room, to ask how it went, it took every fiber of his being to maintain his composure. He told her he was fine, that the doctor wanted to run some tests just to be sure of it. At this she became concerned.

“What? Why would he make you do tests? What does he think is wrong with you? What aren’t you telling me?” She spoke too fast, rapidly firing questions one after another, the way obnoxious women tended to do.

“Calm down, honey, I’m okay. He says he…doesn’t know what this is. He doesn’t think it’s anything serious, though.”

Define serious, he thought sarcastically to himself—sure, he

ELEPHANT

It was positive. The tests came back positive.

Kira was the first to know, of course. The doctor suggested bringing Shinobu in to break the news, which he had no reason to object to—it would be much easier than telling her himself.

She had simply sat there, staring at the doctor with

ELEPHANT

They drove home in silence, Shinobu being the one to drive—there was so much to say. And yet there was no possible way to say it.

She seemed agitated, Kira observed, by the way she jerked the car more aggressively her maneuvers frantic and jagged instead of smooth and precise. Despite the fact that she wasn’t his actual wife, that he was simply playing the part of a husband…he worried about her reaction, fearing she was angry with him. Was she mad? Would she yell at him? The guilt was stirring inside him, made worse by her deadpan expression and the tense, silent air. Upon arriving home, Hayato was already there—Shino greeted him with her usual enthusiasm, though Kira could still feel that shaky, precarious sense of unease about her—the way she stumbled over her words, how her voice trembled slightly, how she gestured too much. They ate dinner as usual, with Hayato, pretending everything was fine—Kira tried to tag on to the conversation every once in a while, when it was appropriate. Shinobu implicitly but deliberately drove the conversation, centering it around Hayato and how his day was, how school was going, new classroom gossip and whatnot.

ELEPHANT

He practically trudged through the door of his house, his body heavy with an indescribable exhaustion. Not to mention his belly, which was nearly the size of a football and already putting strain on his back.

“Hey, honey, how was work today?”

“It was alright. Tiring.” He slugged his way inside, trying not to show his deflated mood on his face. He felt awful, in every way—his body was a mess, his anxiety was hiking up, and he was barely managing to stay awake on the job. He sank down on the couch, not bothering to give his wife their usual “welcome home” kiss—a ritual that had begun a short while after he took over Kosaku’s identity. He just wanted to be left alone, to have a break from the constant charade that was his life now.

“Kosaku, are you alright?”

“Yeah, honey, just tired…I need a nap.”

“Oh, alright. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah…”

“What should I make you?”

“Jus’ whatever…I don’t care…” He was now thoroughly cuddled up on the couch, slowly sinking into a much deserved sleep.