#he isn’t ugly in the slightest

[inkykeiji]

I’m a few days late to this discussion but on the topic of Robert de Niro, daddy issues, dilfs, etc… you’re gonna judge me so hard, but yk the guy that sings the song like “my money don’t jiggle jiggle, it folds”—that song? I lowkey find the guy attractive and he’s like 60 what the hell-

oh my goshhhh hahaha no anon no judging here!!! i i had to look this guy up because i live under a rock and honestly he isn’t my type per se but i think he’s actually quite cute with the beard????? like the beard does things for him for sure!! and he’s definitely not ugly either way!!

[lakefu]

A Perfect Warmth 🕯️

Summary: Astarion and Tav take a well deserved break away form the chaos of their adventures at an inn inside Baldur's Gate. They need to clean up and get back on the road but they keep getting distracted. Perhaps plans could be delayed for a night of passion...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Tags: 18+, Explicit, fluffy smut, brief Astarion trauma response, PIV, erogenous elf ears, scent kink, blood + biting, a bit of praise, a bit of edging... a sprinkle of cockwarming...., these guys are in love...

Word count: 3.5k Note: This was my first fic originally uploaded on Ao3 on 11/27/23, inspired by the patch #4 dev note mentioning adding sponges to clean your companions. I've made edits from the Ao3 post.

“Remind me to sell this junk next time we pass by a merchant, would you dear?” Astarion was seated at the edge of the bed and rummaging through his traveler’s pack, placing various items on the nightstand for further examination. Two silver forks, an old necklace, and a handful of various polished stones ended up on the table before he plucked out an intricate sapphire ring and held it up to the sunlight peeking through the window.

“Good taste,” he muttered to himself. He placed the ring on his pinky finger in amusement and resumed the scavenge. 

“It’s going to get difficult sneaking up on people if I have to lug this heavy thing around you know.” He threw over a glance at Tav, who was preoccupied with gathering laundry together in preparation for the next day.

“It wouldn’t be so heavy if you didn’t pocket nearly every shiny thing we came across,” she teased, without even looking over at him.

He gasped dramatically. “Framed by my own lover? Quite the scandal. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the near dozen times you’ve asked me to hold onto your things because your own pack was too full.”

“Hmm. Maybe. I guess that might sound sort of familiar…” She giggled to herself and walked into the bedroom to catch his eye, meeting him with a mischievous grin. 

“Why are you such a- oh! Now, what’s this you’re wearing?” Astarion blinked and scanned her up and down, clearly enthralled by the wardrobe change. She stood there in an old linen robe that was yellowed with age, definitely unlike anything he had ever seen her in before.

“Just some old thing I found in the dresser here, isn’t it just fabulous?” Tav's words were dripping in sarcasm and yet she smiled, performing a grandiose little spin in the middle of the room as if she was wearing the most beautiful ball gown in the world.

“I… it’s just so different from your usual armor or that drow nightwear you fancy so much. You look so… domestic.” His eyes were locked onto Tav intensely, with brow furrowed as he seemed to be confused by his own words.

She felt her heart skip a beat and a flush run to her face.

“And you think that’s a good look for me?”

His eyes softened and he paused a moment before quietly answering.

“Yes… I do.”

Tav watched as his smile faded and the gaze of his eyes became increasingly more distant. The atmosphere seemed to shift and a slight panic ran through her body. Did she do something wrong? No... and it didn’t require a tadpole connection to get an understanding for what had brought down his spirits.

Astarion hadn’t considered a comfortable domestic life was possible for someone like him. Even the slightest concept of such a thing had been buried for over a hundred years, and he never expected it to resurface. Was he worthy of such a thing, and was it even possible? 

Oh, it was possible. The evidence was standing right in front of him, spinning circles in an ugly bathrobe. He could see glimpses of a happy future that was so close to being a reality he nearly felt nauseous. Not because he was unsure of himself, but because there were still too many unresolved matters they had a duty to attend to. Too many missions and stupid little quests that could now go wrong and threaten this idea of a happy ending he never even knew was possible.

Everything was different now that he realized what was possible, and he suddenly felt an unknown and uncomfortable pressure. All he knew was that he couldn’t afford to lose in the upcoming battles. Battles that some would say were impossible, suicidal even. The thought of loss at this point was beyond unbearable. It was sickening just to think about.

“Hey!!” Tav ran up to where he was sitting on the bed and took his head in her hands. She placed a delicate kiss on his forehead, knowing she had to get him focused on something else.

“Why don’t we go to the shop right now and get rid of that stuff,” she motioned to the collection of items that had been gathered on the nightstand.

“Wouldn’t hurt to get some more coin in our pockets, right?” She looked at him expectantly and felt a huge relief as a light seemed to return to his eye and meet her view.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to wear that horrid robe to see the merchant,” he sighed and looked up at her pleadingly.

“Of course not!! I’ll change and- oh gods!!! We’ve got to get this blood off your face, the merchant is going to think we are trying to kill him!” Tav exclaimed as she lightly shook his shoulders, and quickly began examining his body to see how much cleaning would have to get done before they could leave.

“Blood… on my face?” He raised an eyebrow and brought a finger to his cheek.

“Yeah!! Well, it’s all over you really, dontcha remember earlier today, fighting those cultists?? You sneaked up behind one of ‘em and BAM!!! Just obliterated with a single strike, it was amazing!! You’re so strong…you know.” Her pulse was racing at the mere memory of the event as she delicately traced the side of his face with her fingers and ventured down to his chest. 

“Ah of course. That was all so terribly easy I’d nearly forgotten,” he said proudly, adjusting his posture and keeping his eyes on Tav’s hand movements sliding across his chest. Her soft touch was becoming more firm as her fingers made their way toward his arms, giving his biceps a teasing squeeze before leaning her face into his and teasing a kiss.

Before their lips could touch, Astarion wags a finger in between their faces as if to remind Tav of the task at hand.

“Alright my sweet, let’s clean up shall we? You’re my mirror after all. So, go on then.” He took her hands into his own and gave them a kiss before placing them back at her side, encouraging her to go and gather whatever it was she needed to get him cleaned up.

Right, the supplies. It was nearly impossible to remain focused after moments of intimacy with him, no matter how brief they were. She quickly moved into the other room to acquire the washcloths and bucket of soapy water that she was using for herself not too long ago. Hands full, she scurried back to the bedroom to meet her lover, who hadn’t moved an inch.

As she approached him, Tav could feel the tie on her robe becoming increasingly more loose with each step that was taken across the floor. The embarrassment hit her as she realized she didn't have any hands free to do anything about it. She quickly tried to put the bucket down by the bedside, but the bending movement only resulted in the robe slipping off one of her shoulders, exposing a bare breast.

“Oh? You haven’t got anything on underneath?” Astarion cocked his head in amusement, eyes unmoving from the newly exposed skin.

“Ye-yeah that’s the whole point of robes isn’t it? I was doing laundry earlier ya know and umm,” She laughed nervously and started to fix the wardrobe malfunction but was quickly stopped by a hand over her own. Astarion reached out toward her until both hands were around her waist and pulled her in close to his body. Fangs were peeking through his devious smile while determined eyes looked her up and down. With a singular finger he crept over to the loose knot of the robe’s tie and flicked it completely undone with one swift movement.

Tav shuddered and felt her body starting to run warm despite now being suddenly exposed to the cool air of the inn. She was completely revealed to him now, the robe only just clinging to her arms and draped across her backside.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he sighed and began kissing her stomach and caressing the curves of her waist. “Come here.”

Tav gasped as she felt his cold grip around her waist tighten as he expertly lifted her up onto his lap with ease. Pleased at the new angle, Astarion shifted his attention to kissing the crook of her neck and started moving down her chest. He delightfully found her nipple with his mouth in no time, and teased it in circles with his tongue just as he knew she liked it. His gentle sucking continued for only a few brief moments before he suddenly withdrew and cleared his throat.

“Ah, well. You can reach my face better up here I’m sure. For the cleaning of course,” he said smugly. The elf leaned back and admired the view of his lover, nude and flustered, perched oh-so perfectly on top of him.

“The cleaning…” Tav nodded and remembered she still had a warm and soapy washcloth in her hand. The urge to throw the stupid cloth into some unknown corner of the room was nearly undeniable. All she wanted in this moment was for him to take her completely, in any way he wanted, it didn’t matter as long as she ended up getting fucked into oblivion. So fine. On with the cleaning.

She raised the washcloth to his temple and slowly began to wipe away the dried blood by working down his face. His cheeks were a bit sunken as usual but flushed adorably in this moment, clearly enjoying the tender rubs of cloth on his skin. She continued rubbing down toward his chiseled jawline, across to his lips, and back up the other side to repeat the process once more. She ran her fingers through his silver curls and noticed his ears would need cleaning too. 

One hand caressed the pointy ear to keep it in place and the other brought the washcloth in for a gentle scrub. A quiet moan suddenly escaped the vampire’s lips.

Oh? She had seemingly discovered a sensitive spot and noted that she would have to continue her work carefully. The scrubbing continued but Tav couldn’t keep her eyes off his face now. His eyes were closed but still noticeably moving behind their lids, and his lips were slightly parted with his breathing becoming increasingly heavier and more noticeable. 

Astarion was in his own world of pleasure. What in the hells had he been doing these past weeks, aimlessly scrubbing himself clean alone in the river when they could have been doing this the whole time instead?

He opened his eyes just to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. She was still there of course, diligently and lovingly taking such good care of his body. A wave of maddening lust rushed through his core and he needed her closer. He needed her as close as physically possible and even more so after that.

Their eyes met, revealing intense desires. Tav lowered her hands and she spoke slowly, “Can you take your shirt off? There’s a spot I can’t get to with it on…” 

She wasn’t fooling anybody, but he obeyed without hesitation. The shirt was gone in seconds, revealing his pale and perfectly sculpted chest. It was a sight that Tav never tired of admiring, and was in fact the subject of distracting daydreams on the daily. She shifted her body closer to his and continued scrubbing his neck and chest, despite it becoming increasingly more difficult to focus. Deep breaths.

She had always been fond of his cologne that he was quite proud of concocting himself. The scent of aged brandy, bergamot, and rosemary was now forever an Astarion specialty that she could never forget. Even during times of battle or travel, a gust of wind could carry his essence to her and bring along with it a sense of reassuring familiarity. As she continued to wipe him down, however, a different scent began to come to the forefront.

It was something that did not seem completely foreign, but it wasn't immediately identifiable either. There was something about taking it all in that felt forbidden. Tav tried to pinpoint what she was experiencing. He smelled earthy… raw… unnatural… it was without a doubt, the undeath.

An undeniable heat rose through her body as she engulfed herself with this pure scent from her lover. The washcloth, the bed, the entire room seemed miles away, and nothing felt coherent except for a craving to be even closer to him. Nothing else existed except their bodies and her overwhelming desire to-

“Eager, are we?” A sultry voice snapped her back into reality, where piercing red eyes amusingly greeted her return. She suddenly became aware of a presence between her thighs and glanced down, realizing she was sitting atop a clothed bulge. His hands had a firm grip on her backside and his encouraging movements made it clear she had been absentmindedly grinding on him during her trance. 

“Shit, I got carried away…” She hadn’t taken her eyes off his crotch and began to notice that her excitement had left a dampness on his clothes. Embarrassment nearly overtook her, but a gentle yet confident hand grabbed her chin and brought it up to meet his gaze. He leaned into her with a grinning open mouth and kissed her passionately, tongues intertwining.

She felt his fangs briefly scrape against her tongue every so often until a metallic taste became increasingly noticeable. She didn't mind the blood, especially since it seemed to enhance his arousal as noted by his hips continuously jolting faster up into her exposed crotch. Tav was soon pleasantly overwhelmed between his deep kisses and desperate hands groping her at every curve of her body. She longed to give him everything; her blood for his hunger, her body for his pleasure. 

Tav released herself from the kiss they had been locked into and tilted her head so that her neck became exposed as an undeniable gift. His mouth lunged at the presented spot as soon as it was noticed, fangs immediately sinking in deep. Tav cried out at the initial impact but soon was reveling in the experience. It was a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure that she was only capable of experiencing from him.

He remained on her neck for a while, still tightly holding on to her body and keeping one hand free to reassuringly caress the back of her head. It was only after the blood flow slowed to a near stop did he cease his medley of licking and sucking at the wound. Blood dripped down his chin and onto his exposed chest, but he was ultimately unfazed. He leaned back, clearly happy and mostly satisfied, but there was still a different type of satisfaction he had left to chase.

Astarion's throbbing erection was begging to be released from its clothed restraints. He quickly untied his pants and shifted his underwear to finally free it. He moaned a few incomprehensible words of relief and stroked himself a few times before looking up at Tav for approval.

Tav had been staring at his length from the moment it was exposed, an impressive size for an elf, no doubt. Her eyes fixated on his perfectly pink tip, glistening with precum just for her. She immediately fantasized of shoving him down her throat until she choked and cried, but that was a fantasy for another day. In their current position, they both knew there was only one simple way of how to continue.

“Astarion,” she whimpered. “Fuck me.”

Tav sat up on her knees and positioned herself so that her entrance was just nearly grazing the head of his dick, ready to take him in completely at any moment. She grabbed ahold of his shaft and guided the tip back and forth through her folds until he was covered in her slick. The new sensation of the friction between them left them both gasping and desperate for more.

Suddenly, finally, his arms wrapped around her body as he pulled her down onto him with one firm motion. Astarion grunted through his teeth while Tav moaned unapologetically, focusing on relaxing enough to allow her body to adjust to his length inside of her. 

The temperature differences between their bodies only heightened the feelings of pleasure whenever they became one. Her warmness was intoxicating to him, granting a sense of safety and bliss that was impossible to achieve anywhere else. He was already so close to the edge in this moment, but was not ready to give in just yet. He wanted this moment of heaven to last as long as possible.

Meanwhile, Tav was having the time of her life riding her man like there was no tomorrow. She had no intent to slow down until a pair of large hands suddenly gripped her hips in a way that prevented any further movement.

“I’m not done with you yet, love. Didn’t you notice the mess I’ve made after feasting on you?” Astarion took a finger to his chin and smeared a bit of Tav’s fresh blood down his neck.

It was true, he had made a mess. Quite uncharacteristically of him in fact. Tav had assumed he had simply gotten careless in his horny and feral craze but no- it was clearly all calculated. 

“Just be still and sit nice and pretty on my cock. Finish the cleaning, then I’ll take care of you myself. How does that sound?” 

How does that sound? His words echoed in her head, which was already spinning plenty enough as it was. She was unsure if it was from the blood loss or her seemingly never ending carnal desires, but perhaps it was both. One thing was certain, however, he could convince her to do damn near anything speaking in that low and lustful tone of his. Without uttering a word she slowly brought the washcloth up to his chest. 

“Good girl,” he whispered. He felt her body twitch around him in response to the praise, and he leaned back to relax and enjoy these final few moments of intimacy. 

It had taken everything in Tav's power to remain still while she worked. It wasn't exactly easy to focus- she was being split in half by a whimpering vampire beneath her after all. Astarion’s skilled fingers had been dancing around her swollen clit the whole time, just enough to keep her stimulated but never enough to let her come.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the blood was all cleaned up. She hadn't even realized when it happened or how he did it, but his pants were completely gone now. She reached over to place the cloth down and awaited her reward of sweet release.

Astarion’s hands moved to the knees that were straddling him and slowly pushed them farther apart, spreading Tav’s legs open bit by bit. She inhaled sharply as she took him in deeper. He opened her up more and more until she lost her balance and fell backwards onto his expectant embrace. 

“Relax darling, I’ve got you,” He purred in reassurance. 

Astarion took her entire weight in his arms with ease and laid her down amongst the soft pillows of the bed. He nestled himself comfortably between her legs, making sure their bodies were flush with one another. Nearly smothered by his body now, all Tav could do was claw at his back and arch her hips into his powerful thrusts. His mouth frantically traveled across her lips and neck with desperately wet kisses until he settled near her ear with a playful nibble.

“You’re so beautiful…” He whispered tenderly, while the rhythm of his lovemaking became increasingly sporadic. “So fucking perfect… Gods…just for me… I love you… so much...”

“Star, I- ah!” Her words cut short as she felt something snap within her. Pure ecstasy- she was falling and flying somewhere a million galaxies away and never wanted to come back. Obscene noises and curses filled the room as they rode out each other’s high in tight embrace. The smell of sex lingered in the air as their bodies heaved with labored breaths, finally collapsing on each other in exhaustion. 

They laid together a while longer, exchanging soft kisses and enjoying the short moment in time where nothing else in the world mattered. Eventually, Astarion rolled out of the bed and stood up to stretch. 

“Tsk, looks like it’s my turn to clean you up my dear,” He said with an accomplished grin, eying how her thighs were dripping with his sticky mess.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move an inch. Actually, I doubt you can move at all after that, ahaha!” He laughed and leaned over to brush aside a strand of Tav’s sweaty hair that was stuck to her forehead before walking over to the other room. 

“Shut up… dummy…” she smiled to herself and rolled over, feeling at ease enough that the weight of sleep was starting to overtake her.

“I love you too, Astarion.” Her eyes closed as she drifted off into a peaceful slumber, knowing that her lover would soon come back to her side like he always did, and always would.

[cocoreallylovesraiden]

MK1 characters and sick! reader

(johnny cage, bi-han, smoke +liu kang & shang tsung)

not proof read not thought out not nothing i am SICK and this is my OUTLET (again this is not serious, just goofy stuff)

Johnny Cage

- sick equivalent of “it’s not uterus it’s uterUS”

- Especially if he doesn’t have much going on in his schedule? It’s like there’s two sick people in the house

- He has ZERO issues laying in bed all day with you- until he decides on a group excursion to the living room couch where you will… continue to lay there! Exciting.

- Depending on how sick you are he’d be more serious, if it was just a little cold and nothing to worry about, expect to have some movies in the back while you doze in and out of his incessant chatting

- (I personally think he can’t cook well) so your favourite takeout is ordered and put into one of those fancy ass bowls to make it look like a home cooked meal. Bless him.

- Wearing matching ugly pjs like the worlds bleakest slumber party

- Says he doesn’t care about getting sick from being close to you, but makes jokes about your ‘heebies’ getting all over him if you ask for any physical contact (he will over enthusiastically oblige)

- If you’re seriously ill, he would be at a loss, especially when his usual demeanour can’t seem to cheer you up.

- Since i imagine his relationship with his parents isn’t the best, he’d probably call one of your family members to ask how to best care of you, and take it from there

- He wouldn’t treat you like a glass vase though, still cracking jokes while he attends to your needs; but in a way where you can tell he’s trying to mask how vulnerable he feels in his care for you.

- Calls you his sicky wicky honey boo boo sugar tits pumpkin pie

- Definitely gets the man flu once you recover no question about it

- As you lay in bed, sweating from your fever with this huge piece of man meat hugging up on you, all you can hear in the back of your head is “BAAAAYBBUHHHHH…. IT HUUURTTSS…” (congratulations! You can see into the future!)

- Also would call his assistant to ask for help. What are they going to know? They just do his accounting!

Bi Han

- You are sick? Have fun not being allowed to do ANYTHING. No chores, no training, no oily food, no Netflix- NO NETFLIX?

- He claims that extended screen time will only agitate your condition.

- He takes it upon himself to care for you; making easy to digest food, offering to help you shower when you feel physically weak, buying all sorts of medicines, etc.

- it would be easier to send someone to do some of these tasks (aside from the showering.) but no. Out of the kindness of his heart? Yes, of course. He loves you dearly. But also because he does not trust anyone to be as competent as he is.

- As the grandmaster gives you several containers of traditional Chinese medicine, you can only wonder if some pharmacist is sponsoring him. If you dare complain they taste horrible, he will GLADLY take a pill or a bit of powder just to show you were being a wuss

- Nags you for not being careful, and at first it’s annoying but you figure out eventually it’s because he’s worried and this is how he shows his love and concern

- During the day he has to be off at work, and as the hours pass those around him see his shoulders tense higher and higher. You’ve eaten lunch, right? You’ve taken your medicine?

- But don’t worry! Once you show the SLIGHTEST signs of recovery, it’s back to the grind.

- You can sniffle and puppy eyes him all you want, but once he deems you fit for daily life, we are back for business! No more Mr Marginally Nicer Bi Han!

- That being said, once you’re back to smiling and laughing, he will admit that it’s nice to see you back to your usual self.

Smoke

- feels horrible that you’re sick, but secretly proud of his immune system for staying strong; now he has an excuse to show off his hospitality skills!

- sort of like bi-han, expect instead of professional fussing you get excited pampering, gets to the point where you have to ask whether or not he should be at work instead of here

- “Work? Taking care of you is my work!”

- Uses this as a chance to freshen up memory on his hometown; making foods, remedies and tricks he remembers his mother doing for him as a sick child.

- If you ask him more about it, he will gladly go into detail- telling wonderful stories even if he occasionally gets emotional through them

- Cleans your face with a damp cloth and uses it as an excuse to get all close with you- again! He has a strong immune system, so nothing to worry about.

- While he’s off at work, he leaves you notes around the house to remind you that he’s thinking of you and hopes you feel better soon- if you collect all the notes, he becomes embarrassed and acts like he doesn’t know who wrote them

- Comes home and snuggles with you, mentioning even if you did have a fever, it was nice because outside was so cold and you were so warm.

- A little tone deaf, but he’s… got the spirit?

- Secretly upset once you get better because you’re less accommodating to his needy/ clingy behaviour, but it’s also great that you can communicate with words and not pained groans!

- You are WAITING for the day he gets sick. There’s no way you’ve gotten the flu 4 times, and he hasn’t. He sleeps in the same bed as you when you’re sick! Kisses you!

- How did they raise kids to be so strong where he’s from?

BONUS

Liu Kang

- you don’t get sick.

- flu season? he makes you take traditional medicine to prevent it.

- cold? you’re funny. around him? Liu “Set Off Fire Alarms With His Flaming Biceps” Kang? Haha.

- food poisoning? he Knows if the food is off, and won’t let you get the chance to eat it.

- Papa is going to make sure influenza season hits a new low this year

- Seriously, medical insurance companies are terrified of him.

Shang Tsung

- very creepily offers you an elixir and asks you to drink it.

- (Here is the part where I say: but you know he won’t hurt you, so you take it. But, you don’t know. He’s looking at you reeeaaalll funny)

- Notices your glare and takes a moment to re-do his sales pitch, this time a lot less devil-binding-contract and more… human…like?

- turns out, the elixir was just a failed experiment on shape-shifting. he sheepishly offers practical medicine while you roll your eyes.

Kung Lao

- is also sick.

- You both are idiots.

[wxshing-aep]

The Prom Committee (pt 1)

Ethan Morales x fem!reader

based on this request:

"how about one where y/n runs an after school club so Ethan keeps getting detention on purpose to see her because he thinks “clubs are for dorks” to quote Paxton and so his reputation as the bad boy isn’t ruined"

Warnings: swearing, banter, the word boobs

AN: decided to make it a 2 parter cause it was getting long while I was writing it and wanted to give Ethan more depth of character than the actually show so part 2 coming tmrw probs!

When his assignment was handed back by Señora Diaz upside down, Ethan wasn't surprised by the big F glaring back at him in red ink when he turned the page over.

“Stupid bitch” he muttered under his breath.

“In Español, Ethan” Señora Diaz paused on her way back to the blackboard, unsure of what he said but certain that it wasn't in Spanish.

“Sorry" he retorted and she continued her route back to the front of the classroom.

"perra estúpida”

“ethan!”

That’s how Ethan ended up in detention for the umpteenth time in his academic career, tapping his pen on the desk in the nearly empty classroom with Mr. Shapiro's happy go-lucky self staring back at him.

"Well, happy to have you here Ethan!" Mr. Shapiro greets picking up a clipboard from his desk. "Not happy to be here" Ethan deadpanned. "Sorry to hear that. Not sure how you managed to get detention during the first week of school, but hey I think that might be a new Sherman Oaks record! Congrats buddy!" Mr. Shapiro cheers before realizing the younger boy is not the slightest bit amused. "Alright, tough crowd."

"Moving right along then," Mr. Shapiro clicks a pen in his hand "time to take roll!" which causes Ethan to look around the empty classroom.

"...I'm literally the only one here"

"I know, I just love checking things off lists," Mr. Shapiro clears his throats " so do I have a Morales comma Ethan?"

"seriously dude?"

"Second call for Ethan Morales"

"you're gonna keep going til I say here, aren't you?"

"You betcha!"

"Here."

"Awesome!" Mr. Shapiro marks a giant check by the one name on his attendance sheet. "god I love doing that- Alright so unfortunately I've gotta skidaddle to help out with the faculty potluck but lucky for you sir we're implementing more of a reformative detention style this year!"

"What the hell does that mean" Ethan asked.

"It means, that instead of sitting here for the next few hours, you my friend, get to offer your help to one of the after school clubs or committees that are a bit low on helping hands" Shapiro responds with finger guns. "so guess who's today's newest member of the prom committee!"

"yea, no. I'm not joining some stupid after school club. clubs are for dorks, losers, and ugly people" Ethan responds grabbing his backpack out of the chair next to him to get up and leave.

"well actually it's a committee"

"even worse"

"Alrighty well I can see what the other options-" is all Mr Shapiro gets out before he is interrupted by your voice from the doorway.

"Oh- hey! Mr. Shapiro, did you find anyone to help with the prom posters? Eric said he'd help me out but then canceled cause he said he had to train with the assistant swim coach to quote make Michael Phelps my bitch end quote. Whatever that means, so I'm kinda flying solo here" You say, drawing Ethan's attention towards you as well.

hot damn. okay maybe after school activities are not only for ugly people. He thinks you might be the prettiest girl he's ever seen and definitely takes a mental note of your outfit that's hugging you in all the right places. He quickly realizes that he doesn't know your name and has no idea how he's never been informed of your existence prior to this moment. He's snapped back to reality by Mr. Shapiro responding to your question. "Ah- I'm sorry but Ethan is-"

"super excited to help decorate for prom" Ethan finds himself blurting out before Mr. Shapiro could finish his sentence.

"Oh- well that's great! Uh Ethan just report back by 6 so I can log your hours! I'm gonna get going, you kids have fun decorating. Go crickets!" Mr. Shapiro says, making his exit as you watch him almost skip down the hall.

"Sup, I'm Ethan" Your attention is brought back to the brown eyed curly haired boy who's suddenly standing in front of you (how the hell did he cross the room that fast, you wonder) with an outstretched hand. He never really shakes hands, he just wanted an excuse to touch you. He's cute, you note mentally. You accept the offer and shake his hand. "and you are?" he continues.

"I'm-" you pause noticing those not so innocent brown eyes are directed elsewhere, "acutely aware of the fact that you're staring at my boobs".

Ethan thinks his brain might've just short circuited cause he was definitely just caught red handed. He'd recently grown a lot more confident with girls since his summer growth spurt and subsequent glow up had dramatically increased the number of girls interested in him, but there was something about you and how you so deliberately called him out that had definitely thrown him off his game.

"Sorry- I uh- I was actually looking at your shirt. They're- It's nice" he wants to die he thinks.

You chuckle at his sudden change in demeanor. "Hmm. Yea, I know they are" you respond, turning on a heel and heading toward the auditorium.

"You comin or what?"

-

For one person, you had made pretty okay progress in a week. The current task at hand was making posters to get people excited for the theme reveal. The ground was littered with several half finished or barely started posters.

"Can you draw?" You asked Ethan.

"I'm not much of an artist"

"Really? the graffiti on the side of the school says otherwise. Your handwriting definitely sucks though so I'll do that, but the art's good and if you can do it with a spray can, you can definitely do it with some paint and markers" your unsolicited review of his graffiti made him crack a smile. His latest act of defiance had been a giant snake comically eating a cricket accompanied with the words "get fucked" on the side of the school building.

"You can't prove that was me" he challenges.

"Maybe not, but Mr. Shapiro had mentioned that I might have a detention helper today thanks to Señora Diaz and I happened to notice the words 'stupid bitch' spray painted on her car containing the same weird ass t's as the graffiti on the side of the school and here you are, Ethan."

"Damn, you're good" he pauses realizing he can't throw your name back at you because he still doesn't know it.

"Y/n" you say quietly.

"Huh?"

"My name's y/n"

Pretty name for a pretty girl, he thought.

"Alright y/n. I'll draw as long as I don't have to to touch any glitter. that shit's impossible to get off"

"deal"

"and I don't write my t's weird"

"you write your t's like a crazy person"

-

Time was pretty much flying by. Together you'd gotten nearly twenty posters done and were slowly finding out more information about each other. You were informed about some of Ethan's tattoos and how he'd actually drawn the designs for all of them himself. Not an artist, my ass, you thought. Ethan learned that he hadn't met you before because you'd previously been homeschooled and had all but begged your parents to be able to go to school with other kids for your senior year until they finally cracked and agreed to enroll you at Sherman Oaks.

"Ah I see, you're a total secret weirdo. That explains your freaky detective skills" he teases.

"I am not a secret weirdo. I just like criminal minds and puzzles"

"You were homeschooled. All homeschooled kids are a little weird"

"That's an unfair stereotype"

"Whatever you say, y/n"

"If anything you're the secret weirdo. or at least an undercover art nerd"

"I'm not an undercover art nerd"

"Yea you are. Something tells me this whole" you gestured largely to him sitting a couple feet away from you, "tortured angsty hot skater boy thing you've got going on is a pretty recent development" you comment absent-mindedly. You looked back up from your poster when he didn't respond to see him sitting there, arms crossed with a smug grin on his face.

"What?" you prodded.

"You totally just called me hot"

You're now very aware that he's a bit closer to you than he was before.

"mm don't think so"

"oh you definitely did"

"did not"

"did too"

"did not" that one came out much less confidently considering his hand had made its way to your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. damn, he's good.

"whatever you say, y/n" he almost whispers. have his eyes been that sparkly this whole time? He's leaning in and you're definitely not backing away. You're maybe a centimeter away from his lips until the alarm blaring from your phone, which seemed like much better idea hours ago, sent you flying back from him and scared the shit out of both you.

"shit- I- god that scared me, I uh set an alarm for 6 so you'd remember to check in with Mr. Shapiro cause, ya know, I thought we'd both probably be busy. Um- busy making posters, i mean. Obviously I mean making posters cause we definitely wouldn't be busy doing anything else so-" you ramble.

The smug little smirk has made its way back onto Ethan's face as he is quite enjoying this role reversal from your first interaction of the day.

"shut up" you say to him.

"I didn't even say anything" he responded, hands in the air in surrender.

"I've gotta head home, but thanks for helping out even though you basically had to be here. If you ever find yourself in detention again this semester, feel free to help out. Hopefully the committee is more than just me by then" you say, starting to gather your belongings. Ethan secretly hopes it isn't, he likes the idea of hanging out with just you.

"I probably will find myself in detention again. It's kinda part of this whole tortured angsty hot skater boy thing I've got going on" he says throwing his backpack over his shoulder.

"not what I said" you still attempt to deny.

"sure it wasn't"

"bye ethan"

"bye y/n"

Yea, he'll definitely be finding himself in detention again.

-

Read Part 2 here

[impishjesters]

Can you do Jax x reader who has a lot of insecurities about how they look and act in the real world and the digital one? And if not you can just ignore this 💕

Insecurities

warning(s): Jax (only slightly kidding), insecurities, mentioned dark humor to cope, minor bullying (Jax throws Zooble and Dangle under the bus on their appearance) note(s): I'm quickly learning that just like Jax, I'd probably be an awful human being to seek comfort in.. at least words of comfort... A/N: Realized more than halfway through writing that I wasn't sure if the request was separate hc's like knowing him before being yoinked into the digital hellscape and after or not... Feel free to toss another ask though and I can try some pre-digital hellscape hc's...however, I feel like they'd still be pretty similar to the post-digital hellscape reactions.

Jax is probably the last person to talk to when it comes to insecurities, real or digital

One time the topic of what everyone looked like before being sucked into the digital hellscape came up, but not everyone remembered, whether it was because they simply couldn’t remember or because they’d been there too long to remember

Jax’s response is never consistent. In one comment he’ll say he misses having long hair and was 5’4”, and the next comment is how he was actually bald and 5’10”

Now whether that’s him fuckin around or not is anybody’s guess

Currently, he’s got no real beef with his appearance, and he’s unapologetically himself digital or human. Now when it comes to you?

It can go a few different ways depending on how close the two of you are

Right out the gate, he’ll claim whatever toy-like appearance you’ve taken on can’t be any uglier than Zooble, which is like wow, harsh—they aren’t exactly easy on the eyes but that’s still a person with feelings…

He might even throw in a harsh comment about Gangle’s lack of a body, being ya know just ribbons… but hey! At least you have a body compared to her (Jax..that’s not helping..)

See what I said? Not the best person to go to with this sorta stuff

In the beginning, there’s always the gamble he might poke fun at your digital appearance and not really realize till later on that you were insecure about your appearance. (Whether it’s because someone else pointed it out or you flat-out told him.)

The closer the two of you get—friendship or romantic—he’s still an ass but once you’ve confronted him about your feelings and insecurities about your appearance, digital or human he knocks it off.

Nobody’s really voiced their complaints on what they ended up as here, at least not publically…

He’ll try to reassure you that you look fine, likely not understanding how deeply rooted something like insecurities can go and something like a “well I don’t think you’re ugly” isn’t gonna cut it.

Jax isn’t a sweet talker, or rather he doesn’t really sound all that genuine if he does, but he does try to put some emphasis that you really do look fine. (again, sweet but likely not helpful)

Now real world you? He wouldn’t know in the slightest, and while he could lie and say that the description you gave him wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, he’s not gonna do that to you (not that the appearance you gave him sounded ugly or anything).

Jax copes with dark humor and will without a doubt throw out some comment about how you won’t have to be insecure about your human appearance anymore because it’s unlikely any of you are getting out of here. (I’m sorry I’m laughing so hard because that would 15/10 make me laugh, dark humor is how I cope)

It’s not helpful (depending on the individual at least)

Oh! What about now you don’t have to worry about any acne or wrinkles?

Better? But is it really? Eh..

Overall he’s not particularly great at the whole reassurance about your appearance or how you act “I mean have you seen how some of the others act?” (Jax that’s not..helpful), but because you are someone important to him he’ll make the extra effort to listen to exactly what it is your insecure about and if you need him to reassure you he’ll do so

It might sound insincere but that’s just how he talks

On the off chance that you have a really bad day, it tugs at his heartstrings (yeah, he has those), he’ll pull you aside and give you little kisses over those places.

Insecure about something facial-wise? Face kisses.

You end up as a toy with too many legs and not enough fingers? Kisses (maybe not the legs though...)

When in doubt kisses and he’ll let you hug him or whatever, but breathe a word of this to the other’s and he’ll.. I dunno, prank you later or something. He'll have to workshop it.

Back to the act thing, I don’t personally know how someone would be insecure over that—but if you stim or anything of the sort Jax won’t really comment on it, but if someone else does? Poor them because they are about to get on the bunny’s bad side.

Gangle stims and as big of an asshole as Jax is, he’s never made fun of her for it.

[almostheav4n]

Tomorrow Never Came: Chapter 2

masterlist | ao3

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ warnings: unspecified age gap, hints at past SA, no break-out, no y/n, no reader description, discussion of past trauma, reader develops a reliance on him, hints at a ddlg relationship in terms of a caregiver x little relationship (reader is of legal age) word count: 3,693 summary: set in Texas in the 1980s, Joel picks you up on the side of the road when headed west, you embark upon a journey of self-discovery with the help of a seasoned man a/n: lots of fluff in this chapter before it gets real - Joel honestly doesn't seem like a guy who would rush anything so he gets a little push by the reader :p

“He looks like he works with his hands & smells like Marlboro reds…”

The morning light pierces through the flimsy motel curtain as you toss over on the mattress, stuffing your face into the pillows, as you blink away your grogginess. 

The sudden pounding at your door is enough to jolt you awake as you realize suddenly it’s Joel, springing up to sit on the bed before checking the time.

“Bout ready to head out?” His voice bellows from outside the door, slower and thicker from his own sleep. You can see the outline of him through the window and it makes you hyper-aware you haven’t washed up in the slightest, quickly giving yourself a smell as you lift your arms.  

It’s easy to tumble out of bed, tripping onto the floor, attempting to hurry as you stumble over the sheets, closer to the door, “Um, I um, just need a few minutes, maybe you can get breakfast or somethin’, I dunno, Ill be ready then…” 

You huff and puff trying to find your discarded clothes from the night, cursing yourself for not washing them the night before, smelling them, and finding it honestly quite fine, thank god. 

“No…” You can hear him thinking. “Ya need’ta eat, I’ll make myself busy, take your time,” He mumbles departing with two knuckle knocks on the door as you watch his figure disappear. 

You find yourself surprised by his reaction, half expecting him to get annoyed, maybe rush you at least. You wonder deep down if it’s a trick and you’ll find his truck gone. 

The truck remains there, however, spotting it in the lot after a good half hour of scrubbing your teeth clean and taking a hot shower to wipe away any grime left by sleep. 

You knock on the only door next to you, finding that Joel isn’t it. Eventually taking it upon yourself to find him. 

It’s not hard to spot him, dressed in fresh attire, forgetting he had planned on this trip & packed for it accordingly. His handheld luggage at his side while he talks to a woman, a young woman, probably around your age as they pass a cigarette between them. She laughs at something you can’t hear as she passes it back to him. 

You are quite well aware he doesn’t owe you anything, he doesn’t owe you any sense of loyalty, in fact, you feel in debt to him. But the rock in your belly sits hard as you come to understand he is a solid man, a good man. Women will want him, he’ll inevitably attract him and it’s stupid of you to feel jealous as he leans over to talk to her, wishing it was you.

Bitterness is ugly, sits on your tongue quite heavily though, makes your fingers flex as you cough, loudly, a bit too loudly, gaining both their attention as Joel’s back straightens up before turning to you, breathing the bit of smoke left from his nostrils. 

“Ready, darlin’?” He adjusts the luggage in his hand, walking over to take the bag in your hands, once used for the new shoes, now used for all your belongings that were shoved in your utility jacket pockets, feeling lighter for the first time in months.  

You happily allow him to, nodding up to him in approval as he tosses the girl a farewell before turning back to lead you to the truck, allowing for you to cut your eyes back at her. Watching as she returns a similar annoyed expression. 

He opens the door for you before getting in on his side and sliding the bags underneath the seats, starting up the truck with a quick motion. 

“Who’s the chick?” You hum, attempting to seem as nonchalant as possible, hoping not to come across any other way.  

“Not sure, wanted a smoke, only had one left,” He shrugs, pulling the vehicle out of the lot and onto the road with a few harsh bumps. 

You nod, twiddling your thumbs in a circle as you bite your lip back, calculating your response. 

“Jealous?” 

You don't expect it, your head shooting up to find his eyes already on you, a hidden grin where his hand that’s not on the wheel, scratches at his beard as he raises one brow, teasingly. 

“Joel, I’m not…..” You shake your head, unable to stop the tremble that knocks your words apart as you attempt to correct him, “I’m not jealous.” You lie. 

“Just teasin is all, don’t waste your time worryin’ now…” He chuckles, Texan accent flowing over like honey, focusing his gaze back on the road, leaving you breathless as you feel you didn’t state your case as clearly as you could've. Feeling found out. 

You remind yourself to quit the longing glances, that could've given you away. 

You don’t even realize you’re still staring at him, lost in your own thoughts but you think you almost miss it, the quirk of the corner of his mouth, a small tinge of redness coming to his face then settling, a blush. 

Eventually, he pulls into a lot of a diner. You’re seated quite quickly, in a booth towards the back, menus handed to you as Joel immediately orders a coffee, you stick with a hot chocolate watching Joel's brow raise at that. 

“You like sweets huh?”

“I do…” You nod, gaze focused on the menu before looking up to him, “think it’s cause I’m quite sweet too…”

He smiles a bit then, the first actual smile from him, a quick flash of the teeth before disappearing under his thick beard. 

“You are… sweet.” He agrees, calculating his words before focusing his attention on the menu, giving you little time to react to his comment. 

“Need you to get real food in your system, understand?” His eyes latch onto yours as you nod, desiring the least to see him upset by your actions. 

He sets his eyes back on the menu, “Good girl.” 

Good girl. 

It’s all you can focus on when the waitress returns to drop off drinks and take orders, the wheels in your head turning over the comment, good girl, good girl, good girl. 

It isn’t until Joel says your name, alerting you to look up apologetically, ordering a nice stack of pancakes, something you haven’t had in months, allowing her to take the menus. 

The hot chocolate presented stacks high with whipped cream, you scoop up a fluff of it in your index finger, bringing it to your mouth to suck gently, gaining the confidence to speak, “Joel?” 

His gaze is stern as he looks out the window, focused on some altercation outside between two men over god knows what, “Yeah?”

“You can kiss me ‘f ya want.” You bring the mug to your lips watching as his eyes cut to you, quickly, watching a gulp go down his throat, maintaining his hard exterior nonetheless. 

“That right?” His voice is softer than ever, as if he’s whispering a secret as you nod, taking a sip. 

You wondered all night if him putting you in another room was an act of kindness or if he maybe was gay or if he didn’t even necessarily view you as anything but platonic. But you want to make yourself clear. You want him to know of your blossoming feelings.

You set the mug down, feeling the whipped cream along your upper lip, tracing your tongue over the spot to remove it, watching as he sucks in a quick breath. 

He’s swift, moving from the booth. For a quick moment, you think you may have scared him off. Instead, he slides in next to you, your body pressed between him and the wall by the booth, his burly arm snaking around your waist to pull you close to his chest, as you release a soft quick gasp before his lips connect with yours, your hands holding to his chest to sturdy yourself as his warm mouth opens onto yours feeling his tongue slip into your mouth, velvety smooth. 

You moan, too loudly for the small diner as it's absorbed into his mouth, your eyes closing, allowing him to take the lead as his mouth moves against yours roughly and eagerly as if he hasn’t kissed someone in decades, completely at his will. 

It isn’t until the sound of plates scraping against the table gains both of your attention as he breaks away suddenly, leaving a whine to linger at your lips as he turns to the waitress who doesn’t seem to care one bit as Joel releases you. 

“I’ll be back, gon’ get some fresh air…” He mumbles before sliding out of the booth, running his hands through his hair before setting his hat on, walking towards the door, and soon exiting. 

It would worry you if you couldn’t see him, walking towards a payphone outside and making a call. 

You wonder what the hurry was but busy yourself with your pancakes, sopping them up in a ridiculous amount of syrup, before digging in. 

You eat slowly watching him argue with someone on the phone, his body language showing clear agitation as you sip your beverage. 

Eventually, he comes back soon after, apologizing, “Sorry, forgot to make a call earlier…” 

He sighs deeply, tearing into his eggs, the runny yolk bleeding onto the sausage on the plate. 

“What was that about?” You hum happily, content, patting your full belly. 

“Work.” 

“Sure it wasn’t your wife?” You test the waters, never noticing a ring but just in case, to be safe. 

“Ain’t got a wife,” he stuffs sausage into his mouth, “Think Im’a type of man to smooch on ya before headin’ home to my old lady?” 

“You’re older, Joel. Usually, men like you are married…” You tease, rubbing your foot along his leg under the table 

“I'm older huh?” He smirks a bit, raising his brow, bringing his coffee mug to his lips.  

“Yeah, you’re an old man Joel…” you lean over, resting your elbows on the table as your hands cup your face in admiration, your foot still knocking against his leg.  

“What do you do?” You question, desiring to know him fully. 

“Construction… just need to make calls every now’n then to make sure dumbasses don’t fuck up while I’m gone.” He clicks his mouth once more, annoyed it seems by the whole interaction on the phone. You decide to leave it alone

He eats quickly, quite loudly too. It makes you want to laugh, all his Southern charm replaced by a grumbling food monster when eating. 

He pays the check after finishing, mentioning the need to get you some clothes as the waitress brings by the change, he leaves a tip on the table. 

“You don’t like my clothes?” You gasp, fake offended, understanding what he means. 

To be fair you hadn’t shoplifted any clothes recently & the jeans that you wore now full of tears and rips matched the shirt that could give at any moment. 

“Ya know I can’t pay you back right?” You remind him, following him out as he holds the door open for you. 

“I am very well aware of that, sweetheart.” He chuckles lightly as if it’s the most obvious thing you’ve ever stated. 

You’re quick to turn to him though, in the middle of the lot, standing on your tiptoes to get the best angle as you press your lips to his once more, quickly, a peck, a little test of the boundaries to see his reaction. 

He returns it once you depart, his hand coming around the back of your neck, his mouth crashing onto yours, hot and hungry, before releasing, taking your hand in his warm and dry, leading you to the truck, following the same routine of scanning the lot, opening your door, before focusing on getting back on the road. 

The trip before Joel seems to come crashing down on you, the need for rest, the knowing that Joel is there that reassures your safety. 

Understanding you have true protection is enough to have you falling asleep in the seat until the jolt of the brakes has you blinking back the sun that has begun to slip below the horizon, realizing you slept through the day. 

“C'mon, sleeping beauty…” Joel jokes lightly, as your passenger's side door opens. 

You groan, too loudly and in an extremely un-lady like manner, stretching out your limbs as you smack open a yawn, clearing the sleep from your eyes. 

“Did I really sleep that long?” you murmur as Joel wraps his arm around your waist, hoisting you out with a surprised squeal as your feet connect with the pavement, a giggle spilling from your lips.  

“Sure did…” He helps to straighten you out, pulling your shirt down where it exposes your stomach slightly. 

You allow him, feeling pampered as he observes you to make sure you’re put together before giving you a hard nod, approving of his work. 

He takes your hand as you finally gain full consciousness, leading you into the building labeled ‘WAL MART’ 

Passing cars in the lot, you’re able to read ‘New Mexico’ on the license plates as you become aware you’re in a new state. Once in the shopping center, a buggy is presented as Joel turns to you, looking down at you with a familiar hard gaze, and for some reason, you come to understand when he’s wearing this look, he’s serious and means business. His eyes narrowing in and focusing as you know he needs you to listen as you look back up at him, blinking up at him as if he is the only thing that matters in the world. 

“You’re gonna go get some clothes and a bag to store 'em in, I need you to fill er up-” referencing the buggy, “I'll be ‘round, getting supplies alright?” 

He adjusts his pants, fidgeting on his belt as he looks around and then back to you. 

You nod, offering a little salute followed by a ‘yes sir’ and giggle before he presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, sending you on your way. 

You do indeed, fill’er up with an assortment of clothes, pajamas, bras, underwear, some shorts, skirts, jeans, and an arrangement of tops and you find a duffel bag that could surely hold it all. You also decide to shop for some feminine care items, sniffing at the different body & hair washes for far too long before finally making your way to find him. 

After looking down far too many aisles, you find him in the firearm section, talking to the worker who shows him a certain gun. You keep planted where you are, not wishing to interrupt, studying him, admiring him as he purchases it at the counter. 

You could've sworn he had one in the truck, saw it in passing. Maybe he just needs another you think, just in case.

“Starin ain’t too friendly baby doll...” He mutters taking control of the grocery cart before pushing it, sliding his basket on top filled with first aid and other basic necessities. 

“Just too handsome, can’t help it,” you apologize with a teasing shrug, looping your arm into his as you walk. 

He gives you a slight snort before you make it to the checkout stand. His hard hand pushes you back slightly out of the way so he can unload the cart. 

You busy yourself as you pick up a nearby magazine off a rack, the corny headline gaining your attention as you flip through it, only for Joel to snatch it from you. 

“Hey!” You whine, nose scrunching up in annoyance as he hands it to the cashier who scans it before he hands it back to you, nudging you out of the way a bit more as he throws the bagged items back into the cart. 

A certain freedom is found as you skip back to the truck, no worries or cares as Joel hollers at you to slow down, the sun now gone, making it easy for a car to hit you, you realize.  

You offer to help pack the bags into the back only for Joel to shoot you a disapproving look, that has you piling into the truck with a quickness. 

Eventually, you both are able to make it to a nearby motel. He tells you that you can stay in the car as he pulls up to the lobby of the motel. 

You decide against it, opening the door as the car barely rolls to a stop. 

“Hey now…” Joel warns, still in the vehicle as he sighs, stressed. Kinda makes your heart beat, his worried reaction. 

“You need to wait till I'm in park and I’ll open the door for you… you understand that?” He speaks seriously once he exits the vehicle, his eyes cutting down at you as his hands place on his hips, seemingly exhausted by your antics as you nod, moving closer to him as your feet scrape against the pavement. 

Your body collides against his chest as you lean up against him to kiss the scar on his nose before reaching up to grab his hat, setting it on your head instead. 

“I got it Joel, but how do I look?” You swiftly change the conversation as he folds his arms over his chest, veins prominent as he flexes lightly. 

“You’re as pretty as a peach in June, ‘f I say so myself, now c’mon…” He offers a small smile before reaching his hand out. 

You take it, sliding your own against it before taking your other hand to cover the other side of his, keeping a two-handed grip as he leads you into the lobby that plays 60’s music & holds an older dude at the front counter who reads a Playboy magazine. 

It takes Joel about a second to place you behind him, before walking up to the counter to greet the guy who speaks in grunts. 

“How many rooms yall need?” 

“One!” You squeak out, poking out from behind his back before Joel pushes you back behind him. 

“Alright, one room, two beds…” Joel mumbles, fishing into his pocket for his wallet as you pout. 

“Joel…” you grumble, fingers tracing along his brawny back. 

“You ain’t getting me into trouble tonight,” He whispers over his shoulder as you can’t help but break out into a smile. He’s old, probably too tired from the drive, you try to remember to tease him about just that. 

“What’d you want to eat?” He asks once you settle into the room, unpacking the Walmart bags, folding your new clothes neatly into the duffel, using the various pockets for other items picked up. 

“Not hungry…” You hum lightly, throwing some pajamas on the bed for post-shower wear. 

“Darlin’…” You know this tone, his stern one, a warning. 

“Joel…” You whine. “I’m used to eating corn nuts every two days, I gotta warm up to eating more food, but I promise I'll eat more.” 

You are quick to hurry to press a kiss to his lips where he stands by the door with arms crossed over his chest, an attempt to shut him up before making your way to the bathroom to turn on the shower, avoiding his disappointment. 

“Alright, I’ll be back real soon…” He hollers as you hear the door open and close. 

Your shower is one of the best ones you can remember. The water hot and the tub not as grimey as others you have come across, but the fact you can wash your hair and scrub every inch of yourself is refreshing. You wish for Joel to know how grateful you are. 

Eventually, you slink into your shorts and tank top made for sleeping, flicking on the television to some Western film, before painting your toenails with some red polish picked up earlier. 

Joel returns eventually, scolding you for not locking the door behind him as you blow onto your drying nails, apologizing before seeing that he brought back some greasy takeout. 

He kicks off his shoes aggressively, exhaustingly, placing some type of chicken nugget and fries on your bed as you roll your eyes slightly but no better than to challenge him, his hard stern telling you to “just eat”. 

You do eat it, dipping fries into ketchup, not wanting to refuse him of anything. Laying on your tummy to eat in silence, watching the film that Joel says is one of his favorites as he finishes his food fast and soon finds himself in the shower after the film ends. 

You try to stay awake to wish him goodnight, maybe get a goodnight kiss but sleep is heavy on you as you eventually wake up to pure darkness & the bedside clock glowing at 3:09 a.m. 

You can’t see him in the room, but you hear his deep snores as you remove yourself from your bed, realizing he must’ve tucked you in as you tear off the sheets. Soft footsteps lead you over to his bed, lifting the covers to slide in. 

You hope it won’t disturb him, you hope he’s comfortable with it as you wrap your arm around him, his back pressed to your chest as you kiss him there, once then twice. 

He stirs, a light sleeper you discover, grunting as he turns towards you, feeling his beard scrape against your cheek as you squeak, his warm lips connecting to yours, softly, sweetly. You sigh openly into the kiss as your tongue pushes against his, a groan whispering in his throat as you desire more. 

However, he’s quick to turn you over, pressing his chest to your back as your body curves to fit into his body, attempting not to pout at the loss of affection but grateful as you find yourself exhausted. 

It isn’t difficult to miss the hardness pressed against your bottom as he holds you tightly to him, it makes you coo as you move closer to one another, his face fitting into the crook of your neck as his breath there gives you butterflies & tickles your skin, your thighs clenching as you rest your hand over his on your stomach. 

“Night, Joel.” 

“Goodnight, sweet girl.” 

[cherryredstars]

hi! how u doin? could u pls do some angst hcs for Simon?? like how difficult the relationship is for him and his partner, what they would argue about, how the arguments are and whatnot yk i just luv the way u write him it's perfect♥️💋

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Angst with little comfort

Summary: Struggles with dating Simon

A/N: All the Simon requests in my inbox rn (there are only three) <3

Word Count: 1.5K (Not Edited)

The biggest struggle for you and Simon will always be the time he spends away on deployment. Especially in the beginning of your relationship where insecurity is at an all time high. You always hate when he’s away, the house feeling desolate and cold with his absence. You’re constantly anxious, scared and impatient for the next time he comes through that front door just to leave again. It was even worse when he was gone when something important happened, let it be a wedding or a funeral. It broke your heart that he ended up being away when these special moments occurred. 

You hated how often you showed up to family and friend events, at least one friend asking where Simon was and joking about how you must have scared him off. An extended family member whispering in your ear about how “men like that” only stayed away because something, someone, better made them want to stay. It only served to make your unstable, fragile relationship strain more.

On bad days where you needed comfort or someone to lean on, you grew the slightest bit resentful. It felt one-sided when it came to comfort. You had to always wait around for Simon: Wait until he comes back, wait until he’s ready to talk, wait for him to ask or he’ll feel ambushed, wait until he initiates the physical comfort that he never offers. But it seemed like you were always there for him. You were the one ready to give him kind words when he felt down, you were the one ready with a cup of his favorite tea and a good movie to distract him, you were the one that always had a hand or a shoulder or a hug prepared at a moment’s notice. So, why couldn’t he do the same for you?

Relationships are extremely stressful for Simon. It’s something he was to learn and he can’t seem to pick it up correctly. He always seems to do something wrong. He always forgets an important date even though he has it written down in his notes app, he gets your favorite things mixed up with the things you hate, he’s so unavailable all the time that he doesn’t know what to do when he isn’t. As time goes on, it’s easier to remember these things. He learns mistakes need to be made in order to learn. 

It doesn’t help that his horrible coping mechanisms seemed to find a spot in his relationship. It’s like an ugly stain on a carpet. So, when things get too hard or they become too overwhelming he does what he does best, hides from it. He puts up a barrier. He throws a rug or a piece of furniture over the stain to hide it away. That’s also the exact thing he does in the beginning of the relationship when something goes wrong. You guys fight? He has no idea what you’re talking about because he wasn’t present. Must have been between you and a friend while he was on deployment. Something he did makes you feel insecure about the relationship? All you’re getting in response is, “Maybe you just aren’t mature enough to date a military man.”

With Simon you are very familiar with the concept that words (or lack of words) hurt. He makes you feel stupid without even trying. You hate arguing with Simon because the two of you don’t argue, you argue. In the beginning of the relationship, Simon doesn’t say anything when you confront him. Well,nothing but, “It’s just the way I am”. You argue with him about how distant he is when he comes home? It’s just the way I am. You get angry because all you wanted was at least a bit of comfort after a shitty day that ended up with you crying on the way home and Simon didn’t even ask you what was wrong? It’s just the way I am. After arguments like that, arguments that always end with Maybe you just aren’t mature enough to date a military man, you think maybe he’s right. 

Simon hates himself for the way he treats you. He really does. You deserve better, he should be better. But no matter how hard he tries he can’t. He can’t bring himself to comfort you, or touch you, or love you correctly. It makes him want to find one of his military knives and stab himself where his heart is to see if it’s working correctly. As the relationship progresses, he gets better and better at being your dream man. But sometimes he has moments where he feels like he’s back at square one. Maybe, he thinks, I need a new heart.

Feelings are slightly taboo in your relationship in the beginning. Simon never wants to talk about his and you feel like you can’t talk about yours. But in the late nights, sometime after Simon has had a glass of liquor to sip on during a movie, the two of you will talk in slow whispers. One of those nights Simon asks you how to love you correctly. He asks you why you haven’t left him yet. You shrug and joke, “I guess I’m more mature now.” He will thank every star he sees that you are so understanding when he gives you no real reason to. He thanks every spec of dust that he’s learned how to do the same for you. 

He’s protective of you. He feels like he needs to be. He’s lost so many people dear to him, that he’s terrified he’ll lose you too. So he’s a little overbearing in the beginning. You weren’t initially allowed to pick him up at the airport when he got back, paranoid some spy would see the two of you together and you’d become a target. Wouldn't let you meet anyone on his squad, your name never once spoken around base. Refused to bring anything of yours with him when he went away, scared a stray hair or partial fingerprint would endanger your existence if it ended up in the wrong hands. You didn’t even get one of his dog tags until a few months into the relationship because he didn’t want any physical evidence tying you to him. He only let up after you had told him how insecure it made you feel. How, even though you knew that it wasn’t his intention, he made you feel like he was ashamed to be dating you. Like he wanted to keep you a secret because he didn’t want to be seen with you. God knows how many past relationships did the exact same thing. But, he’s trying to be your dream man. He relents and stuffs one of your favorite pens in his pocket the next time he leaves. When he gets to base, Soap’s first question is about how you’re doing. 

One of the largest struggles is getting Simon used to family life and civilian life again. He hasn’t had a real family in so long, he doesn’t remember how it feels like. He’s a brooding mess the first few times you bring him to a family gathering for the holidays. He’s off to the side, keeping conversation curt. One of your aunts whispered in your ear maybe it was better off when you came alone and he was on deployment. That causes a big fight, full of yelling and defending his honor. On the ride home you are fuming, getting even angrier when Simon apologizes for the way he was behaving. He didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your family. You tell him that’s ridiculous, that he was nothing to be sorry for. Your smile returns slightly when the image of him playing with your nieces and nephews flashes in your head.

One night, when Simon and you lay in bed before he leaves in the morning, he holds you close to his chest and plays with your hair. He mumbles soft words in your ear, rubbing the skin of your lower back softly. “Thank you for staying with me. I’m sorry for all the times I said you weren’t mature enough to date a military man. I was just scared.” You only hum, kissing his shoulder lovingly in response. He goes on a tangent, apologizing for all the things he did in the past that hurt you. He brings up some things you remember vividly, and things you don’t remember at all. At the end of it, he pulls away slightly and turns to his bedside drawer. He pulls it open, a silver band catching the moon’s light before he holds it between the two of you. He doesn’t ask, and you don’t answer. You hold your hand out, and he slips it onto your finger. In the morning, you hand him his thermos of tea and give him a quick kiss before he walks out and door. Even though his heart feels like it’s about to burst, Simon’s sure his heart is working just fine.

Do these suck lol??

[agustdiv1ne]

telepathy (m) — cbg [TEASER]

OUT NOW! READ HERE!

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smut, strangers to ???, mind reader/telepathist!beomgyu, funeral home employee!beomgyu (it's for the plot ok??)

wc: tbd (projected to be around 7-8k)

synopsis: most people would abhor a packed subway car — but beomgyu, telepathist extraordinaire, relishes in it. with a career in the funeral business, he finds his morning commute to be the only thing that keeps him relatively sane. reading the mundane thoughts of mundane people maintains his tether to his humanity, but when he goes to read your mind...oh, things get a whole lot more interesting.

warnings: mdni!! 18+ only, there isn't much in this teaser, but here are the warnings for the rest of the fic so far: mentions of dead bodies, embalming, and funerals (though not very descriptive — it's only bc of gyu's profession), reader is a freak that listens to nsfw audios on her way to work!, gyu is a perv so it's a match made in heaven (hell?), explicit consent is given before anything happens bc consent is sexy <3, mind manipulation (he makes it feel like he's touching her), exhibitionism in a way...it will all make sense, trust 🙏

note: this is inspired by a p*rn audio LMAO,,, lmk if you'd like to be tagged via an ask, or just drop a comment below ^^

masterlist

☆ TEASER ☆

the rest of the weekend passes without fanfare, and monday returns to rear its ugly head once again. monday is beomgyu’s least favorite day of the week; it brings a raging headache from his 5 a.m. alarm, a bone-deep fatigue that lingers for the rest of the day. it brings grumpy commuters whose knees and elbows uncomfortably bump against his own. it brings people who think that he should give up his seat, and silently tell him so with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows. how selfish, they all think whenever he actually bothers to read their thoughts. what a fucking dick, some of them even snarl within the so-called impenetrable walls of their minds, walls he so easily breaks down. he levels those ones with a half-awake glare, pupils gloomy and lifeless. internally, their uneasy reactions make him want to laugh, hysterically cackle in their faces because wow, is he really that scary? he shouldn’t be, but maybe the dark under eyes are doing something for him.

surprisingly, the subway car he frequents is less crowded than usual. not as many people stand in front of him, and he’s actually able to see directly across the car for the first time in a while. doors shut, and he’s left to look around at the regulars and the new patrons that often don’t show up again. they’re easily less interesting than the regulars. really, what can he say? the daily life updates satisfy his nosy tendencies. 

still, he hates mondays. mondays suck. mondays make him want to crawl into a hole and eventually join the bodies at his workplace. they bring out the worst in his mind. all they do is remind him of the neverending cycle that he has trapped himself in — wake up, work, go to sleep, and do it all over again the next day.

mondays bring a lot of things he fundamentally dislikes, but this particular monday also brings you. 

it’s split-second eye contact. nothing more, nothing less. your eyes grow wide, your lips parting just the slightest bit in surprise. though he has not invaded your mind (yet), he can already tell what you are thinking. fuck, he isn’t blind — he knows that he is handsome.

your eyes shoot downward, your head hanging low with your phone clenched between your fingers. one of his eyebrows raises while a small smirk plays on his lips — you’re new, and even better, you’re cute. his dark, seemingly bored gaze trails over to the earbuds nestled in your ears, then to your crossed legs. you glance up at him again, eyes blowing wide again as your thighs press together just enough for him to notice the movement. his own eyes narrow slightly, evaluating the sight. 

you seem...interesting. prim, proper, sitting in a modest-length skirt and a plain blouse and coat that paint you as an unassuming character, just another random person in this sardine can of a train car. yet there’s this glint in your eyes that tells him there is so, so much more to you than what meets the eye — that the innocent, put-together little front that you display to the world is a complete and utter lie. it’s intriguing. new patrons come and go from this particular subway car every day, but you and your fresh face have caught his interest — and so has your odd behavior. 

then, without warning, realization punches him square in the gut.

you were there the other night, with those girls at the bar. the one sitting at the end of the table with the small glass of water as you scrolled through your phone. the one who shot a piercing glare at him as you looked out for your inebriated friends. your current behavior is a far cry from the strong front he first encountered that night, small and oh-so meek and lacking the sharp, piercing edge to your gaze that initially piqued his interest in you. the change, for some reason, intrigues him more. what happened to that feisty glare, that confident air to your posture? he wants to know why you seem so meek, so he taps in to your mind and—

“you’re my dumb little slut, aren’t you? fuckin’ say it—”

beomgyu flinches in his seat, the door to your mind slamming shut as he sits there in shock. did he really just hear that? are you listening to fucking porn on the subway? what the fuck?

he’s never had this happen to him before. he’s accidentally stumbled upon the occasional horny thought before, sure, but listening to porn on the subway? that’s a new one. he decides to give you another glance; your lips are pressed together now, eyes pointed towards the floor as you further shrink into yourself. fuck, you’re so cute, but now he knows you’re also awfully perverted — and for some reason, he feels himself getting hard in his trousers at the thought of entering your mind again.

he should do something about this little development, shouldn't he?

again, if you would like to be tagged, shoot me an ask or comment down below!! and if you'd like to join my permanent taglist, please do so through this form!

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[vln-vibes]

The Good Ol’ Switcheroo

GUYS

GUYS

GUYS

I know there’s fics out there with switcheroo hijinks with Tim and Danny but imagine this---

Jazz and Babs

and

Danny and Tim

But like at the same time

So the Fentons are visiting Gotham, the reason why is a bit up in the air;

Jazz wants to visit the Gotham U campus, the Fentons have a meeting with W.E for a business deal (they’re sus about the whole ghost hunting thing but it doesn’t hurt to scope out what they’re capable of) or maybe they’re hunting down Batman because they’re sure he’s a ghost. Reader’s choice tbh.

Unfortunately Jazz sprained her ankle the week before while ghost hunting with Team Fenton. This also led to her parents coddling her and she just barely managed to convince them to still go on their trip as a way to get Danny a vacation.  The only caveat; they force her on a wheelchair for the duration of the trip.

Spring forward to a random Thursday afternoon during their vacation; Danny and Jazz were dying of embarrassment (in his case re-dying) with their parents antics. They didn’t think Gothamites would blatantly stare at them all things considered but even they had their standards they guess.

Danny bought himself some sunglasses and a coffee while Jazz just put on her reading glasses and just tried to bury herself in her new Spoiler themed sweater.

Of course that’s when the chaos started.

It was just their luck that just as they finally got away from their parents that a rogue finally attacked; where there was a rogue the Batman wouldn’t be too far behind.

Danny’s plan was just to hide in a random alleyway or wait until the coast was clear to use his powers and fly them back to their hotel room and wait for everything to die (hah) back down. That’s not what ended up happening.

“There you guys are, c’mon time to suit up”

The duo are too stunned to do anything as they’re dragged off by this random rich guy (Bruce Wayne) and into a really expensive and familiar looking car (the Batmobile). The door folds open and Jazz’s wheelchair is fastened in seconds, Danny just kinda goes to sit next to her (can’t let his sister be kidnapped by herself). 

There’s a guy sitting shotgun next to the original alley guy. He’s wearing a mask. Oh shit its Nightwing.

“Looks like Freeze is at it again, Uptown’s already halfway covered in ice. No time to waste Red Robin”

Red Robin? Like the food chain??

In those few seconds the Batmobile is speeding off, the alley guy is now the Batman and they’re passing a speeding RV going the other way. Cue that one Umbrella Academy meme but its Tim and Babs staring back at Danny and Jazz.

A compartment opens up revealing Red Robin’s suit with the cowl. 

‘Why the hell not? It’s not like it’ll kill me’ is all Danny thinks while he puts on the outfit, ditching the cowl tho because it looks ugly and instead grabs one of ‘Robin’s’ extra masks that were next to it. He took a selfie and sent it to Sam and Tucker, one also featuring a Done looking Jazz.

“You got that RR?”

“Hn yeah sure”

It isn’t until halfway through their fight with Mr.Freeze, not even noticing how the usually chilly Tim doesn’t look the slightest bit cold, when they meet up with Black Bat that any of them are clued in to what happened.

“Not Red Robin. New brother?”

“What are you talking about Cass, he’s right there?”

Cue to Danny using Tim’s bo staff to propel himself and air kick Mr.Freeze’s helmet.

“Ice to meet you frosty!”

“Yeah no. Our parents may be nuts but we’re not open for adoption” Jazz quips from the comms, strangely not too different from the system Tucker uses when they out hunting for ghosts.

“Wait I thought you were just recovering from the cold!?”

“Twisted ankle actually. On your five!”

Meanwhile Jack and Maddie got a ecto signature at the other side of town. They spotted Danny and Jazz leaving the library, grabbed them (not noticing the yelling crowds running the other way). 

They let the GAV fasten the kids in before speeding off to catch the ghost.

In his defense Tim was working on one hour of sleep in the last 48 hours and Bab’s lost her voice from her cold. In all the ensuing chaos Babs dropped her phone and Tim’s just ran out of juice.

They’d thought it was a Standard Wayne and Co Kidnapping until the duo in hazmat suits kept referring to them as Jazz and Dann-o. Hopefully not insane and trying to fake being a family. Hopefully

They take a turn into Crime Alley and the duo look at each other as they see the GPS head towards one of Red Hood’s places.

This would be good

[ambrossart]

Post Prom - "Pillow Talk"

☆ REWRITTEN WITH ADDITIONAL CONTENT

summary: spending the night at eddie’s house sounded like a good idea… until you actually had to sleep.

pairing: eddie munson x dwm!reader word count: 4,968 warnings: new relationship, very slightly NSFW, mostly just a lot of teasing, some suggestive dialogue, reader has a slight hand fetish, eddie is happy to indulge her, they get a little carried away, but no sex, because they don't have condoms

series masterpost | series playlist | fanfiction masterlist

When Eddie came inside and returned to his bedroom, he was instantly struck speechless.

He had fantasized about this exact moment countless times, in dreams so vivid they made reality feel like an unending, unbearable nightmare, but that did little to prepare him for the rush of emotions he felt when he saw you standing across the room in his Megadeth shirt.

A very good choice, Eddie thought, gratified, but honestly, between Slayer and Megadeth, there was no wrong answer. You could have chosen either shirt, and it would have fit just as perfectly as the other… almost like they were meant for you, like when Eddie found those shirts hiding inside a cardboard box in Reefer Rick’s garage last summer, when he tried to haggle for a good price and Rick said he could just take ‘em, when Eddie drove home, grinning, feeling like he’d just won the lottery, part of him always knew you’d be wearing one of those shirts someday. 

And this sweet, serendipitous feeling caught Eddie a little off guard… but not as much as he thought it would. Frankly, he expected to be dumbstruck by the sight of you. He expected to step back, shake his head, and think, Holy shit, this is really happening, isn’t it? But when he walked through that door, all he felt was this wonderful sense of wholeness.

After years and years of waiting, you two were finally exactly where you were supposed to be.

Eddie leaned against the doorframe and observed you for a minute, unwilling to disturb you, afraid that if he spoke or moved in the slightest, this perfect moment would ripple away like a mirage. You were standing with your back to him, preoccupied with all the clutter on his desk. You weren’t snooping, though; no, you were just learning more about him, browsing through all of his junk like they were tiny sculptures in a fine art exhibit, handling each object so carefully, like you were scared you might break it. 

Watching you do this, Eddie couldn’t help but smile.

That’s when you glanced over your shoulder and caught him staring at you with gentle, adoring eyes. Your face flushed and your heart started beating a little faster. It was embarrassing to be standing in front of Eddie while wearing his clothes. 

Even more embarrassing was how long it took you to put them on.

You spent the first three minutes glaring at them from across the room, thinking (and you hated yourself for thinking this), 

What if they don’t fit? 

It was such a silly thought. You even laughed when it popped into your head. You weren’t that ugly, miserable twelve-year-old girl anymore, yet here you were, slipping back into those same bad habits: obsessing over whether or not certain clothes would fit you, changing with your back to the mirror because you were too disgusted to look at yourself.

It took you two whole minutes to convince yourself to turn around, and when you finally did, you were overwhelmed by this sudden surge of… joy? Relief? Those didn’t seem like strong enough words to describe it, but whatever that emotion was, it made you tear up as soon as you saw your reflection in the mirror. Then you spent another five minutes just looking at yourself with the goofiest, giddiest smile, mesmerized by how perfectly Eddie’s clothes fit you, how naturally they fit you. You felt stupid for even doubting it.

Of course, to be standing in front of Eddie now, to have him staring at you so deeply… well, that made you feel self-conscious in a completely different way. 

You had to break his gaze and turn away for a second to regain your composure. As you did, you noticed a plastic skull sitting on top of Eddie’s desk, half covered by an old denim jacket, and your eyes widened with recognition. You picked it up and spun around to face him.

“You know, sir,” you said while smugly showing off your latest find, “there’s a production of Hamlet that’s been missing this for about three months now.”

“Yeah…” Eddie replied guiltily, holding in a laugh. “But it’s not technically stealing. Mr. Carlson and I have an agreement, you see. He agrees to let me raid his prop room for my campaigns, and I agree to not crash his dress rehearsals.” He punctuated this with a self-amused grin, like he was so terribly clever.

Rolling your eyes, you said, “Just admit you wanna be in theater, already.”

He returned your teasing smile with one of his own. “Pretty sure I just like bothering the girl in theater.”

Your face fell and warm blood flooded your cheeks. As the color deepened, you shyly tucked your chin into your chest and looked away. To Eddie, this was a sweet and irresistibly feminine gesture, its charm highlighted by your stubborn denial of its existence. You raised your chin proudly, as if nothing had happened, and placed the skull back on the desk.

While your back was to him, Eddie said, “Hey, how come you never try out for anything?”

The question made you pause, but only for a second. “Because I prefer to stay in the background and mock everyone.”

“Oh…” he said, “so it has nothing to do with your fear of public speaking?”

“Nope,” you said, and turned around. Eddie was looking at you with a skeptical frown, his dark eyes probing but patient. Frustratingly patient. He already knew the truth, but he wasn’t going to force you to admit it when you clearly weren’t ready. “I suppose I should be more like you, huh? Turn a simple English reading into a dramatic stage performance?”

“Well, no one else was committed. I had to do something.”

“Yeah, but did you really have to walk on top of the desks?”

“Uhh, yes,” Eddie said, and you both laughed. “Besides, whose desk did I always end up on?”

The answer caught you both by surprise:

“Mine,” you whispered, and then you both went quiet for a minute, reflecting on all those little moments that now seemed much more meaningful than they initially appeared.

“You know what’s weird?” Eddie said. “I don’t even think I knew what I was doing at the time. In fact, I know I didn’t. Believe me, it’s not like I was trying to seek you out or anything. I wanted nothing to do with you, but my body just sorta moved on its own… like muscle memory or something. I’d look down and there you were, staring back at me.” He flashed a bittersweet smile that made your heart ache. “Then, of course, you’d shove me really hard and I’d fall off the desk and almost break my neck.”

You smirked. “Well, your foot was on my notebook.”

“Mmm, I think you just wanted to touch me.”

“No, I think I wanted you off my desk,” you said, but there was no denying a small part of you had enjoyed it. Back then, you relished even the briefest touch. They were so rare, practically nonexistent. “I wasn’t really aware of it either, to be honest. I mean, I think there might’ve been a couple times where I thought maybe… but, I dunno, I guess I just didn’t wanna get my hopes up.”

Eddie frowned. “Yeah, well… I guess we were both pretty oblivious.”

“You especially,” you said, simpering at him, “you know, considering I made it annoyingly obvious that I was obsessed with you back in middle school. Seriously, how did you not figure it out? Everyone knew except you… well, you and Gareth, but that kid lives on another planet. He never knows what’s going on.”

Eddie chuckled bashfully. “Y’know, when I think back on it now, it was really obvious, but I swear I had no idea at the time. I definitely should’ve known, though. I mean, you sat outside the school every day, waiting for a chance to talk to me.”

“And some days I had to wait a really long time. In the rain and the snow. I was freezing my ass off.”

That brought a small smile to Eddie’s face. “Well, you don’t have to wait anymore.”

“Yeah,” you replied softly, and let that sink in for a moment.

You didn’t have to wait anymore. After six long years, your suffering was finally over. Thank goodness.

“Are you ready for bed now?” Eddie asked.

“Yes,” you answered, shivering a little.

While he closed the door and walked to the other side of the room, you climbed onto the bed and started crawling toward the middle. As soon as your palms touched down and your right knee sank into the mattress, you froze, looked up at the pillows, and thought with a sudden flush of excitement, Oh my god, we’re gonna be sharing the same bed. How the hell am I supposed to sleep tonight?

Nervously, you dragged your limbs a little further, rolled over to a sitting position, and scooted your hips back a bit more. When you looked up, Eddie was rubbing his face and staring at the bed with a gravely conflicted expression.

“What?” you said.

“Nothing,” he answered. “I’m just not sure how to go about this.”

“What do you mean?” you said. “Just do what you always do.”

“… yeah, I don’t think I should…”

“Why?” you asked, grimacing. “Do you sleep nude or something?”

“No, it’s just…” He scratched under his chin pensively. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

Eddie gave you a pleading look, like you were supposed to read his mind and instantly know what great conundrum was plaguing him. Unfortunately, you weren’t that far into your relationship yet, so you were lost in the dark.

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted. “Just sleep how you normally do.”

“Okay…” Eddie said with a cautionary tone. Then he crossed his arms in front of him and grabbed the bottom of his shirt with both hands.

Your entire upper body flinched with surprise. Eddie was taking off his shirt right in front of you. Were you supposed to act all coy and innocent? Avert your eyes? Blush and cover your face? Look up awkwardly at the ceiling and whistle “Yankee Doodle” until the coast was clear? You’d never seen Eddie shirtless before. Naturally, you were a little curious. But was that okay? Was it ladylike to look? To actually want to look? Mrs. Cunningham would have said, Absolutely not, young lady. Now you go sit in the corner and pray those sinful thoughts away, but screw that! You weren’t a kid. This wasn’t sex ed (which Mrs. Cunningham did not let her daughter attend because it went against her religious values, and then she banished you from the house for like three days because she thought you were “unclean” and you would tell Chrissy everything… even though you already had, literally as soon as you got out of class). Why should you feel embarrassed? If you wanted to watch Eddie take off his shirt, you were going to without feeling any shame.

So you did watch, respectfully.

You watched him bunch up the fabric until his entire abdomen was exposed. Admittedly, you blushed a tiny bit when you noticed the faint line of hair that trailed down his belly button and disappeared under the waistband of his jeans. You weren’t searching for it; it was just there. But you kept your cool. You stayed calm. Even while your stomach fluttered and flopped, even while Eddie’s muscles flexed gorgeously as he rolled the shirt over his shoulders and pulled it over his neck, his head, while he dragged it off his arms and let it fall to the floor, you stayed perfectly calm. Yeah, up until that point, you had been doing very well.

But then, god dammit, you saw the tattoos on his chest and devolved into a horny monster of a girl.

God, I wish we had condoms right now.

“Yeah, me too,” Eddie said, cracking a smirk.

That’s when it hit you:

“Oh my god!” You gasped and clapped your hands over your mouth. “Did I just say that out loud?”

“Yeah, you did,” Eddie replied, unblushing, now standing before you with a full-on grin. “And thank you, by the way. Glad to know I’m not the only one struggling here.”

Yeah, you were struggling, all right. Struggling to hide your embarrassment. Succumbing to it, you drew in both your legs, grabbed a fistful of Eddie’s blanket, and buried your blushing face against it.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumbled, “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Eddie asked, bemused. “If I saw you topless, I’m pretty sure my jaw would be on the floor right now.”

You seriously doubted that. “Eh, they’re not that impressive,” you said, and Eddie’s brow wrinkled with utter bewilderment.

“Uhh, I humbly disagree… and to avoid sounding like a total creep, I’m gonna leave it at that.”

That made your face flare up again. Emboldened by his words, you poked your head out and said with a kittenish look, “So you’ve been checking me out, huh?”

“Oh, constantly,” Eddie replied with a playful, unabashed smile, setting your warm cheeks ablaze. 

This time, however, you didn’t hide your face or look away. You wanted to, but Eddie’s deep brown eyes held you captive. Like two beautiful black holes, they sucked you right in and you got lost in them, hypnotized, while he slowly undid his belt, unzipped his jeans, pushed them down, and kicked them away. A flicker of desire twitched through him. Your eyes fell and your breath hitched in your throat.

With a long, tortured sigh, Eddie said, “We really didn’t think this through, did we?”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head, and Eddie’s face scrunched up with indecision.

“Do you want me to just take you home?” he asked. “I don’t want you to feel weird and not be able to sleep.”

“I’ll be able to sleep,” you said. “Yeah, I’m one of those people who can sleep anywhere, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

That was actually a lie, but…

“Look, I really don’t want you to take me home,” you said, wincing as you heard the fragility in your voice. God, you felt so pathetic. You hugged your knees to your chest and laid your forehead on top of them. “I swear I’m not gonna be one of those annoying, clingy girlfriends or anything. It’s just… I’ve had to go years without you, Eddie, and right now the thought of leaving you just cripples me. I don’t… yeah, I don’t really how to explain it.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your head and saw Eddie staring at you with a soft, empathetic smile

“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “I get it.”

He flipped the wall switch and the bedroom fell into darkness, the covered windows glowing with a soft, silver light. Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you watched Eddie cross the room and climb into bed. He came toward you slowly, wrapped his hands around your ankles, and tugged on them gently, dragging your feet across the mattress, extending your bent legs one by one.

“You can be clingy if you want,” he said. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie moved closer, planted his palms on either side of your hips, and hovered over you. Speechless, you raised your eyes to meet his. As soon as you did, he leaned down, tilted his head, and captured your lips in a slow, sensual kiss that made your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind. You closed your eyes and surrendered to him. Pleasure prickled up your spine. Goosebumps broke feverishly across your skin. Timidly, you lifted your hand to his bare chest and began tracing your fingers over his tattoos. Eddie shuddered at your touch, pulled away, and let out a low groan.

“What’s wrong?” you asked breathlessly. “Are my hands cold?”

“No,” Eddie answered, “I just, uhh…” He laughed under his breath. “I dunno how I’m gonna be able to sleep tonight.”

“Me either,” you confessed quietly. “This was a really bad idea.”

“Oh, it was a terrible idea.” He placed another kiss on your lips and drew back with a smile. “Now move over, crazy, you’re in my spot.”

You scooted over and Eddie settled into the space beside you, sitting upright in bed with the blanket draped loosely around his naked waist. He looked so beautiful like that, ethereal almost, his silhouette softly illuminated by moonlight. Meanwhile, you sat with the blanket pulled all the way up to your chin. Underneath it, your body felt hot and tense and your heart was hammering wantonly in your chest. It was almost four o’clock in the morning, yet you were wide awake. How could you be expected to sleep with Eddie lying half-naked next to you?

Yeah, this is gonna be a huge problem, you thought, nervous and a little excited.  

(Because wasn’t this a wonderful problem to have?) 

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and released it in a noiseless sigh. Then, just to be safe, you moved a bit closer to the edge of the mattress. 

That didn’t help much, either.

Funny, you thought anxiously, somehow the bed seemed much smaller now than it did before. Not uncomfortably smaller, just noticeably smaller. Eddie was inches away from you, close enough to feel his heat mingling with yours, close enough to feel the vibrations of every little move he made, close enough to drive you absolutely fucking crazy. His last kiss still lingered on your lips, sweet and intoxicating. You wanted to be closer to him. You wanted to feel his lips on yours again. Feel his soft, smooth skin underneath your fingertips. Feel his strong hands on your hips, gripping you, guiding you. Feel deep brown eyes piercing into yours while you…

Oh boy, you thought, shuddering, I’m having a lot of thoughts tonight, each more dangerous than the last.

Eddie, unaware of your inner turmoil, switched on the lamp and started taking off his rings one by one: pinching the band between his fingers, gliding it over each of his knuckles, first one, then the other, pulling it off his fingertip and dropping it onto the nightstand beside him. One. Two. Three. Each ring clattered as it landed on the table. The soft rattling sound made you groan. 

Dammit, Eddie…

Did he have to take them off so slowly? So teasingly? If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was doing this on purpose. Couldn’t he sense the torment he was causing? You were teetering on the edge right now, both metaphorically and literally. You couldn’t move any further away from him. It was physically impossible… unless, of course, you wanted to end up on the floor. If he didn’t yank off that last ring quickly, you were gonna—

“What?” Eddie said, staring at you. “You okay?”

His deep voice jolted you from your libidinous thoughts. You looked up at him, blinking, your cheeks tinged with embarrassment. “Huh…? Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“You sure?” Eddie asked. He sounded concerned but also, vaguely, amused. The final ring—a fanged skull—still clung loosely to his left ring finger. Eddie had started to remove it, but stopped when he caught you looking at him. Now you could practically hear it taunting you as Eddie said, “You seem a little… agitated right now.” 

Agitated, huh? 

Sure, Eddie, let’s go with agitated. 

“I’m just tired,” you said. Then, in an obvious and pathetic act of bad theater, you covered your mouth with your hand and pretended to yawn.

Eddie’s face wrinkled with teasing suspicion. “Well, you should go to sleep,” he said, and started gently tugging on his ring again. This time you were certain he was doing it on purpose. Helplessly, you followed it anyway. Your mouth hung open as you watched the fanged skull move slowly up his finger, past his first knuckle, past his second knuckle… then slide all the way back down. A frustrated huff blew through your lips. As soon as it did, Eddie’s expression brightened with surprised fascination.  

“Wait,” he said, smirking, “do you have a hand fetish or something?”

His accusation startled you. “What?” you said. “I don’t have a hand fetish.” That sounded creepy and perverted, albeit true. “It’s just your hands… and those rings.” Those damn rings. “You’ve been playing with them all night, Eddie. Do you even realize you’ve been doing that?”

“Yeah,” he answered bashfully, “it’s kind of a nervous habit of mine.” 

“It’s fucking torture is what it is.” 

Your eyes widened. Eddie’s widened, too. Then they drifted back to the skull ring on his hand and settled there for a moment, as if enchanted by some marvelous discovery. Eddie had just found himself some buried treasure and you led him straight to it. You had drawn up a map, marked the X, handed it over, and said, Here ya go, Eddie. Here’s some lovely ammunition to use against me for the rest of our relationship. Did you really expect him not to pull the trigger? 

“Interesting…” Eddie said to himself, his voice dropping into that pondering yet provocative tone that meant nothing but trouble for you.      

“Oh, don’t do that…” 

“What?”

“Don’t say ‘interesting.’ It’s not interesting, it’s just…”

Embarrassing, extremely embarrassing.

Another loud huff escaped you. You turned away from Eddie, lay down, and threw the blanket over your shoulders. 

“It is interesting, though,” Eddie went on, chuckling to himself. “In fact, it’s very interesting.” 

There was a soft click behind you and suddenly the room collapsed into darkness again. Eddie had turned off the lamp and was now coming over to you. You knew because you could feel the bed shifting underneath his weight, closer, closer, and the closer he got, the deeper the mattress sank behind you. Eddie’s gravity was pulling you backward, drawing you into him. You gasped as you felt your back press up against his bare chest, and gasped again when you felt his right arm slip under the covers and settle snuggly around your waist. Instantly, your face flushed and your heart skipped a beat, but you didn’t try to pull away from him… as if you even could. You lay quiet, captive, waiting.       

Eddie lay behind you with his elbow resting on your pillow, leaning against it as he said, “I’m learning a lot of new things about you tonight. I’m learning some things about myself, too.” 

A curious smile dragged up the side of your face. “Really? Like what?”

“Like… for instance…” He leaned down and whispered throatily against your ear, “I really like the sound of you begging.” 

All the blood rushed to your face. You buried it into the pillow and said, “Okay, now you’re just being mean…”    

Eddie laughed at that. The sound rumbled deep in his chest and sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach. 

“I’m not, I’m not,” he said. “Listen, just hear me out, okay? I have a point, I promise. Now, this is kinda embarrassing to admit, but… honestly, I always kinda thought you would dominate me.” 

“What?” you blurted out, beside yourself with shock. “You thought I would dominate you?”

“Well, kinda, yeah.” Eddie smiled in abashment. “Shit, how could I not? I mean… I mean… Look, it’s like this, okay: for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve always had this really strong, intimidating presence. Naturally, I assumed that would carry over into the bedroom.” 

His words made you blush furiously, but they also filled you with a strange sense of confidence. Encouraged by them, you sat up on your elbow, looked over your shoulder, and raised your eyebrows playfully. “So, what, Munson? You want me to climb on top of you, pin you down, and have my way with you?”  

Eddie’s brown eyes bulged in the darkness, bigger than you had ever seen. “Do you wanna do that?” 

You stared at him for a second, speechless. “Honestly…? I don’t know.” 

It was hard to imagine yourself doing something like that. 

And yet… 

Your confidence fizzled again. Frowning, you sank down and laid your head back on the pillow.

Eddie smiled down at you, impressed by your unexpected boldness, short-lived as it was. “Well, that’s what I thought you’d be like, anyway.” He nuzzled his face into the side of your neck, his warm breath tickling you as he spoke. “But… not gonna lie… seeing you reduced to a quivering, whimpering mess, well… yeah, I kinda like that, too. I like it a lot, actually.”

He swept your hair out of the way and began planting light kisses along your skin. The feeling of his lips made you sigh. 

“We should stop talking about this.” 

“You’re right, we should,” Eddie said, but his kisses only got hotter and hungrier. Meanwhile, his right hand had slid down from your waist and started caressing your inner thigh, nails dragging, fingers curling, uncurling, occasionally stopping to tease the bottom hem of his boxers. “… except now you’ve got me a little curious.” 

“Oh yeah?” Your voice was high-pitched and breathy, delirious with pleasure. “About what?”

“About this little hand fetish of yours…” But honestly, you were hardly listening to him. You were more focused on the warmth of his hand and the deliciously rough texture of his skin. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply. As you did, you felt Eddie’s lips graze the outer edge of your ear. His voice sent a delightful tingle down your spine. “… so, tell me, in all these little fantasies of yours… what exactly am I doing with my hands?” 

His question coaxed a moan out of you. You placed your hand on top of his, intending to push it away, but as soon as you felt his hard knuckles underneath your fingers, you became possessed by savage, carnal desire. Your hand started moving on its own, rubbing across Eddie’s skin, scratching it lightly, sliding down and trapping itself in the soft webbing of his fingers. Pleasure rippled through you. All at once, images exploded through your mind like flashes of a camera. Turning around and smashing your lips against Eddie’s. Grabbing his face. Pulling his hair. Pushing him down on the bed and straddling his hips. Dragging your nails down his bare chest. 

That knocked some sense back into you. “Eddie,” you said weakly, “may I remind you of the situation we’re in?”

Eddie chuckled against you, unbothered. “Yeah, see, I’ve thought about that and…” He pressed a kiss to your ear, drew back, and whispered, “We don’t need condoms for this.”  

You bit down hard on your lip, holding in a moan as temptation tore through you. “Yeah, but do you really trust yourself to stop?”

Silence for a minute. 

Eddie knocked his head against yours and grunted in defeat. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t.”

You frowned, equally disappointed. “Yeah, I don’t either, so…” 

His hand went limp, fell, and died on your thigh. 

“Aw shit,” Eddie hissed through his teeth. Guilt-stricken, he pulled away from you, rolled onto his back, and ran his hands over his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I swear, I normally have way more self-control than this, it’s just… shit, it’s just you, y’know? You’re here, you’re in my bed, and you look really good in my Megadeth shirt. Plus I’ve got like, y’know, four years of pent-up sexual frustration that’s just dying to burst outta me, so…”  

You turned over, sat up on your elbow, and smiled at him. “Yeah, I know the feeling.” 

Staring at each other, you both shared a deep, content sigh. 

“C’mere,” Eddie said, beckoning you with his hand. You moved closer and laid your head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you tighter against him, placing a soft, sweet kiss on your forehead. 

You lay quiet for a few minutes, feeling his chest rise and fall, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat.

“What are you thinking about right now?” you asked dozily. 

“Honestly…?” Eddie asked, his voice a low mumble. “I’m wondering how long it’ll take me to drive to the gas station and back.” 

Laughter bubbled up from your throat. You buried your face against his chest and snickered.

“Well, shit,” you said afterward, “I’d probably go with you… and then we’d end up having sex in the parking lot.” 

Eddie’s face broke into a grin. “Really?” he said humorously. “Well, in that case…” 

He moved like he was trying to sit up. Giggling, you put your hand on his chest and pushed him back down.

“Easy there, buddy.” 

“I’m just kidding,” he said, smiling. “I’d never dream of taking your virginity in a parking lot… well, I would dream of it, have dreamt of it, but I’d never actually do it.”

You laughed quietly and laid your head on his chest again. Humming softly, Eddie started tracing his thumb across your back slowly, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. With each stroke, your eyes got heavier and heavier, until…  

“Hey,” Eddie began suddenly, with dull, drowsy panic in his voice “you’re not going anywhere, right? You’re gonna still be here when I wake up?”

You sat up and looked at him, confused. 

“Sorry, I know this sounds really weird, but…” He frowned deeply, struggling to make sense of his tired, jumbled thoughts. “It’s just, I finally got you back in my life. If you left now, I don’t think I’d be able to handle it.”

Your heart dropped at those words. You picked it back up, leaned down, and gently pressed your lips to his. 

“I’ll be here,” you said. “I promise.”  

SERIES MASTERPOST

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

unfortunately, i no longer do taglists. if you want to stay updated on my fics, you can follow me and/or subscribe to my posts. thank you!

[showtoonzfan]

Viv: You guys aren’t ready for Mammon, he’s going to be different, he’s going to be very ugly and messy and I’m kinda worried about my audience’s reaction cause he’s not going to be your standard hot twink, but he’s definitely plus sized so fuck anyone who says I can’t draw bigger bodies cause y’all aren’t ready just WAIT till you see him!

Mammon:

All that fuss and hype about Mammon’s design and this is what we got…..wow LOL Viv honey what you were afraid about? He looks like your standard sharp teeth and beedy eye creature who clearly still has a sex appeal and is deemed to be hot, he looks like robo fizz and for all that hype about him being plus sized, he looks like someone wearing giant clothes rather than someone who’s actually big. I mean good on you for simply stretching an image in photoshop but this isn’t anything out of the norm. Viv made him out to be as if we were going to be seeing some big nasty body-horror like creature but false alarm I guess. Had she not hyped him up I wouldn’t be so disappointed but I am. How are you ganna say this guy isn’t meant to look good when he looks like everyone else in Hell, nothing about him stands out in the slightest and I’m now convinced she only called him ugly all because he’s bigger than her normal stick anatomy. 😭

Also I don’t like his outfit, it’s cluttered and hard to look at, I don’t think the colors mesh well either, but other than that it’s just a standard design and it could have been something really cool. 😭

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Warmth in the Sheets: Bigby Wolf x Reader (Semi-NSFW)

He didn’t deserve something like this.

He didn’t deserve warmth and comfort for his despicable crimes against his own people, his own kind - if you could even consider any of them to be his own kind. Every time he even thought of that or even hear the mutter whispers of Fables on the streets, he would find himself smirking sarcastically ever so slightly.

Because they’re not his kind. None of them are his kind; his kind died when he was left alone after his mother passed and his brothers vanished. None of them knew what it was like to grow up the way he did, and because Fables - the ones who appear mostly mundy that is - judge him as though he were lower than them. They fear the unknown, and yet, they poke around in the darkness and act as though they’re innocent when the ugly truth comes barreling out (albeit as a giant wolf the height of a house). Princes and Queens and Fable royalty scoff and sneer at him as though he is their unruly guard dog.

But that’s what he is, isn’t he?

An unruly guard dog who has to beat the shit out of Fables who once ruled enchanted kingdoms and Fables who were the most popular and liked of all. Or as the plaque on his crumbling, cigarette-stained wall states: Sheriff of Fabletown.

But in all of the stenches that makes up lower Manhattan and the filth that Fables bring in from the mundy world, he had finally found a safe haven in all the spit and rot that was this cruel world.

Through softly patterned curtains, sunlight filtered through, seeping through the slightest part in the drapes to shine onto his eyes. Screwing them closed didn’t help, so the wolf simply let out a grumble deep from his throat and cracked his eyes open.

His body laid mostly naked, wrapped in the softest sheets he had ever felt, softer than how he remembers his mother’s fur. The bruises and scratches and scrapes had closed somewhere throughout the night, the aches had ebbed away into nothingness. He laid there in pure bliss, one of the few little luxuries he got when he didn’t stay in his crumbling apartment.

Bigby took in the scents of the cushioned pillow cradling his head, hints of soft lavender and roses dancing with a scent even nicer on his nose. The sheets were no better, smelling wonderfully, tickling his nose.

In this room, he had no need to reach for the crumpled cigarette carton and lighter that sat on the end table with his wallet and phone. In this room, he no longer felt the painful blows battered onto his solid body. In this room, for the first time in a very long time, he felt safe.

Bigby turned over, the sheets twisting at his cut waist and over his board back, the wolf no longer wanting sun in his eyes. He wanted something else in his field of view, to which he got immediately.

There was a figure in the bed with him, almost fully naked like himself with just underwear on. The blankets were barely covering anything, allowing Bigby’s eyes to roam. Wolfish brown eyes trailed the nape of the neck downwards, along the spine which had been slightly twisted by the sheets to the legs tangled in them. There were some marks on their back, some you barely would notice to ones that stated obviously what had happened the night before. From little bruises the size of quarters to red raised carvings down your back, the signs were all there.

The scent radiating off of them was heavenly, music to his nose. Their heartbeat in his ears was like a steady soft drumming.

Bigby reached a hand over the small space between his person and the other Fable in the room. Roughened fingers gently - the only time he was gentle really - wrapped around their shoulder, thumb rubbing small circles into the meat of their shoulder which earned him a small moan from their sleep. He would be lying if he didn’t feel slightly bad for waking them up, but it was only slightly.

He didn’t feel this with anyone before. He didn’t feel this with Snow.

He didn’t feel safe, he didn’t feel loved. He felt like he was being used if anything when it came to how Snow was with him.

But you; you actually cared. You were one of the few Fables who didn’t actively give him trouble or berate him or treat him like dirt. You didn’t judge him on his past, you didn’t poke and prod.

You twisted around too, the sheets now off, both of you finding it too warm in the room for them to be on the bed. Your eyes had peeked open just a bit, just enough for him to see the color of your irises through your fluttering eyelids as you blinked away the sleep and dreams.

He remembered when he first saw you for the first time since coming here. He had come to your apartment with questions about an unruly neighbor causing issues, and you had even invited him in for coffee.

He remembered when you two first kissed in the darkened hallway right outside of your apartment door, the neon lights from outside filtering in. You two had gone out to some bar to hang out and he had wanted to walk you back to your front door.

He remembered when you two first made love in your apartment, the aftermath was worse for you than him. The markings on your body were hard to hide and explain, and he enjoyed every second of it.

“Morning,” you purred, your voice still dripping with the clingings of sleep and exhaustion you attempted to shake off.

“Morning,” he echoed back.

His voice was still scratchy, dark and gravely. His eyes lingered down to your neck. There were red blotches on your throat, but his eyes mostly trained on the bite mark settled at the crook of your neck. Sure there were more marks all down the rest of your body but that was his favorite he left on you.

“Proud of your little art show?” you huffed sarcastically as you rubbed at the still sore bite mark. Bigby only growled softly, the wolfman snaked his hand down to your waist and dragged you in closer to him. He could feel the heat radiating off of his body bouncing off of you, no wonder why there was no need for the sheets if he was around. The corners of your lips curled into a slight smirk, Bigby could see it reflect in your eyes. His puppy brown eyes had tinged to a bright gold, his pupils had dilated to the size of near-pinpoints. He felt you shiver with lust under his grip. “My my, Mr. Wolf, how big your eyes are.”

Bigby jolted and had pinned you to your bed all of a sudden. His big hands and wrapped around your wrists and pinned them to the sides of your head while he straddled you by your waist. Your eyes were full of lust, he could smell it dripping off of you, it was all over in the air that he swore he could lick it. He leaned down, his grit teeth now a mouth full of sharpened teeth barely brushed over your sensitive neck.

“And how do you plan on explaining these?”

Before you could coyly ask him to elaborate, Bigby clamped his fangs down on the opposite shoulder, yanking out a pleasureful cry from you.

Bigby sat at the small kitchen table, carefully sipping scorching hot coffee as he eyed the news playing on the small tv on the kitchen counter. It was some mundy bullshit happening that weekend, some festival, Bigby didn’t really pay attention to that kind of crap. He just needed the background noise as he glanced back down at the file on the tabletop.

He was suddenly interrupted by a plate full of various breakfast foods being placed on top of the police file he was just looking at, everything still steaming with warmth and love.

“Police work can wait,” you hummed, handing him a knife and fork, “you need to eat.”

Bigby playfully rolled his eyes and took another sip of his coffee. You had turned back to the stove, allowing Bigby to catch a glimpse of you.

You were wearing one of his white button-ups unbuttoned with nothing else but socks and underwear on.

As Bigby took a big bite of food, he couldn’t help but close his eyes and just sit there.

In utter, unspoken delight, he knew he was safe and loved and happy.

And home.

[comfortless]

how do you think König would react with an S/O who playfully fights/teases as a way to show affection? my love language is light bullying so idk if he'll be too receptive to that 😅

ohhh this is a fun/sad one, actually! 🥲 i think this would be torture for him, because i don’t see him as being someone who can take a joke well!

SO!

We are all aware König was bullied in his past. I personally see him as being somewhere on the spectrum, too.

He speaks his mind, and expects the same of you whether he voices that need or not. The people he was surrounded by as a child play a huge part in this. There was never any “playful” bullying when it came to his father, any change in tone or insult ignited a fight or flight instinct for König because of this. The children at school were even worse. His father was always easy enough to read as he had no choice but to be around him.

The fake love confessions, the mocking compliments, and the unprompted aggression were another thing altogether. If a girl called him “hot” growing up, she always seemed to be lying, laughing with her friends the second he became hopeful. If another student wanted to “be friends” it more often than not ended with poor König either showing up and sitting through a movie entirely alone or doing their homework for them with nothing in return.

König never properly mastered people, they’re all different shades of confusing. He never had the proper upbringing or chances to read them properly at all, and though he’s grown more comfortable in his own skin now, these things do still haunt him to an extent.

He would love a play fight, adores the feeling of getting to pin you and feel that flood of power. You’re smaller and weaker than him, most people are, but he doesn’t get to exert that energy anywhere else than on the field. It’s certainly not as fun when his opponent winds up dead and there’s no romantic aspect to it at all. You’re such a cute, fragile little thing in his eyes, he’s overly gentle but doesn’t hesitate in the slightest to engage. Physical touch is his love language, and the promise of getting to rough you up in other ways afterward is just a bonus!

But… say you’re playfully insulting him. Call him “ugly” or hurl any other insult at his body, and he just sort of shuts down. He’ll give you the blankest stare, avoid touching you, and likely storm off until he’s had time to calm himself down. A part of him recognizes that you don’t mean it, but the internal wounds speak much louder.

He would assume the worst, that all of this time you’ve just been pitying him and you’re only now speaking true. You’re not attracted to him, and he was an idiot for ever believing that you might be. This guy had tried and failed countless times to find himself with a pretty thing that he can love, and never would he say anything like that to you. It’s always an abundance of praise and an eternal stare. His eyes and hands never leave you. So, that stings.

Once he calms down… some, he would return with the same hurt painted across his face, ask you why through gritted teeth. Just, “Why?” Depending on if it’s something that can be fixed, maybe he’ll offer to do it for you. Make himself prettier, better built, anything so that you don’t leave him for a man you deem more worthy. He knows he sounds small and pathetic, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t want to lose you. It pisses him off knowing that he’s already done the work, too, only for the end result to be the same as the things he’s already endured.

He wouldn’t be entirely convinced that it was just a joke, but he isn’t the type to come sobbing to you for reassurance, either. The next few hours are filled with condescending little comments. “You like fucking ugly men, schatz?” or “Do you always get wet like this when you’re sorry?”

[beanghostprincess]

Sorry I really didn’t mean I’m attacking you or your ship. I also don’t think it’s a red flag, most gay men I saw don’t really like shuggy either. I mean, probably the entire world prefers any other shanks ships? On almost every site, con or store there’s always tons of mishanks and Bennshanks and never shuggy. I get it’s also about dynamic and connection those two pairs have, like with the parallels to other ships the base for them is extremely strong. But the minimal shuggy does speak volumes. I genuinely wonder about this. Shuggy is unpopular and again while I do agree there’s strong connection between “rival ships” I don’t think that’s the only reason… and like…. Buggy is ugly, isn’t he? He doesn’t have cool style, doesn’t look cool, makes ugly faces all the time, also is a coward. I like him as comedy character and shanks brother though!

I understand where you're coming from when you say Shuggy is unpopular amongst some people (actually, before anyone says anything. It IS an extremely popular ship in Japan but I have seen A LOT of hatred towards it in this side of the fandom, so that's what I'm talking about when I say it's unpopular). I have talked about this before. And I have said a lot of times that the reason why is often because people only focus on looks and Buggy is not conventionally attractive for the fangirly twinkified sexualized gaze numerous sides of the fandom and the general audience seek. Like, I am not forcing people to ship them, but I have had people admitting the only reason they don't is because of the looks, and I personally believe that is a very (despite valid, of course) dull way of seeing ships. And respectfully, I don't care that other gay dudes or all the people in the world agree with you. It's not a red flag to not like Shuggy, what it is a red flag, though, is to come into people's inboxes to do what you're doing!

I know you don't mean to attack me or anybody who ships them but your tone does wonders showing otherwise. Your perception of shipping is just based on looks and the fact that you came here, to a blog that explicitly ships these characters and is fond of Buggy, talking shit about one of the characters' looks... Is just straight-up mean and not following the social etiquette this site should follow, which is "let people do whatever the fuck they want".

So with all due respect, what makes you think I won't find your questions offensive in any way? Because you keep talking bad about a character I like in my inbox for literally no reason. Do you expect me to admit that the ship is unpopular because Buggy is ugly and boring? Well, I do admit people view him as ugly and only a comedy relief, but I don't. Expecting others to find beautiful and interesting the same things you do is having a very close-minded vision that One Piece's plot itself is against.

By the way, you're showing that you clearly don't like Buggy in the slightest because you're only talking about the traits that you find negative about him. But of course, you like him as comedy relief. Of course, you like him as a character in Shanks' story and not as a character himself. Despite Buggy having lots of depth. Your perception of these characters seems, in my opinion, extremely empty and, as I said, only based on looks. And you're free of shipping whatever you want however you want! But please, please, don't do this anymore. This is just petty high school mean girl behavior. Even Regina George would word this in a more polite way.

So, as a little advice for you, let people ship whatever they want without questioning their favorite characters! I am sure you will live a more peaceful life!

[laddieseddiemunster]

Can you do a Lost Boys headcannon were their s/o is afraid of spiders??? Like how would they react to finding out they're afraid of spiders, if they'd tease you about it, etc.

hope you enjoy!

The Lost Boys x S/O That’s Afraid Of Spiders

David

he would find it amusing how much you hate spiders. david thinks of spiders more as a nuisance than anything. when you’d see a spider and jump on his lap in fear he’d think it’s funny. he’d say something like, “are you really scared of a little spider?”

depending on his mood, david might get a little annoyed with your fear of spiders. for example, if you screech and jump at him for protection and he’s in a bad mood he might groan and tell you to grow up a little bit. he’ll apologize later if he truly offended you, but when he’s in a bad mood any little thing will make it worse.

david would kill the spiders for you. not only because you’re afraid of them, but also because he finds them annoying. he likes seeing you come to him for protection, but he wouldn’t want you to be afraid for too long. if he’s not in the mood for getting spider remains on his shoes then he’ll grab a stick for the spider to climb on and he’ll leave it outside.

Dwayne

dwayne wouldn’t be annoyed with your fear of spiders. he knows that all people/vampires are all afraid of something, and yours happens to be spiders. the first time he saw you scream and run to him because of a spider he just laughed a little bit and then killed it.

he wouldn’t ever make fun of you for your fear of spiders. he just finds it funny at times. if it’s a big spider he’ll understand because they’re scaring looking and ugly, but he finds it funny when you screech over a spider the size of an ant. one of the first times he saw you run away from a tiny spider he said, “this little thing? he won’t hurt you,” dwayne still killed it afterwards though because he doesn’t like seeing you scared.

dwayne isn’t afraid of spiders unless they come out of nowhere. like if he turns and sees one right next to him he’ll jump a little bit. he’s not scared of killing spiders though because he’s used to killing them for you and laddie. he finds it cute how you come to him for protection. he likes being the brave one.

Paul

paul would make fun of you for it, but deep down he’s afraid of spiders too. he would never admit it though. the first time you saw a spider and hid behind him he started laughing at you. “babe, you’re scared of a nice little spider?” he’ll apologize if he makes you feel bad, and depending on the size he’ll step on it to kill it.

if you insist he kills a big sized spider, paul will say he will like it’s no sweat, but when he gets close to it and realizes how big it actually is he’ll chicken out. all his courage will be washed away, and he’ll spend a few minutes trying to boost his confidence back up to kill it. once you tell him to kill it a second time his confidence will be gone and he’ll come up with an excuse like, “he’s probably got a wife and kids! i don’t want to kill him!”

paul will never admit that he’s scared of spiders, but has no problem making fun of you for it. if you try to tell him that he’s afraid of them too he’ll deny it till no end. paul will only have the courage to kill the small spiders the big ones are you’re problem.

Marko

marko is not afraid of spiders in the slightest. it’s mainly because he knows that they can’t hurt him even if they bite him. when he found out you were deathly afraid of spiders he thought it was hilarious and made fun of you like paul. “i can’t believe you’re afraid of these friendly little spiders! they won’t do anything to you! here, take one!”

marko would try to get the spiders to befriend him and follow him around the cave, but he fails almost every time. he’ll pick one up and chase you around with it saying he wants you to meet his new friend, but he really just enjoys scaring you. if the spider bites him or refuses to be his friend, marko will get upset and kill it as punishment.

he doesn’t really like killing them because they don’t bother him, but he will if you’re screaming at him to. after chasing you around with the spider in his hand he’ll say, “babe, look,” and he’ll kill it by crushing it with his bare hands. that probably wouldn’t make you feel any better cause of how gross that would be, but he got rid of the spider problem.

[nomsfaultau]

Hybrid AU in exile week where avian instincts can take over to a degree that is almost horrific, erasing someone’s personality and rationality when they’re panicking. First part here.

Tw nontraditional self harm, discussion of abuse

They don’t bother to bury the scraps of the abuser, leaving his remains to be scavenged by crows. Not that there was much left of him by the time Philza was done. Tommy stands at his side, arms wrapped tight around himself and shying away from touch. His wings tremble ever so slightly, and the pair return home in complete silence. It aches between them, this thing that happened, a throbbing wound both are too scared to touch. But left unattended, it will only fester. 

“Tommy…how often did he groom you?” 

Silence. Pure silence. Okay. Okay. 

Techno is blissfully unaware of everything, and greets them brightly upon return, asking Tommy about the berries he’d been gathering for a cake. Tommy fully snaps on him, screaming awful invectives, and then storms off to Philza’s house with a slam of Techno’s door. The pair wince at the sound of something shattering. Then another, and another. Tommy’s muffled, venting screams echo as he begins to destroy the inside of Philza’s house. 

Philza gently pats Techno’s shoulder. “Not your fault, mate. He just needs…” Philza doesn’t know. Space? Or is that the last thing he needs? Philza himself feels nauseous in a way that refuses to ebb. He lets the rampage continue, tentatively deciding that Tommy needs an outlet. In hushed tones he explains what transpired to Techno, who is about ready to revive the abuser just for the chance of murdering him again by the time Philza mentions the net he’d found Tommy ensnared in. But eventually Techno settles on making a nice meal for Tommy instead, mostly because Philza wants them in ear shot of Tommy. 

An instinct that is eventually rewarded. It’s the pained cry that has them hesitate, and decide to check in. He finds Tommy clutching fistfuls of his own bloody feathers, wings ragged and floor littered with ripped out clumps. When he sees Philza, he pales. Tommy flinches and scrambles back as Philza lunges, wrenching his wrists away. He’s utterly terrified of being ensnared again, but Philza doesn’t know how else to make him stop. Tommy doesn’t try to escape the hold, but that only makes it worse. The child shrinks into himself, expecting punishment for lashing out. “I’m sorry it was an accident I didn’t mean to break your stuff I’m sorry I’m sorry don’t hurt me-”

“Shh, shh,” Philza soothes, carefully letting go of him. “That’s just stuff that can be replaced. I don’t care if it gets broken, only if you do.” 

“It’s too late for that,” Tommy spits bitterly. “What I do won’t change that.”

Horrified, Techno kneels, carefully scooping up bloody feathers. “Maybe- here, if I heal it fast enough they might fix properly.” He pulls out a regeneration potion, and Tommy scrambles back. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

“I’m not, alright? I won’t touch your wings.” Techno presses the potion into Tommy’s hands, only for the boy to hurl it across the room. The boar winces at the shatter of glass. “...haha…butter fingers. Don’t worry if you accidentally dropped it, I have loads, here-”

“I don’t WANT them to heal,” Tommy snarls as ugly tears brim over. “I don’t want them at all.” 

It feels like his throat has been slit. “What?” Philza asks quietly, painfully, as if he didn’t already know that. He knew, by the bloody russet feathers clutched in his trembling fists. He knew, by the way the nest has been torn to shreds. He knew. 

“What good are they for? I don’t want to be an avian! Who would? All it does is make me weak and scared and freeze up. All it does is make me want him back.” 

“This…isn’t normal for avians, either,” Philza says carefully. “Once one can fly the freeze instinct shouldn’t happen anymore. Startling into flight at the slightest movement, maybe, but still. Given you’re, eh, slightly older than a five-year-old, this shouldn’t be happening. I think you might’ve reverted to a hatchling phase because of how he treated you. Perhaps remaking developmental milestones might help you move away from chick instincts. Like learning to fly.” 

Tommy stretches a wing out, flicking his clipped primaries. “Yeah, and he ruined that, too, just like the rest of me.” He misses flying so much it hurts. But the shadow of the tower pools over him, swallowing Tommy in shame. For all that he knows it’s all his abuser’s fault, it doesn’t heal the damage that’s been caused. 

“He’s dead. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“And yet it does hurt, and it’ll never stop.”

“That isn’t true.” 

“It feels true.” 

Next>