#i can think of like a dozen more names off the top of my head but i took so long writing this that i have to

[beatrixstonehill2]

Veronica was enjoying her time at a pool in a luxurious hotel when a woman named Gina approached her, eyeing her in an accusatory way. "What do you think you're doing?" Gina asked.

"What do you mean?" Veronica asked in a soft, feminine voice.

"Disgusting, another dumb little fakegirl here to ogle us real women and fantasize about doing god knows what to us."

"Huh!? No, I think you made a mistake, I--"

Gina pulled off Veronica's clothes, starting with her top, revealing her large breasts for everyone to see, then pulled off her bottoms, sizing the disrobed girl up. "Well, well, well, look what we have here." Gina said, shaking her head at the sight of Veronica's small cock held in place with body tape.

"There's no rules against trans girls staying here! I.... wasn't ogling anyone or being a perv! I just haven't gotten around to removing my cock...."

"Uh-huh, heard it a million times, princess. You're so disgusting. I saw you when you arrived yesterday. Since you don't pass whatsoever it was obvious you were a boy. Since then I've caught you filming pregnant girls in bikinis on your phone, filming upskirts, staring at countless girls' asses and breasts, you accidentally bumped into and touched the breasts of about a dozen girls staying here, and I even caught you rubbing your cock through your bikini as you watched that group of pregnant college girls celebrating their victory in some gymnastics competition. I also followed you in the bathroom and heard you jerking off."

"Ummmm..... it's.... not true? I didn't mean to..... those girls were really hot and showing off their moves, their breasts kept falling out and oh my god their asses were so juicy and fat--oh!" Veronica covered her mouth, her cock throbbed against the tape holding it in place.

"You poor perverted boy. Let mommy take you in and take care of you. Show you some discipline. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Ummm......would I have to stop being a girl?"

"Idiot. You aren't a girl now. Just a confused, perverted boy.... Come on, let me help break you free of your confusion, OK?"

Veronica nodded, taking Gina's hand as she walked her naked through the hotel, back to her room....

"It's been a year since I met my mistress, Gina, and detransitioned for her, finally giving up my perverted fantasy of being a girl. Gina started by making me get rid of my "breasts", which were just oversized moobs that grew unnaturally big because my parents tricked me into taking synthetic hormones because I liked dressing as a girl. Now they're growing back because my mistress funnel feeds me so much.... if they look too much like a girl's breasts Mistress Gina says she'll make me get another reduction.

I used to goon in private to so many pretty girls online, and I was something of a voyeur.... I also took a new guy home almost every night, I'd go to all kinds of nice hotels and sleep with as many men as possible, while watching all the pretty rich girls..... But now Gina controls when I'm allowed to cum. Only after I do good and meet my monthly weight gain milestones and don't complain when she pegs me with her.... intimidatingly big strap ons. I'm just her boy-toy hog who only exists to fatten for her amusement, until she gets bored of me, which she told me she will. I never get to fuck her of course, only watch her get fucked or peg other girls, as well as a bunch of other former t-girls she forced to detransition.

I have to stuff my face and eat as I watch her have an active sex life, if I slow down she stops what she's doing to scold me or paddle me if I'm really disobedient. She makes eye contact with me the whole time she pegs or gets fucked, never with her partner. She just watches me eat and encourages me to keep stuffing my dumb, hog mouth and get nice and fat so I can cum like a good boy. It's kind of funny but she's way more perverted than I ever was as as trans girl.... even if I was pretty out of control. Now I have no choice but to get as fat as possible for my mistress until she finally gets bored with me and drops me off at my parents' house.... That's going to be a fun conversation. Telling them I detransed after living as a girl since the second grade, and got so fat I can't walk.... Hope they don't mind taking care of me and keep me as well fed as Mistress Gina.... Fuck, I've got to stop thinking about it or I might accidentally cum. I've been getting punished enough lately.... Keeping Mistress Gina satisfied gets harder and harder the fatter I get, I can barely keep up with my weight gain goals, but having Mistress Gina jerk me off at the end of every month makes it all worth it. Her eyes staring into mine as she calls me a gross, disgusting boy who never passed as a girl, and a fat useless hog who's never gonna make a girl cum, who's gonna be too fat to fuck or masturbate.... I cum soooo fast, then she makes me lick the cum off her hand, afterwards she slaps me and tells me to do better next month, that I'm gaining pathetically slow.... I have to do better for my mistress. I already can't even remember ever being a fakegirl with big bouncy tits......"

[official-lucifers-child]

you fandom people are always obsessing over your yin-yang, sun and moon, dark-hair-light-hair ships, so give me the bloody fanfiction with all of pairs being reincarnated into their “next form” (aka next fandom) and finding each other over and over again despite all of the obstacles keeping them apart.

[suddencolds]

Who are your favorite artists/writers in the community?

THIS IS SO HARD, anon 😭 (but it's a question I'm curious about others' answers to too!) I have some time before work, so I'll attempt to answer somewhat coherently:

i've always admired @hachiibun, in particular for his ability to draw such a variety of poses and pre snz expressions (his somewhat recent post of h/sr snzcanons comes to mind)!! i'm continually amazed by the way he's able to capture nuances in characterization through the little visual details he chooses to highlight. i think he particularly excels at capturing like, the misery/harshness of a snz, and the all-consuming ticklishness of the build-up 😭

@mochindayo has super lovely ocs! i look forward to seeing their snz art and non-snz art alike. i love the way they draw hair in particular—it looks sooo soft and fluffy and i can tell there's a lot of care put into arranging the strands. the characters they draw genuinely look so pretty (even ruined with a cold or allergies, there's always something beautiful to them)??

i need to mention @6pmsoup bc their sketches literally always eat!! i feel like they always have such a tasteful way of like narrowing down which elements to give more dimension/detail/shading to. their art looks simultaneously so clean and engaging 😭 (cheating a bit here and i hope it's okay to say this, but i am also continually impressed by their musical ear and their compositional ability)

i really love @whiskey-tango-matcha's ocs so, so much! she has such an impressive handle on character voices and humor; when i read her fics, i really love how easy it is to get lost in the conversational flow. in particular, elijah and greyson have a super fun dynamic of like, simultaneous prickliness and concern?? it's not something i see a lot, but i feel like i could never get tired of the way they play off of each other 😭

one of the first snzfics i read which like blew me away was actually something @ithadtobesneezing posted to ao3 (i am embarrassed to say how long ago, haha). she has a very good handle on emotional depth 😭 like i feel like she writes with a certain clarity of character; her works carry like this sort of emotional intimacy and sensitivity to them, which always stands out

recently i have been head over heels in love w @vllergy's oc series. i honestly cannot remember the last time i fell for two characters so quickly 🥹 jin and vesen and their dynamic set me on fire; i have not enough words to describe how fun it is to read from jin's headspace. his character voice really shines through in the narration (and some of it is really funny too???); seriously check it out if you haven't already!

[steddie-as-they-come]

everybody talks

i could not tell you what this is. i wrote it all in one sitting. enjoy or whatever

It starts with the graffiti.

Scribbled in thick, permanent marker across the boys' gym lockers.

STEVE HARRINGTON FUCKS EDDIE MUNSON

The custodian tries half-heartedly to scrub it off, but he only manages to get about a letter and a half off the locker before his shift is over. It's back up by the next day anyway.

Half the school is walking on tiptoes around Steve, waiting for him to blow up and demand a manhunt for the culprit.

The other half is snickering and laughing as he walks by in the halls.

Steve doesn't give two shits. He holds his head up high and walks onwards, ignoring the laughs and the kissy noises. He needs to graduate. He needs to not get eaten by a terrifying monster from an alternate reality. More pressing things happen to Steve Harrington than grade school graffiti.

Until he turns the corner and sees Eddie Munson glaring furiously at his closed locker.

He doesn't speak to him. Even if the graffiti isn't a big deal, there's no need to add any fuel to the fire.

Eddie finally steps forward and wrenches open his locker door. The crowd milling in the halls begins to laugh.

Papers spill out, dozens of them, cascading over the floor and burying Eddie's shoes. One slides all the way to Steve's feet.

He looks down automatically.

There's an atrocious drawing of two stick figures bent over each other. The one on the bottom has two lines of curly hair, while the one on the top has a singular swooping line of graphite.

Great.

Steve swiftly scoops it up and crumples it in his fist, shoving it in his pocket. He'll toss it out later.

As he hustles past Eddie, steadfastly not looking in his direction, he thinks he hears Eddie mutter, "Every class period."

Steve turns a corner, and the train wreck that is Eddie's locker is gone.

He slides into his seat, knowing the band girls who sit in the back corner of the classroom are whispering about him, but finding he couldn't care less.

The teacher starts class.

He reaches into his pocket and slides the crumpled paper between his fingers, over and over.

Steve raises his hand. "Can I go to the bathroom?"

The teacher nods and waves him away, and Steve scrambles out the door, rounding the corner.

Eddie's still there, kneeling by his locker, trying to scoop up papers.

Steve kneels next to him. "Hey."

Eddie jumps like an alley cat that's been spooked. Steve could swear his hair starts bristling, puffing up.

"Your majesty," Eddie finally says, glaring back at the pile of paper like Steve'll disappear if he doesn't look at him. "To what do I owe the pleasure."

It's not really a question.

Steve answers it anyway. "Came to help," he says simply, picking up a piece of paper that has EDDIE MUNSON X STEVE HARRINGTON written on it in bold letters, surrounded by stupid little hearts. "After all, my name's on half this stuff."

"How kind," Eddie said. "Keeping me distracted while your buddies key my van or something?"

Steve reels back. "Huh?"

"I'm not dumb, Harrington," Eddie says, crumpling up another sheet of paper. Steve can barely catch EDDIE HARRINGTON on it before it's balled in Eddie's fist. "I get this is a prank or whatever. I just can't understand why you'd involve yourself with me. The King and the Freak."

"'Cause I'm not the King anymore." Steve says, standing to drag a nearby garbage can closer. It's already half-full of papers. "You sure don't listen to gossip, Munson. Billy beat my ass and I lost every friend I had. So. I think it's a prank on both of us."

"Oh."

Eddie, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles, shuts the fuck up. Steve had seen people lose their meals to his impassioned school cafeteria rants, but it only takes Steve Harrington to shut Munson's infamous mouth.

Wait, that sounds wrong.

They keep cleaning in silence - relatively. Steve starts balling up the papers and tossing them at the trash can, unable to stop himself from hissing out a yes! if he makes the throw.

"Impressive," Eddie says dryly. "Can you do this?" He raises one hand in the air like he's about to take a pledge, and in the other he folds and rolls a slip of paper until it's shaped like a joint.

Steve chuckles. "Nope." He takes the fake joint, and it comes undone in his palm, revealing the same crude stick figure couple from earlier.

Right.

Steve had forgotten what they were doing here.

Evidently, Eddie had too. He looks down at the drawing, then snatches the paper from Steve, tossing it in the trash, two spots of pink high on his cheeks.

He scoops the last of the papers into his arms, dumping them in the trash can. "You can go back to class," he tells Steve, settling down with his back against the locker.

"What are you doing?" Steve says, slightly caught off-guard by the dismissal.

"Seeing if those pricks will try to do it again." Eddie says, folding his knees up to his chest. "They do it all the time. I think there's a jungle's worth of trees just being used to make shit for my locker."

"You're just gonna guard it?" Steve asks.

"Sure," Eddie says, picking at a piece of lint on his shirt. "What else have I got to do?"

Steve plops himself down next to Eddie. "I'll guard with you," he says stubbornly.

"Seriously?" Eddie asks, like Steve's particularly slow. Steve's gotten that tone of voice a lot in his life.

"Yeah." Steve says. He parrots, "What else have I got to do?"

"You're just gonna fuel the rumors, dude." Eddie says. "My name's mud around here. You know that damn well."

"Sure," Steve shrugs. "But it hasn't been half-bad hanging out with you, and I don't care what these jackasses think of me anymore. Bigger things to worry about."

They settle into a comfortable silence, watching the students pass by, their whispered comments and curious glances bouncing off the duo. Eddie taps his fingers rhythmically on the ground, humming a tune Steve doesn't recognize but finds oddly comforting.

He reaches into his pocket to feel the small paper, then tugs it out. Is it dumb that a stupid drawing is making him think about himself this much?

"Hey, Eddie," Steve starts, hesitating. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Eddie says idly.

"How do you... I mean, when did you know you were gay?" Steve asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie's expression turns to one of suspicion, but he answers anyway. "I guess I always knew, deep down. But I really figured it out in middle school." He looks at Steve out of the corner of his eye. "Why?"

Steve bites his lip, considering his next words carefully. "I think I might be... different too. I mean, I've only ever dated girls, but lately, I don't know. I feel... something."

Something means he worried for weeks when Billy beat the shit out of him because suddenly all these feelings were tugging at his brain. Feelings for people like Eddie Munson.

Eddie's eyes widen slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. (What? Steve's not looking at his lips. Huh?) "Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins High, might not be straight? Now that's some gossip I'd actually pay attention to."

"Shut up," Steve mutters, but he's smiling too. "I'm serious."

"Well..." Eddie trails off. "We can try it out?"

Steve's heart skips a beat. "Huh?"

"We can try it out." Eddie repeats. "But, uh," he leans close, his breath ghosting over the shell of Steve's ear. "Just so you know, I prefer to be the one on top."

Weeks later, the school is overtaken by a new kind of graffiti. Papers plastered to every surface, a spiky handwriting (usually used to write setlists and D&D character sheets) adorning each and every one of them.

EDDIE MUNSON FUCKS STEVE HARRINGTON

[sweetiecutie]

Hi!

I fell in love with ur underbedmonster!simon au!

And I am sure everybody else fell in love with it.

Can we get some more stories with monster simon? If it's no problem, of course :)))

Love your work btw <33

A/n: sure you can, I think that this trope is my new obsession🫣☺️

Warnings: smut, mdni, possessiveness, monsterfucking, tentacle fucking

Part 1 || Part 3 || Part 4

Underbed monster! Simon who was slightly startled by such sudden change in your aura - once sugary sweet and syrupy turned into bitter and pungent, causing creature to sputter and hiss begrudgingly at the taste, his ears (or whatever that was that he had) straining to hear any words coming from you that could explain this drastic shift in your emotions.

Underbed monster! Simon who listened attentively as you spoke on the phone with your best friend, choking on your own tears and sobs as you told them how you broke up with your now ex boyfriend, about the ugly fight you had, how he called you numerous names, shattering your heart in million pieces just with his cruel words.

Underbed monster! Simon who felt rage simmering somewhere deep within him. How dare that pathetic scumbag treat you like that!? Yes, Ghost did torture you with horrible nightmares quite a few dozens times, but you were his human, his to scare, his to taunt, his to fuck, no one else’s. He felt possessive and angry, he wanted to soothe your poor little heart, to make all the pain go away so you could feed him more and more of that honey-like energy that your pleasure exuded.

Underbed monster! Simon who finally decided to take matters into his own hands after keeping a close eye on you when your state didn’t seem to get any better. Ghost sneaked out some of the sweets from kitchen to your bedroom so you had something to munch on, making you confused as to how those candies seemed to magically appear on your bedside. Simon tried keeping the house tidy and clean for you in hopes that it’ll make you get better soon, he even did your laundry once, causing you to freak out at the sight of your clothes, freshly washed and still damp, hanging off the rope to dry out.

Underbed monster! Simon couldn’t be more happier, watching your attention finally shift from your shithead ex to him. Simon was purposefully lurking right in the corner of your vision, making his presence in the house way more obvious. He watched with fierce amusement as you grabbed the sharpest knife from the kitchen, inspecting every nook and cranny of the house, not finding any signs of intrusion or anything that could’ve given a clue about another person’s presence, scrunching up your pretty eyebrows in confusion.

Underbed monster! Simon who fully revealed himself for the first time in your dream, standing in his full glory in front of small scared you, your breathing quickening in your sleep as you inspected his tall dark form, two red eyes glaring down at you from above. You felt paralysed as you watched this creature raise its smokey limb that slightly resembled human arm, cold tentacle fingers brushing your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear affectionately. And all of the sudden all fear and anxiety vanished, leaving place for curiosity and amazement as you studied monster’s features closer, not feeling threatened nor endangered by him. Slowly its mouth opened - even blacker that the rest of him, his voice clear and lucid, ringing right inside of your head “Wake up”

Your eyes snapped open - you were laying in your bed still, crumpled sheets dug into your back unpleasantly but you couldn’t care less as you stared straight into those crimson orbs, cold tentacles slithering up and down your sides, wrapping tighter around your limbs, immobilising you completely. Underbed monster! Simon just purred audibly at your obedience and lack of resistance, branching a few more extremities to slip under the hem of your pyjama top and wrap around your nipples, tugging and tweaking on them softly.

Underbed monster! Simon who growled satisfactorily at the small wet patch that started forming on your panties, slowly rubbing your sweet pussy while applying more and more pressure to his touch, watching you writhe and whine underneath him, begging for more.

Underbed monster! Simon who purred as he slipped a thick tentacle past the hem of your panties, stuffing your fluttering cunny so full of himself, finally that rich taste of your pleasure simmered right through him, filling his ghastly body with strength and energy he lacked all this time you were depressed. Newfound strength just nagged him into fucking you faster and harder, twisting out your nipples and rubbing your clit rapidly, all while forcing his thick tentacles in and out of your leaking cunt, making you scream and tremble in his inescapable grasp as fourth orgasm rippled through your weakened body, pure pleasure surging through your veins, hogging up your mind and making you incapable of thinking.

Underbed monster! Simon who only let you go when first sun rays peaked in through bedroom’s window, leaving you a fucked-out yet blissful mess, pinching you on your cheek affectionately before slipping under your mattress, curling up like a huge lazy cat and falling asleep, full of your delicious pleasure.

And even hours later as you peeked under your bed you could see a huge black spot there, still and unmoving; and if you listened closely enough you could hear your underbed monster purr softly in its sleep, happy and properly nourished.

That’s quite a pet that you have now, eh?

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, don’t be shy to give writers some love! Requests are open, so send me some stuff<3

[svndaysaweek]

You Don’t Even Know My Name, Do You? — {Feat. Minji}

3.1k words

A/N: Hi! It’s me, back in 6 months! I had the idea for this one since last summer, but never really made it a fic. But now I post it…! It’s a rushed fic, no editing, I’m sorry for any grammatical errors or typos. Thank you @praeluxius for help and advice in making the conversation better and more natural! Thanks for 1.6k followers and most importantly 1k notes for ‘Niche’!!! Enjoy reading this and luv you all…!

******

Subways late at night are dangerous, and you can’t deny it’s because of you. Drunken bodies swaying along the rail, left and right, back and forth, grasping up on their wasted balance not to embarrass themselves by falling on the floor. Less than an hour left from waving away the day, you can tell where others in the train came from—bars, karaokes, or anywhere with entertainment and alcohol. Returning home after having some fun to wrap up the day and live the following day. Victims of society, some say, but that’s what all people are. We work, get paid. Victims don’t get to enjoy themselves, do they? But to be honest, you’re not the one to care for them, the victims, when you’re one of the victimizers.

You’re standing next to the door, the best position to scan the people in and out, empirically certified by yourself. There are quite a few people in the car—only a few seats available and half of the people chose to spare the seats empty. You’re holding onto a steel bar and slightly leaning your weight on it, eyeing thoroughly for your prey. But there’s no one yet to suit your taste, no one looking good and wealthy.

The mechanical female voice informs the next stop and a few dozens of seconds later the train halts for another group of people to be added to your menu.

“Alright, alright! I’m not that stupid to let someone just, like, snatch my purse away, huh?”

You hear a girl talking to her phone, laughing like she just heard the dumbest advice ever. A crop top for her defined belly to be open, relatively baggy jeans hinting the sculpted curve of her hips and full-blown outlines of legs. Within a second that girl has made everyone in the car latch their eyes on her doing nothing.

“What the fuck? I didn’t drink that much tonight I swear, and fuck, even an alcoholic won’t forget his own name,”

The girl, however, certainly looks drunk, sounds drunk, and acts drunk. Her eyes barely stay open, her tongue hardly makes her words clear. You can even smell how much she poured down her throat. It’s becoming more and more fit for your ideal condition.

Her talk goes on for a few more minutes then she puts her phone in her handbag and looks into the dark, mirror-like window. Her blinks become lazier and slower by the second, alcohol weighing her eyelids, but she does her best to stay up. She looks around to shake off the fatigue and meets your eyes, which have been on her since the moment she walked in. Three seconds is enough to make her look away in shyness, but it isn’t enough for her to examine you as her eyes lock with yours again.

She lets her eyes travel down your body to your toes slowly through(in) the window, alcohol erasing the fact that the subway is public. You pretend to neglect as she keeps eyeing you, head to toe several times, and the next stop the stumbly girl is forced to stand next to you by the crowd gushing in. Unavoidable contacts add leads to your eyes awkwardly meeting, which draws out mirrored smiles from each.

“Sorr-oh!”

A slight rattle of the train almost tackles her down but your arms are there to hold her from meeting the floor. 

"Careful, you almost hit your head, could have ended up like our friend over there." You nod and gesture at old man asleep at the other end of the carriage

"He looks peaceful though."

"You think you can stand up by yourself now?"

"Of Course! I'm not even that drunk."

"The last time my friend said that, he ended up face down in a bush." As soon as you’re done talking she stumbles again to her embarrassment. And of course you keep her standing.

"So you didn't catch him?"

"He's not as cute as you." She laughs and blushes, palm on her mouth and the tone a bit too high for a laughter in a subway. 

“Where do you live?” Change of topic, and you’re surprised that it’s her asking you, not the other way around as it used to be.

“Two stops before the terminus.” She checks where the train currently is, and stares at the map for a few dozen seconds as if her brain is still soaked with drinks, before looking back at you and pointing to the map.

“I’m getting off two stops later,” She blushes again, this time there’s even an awkward smile on her face. As if trying to say something shameful.

“And…” Her fidgety fingers dig into the arm of your shirt and her eyes are fixed on your shoes to never climb up. “And?” You repeat her, grin on your face because of her being so bashful and how overt her real intention is.

“And my name’s Minji by the way. Kim Minji.” It's trickery. A decoy. You almost burst into laughter but keep it down to a debonair ‘mhmm’ instead, hoping to bail Minji out of her own struggle to let the real words out.

And her phone rings. “No, not yet. Only two stops left. No, I don’t sound slurry at all, thanks. Oh my god, Hanni. I said I’m not that drunk! Yeah, I met a guy and maybe he’s taking me to my place-oh my god.” A brief moment of soberness washes through her body but her face is even rosier than ever. Over her phone you hear a woman shouting ‘hey’s and her name, but soon Minji hangs up. The train halts, and she just rushes between the crowd to get off out of shame but you catch her arm.

“Hey, it’s the wrong station.” She can’t look at your smirking face even facing you, face still red and fumbles the hem of her top. “Sorry for that… That was a total mistake.”

“It’s okay,” Minji raises her head, looks at you. “You’re drunk like hell, and you were going to say that anyways.” She's left speechless for a moment, then she opens her mouth to say something but frowns ignorantly.

“Why are you laughing? I was so embarrassed!” She's overtly trying to act cute and it's so working on you. With drunken red cheeks, slurry, lethargic pronunciation and on top of everything, her mesmerizing face. Even your most prior purpose is being threatened to melt by her exhilarating cuteness. 

“It’s nothing.” But your lips just can’t hide your smile, and there is more than one reason; Minji’s being so clingy, which is what usually happens when alcohol infiltrates people’s brains, and it is an aid for you as always. And when the announcement informs you of the next stop, her babyish grumbles are gone and shyness permeates again.

“So… Are you going to take me to my place…?” You hold out our arms and guide the groggy girl out of the train. “After you.” Minji can’t subdue the chuckles from the dizzy liquor, how sensible you are, at least in her opinion, and the fact that you two are going to stay the night together in her place. 

On the other hand, for you the reasons are somewhat different; it’s because tonight you made it, will see some pennies in your pocket and will be able to keep your stomach filled for a few more days. And she’s completely blind for that, giggling so innocently like what she’d do with her lover.

It must be her first time flirting with a guy. She can’t just follow anybody she likes. It’s dangerous. She can’t just trust anybody because he’s amiable. There could be a vice in his mind, transgressions at the tips of his fingers. Somebody should warn her about this, you think. How paradoxical. Maybe you won’t be doing this for long. But that’s something to worry about later.

All these thoughts pass through your mind in less than a second, and when you look back at her you see the green, innocent girl fluttered with excitement. “Lead the way please.” And she does.

******

“This is my place, it might be a little bit messy but-“ Minji opens the door and you close. “It’s okay. No one cares.” She sounds like the soberness has returned, but when you catch her ridiculously stumbling changing her shoes into slippers, ask if she’s okay, and she answers back that she’s alright, you just find yourself tentative about what’s in your mind.

“Are we going to kiss?” You know it’s a tipsy whim. You know she might not know what she’s doing. But it’s her asking you, not the opposite, she has no one to blame but herself, and you also know that she won’t. So you give it a go.

Her lips feel soft. You kiss her lips in a gingerly manner, eyes closed to focus all your senses to your lips. It feels like forever, but it’s obviously provisional so you do your best to find the perfect angle of your head, the right position of your hands, and the exact moment for your tongue to engage. A brief detach and then smoothly latch onto again, and a several times more, and in no time you two are completely submerged in the sensation, in the atmosphere and the feeling.

You open her lips with your tongue, and the key works so well you don’t even have to put any more effort to meet hers; she’s been waiting for it. When you taste her mouth, the alcoholic air hits your gustation and the olfactory sense—Jesus, how many glasses did she empty?—and you swallow it down to your body. Her tongue jockeys in your mouth, on your palate, around your tongue, everywhere it can reach. She’s so needy that when you try to withdraw for some air her arms lock you up and pull you in for a longer liplock.

But that doesn’t last long, before Minji herself pulls back to breathe.

“Minji,” Gasping, you call her name. She doesn’t respond. She takes your hand and drags you to her bedroom. It’s tidied up well unlike what she warned you about, but you don’t have any time to be infatuated with how neat her bedroom is, when her hasty tongue knocks on your lips to open up.

She really can’t hold it back as she redoubles the whirl inside your mouth. At this point you’re a bit shocked at how aggressive she has become—or, she might’ve been like this from the very start—but god, what a joy to reciprocate. But this desire is not a genital one, rather more like a sheer indulgence of the feeling itself as if it’s her first time.

“Minji, no one’s chasing you. You don’t have to rush.” Hands on her shoulders you say, in an assuring tone, to the panting girl in front of you. Regardless she dives in yet again, this time her hands dragging her jeans down, totally ignoring what you said. She doesn’t feel sorry, but neither do you when you can in fact enjoy what’s going to unfold.

You find it kinda cute to see that talkative girl in the subway all silent and busy with her hands with heavy breaths. It’s as if you have unbound her from the straitjacket—or the alcohol did—and her actual self inside was in need of some rabid lovemaking. No denial that she’s getting what she wants.

It’s hammy but a pleasure to watch. Her hands move to your top and hastily take it off of you, a sigh when it blocks the kiss. You’re overwhelmed as you take your pants yourself but Minji pulls it down to your ankles. Stepping out of them you push her onto her bed and crawl up to be parallel with her, eyes to eyes. When your erect cock brushes on her tummy she squints her eyes with a flinch. Her nerves are so worked up, whether it be from the intoxication she’s been in for hours or the anticipation. Or both.

“Minji, are you alright?” Her face is so red, her breaths are shallow and her teeth keep on biting her own fist. She just nods, eyes still filled with unrest; in fact you can’t tell if it’s concern or anticipation, but either way it’s your job to relax her. 

And putting her hand off of her mouth and replacing it with your lips is what you come up with as a solution. As if you want to absorb the turmoil out of her. When your tongues meet and intertwine her hands climb up to the back of your head and pull you deeper into the trance. Time passes like that. Minji’s so lost in the sensation, and when you lightly put your hand on her breasts she moans into your mouth. The size is just unblemished for you to leisurely fondle, so you keep doing that until she detaches from the kiss, asks you to take her top off with a coo.

“You look so beautiful. Just relax, Minji.” She bites on your under lip when your hand softly squeezes her breast and plays with her nipple. The pain is an approval you’d gratefully take.

You slide down to her neck, collarbone, chest, stomach and finally to her crotch, peppering everywhere on your way with pecks and licks and making it glisten. And oh, her pussy lips are already glistening—dripping, soaking wet—with her own water, nectar so dense with desire. You glimpse at her and she nods desperately, underside of her lips bitten hard, as if when you latch your tongue on her sex it’ll bleed. 

And when you do she yelps, sharp yet gutty, with her back involuntarily arching upward. “Ah, please…!” Is what follows her scream when you flick your tongue on her sensitive nub. You cherish her response and repeat it, eyeing her facial expressions and enjoying every furrow of her brows, every grasp on your hair and every squish of her thighs on your ears. It doesn’t take a while to reach the point where she loses control of herself. Where she loses her mind and cums with a scream. Your skull gets crushed between Minji’s fleshy thighs and your tongue drowns in her juices gushing into your mouth. It’s too saccharine, too flashy, beyond what you expected from her. 

“You’re so good at that… I’ve never squirted like that before.” Minji looks spent. Chest heaving up and down quickly, eyes almost teary and her tongue barely pronouncing correctly. You climb up again and lock lips with her, letting her taste her own liquid.

“Nngh…” You coat your cock with her prevailing girlcum, scrub it on her entrance a few times and slowly, slowly enter her first with only the head. That summons the clingy girl into her again as her arms lock around your neck and she screams into your shoulder. It’s enrapturing to feel the head of your cock slowly discover deeper parts of her, to hear her material moans permeating into your bones.

“God, you feel amazing!” Is what she says when you are halfway inside her. You withdraw a little bit, and put in even more, to make your entire cock disappear inside her. Her arms almost choke you when she hugs you tighter and shouts ‘yes’s and ‘oh my god’s right next to your ear.

“Minji, I’m going to move. I’m going to fuck you.” You groan. It’s finally the time to unleash everything in you, all too stacked up from the agonizing foreplays. “Yes, fuck me. Make me cum please-oh my god it feels so good!” You’re not going slow at all. The smacking sound is music to your ears, and her moans melt your brain. So you go brainless. Hitting the right spot and making her cry every time. It's soft no more, and Minji finds it crazy. Her arms can't settle down but intermittently darts about on the bed.

“Minji, fuck…” You doubt that she can hear you in the room full of her orgasmic yelps and moans. “Fuck, I love it! So deep inside me, don't stop…!” Her legs flutter, eyes roll back and fingers dig into your arms helplessly when she cums on your cock hard. “God, I can't… I can't-” The girl shyly asking for a kiss is now gone, beautifully degraded to a girl enjoying, loving and getting overtaken by the pleasure teeming into her. 

Overstimulated, Minji wriggles as if the sensations are throttling her. A few minutes you were caring about her more than you, but now your priorities are reset; you’re reminded of your purpose here, it's not for her sake, it's for you. And regardless of her condition you just push in, harder and deeper than each thrust, to the finish line. Her torso is turned red and at some point she's looking into your eyes, those subtle muscles beckoning for you to go for it, to cum.

“Minji, I'm cumming…! Fuck!” You splatter your seed all over her tummy and tits. The icing on the cake, an eye candy you're never going to be tired looking at.

“It was… Incredible.” Minji has a satisfied smile on her face. “Good to know you enjoyed it.” You nestle on the bed next to her, rearranging the wet strands of her hair out of her face.

******

Minji is asleep. Like nothing happened a few minutes ago. Like you're not in the bed with her. That's not an unexpected thing for you. You dress up, wipe your cum off her body. She's so pretty when sleeping, you think to yourself.

But right after that you take her purse; there are a few bucks and a credit card. And in the dressing table you find some fancy jewelry boxes.

It's bad, immoral. It's what you do for a living. Can't say you feel proud but not much of a guilt in your mind either. Maybe a little though. But only for this time. You actually liked Minji. Not that much, but you felt something different. Maybe you two can run into each other someday. And maybe you're hoping that happens, even though you know it won't help you in any ways. You can't explain it but there's something in your mind about what happened tonight. 

But you carry on, find a pen and a post-it, write something down and stick it on her empty purse on the nightstand.

‘You don't even know my name, do you?’

******

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

"I want you to destroy me so I'll feel better"

Convincing Simon "Ghost" Riley to try something new. Well...not new for either of you, but a first for your relationship.

CW: name calling, degradation, violent choking (all consensual)

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

"You like what?"

Simon stands in front of you, hands in his hoodie pocket.

"I like being choked...until I pass out."

You repeat slowly. You know it was fucked up. You know it was bad. Everytime you did it you could feel your braincells dying. You sit on your hands at the edge of the bed. There's a moment of silence as he stares down at you.

"No."

He gives you that signature cold look of his: reserved for when you're in an argument you can't win. Or one he doesn't want you to win. 'You know this is useless. Give up. Quit while you're ahead.' It's like his voice was in your head.

"Are you afraid you're gonna hurt me?"

You always get your way at the end of the day. You knew it. He knew it.

"It's a stupid idea. Best to get that out of your head. Now."

He adjusts his mask before walking off.

"Please?"

You hug him from behind while he cooks eggs.

"No."

"Please?"

You wrap your arms his neck and lie on top of him while watching TV.

"No. Stop asking."

"Please?"

You're in bed when he goes to turn off the lights.

"..."

He resorts to ignoring you. You're getting closer to cracking him.

It goes on like this for two weeks. Usually he gives in by now, but you're making progress. Instead of engaging, he just leaves the room now.

"How did you even find out you liked that?"

He doesn't look at you while he spoons cereal into his mouth, mask rolled up just enough.

"I think it's something about an abusive ex choking me."

You take a bite of your cereal.

"Something about 'reclaiming your power after past traumas'. At least that's what my therapist said. Not sure if I believe that, but I can't think of any other reason I like it."

You shrug as you chew.

"Hm."

He keeps eating.

Breakfast is silent after that. You always get your way at the end of the day. You knew it. He knew it.

"Can't believe I'm doing this..."

He mumbles, kneeling over you while you lie on the floor.

"C'mon you've done this dozens of times."

You smile up at him.

"That's different and you know that."

He looks down at you, slightly disappointed.

"Sorry."

"It's fine..."

It's quiet. He shifts and the floorboards creak.

"So just until I pass out, then you can stop. I'll wake right up after."

You rub your hands on his knees.

"Mhm. Tap out whenever you want."

His gaze is intense, like he was fighting with himself. He places a hand on your neck gently.

"Can you be a little mean?"

Your heart races.

"Fucks sake, choking ain't enough for you?"

He wraps the other hand around your throat lightly.

"Would it be fucked up if I fought back?"

You flash a cheeky smirk.

"Don't do that."

He rubs his thumbs against your skin.

"Ok. Ready."

You take a deep breath and relax. He clears his throat and puts some pressure on your neck. You nod, looking up at him.

"Hm."

He applies more pressure until you can barely breathe. You take shallow breaths and close your eyes. His grip gets tighter. You can't inhale. You shift your hips under his.

"Don't. Move."

His words send a chill up your spine. He never used this tone with you before. It was terrifying. You try to swallow nervously. The last few exhales you have leave your lungs.

"Look at me."

You keep your eyes closed, a few rough taps to your face snap them open. His eyes are glossed over and dark, a frenzied shark. You find it in your chest to whimper.

"Shut the fuck up."

His hands wrap around you harder. It's starting to hurt. You lift your hands to grab his wrists. He gives a solid shake, banging your head on the floor and making you see stars. He leans down, pressing his masked mouth to your ear.

"Told you. Don't. Move."

Your lips opened and closed like a fish out of water. Swallowing became impossible. Your eyes watered, you could feel Simon's hands shaking. Then, darkness. It's quiet, peaceful, only lasts less than a second. And just like that, you're conscious. A delicious head rush and breath of fresh air leaves a goofy smile on your face.

"Unbelievable..."

Simon shakes his head, leans back on his knees, and huffs. You stare at the ceiling for a moment, catching your breath. Simon scoots back and you watch as he adjusts himself.

"Have fun?"

You tease. Before you can rag on him more, he yanks both your bottoms off and sits you right on his hard dick.

"Fuckin hell. You really do like that shit, huh?"

He grips your ass and glides you up and down as your dripping wetness clamps down on him. You're already drooling from the sensation of him parting you wide open so easily. You always get your way at the end of the day. You knew it. He knew it.

[taintedcigs]

OMG LITERALLY LOVED POLAROIDS SO MUCH DUDE 🤭

Also if your taking requests could you maybe write Eddie x fem!Scoops Ahoy Worker!reader

✦ A SCOOP OF MISUNDERSTANDINGS | e. munson x reader ✦

wc: 2k+

pairing: eddie munson x f!reader

warnings: not a lot of warnings tbh, just swearing, jealousy, fluff, like annoyingly fluffy, i hope this isn't cheesy and tiny tiny bit of angst if u RLLY squint

summary: eddie is really enamored with the new scoops ahoy worker, and is jealous of how her and steve get along so well.

authors note: NONNIE PLS EXCUSE HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO WRITE THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY ASKS FOR A LONG TIME!! im so glad u liked polaroids and now i hope u like this as well and hope i did ur request justice <33 this concept was so fun to write!! ITS ABIT CHEESY BUT I LOVE CHEESY SO EXCUSE ME PLS! also lmk if u want more like this or all ur requests and any of ur feedback pls send me an ask abt anything ily all <3

eddie LOOVES ice cream, and most of all, eddie loves going to scoops ahoy with dustin and annoying the shit out of steve.

it's like their weekly routine at this point, getting ice-cream, but also trying all the flavors so they can get free ice-cream, steve and robin always end up yelling at them.

so eddie entered the scoops ahoy shop with a smirk on his face, and the mission of annoying steve, but his smirk is wiped off and he is almost baffled by something, or rather someone.

you.

he is intrigued at the sight of you, standing next to steve, pouting your glossed plump lips at him for something he is saying, and you look so pretty, that it catches him off guard. even with that stupid scoops ahoy hat on top of your hat, eddie thinks you look so fucking good that it's unfair, and he is too dumbfounded to speak.

you laugh at something steve says, and it makes eddie's heart skip a beat. his mind is fuzzy when he's staring at you, he wonders if you're new here, because if someone as angelic as you worked here before, he wouldn't have missed it.

his attention is drawn back to robin, who tries to take his and dustin's order and dustin asks to try his 100th flavor "god, will you take eddie and dustin's order i need to go on a break!" she exclaims shouting your name, groaning. you nod quickly as you wave steve away.

a warm smile is plastered on your face, "welcome to scoops ahoy! what can i get for you, dustin" you point to dustin, guessing the kid steve always talked about must've been him, and then you turn to eddie.

"and, eddie?" you smile, also remembering him from steve's stories, as he told you all about eddie and how he was 'not jealous' that dustin had gotten another older brother, who played the 'same stupid nerd game as dustin'.

"you know my name?" eddie asked, his eyes widening and his mouth dried up. "robin just told our names, you doofus." dustin lightly nudged him, and a blush crept up eddie's cheeks, his first words to you and he already looked like an idiot, great, he thought to himself.

"oh, not only that but that one talks about you two all the time!" you said giggling as you pointed to steve.

"all good things i hope." eddie chuckled and you gave him a warm smile again, nodding. the way your eyes sparkled as you smiled was etched into his brain forever, dustin realized eddie's adoring looks but he kept his mouth shut.

"so, uh... what kind of ice cream would you like today? we have a lot of flavors!" you asked, showing them dozens of ice cream flavors.

"i'll have one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough, and same for him, if that's okay." eddie said, smiling at you.

you looked up at him, your smile widening. "coming right up!" you said sweetly, grabbing a cone and getting to work.

as you did so, dustin lightly nudged eddie's shoulder, eddie could barely turn his head around to dustin when all he could do was focus on you. "what?" he asked annoyed.

"dude, you have to ask her out!" dustin exclaimed excitedly and eddie threw him a look as to say 'keep your voice down idiot, she's right there!'

"what?" eddie asked playing dumb and dustin rolled his eyes, "you've been gawking at her ever since we walked in, just ask her out!" dustin encouraged eddie.

but eddie didn't know how he was supposed to do that. he was the 'freak' of hawkins, and you were- oh you were so pretty, so nice and you seemed so kind. he couldn't even manage to get his words out when you were around, let alone ask you out on a date.

"maybe next time, kiddo." he gave dustin's shoulder a squeeze, as eddie watched you laughing at steve's jokes again, and sighed.

he knew you were out of his league and possibly suited better for someone like 'king steve' anyway, but it didn't stop him from returning in a few days.

"eddie, hi!" the way your face instantly lit up and how you remembered his name, made him smile, eddie was putty in your hands with just two interactions.

"one scoop chocolate and one scoop chocolate chip again?" you remembered his name and his order? eddie's heart was about to burst out of his chest, you were giving the poor boy hope with just existing.

he nodded, and you scooped a generous portion of ice cream into a cone. "will that be all?" your tone was so sweet that it was making eddie sick.

"um, yeah." eddie said, feeling a bit flustered. he took the cone and turned to leave, but then he hesitated, dustin's words rang in his mind. he knew he at least had to start more conversations with you.

"hey, um, do you have any recommendations for other flavors?" he asked, his voice was still timid.

you grinned, excitedly. "oh, there are so many! have you tried the mint chocolate chip? it's my personal favorite." when he shook his head no, you immediately grabbed a spoon feeding him the ice cream.

you excitedly waited for his feedback, your eyes were glimmering, "really good." he managed to get out with a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, making you giggle.

even if eddie wouldn't have liked the flavor, he would pretend that it was his favorite flavor for the rest of his life if it meant he would get to hear your pretty laugh and those dreamy eyes again.

and eddie knew he was obsessed now, he didn't want to be so hooked on you, but you made it easy, so very easy.

and in the next few weeks, eddie started coming to the shop more often, finding excuses to try new flavors and linger around you at all times. and the more he came the more he got comfortable with you, always making small talk, while trying to be funny and charming, but always feeling like he was failing miserably.

but you didn't seem to mind. in fact, him always coming around to see you, and your conversations were the best part of your day, and your job.

you were always laughing the hardest at his jokes, asking him about his day, and even sneaking him extra scoops of ice cream every now and then.

but eddie had one problem.

steve.

he was always there, talking to you, and making you laugh, jealousy was starting to consume him.

he couldn't help the agonizing anxiety inside of him that made him feel like he wasn't good enough for you, especially compared to steve who seemed to be a ladies' man and had a natural charm to him, along with the 'king steve' title that eddie felt he lacked, the only title he had was, 'the freak'.

and eddie couldn't get you out of his head. his head was constantly filled with thoughts of you and the little moments the two of you shared at scoops ahoy.

so when he came to the shop the next day, he had one thing on his mind. he had to at least try his chances, and ask you out.

"hi, honey." he greeted you, the nickname was something you felt so comfortable with, and it made you feel so giddy inside.

"hi, eds." he loved the nicknames you gave him, 'handsome, eds, pretty boy.' he could feel his insides about to burst when you called him any of them.

when the two of you fell into your routine conversations again, eddie felt comfortable, he felt at ease with your presence, and he realized he could really do it, he could actually ask you out.

so when he called out your name in a soft voice, he gathered his courage, clearing his throat.

"i just wanted to ask you if-" but once again, his voice was drowned out by steve, and he sighed his anxiety was starting to bubble over when your shift instantly focused to steve.

"shit- sorry i'm late, again!" steve's voice was irritating him now, and you waved steve off, to say that it was fine.

"you're only late like 5 minutes." you offered him a smile, and as steve gave you a hug to greet you eddie could feel his stomach knotting up.

he tried to stay composed, but he couldn't help his mind getting fuzzy about his insecurities.

when you returned to eddie, you could sense he was off. "sorry handsome, what were you saying?" you asked, as you gave him a sympathetic smile.

but eddie was distant, and even the 'handsome' nickname, wasn't enough to ease his worries "oh, it was nothing important." his voice was timid and he was now lost in his own thoughts.

"is everything okay?" you asked, your voice filled with worry.

"yeah, yeah, you can go back to your thing with steve, i didn't mean to interrupt." he meant for it to sound casual, but it sounded bitter.

you looked at him, furrowing your brows. "what?" and when you saw the way eddie looked at steve, it clicked.

all the times when steve came and interrupted you and eddie's conversation, all the times steve made you laugh, eddie always had the same disappointed look on his face that he did now.

and you actually face-palmed at the realization, and gave him a chuckle, causing eddie's attention to shift to you again as he gave you a puzzled look.

"jesus- eddie, have i ever told you how i started this job?" you asked, and he shook his head.

"we moved into hawkins a few weeks ago, my dad told me i had to find a summer job and then my cousin told me he got this new job at scoop's ahoy, so i thought why not? and i signed up as well." the information was slow to process eddie's brain.

"steve is my cousin, eds." you said, a smug smirk played on your lips, and eddie immediately felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. "oh."

"shit, i didn't know. sorry." he shook his head, glancing down at the floor.

he wanted to laugh at how foolish he had been, worrying about steve this much in the last few weeks.

"it's okay, i mean we do hang out a lot, but that's because he's my favorite cousin, and it's really fun to be able to annoy him 24/7." you giggled and eddie chuckled, nodding.

he felt a surge of relief, but he wanted to slap himself for being jealous over nothing.

when the conversation between the two of you went back to normal eddie felt comfortable around you again, and he decided to push his plans to asking you out to the next day, his cheeks still blushing at the mention of steve.

so when he says his goodbyes to you, it makes you groan, and eddie tilts his head, confused, as he turns his attention to you.

"are you ever going to ask me out?" you asked, impatiently, and you felt desperate to do so, but you had spent weeks flirting with eddie, and it was driving you crazy now.

eddie blinked slowly, not believing the words that were coming out of your mouth his heart pounding in his chest. "w-what?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

you huffed, "i mean i've been flirting with you for weeks, and i thought you weren't interested, but you did nothing." you pouted, and eddie felt like he was going to faint.

"shit, honey." now your heart was pounding out of your chest, the nickname, again, was enough to make you melt.

"fuck, i've been trying to ask you out for weeks, but i thought you weren't interested, especially because i thought you were interested in steve-" you made a gagging sound at that and his mouth turned up into a soft smile.

he felt like he was dreaming, he felt so stupid. "would you wanna go out with me? maybe to that new restaurant that opened up just right down the street?" he asked, intoxicated by your hopeful eyes.

"yes," you replied, without hesitation. "i would love to."

eddie grinned sheepishly at you. "great," he said. "how about tomorrow afternoon?"

you nodded eagerly. "tomorrow afternoon sounds perfect."

"see you then." eddie replied, appearing to be casual and trying to hide the fact that he was screaming internally. and trying to comprehend that he was actually going to go on a date with you.

[ctimenefic]

uhh sooo this needs fic for science (and me) pls could you oblige

always and forever my darling. thank you for this absolute treat of a photo set. you'll notice I basically didn't get past photo one, hope that's alright

“Can you do my back?”

George sounds fucked out; that’s the only reason Alex cracks open an eye, to check the sun and sea and sand haven’t decided to challenge him personally on making George William Russell achieve ultimate bliss. From his own lounger he can just about see George’s face smushed into the crook of his elbow, the corner of his mouth tipped up, and what is no doubt a pleading look unfortunately entirely concealed behind sunglasses. 

“Please,” he adds, and Alex can’t tell if he imagines eyelashes fluttering madly beyond the dark lenses. “I’ll get tan lines.”

“Just take your shorts off,” he grumbles back. He has; an artful grecian fold of towel is all that lies between him and cockburn. It’d been a faff to get it just so, and he’s at that itchy-good stage of his tanning, where sweat’s beading on his skin enough to make it feel tight and stretched, but not uncomfortable. A primitive pleasure. Not something to interrupt with the slime of factor five.

George hmphs into his arm. “It’s not a nudist beach.”

“It’s a private beach. On a private island.” Alex tries to sound annoyed, but it’s actually a fucking marvel that George’s inhibitions reset on a goldfish-like timer; it doesn’t seem to matter how many times Alex fucks him til he shouts on the sand, or sends him back to the villa glistening chin-to-chest with his own come, a few hours later it’s back to baseline, and Alex gets to make a spectacle out of him all over again.

“Aleex.” It’s always like that, stretched out just long enough to be noticed, but short enough to read like a typo, sound slurred and drunk and happy, like George just wants his name on his lips a little longer. And it’s always enough to work, Alex has to concede, as he scrabbles in George’s beach tote for the spray. 

“Alright princess,” Alex snarks, but even that can’t shift George’s smug expression. He straddles George’s thighs and over-spritzes til George’s back is gleaming wet with the stuff. It’s shiny, and smells faintly of cucumber; it makes him think of his sisters doing spa days at home, face masks and fluffy slippers. George might like that.

Another spritz for good measure and George huffs. “That’s expensive.”

“You’ll get another win bonus after the break,” Alex retorts, fond. He follows it up with a smooth press of both palms, right the way up George’s back, either side of his spine, and down his arms, and George melts under him. The cucumber scent darkens as it meets skin and sweat; Alex feels thirsty even as his mouth waters. He skims up the sides of George’s ribs next, even though George could obviously have reached there himself; lets the pads of his fingers linger in each hollow just a second. There’s not a part of George he hasn’t touched, but there are places he hasn’t memorised yet. It’s summer. They have time. 

When he glides his palms up to George’s neck, rubs the suncream with his fingertips right up to the base of his hairline, George shivers and stretches like a cat under him, pliant and satisfied, and it takes more of the weight of a bad half season off Alex’s shoulders than a dozen hours of sunbathing and swimming could. He presses his thumbs in at the top of George’s traps, revels in the open mouth moan he barely muffles against his arm. 

“Maybe I should take my shorts off after all,” George murmurs, smug - and there it is, there’s the fucking play. He wiggles a little, arse suddenly straining to escape his Hilfiger swim trunks.  

Alex swats his shoulder. “Hussy.” Just to be petty, he slides over George’s arse instead, wedges his knees against George’s ribs and lets some of his weight sit there against his mid-back. That’ll teach him not to ask for what he wants flat out. 

And then George shifts his arms - moves his head round, to give Alex a look, maybe, or just to get comfy - and his shoulders pull in. Just a fraction. Just enough to turn the long line of his spine into a gully between thick, strong muscle. Just enough to catch the head of Alex’s dick where it sat soft against one of his vertebrae, and squeeze.

George doesn’t even notice, that’s the thing. But Alex - Alex can see it, how fucking fast he’s getting hard at the feel, the look of it, the pink of him against the soft brown of George’s tan. He can imagine how it might-

No. No, that’s not- He’s heard of blowing someone’s back out, but it’s not literal, it’s an expression. It’s George last night, shiny eyed and weak all over, when Alex gave him fingers to suck and fed him ice cubes and mango slices and stayed inside him until he was hard again, because he could, because it’s summer and they have time. 

He’s not going fuck George’s back. He’s not. He’s- he can be normal about this. Even if it would be like when his ex-girlfriend would lie him flat on the floor, core tensed, and then run her pussy over his cock, slide back and forth until her thighs shook and she was dripping wet - actually dripping, fat drops he could hear hitting the skin of his stomach, his dick. Like that, but better, because it would be George stuck just taking it, feeling it, not even able to watch as Alex fucked up into the tight space between his shoulderblades.

He’s utterly hard now, dark and straining. A drop of precome appears. If he moved, it’d smear on George. He could rub it in. He could smear more. 

He could watch his come sluice down the whole long length of George’s spine, pool in the small of George’s back, or slide down to his arse, push it inside and fuck him there too, fuck every place he could be fucked until he was more inside George than out. 

He’d had an idle plan to finger George until he gaped for their last night on the island - not fisting, that was one of the words George couldn’t say, had blinked at rapidly when Alex had tried probably the world’s most ill-advised conversation on kink. But as close as he could get without George bolting. Four, and his mouth, until George cried, late enough into the night that he’d squirm on the jet home in the morning, empty and needy. Maybe then he’d finally let Alex fuck him mid-flight, whatever the pilot might hear. 

George shifts again, a tiny movement, but enough that Alex hisses at the change, the heat of a fresh centimetre of George’s skin under the head of him. Precome rolls down, splatters silently out of sight, in the gully of his spine. Alex closes his eyes for a breath.

“Georgie,” he starts. “Be a very good girl for me and stay still.”

[thewhumpcaretaker]

ok ok ok your sub! john drabbles actually gave me the best idea. tattoo artist x john wick

tattoo artist reader is there to comfort him and make sure he’s okay and doesn’t pass out esp if it’s his first tattoo.

also writing this made me remember a fic i read that’s not finished but breaks my heart

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21060659/chapters/50100092 if you want to read 🖤

Thank you so much for this ask!! I've been thinking about this idea for a while actually. There was another ask about this a long time ago, maybe on my JohnWickCaretaker blog? I can't find that one, but if that was also you, then thanks a second time. Also, yaaaaay, fic recommendation! 🖤

John Wick x Tattoo Artist Reader (Gender Neutral)

Author's Note: John is a little younger in this one (I’m picturing him being 18-19), so he’s not as mature. He’s even more shy and gets defensive more easily. Also, I'm not a tattoo artist, and haven't gotten any tattoos, so this is just based on what I've read about it!

CW: forced to get a tattoo, tattoo needle, crying, reader swears frequently, bittersweet ending

Image sources: 1 2 3

“You have time for a walk-in?”

You didn’t even hear this guy open the door. Once you’re done being startled, you notice…him. You’re not supposed to let yourself think this way about clients, but shit, he’s cute. He looks soft. Mostly clean shaven, with a thin, elegant face (maybe it’s the high cheekbones), topped off with a mop of dark hair. And probably inexperienced, based on how nervous he looks. A little part of you wonders how this is going to go for him. “You’re in luck. What’s your name?”

No answer.

“Can I see an ID?”

He hesitates awkwardly. “I’m coming from Mrs. Petrov.”

Oh. So he’s one of these. You doubt that’s her real name, but Mrs. Petrov sailed into your shop one day offering to double the usual price if you’d keep quiet and ask no questions, and you sure need the money. Your skin is crawling a bit but you take a deep breath and get into it.

“Okay, good enough for me. What design are we looking at?”

He hands you a paper. It’s the same one you’ve seen half a dozen times: hands touching in prayer over an image of the cross. Guys come to you for this tat again and again, “from Mrs. Petrov.” One told you it was a mark of his acting troupe, another said it was a family crest, another a symbol of his church. They’re probably all lying, but you know better than to call them on it – or to turn any of them away. You’re pretty sure it’s a mob thing. It breaks your heart a little bit to think he’s caught up in all that. He doesn’t look the part. But then, you also know better than to judge by looks alone.

You gesture to the chair. “Settle in, face down. It’s better if we have your shirt off.” He’s way too delicious underneath it. The perfect canvas...shhhhh stop it. You’re a professional and he’s…god knows what. “This will take about four or five hours. Is that okay?”

He nods.

“Silent type I guess?”

That gets a faint smile before he lays across the bench, chin resting on folded arms. You flip the Open sign to Closed, pull on your gloves, and start prepping tools. You turn on the radio to 80s rock, filling the silence between you - though it doesn’t feel like a stressful silence, surprisingly. Both of you know how odd this situation is and you’re both just trying to get through it. There’s a camaraderie to that.

You glance down at the design in your hand and whistle. It’s pretty big, taking up most of the center of his back, between the scapulas. “Is this your first tattoo?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, well I’ll be real with you: this is going right over the spine, so you can expect some pain. Nothing that’ll kill you, just…not super pleasant. So I’ll check in from time to time, see how you’re doing. If you need a break, we can take one.”

“I won’t.” He sounds pretty sure of that. Standing behind him, you shake your head. It’s always the ones that are so sure…

“Well, after a while, I’ll need one.” You run disinfecting wipes over the center of his back and set to work. When the needle touches down for the first time, he winces once, but he doesn’t wince again for the next ten minutes of linework. It takes you that long to realize that he’s barely breathing. “Your muscles are tense, buddy. I need you to relax for me or this will hurt more.”

“…I just…don’t want to move.” There’s something so sweet about the way he says it.

“You won’t move. You’re actually less likely to shake if you can let yourself go totally limp, like you would if you were about to fall asleep. Here, sit up for a second, take a deep breath, and stretch out.” He listens, but he’s not looking at you. You’re pretty sure he’s blushing.

“Okay. I’m relaxed.” Liar. You can still feel the knots in his muscles when you touch him again. But at least it’s a little better than before, and he’s getting impatient. “Keep going.”

Well, the customer is always right. “Alright, let’s do it.” You grab your pen and get back into place. The best you can do is try to distract him. “How did you choose this tattoo anyway?” Might as well see what story this one will make up.

“I didn’t.” That’s probably the truest answer you’ve heard so far.

“Do you…like it?” God, you hope so.

“Not really.”

“…You’re telling me I’m putting something on your body right now that you don’t want there?”

“No,” he says, a little too quickly. “Forget it.”

That’s probably for the best anyway. You’ll get too pissed off if you keep going down this line of questioning. You take a deep breath and try for something lighter. “So what do you, uh…do for fun?”

“Reading, mostly.”

“Oh, sweet. You read anything good lately?”

“Kind of. I’m reading Anna Kerenina.” He slips into a faint accent when he says it, and you have a suspicion.

“What translation?”

“Just the Russian.” He sounds a little annoyed, like you caught him out on something. You suppose you did, and it was kind of fun.

“Bilingual. That’s badass.”

“Thanks.” There’s silence again for a minute, but it feels friendlier.

“So what do you think of it?”

“It’s...fine.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Yeah, it’s kind of dry.”

“I guess, but I don’t mind that. I just don’t like Anna and Vronsky. Which is Tolstoy’s whole point, but…”

“They’re both little shits to everyone. Makes it hard to get invested.”

“Right, exactly.” He shifts his chin. “If I was married, I can’t imagine cheating.” From some people, a line like that would sound like a transparent attempt to come across as a “nice guy.” But he says it so wistfully, you know he means it.

Don’t say what you’re about to say. Don’t say it. Be professional.

…Fuck it, you’re doing this under the table anyway. “Are you dating anybody?”

“No.” It sounds so bitter that, for a second, you think you really are dealing with a nice-guy-impersonator. But then he clarifies. “My…lifestyle doesn’t allow for that.”

“Oh.” You can’t think of any way to reply that doesn’t involve the burning questions in your mind about what exactly this “lifestyle” entails. So you lapse into silence again, for much longer this time, just thinking, wondering what it’s like to be one of these young men with the cross tattoos. Are they all friends with each other? What exactly do they do? Is it difficult? How does it pay? How did they get into it?

You stop when you’re done with the linework. “Okay, that went great! We’re totally done with the outlines, which is half the battle. I’m going to take a break before we start on the shading.” You circle around in front of him to grab your water bottle, and catch a glimpse of his face as he’s straightening up.

He’s wiping off silent tears.

Your heart almost drops out of your chest. “Oh shit. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, but it sounds hoarse and shaky. “Just hurt more than I expected.” He huffs a laugh, trying to play the whole thing off as unimportant.

“Dude, I told you we can take breaks if you need. If you’re crying from pain, you’re too tensed up. Tell me next time, alright?” Before you realize what you’re doing, you’re rubbing his shoulder. He freezes for a second, and you pull back. “Sorry, I – I didn’t mean to – “

“No, it’s okay. I’m just not used to that.”

“Damn, how do they treat you at Mrs. Petrov’s place?” You’re half joking, but you want to know more and more by the second. And when he just looks grave and doesn’t answer, your heart does that weird dropping thing again.

“…Let me get you a water, okay? I’ll be right back.” You’re grateful for the short walk to the mini fridge you keep in the back of the parlor. It feels so heavy in that room. You’re starting to wish you hadn’t taken the deal, because whatever this is, you don’t want to be involved.

When you come back, he’s perfectly composed again, but looking at you more carefully this time, like he’s finally really seeing you. After he takes a drink of water, he hesitates for a second. “My name is Jardani.”

Warmly, “Nice to meet you.” You take the bottle back and set it on the table, within reach. “You’ll tell me if you get overwhelmed next time?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’m trusting you.”

You watch him settle in and get back to work. It’s okay at first but there’s a dark shadow under those praying hands that needs to go right over his spine. It’s basically pure black. A couple minutes into it, he exhales sharply, like he’d been holding his breath for a while. “Stop.”

You set your pen down right away. “You got it.” You pull up a chair next to him and he turns to look at you, without sitting up. He’s really pale. “How are you feeling?”

“Lightheaded.”

“Yeah, you can pass out if you get tense like that for too long. But you’re okay. We can take as long as you need.” You put your hand on his shoulder again, massaging it, and this time, he lets you. You can feel some of the tension finally seep away and the color returns to his cheeks. The dark pools of his eyes are fixed on yours, and if you aren’t careful, you feel like you could fall into them and drown. There’s something trapped in cold waters down there, pleading for rescue.

Yeah, sure. If you were being unprofessional before, now you’re being a downright sentimental fool. This guy has probably shot people.

Despite being deep and rumbling, his voice sounds so quiet that it’s almost shy. “You don’t know what this means to me, to have a…nice moment... Thank you.”

“Oh – you’re welcome. It’s nothing, really.” You’re absolutely done for. “Um, do you want to stand up and stretch before we get back at it?”

“Mm-hm.”

Your brain is fried but you manage to hold it together while the both of you get back into position. The rest of the session goes pretty smoothly, and you talk a little more here and there. At first it’s just about how he should take care of this thing when it’s finished – staying out of the sun and all that. But then he starts to ask you about yourself - what you read, how you got into tattooing, your favorite designs. Everything you say seems to interest him. You can’t quite believe it but he’s obviously developing a crush on you. Or at least getting attached in some way. You can’t blame him, if the smallest friendly touch is such a foreign concept.

It's too soon when you place the finishing touches. “Okay! You want to take a look?” You help him up, his hand resting in yours for an instant as he slides off the bench, stiff and probably aching. It sends a jolt straight to your heart, to support some fraction of his weight and to feel the way his fingers squeeze down on yours before letting go. You mourn the contact instantly, and distract yourself by adjusting the two mirrors that reflect into each other, allowing him to see his back. “What do you think?”

“It does look cool actually.” He cracks a little heart-melting smile, and you’re really relieved. He may not have wanted it, but at least he’s not devastated.

“’Course it does, it was done by the best in the business,” you joke. Though to be honest, you really are impressed with your handiwork. Doing the same tattoo so many times pays off – each one has looked more polished than the last. It’s almost a shame to see him put his shirt back on…for multiple reasons.

“Oh, uh…” He fishes something out of his pocket. A wad of hard cash – a LOT of it, as usual. “Here’s the payment.” And then he’s leaving, before you can do anything, say anything, even catch the breath you’d lost trying to comprehend everything that just happened.

“Hey, wait!” You don’t really know what you’re going to say, but then he’s facing you again and you have to say something, and it just comes out. “…Do you need help? I don’t know what’s going on, but look, I’m not an idiot. I know something’s wrong here. I don’t know who Mrs. Petrov really is and I don’t care, but if you need me to do something, like…I don’t know, call a social worker or something or help you get transport out of the city...” Your voice falters. You have no idea what he’d need and even less idea how to provide it without getting both of you killed. And what if you’ve misread the whole situation? What if you’re completely out of line?

It certainly looks that way. It’s like a switch flips in him. “No. Whatever you do, don’t fucking try anything. It’s none of your business.” It’s the coldest he’s sounded. “You won’t see me again.” The door slams behind him.

You brace a hand against the counter behind you, shaking. How could you be so stupid, honestly. This emotional roller coaster isn’t worth it. You wish you’d never seen Mrs. Petrov, let alone this Jardani with his damn pain-soaked eyes and cornered-dog behavior. There’s something awful going on, and you can’t do anything about it, you’re just making it worse. If you can get out of this deal, you have to, even if it means getting out of the city. Maybe out west - San Francisco sounds nice this time of year.

You’re just putting yourself back together and trying to decide what the hell you’re gonna do when the door flings open again and he storms back though it, stopping short right in front of you. For a second, you just stare at each other, breathing hard. Then he catches the flash of foolish happiness in your eyes at seeing him again and musters his nerves.

And he. Fucking. Kisses. You. Forcefully, with his strong hands gripping your arms and his teeth colliding with yours, pulling, desperate, rebellious, like he’s trying to tell you something he’s not allowed to say. You’re pretty sure it’s, “Thank you. For being one of the few people who cared.”

And then he’s gone again, and this time, you can feel it: he’s never coming back.

[fantasyandshit]

The light and the dark

Type: series

Part: 2/?

Other parts here

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary:What happens when Feyre returns home for the second time, well the first time for Yn.

*3rd person pov*

Feyre sits arguing with Nesta as them, Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, and Elain sit at the long table when the bang of a door swinging open sounds from downstairs and the yell of the youngest Archeron follows “I’m home” Yn stomps into the room with her head down before turning and shrugging off her coat, Feyre notes her sisters gained more muscle, and scars.

“Man this guy he fucking- he fucking clawed at my face man, like a fucking cat.” Yn still hadn’t noticed the fae in her room or the fact that Feyre had stood from her seat. “Oh um I was planning to uh go out to search for Feyre again tomorrow by the way.” That causes the four fae to freeze. She hadn’t known? Finally Yn turns to face the table and Feyre has just enough time to study the jagged talon scar across her face-the one from Tamlin. “Feyre?” Yn lunges at her sister, burying her head in her chest as she’s pulled just as tight, tears escaping both female eyes.

The girl turned far freezes as her sister pulls away and her hands move curiously to her ears, Rhysand growing more tense and ready to step in if needed, “gods I didn’t think you could get more beautiful sister.” A small smile graces Yn’s lips as she continues to study her sister.

———

*yns pov*

A small humorless laugh leaves my sister, “I thought you’d hate me. That that was the reason you weren’t here the first time I returned?”

I freeze, my body going rigid, “you-you’ve been here before?” My face falls as it dawns on me, “Nesta, you lied to me! While I was out searching for my sister she was here? You never.” I shake my head, “I can’t believe you. I can’t, gods you really are a selfish bitch.” My mouth is open in disbelief pain and hate in my eyes.

“Yn. Please calm- calm down.” Feyre’s voice is so soft I barely hear it as she holds my arm, I turn to her and nod and that’s when I notice them. I’d been to worked up to notice the three males in the room, two adorning wings-Illyrians as I had read and the other what seems to be a high fae.

I storm to the violet eyed high fae knowing he’s the one that can transform to a beast. “You bastard! You took her from me!” Before anyone has time to react I’m on top of the male as he lies on the ground, landing blow after blow to his face. “You took her! You kidnapped her, what did you do with her? Why-“ Something cool carefully pulls me from the male with a soft grip around my waist. As I’m stood up I notice one of the illyrians-the one with red gems adorning his leathers has his head tipped back in a barking laughter, the other stands, shadows I hadn’t noticed before swirling him; that’s when I notice, the thing that picked me up was a tendril of his shadows. I look down and touch it curiously, it scurries up my face, curling around my ear and caressing my face. A smile graces my lips, “hello little guy.”

“Yn. This is Rhysand. He is not the one who kidnapped me, he is the one who saved me. And this is Cassian,” she points to the Illyrian who was laughing, “and that is Azriel,” as he’s addressed, the shadow floats over to him.

I turn to ‘Rhysand’, blood drips down his nose and split lip. “How do I know he hasn’t threatened you into saying that?” My eyes never leave the male as he smiles.

“I can show you, I can show her memories if she is ok with it of course.” He turns to my sister and she nods, her small smile still there in encouragement.

“Fine.” It comes out a strangled sigh before my eyes glaze and I’m shown everything. Afterward I turn to my sister, seething. “I have at least a dozen names to add to my list of people I shall kill.” Cassian laughs again, and I spin to face him, “do you have a problem? Is it just you or are all you Illyrian males like this?”

“It’s just him.” Azriel has a small smirk painting his lips, “he’s quite immature.” The male sticks his gloved hand out to me, and I take it as he bows slightly and kisses my star flecked hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Feyre speaks very highly of you.”

“The pleasures all mine.” We stare at one another longer than what is considered necessary before I clear my throat and back away, “how do you control the shadows?”

My question seems to catch him by surprise as one of said shadows- as if called comes to twirl around my hand. “I’m what’s known as a shadowsinger, I don’t control them per se, more speak to them, understand their language.” Everyone watches for a moment as the shadow continues to twist around me like a dance, more joining it. “They’ve never acted like this with anyone. I’m sorry.”

“No dont apologize,” my grin is directed to him now, “I think they’re quite lovely.”

The night goes on as I ignore my two eldest sisters and continue talking with the fae before they must leave with a sad goodbye.

—————

@wallacewillow0773638

@pinksmellslikelove

@sassybluebird

@gorlillaglue25

@khaleesihavilliard

Sorry I don’t know how I do a tag list. Hopefully this was right?

[yearningaces]

... So uh

I understand my current want story wise and it's nothing sexual as always, but idk if it's wholesome either ...

But how many stories have the villain, the monster offer a hand out to the heroine, the hero? 'Join me, leave them, we can rule together!'

Is no one else tempted by that? No? Just me?

What if I say the villain is a creature of eldritch domain? That when they extend their palm to the sky, eyes open across the cosmos, that they are the ancient evil held at bay by sticks and twine and are freed by you.

Because you're the underdog of your team of heroes. You, the one that everyone feels they have to look after. You're still helping people, if anything more ernest than those you work with.

But in your frustration over being overlooked, you leave into the twisted forest that always seems to welcome you with overcast skies and curving shadows.

Your team is scared of this place. They say it feels unwelcoming.

You, however, have not once, not twice, but over a dozen times fell asleep out there. No bugs to crawl over you, no birds to swoop over, no animals at all really. Yes, it's strange, but in a way it feels safe, and the very ground seems to soften under you each time you sit back against a tree that feels more like a bed than hard dead bark.

Only today while exploring, you find a cavern opening. And something draws you down, the alarm bells in your head soothed by something unknown as if silenced.

The cavern leads into a chamber, massive and dark. Ancient depictions of something looming over the lands with a face in the clouds.

And in the center of this ornate chamber, is a pedestal. On top of it, a wooden, obsidian, and silver box. There's multiple languages carved into it.

'Öppnas Ej, لا تفتح, Не відчиняти, No Abrir, Älä avaa, Neotvírat, Mawungavuli, 请勿打开. Do Not Open.'

At the severe warning, you attempt to step back, until-

'Such a precious jewel you are. Have you finally found me?'

The words ride the breeze that flows through the chambers. Just reaching your ears, tingling your brain as you're frozen.

'Quite a pretty box, no? It would be a shame to leave it unadmired.'

You can't stop your hands from reaching out, as if something guides your motions.

The box is heavy, and warm.

'So lovely you are, and you listen so very well. Aren't you a treasure to be found?'

Does anyone even give you a second glance? Or do they only look at your team and brush you off. Don't you want these soft words, even for just a moment or two? It can't hurt you ... It's just words.

'I was like you, beloved one. The forgotten.'

The chamber shakes as the voice twist from soft to a harsh rumble.

'I made it so they could never forget myself again.'

And instantly, everything stops, and the haze over your mind softens even further, warming you, settling into your very bones.

'I would never forget you, I would care, I would hear you. Would you allow it?'

"... How?"

The voice croons sweetly in your ears, the box pulsing in your hands as if you hold a beating heart. 'My darling, I would craft you a throne of jewels to be placed beside my own of bone. I would forever be beside you as we ensure our names are no longer forgotten, together.'

And with just a hint of 'i don't believe you', you respond. "What if I want a bone throne too?"

The voice rumbles a deep laugh, shaking the chamber once more. 'Then I will drag a skull and jaw of the largest beast that has walked these lands up from its earthly grave and fasten it as your throne. Would this please you my sweet?'

"It would." You state after a moment because fuck yeah you deserve a metal throne too.

'Then open the box. And I will do all of this, and more.' The voice responds, stronger now but just as sweet.

Your hand nearly automatically grabs the lid, and before you can think-

"STOP!" Your team is behind you, hands out, enraged faces and expressions as if they're about to step forward and lash out at you.

But the chamber seems to tear itself apart, ceiling crashing down around your team, trapping them away from you as the voice so sweetly rumbles in your ears.

'Open the box, precious one. Open it and you will be safe, and adored. You will rule beside me as we ensure we are never forgotten again. Open it open it open it-'

"If you open that, we'll have to take you down as well!"

'Listen to your so called 'team', they threaten you, they belittle and mock you, and they believe that they could stop me-' the voice breaks into laughter as if amused while it continues. 'They do not care for you as I do. I have seen you in my domains, have I not welcomed you? Granted you safe passage and rest? Have I not cared for you before you even know my name? I will care, they never will so much as pretend.'

"Don't open it, it's lying to you, it's just going to kill you along with everyone else here! You can't trust that thing!"

'Can they be trusted then?'

With so many voices growing in volume, crowding the once silent room it's too loud, you can't think, you want to leave, but you have to do something and any chance for a better life is worth it and-

"You did it." The voice rumbles in approval. "My precious little human. You made the correct choice."

You can hear the suddenly real and tangible voice murmur in low tone before the now opened box erupts with darkness and living shadows bursting from it. Like Pandora's box, everything contained is freed now.

The room swirls with a dark storm, blowing your teammates out of the chamber, bursting the rot and root and soil aside as a figure tall enough to reach the clouds forms, letting out a loud bellowing roar as it forms. Darkness swarms from it, the sun concealed in shadow.

You start to fumble back as it easily swats aside those it deems too close.

And then it looks down.

It looks at you.

Instantly a hand of darkness forms under you, bringing you up until you're before these eyes that glow with colors that make your mind fuzzy because you shouldn't be able to see this, these aren't colors you can describe or understand but you're seeing them somehow and your brain tingles, your eyes water at the sight. The eyes ripple, and the booming voice of the sky dwelling face speaks. It's mouth opening as a world of fuzzy, glowing hues seeps from the cracks in its maw.

"You have done well, my dearest."

You feel your bones tremble.

The world shifting and churning from the influence of this ... Thing.

"As promised, your reward, a lifetime of everything you deserve, and more."

This is it. This is where you're tossed into some pit for listening and betraying your own, just like in the movies and in the books. The thing waves it's hand and you're eyes flicker to see what sort of eternity of anguish you'll have and-

...

... It's a temple. Marble and quartz colums holding up high arching walls that stretch so far up you can't see the end. Dark colored draperies line the walls, and an expansive table of every food known to man is perfectly prepared, steaming hot to ice cold, stagnating in that perfect time, waiting to be eaten. The hand holding you gingerly places you down into a chair as the being condenses itself as best it can into a figure that's three times your size but far more manageable.

It looms over the back of your chair, lowering to press a soft kiss to the top of your head, taking your wrist into its hand to guide your hand to your plate.

"Feast now, beloved. We may not lay ruin to this world when you have not eaten yet this sun cycle. A nap afterwards, as we must be at our best before I bring you to your throne. Now, why don't you tell me all about what you adore in this universe so I might spare it in the name of my savior and darling."

...

Well, you're not going to complain, are you?

[chlmtsdoll]

my suggestion could be i dont know if you seen this show called the l word before but there is a character named dana fairbanks and she RADIATES tashi duncan energy. so if you could maybe make a dana fairbanks inspired tashi duncan x reader or if you haven’t seen it i was thinking former model reader x tashi is a good one too 🤍

I’ve literally always wanted to watch the L word and I’m gonna have to start it soon bc I GET what you mean omg !!! And former model reader x Tashi hits my niche on the NOSE. This took me forever to publish bc I just had so many ideas I wanted to go with 😭 so I hope this is good !!! 🤍

IS IT A CRIME TO WANNA SHINE ?

✩ Pairing: Tashi Duncan x reader

✩ Word count: 3k

✩ Summary: your a wild and free it-girl, adjacent to a life going on to be an inspiring top model when you suddenly meet Tashi, you then start to crave even more

✩ Warnings: eventual smut !, gxg, age gap (reader early 20's) Tashi mid to late 30’s, failed!marriage Tashi, fingering, slight angst, spanking, cursing, degrading, pet names, needy reader, brief mentions of substances, Tashi went blonde after her divorce (blonde hair Z during the Challengers press tour)

Your life was casting calls, early (or late night) rehearsals & fittings, caffeine runs, flights back and forth around the country, and fashion show after fashion show, after party after after party..

You loved the career you were lucky enough to pursue, you had all the beauty, ideal body, and money. You’d been on top of the world but you were also twenty two and nearing burnout.

Your love life was non existent unless it was last minute hook ups, and you’d go home to a cold bed. Empty hearted and longing for someone to make it all change.

And it did change rather quickly when you met her.

“Um- excuse me, can I get by ?” You covered your eyes as lights and flashes blinded you. Trying your best to maneuver by meddling paparazzi, and your few body guards were barely any help. You were rising to the top but still hadn’t always been able to get the best protection which was essential for a young girl like you — even though to the outsiders it had seemed your life was so glamorous and beyond, even a dazzling starlet like you had struggles. It wasn’t always pretty.

You had finally been able to scurry to your limo and you were taken off fast to your next destination, an after party hidden for only the most relevant socialites and models in the industry. You’d known a few athletes and actors would have been there too since the club was well known yet anyone hardly got an invite.

Even you were declared lucky enough to be attending as you were still merely just an it-girl trying to find her place on the scale. When security tried to stop and ask you for verification because you looked far underaged, you rolled your eyes and dug through your thousand dollar Versace bag you did not pay for, to pull out your id.

Just a walk around, say hi to a couple known faces, and go home. We have an early rehearsal tomorrow.

You had a drill. The dozens of times you’d gone to these parties, you learned it was all a tactic,. simply being just work and networking for you — you were on a schedule. As much of a sex symbol your agents tried to present you as, deep down you’d still been this shy and reserved girl from your home tow, only difference is you just knew you had bigger places to be.

Lights low and music blaring throughout the place filled with bodies and people way too into their own self obsession to notice you after a while, all you wanted to do was have a smoke, maybe a drink. You’d known as big as the space was there had to be somewhere you could get away.

You headed upstairs to another area that was a bar as well, but much more relaxed. No club lights flashing and heels clashing against the marble floors by influencers hanging off their nearing the grave “boyfriends”.

But there had been one person sitting at the bar, and there had definitely been some interesting heels.

You’d seen the back of her excellent lean body. Almost in a way that was unreal. Legs had been slender and long, you had to double check if you’d been hallucinating at the sight of her.

She’d been wearing a full sparkling silver dress that had a pleated skirt with a few navy blue stripes lining it. It was preppy but in a glamorous and classy way.

Her skin tan and soft short blonde curls sat on her shoulders, it gave you a Marylin Monroe feel. And her heels — you’d never seen anything like them. They were Louboutins with tennis balls on the six inch heel ?

You took a breath as you examined her figure, stepping in the quieter room, you’d gone straight to the bartender as they asked your drink preference.

“Um, a gin and tonic please ?” you thanked the bartender before turning to peer at the woman a few feet from you, her hair draped over most of her face and all you could really see was her perfectly sculpted nose.

“Are those… tennis balls on your heels ?” You questioned softly, and the blonde had looked up at you, striking brown eyes searched your face under her lashes coated beautifully with mascara.

You had swallowed over a new lump in your throat at her gorgeous features. Never had you seen a woman so beautiful.

She’d look so familiar as well, you couldn’t tell if it was nolstagia, but you could of sworn you had posters of her on your walls when you were young- oh my god.

It’s Tashi Duncan.

The blonde highlights had thrown you a curb since you always remembered her with brown hair, but you remembered she had been much older since the days when she was every tennis girls idol in your eleventh year. Plus, you’d heard she’d gotten a divorce with her star tennis player husband, Art Donaldson.

Either way, fuck had the blonde complimented her eloquently. You’d been completely mesmerized by the way it framed her face.

“Oh these ? Yeah, they’re Loewe.” Her tone smooth as she looked down at the silky white shoes with a striking heel, neon green from the balls just tying it all together.

“I-I love them,” later you’d scorn yourself for stuttering like some starstruck fan. “Are you debuting in fashion week this year ? Not to be a bother but, you’re such a huge inspiration for women like me..you’re amazing.”

You shut your eyes quickly. You sounded way too juvenile. But Tashi had showcased a small flattered smile as she examined you face. You expected her to be unbothered and just walk away, after all you were merely just a dumb little model girl, frolicking around New York on a trust fund to her. She was a powerful and sophisticated woman who worked hard for everything she has. With all her shit together and much more life experience than you.

“No, I um.. I’m here for the fashion, but what to add to my company’s new roll out. I’m looking for models to campaign for me as well, but no luck so far. A lot of these girls all the same, and the designers they walk for pussy.” she spoke over her glass of vodka and your eyes glossed over with an immediate burn of yearning taking over your body.

You had forgotten that after Tashi stopped playing tennis from her infamous injury, but she hadn’t stopped there. She became one of the biggest business women in the industry, with her name tied to multiple brands. She was richer than your worth to be standing next her right now — but you were a strong believer in destiny. And being told she was looking for models to run for her brand,

She might as well say she’d been looking for you.

“Oh, that’s.. awesome. I’m walking in Milan for Vera Wang in a fortnight. But yeah, they make this all seem so serious but a lot of it is bullshit.” You thought if you threw in some pretty words she’d take you seriously. Coming from being in this industry since you were sixteen years old, you knew your way around selling yourself quick and sharply. In desperate hope she’d maybe let it run through her own to let you model for such a woman like herself. That you weren’t just one of those model girls.

“Lovely.” Tashi’s eyes graced over your tall slender body, you’d been so happy you went with a shorter Chanel dress and not the leather Prada pants you we’re pondering on. “You play tennis ? I know a lot of younger models love to think they’re all tennis players these days.”

You couldn’t help but let out a tiny laugh at her joke, but it had been true, you nodded over your glass of gin.

“Yeah, I play a little here and there with friends. But nothing like your upbringing, my god, I could never.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself.” Her eyes had narrowed but still sparked all the way, and she’d glanced at the way you licked your lips shorty. Your face heating up at the way her finger ran around the rim of her glass.

You couldn’t help but think about them sinking into your mouth.

Tashi took a breath to lean back against her chair, then she had leaned up to asked the bartender for a pen and napkin. When he brought it back to her, she had started scribbling on the paper, her slender fingers manicured with a nude color.

“If you ever want to model for me.” She handed you the napkin with her number and you’d feel like you had to stop breathing for a moment. Not even most high class brand deals had ever gotten you all flustered like this, but when it came to hot older women, you’d been like putty. You couldn’t deny it.

“Oh my god.. okay, okay I’d love to. I’ll contact you.” You had given her a girlish smile which you rarely ever did, it was all about resting bitch face, and to Tashi’s defense she had quite liked the lightness too you. The hope I’m your eyes that far too many girls your age had given up on already. She knew you had a spark.

In that moment, you had been already getting prepared for the dreams you’d have that night about being Tashi’s favorite and best model. When you said you wanted to be on top, you meant here.

And that was three years ago.

And not only had you become her best model, top seller in everything you wore, shown off on your angelic like body, making all your friends from your intern Jobs at Vogue envious with hate — that you’d eventually bump up even higher to becoming her girlfriend, but then that extended when you became the Tashi Duncan’s ex supermodel wife.

Now at the ripe age of twenty four, you’d no longer needed to run around to casting calls and auditions, nor even model unless either you desired too or you’d been offered to walk in fashion week.

You’d been promised a life of luxury. With Tashi by your side, letting you be her pride and joy that took her even farther to the next level. Your days had consisted of being a stay at home wife, going on yachts, accompanying her to photoshoots and work dinners, and you would even play tennis often in your free time with you and Tashi’s shared wealthy friends.

You had the life you’d always wanted in the palm of your hand, never did you honestly have to lift a finger. And definitely no thinking on your feet or wondering when the next spontaneous adventure would be really.

And as enticing as it all was, it could at times get a little mundane even for you.

“Make sure she arrives to her lessons on the dot. And I don’t want tv time running to late when practice is over.” you over heard Tashi on the phone with her mom whom was watching over her daughter Lily while the two of you took a quick work trip (flying to Europe.)

You’d been on Tashi’s private jet just about to take off in due time, and you watched as your wife sipped on a cup of Matcha by one of the window seats. Her light colored locks pulled up into a French roll, and some of her bangs hung over her lashes.

She wore a suit dress, white with fabric silky of the softest kind. The way she wore the blazer had her glowing tan skin on display. A true sight for sore eyes.

She was beautiful in every way, and not even your own overachiever mindset could still grasps the fact that she had been your wife overall.

“Okay. Love you too, bye.” Tashi hung up the phone and dropped it onto the table in front of her in a unbothered manner as she went right back to her laptop to check emails.

You, observant and always in witness of the life you two had altered together, watched her. Pondering by the cafe station that was stocked with dozens of different flavors from teas to lattes and all kinds of milks and creamers to choose from.

You’d always gone with almond.

“We have to stop in Florence. There’s a dress fitting you have to attend with Ralph Lauren for this seasons collab.” Tashi spoke to you in orderly to you as she hadn’t even looked up from her laptop screen to meet your eyes. She took a sip from her cup and went right back to typing, you had scoffed and shook your head a bit as you pushed away the container of sugar in your hands,

Leaning against the counter, you remembered when you’d been in your honeymoon phase with the woman you loved most. Happily traveling across the country with her full attention on you. You missed that rush.

You missed her.

“Oh..” you trailed on, voice reluctant as you looked down at your cup, dark black tea. You didn’t even need to look because now you’d known Tashi’s eyes had found your figure from just a few Louis Vuitton sit cases away.

“Yeah ? What’s up ?” Her voice was light although you knew she had picked up on your distance. Now giving you full attention of whatever you had been disproving of from just the sound of your voice.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment at your puzzled expression, finger tips hover the rim of her mug.

“I just thought we’d get Dior this season.” Is all you said. Standing up straighter and looking at the woman who nodded.

“Well, they haven’t decided on if we can or can’t do a campaign this year, it’s been a couple of years we’ve been trying. You know that.” Tashi answered as she let her mug down and you’d known the slight annoyance in her voice all too well. You bit your lip a little in thought.

“I just thought this would be the year. I want Dior, I want to work with them this season.”

Tashi looked at you with a blank expression, trying not to play this game she’d known you’d been treading on for a while now, and you tried not to break a grin at her switch in demeanor to your obvious attempt to make her get unpleasant with you.

“Are you being ungrateful ?”

“No.”

“You’re acting like it.”

“I want a say in what I wear, who I walk for.” You had addressed her more sternly and it was a small moment that had passed before Tashi got up from where she was sitting, to trot over to you calmly.

But that wasn’t so when her hand came up to you sharp, bringing slight pain when she grabbed your chin in her grasp so you could look her eye to eye.

“You don’t wanna do it. Don’t do it. But you can leave.”

Your eyes went to her unsympathetic expression quick, and you tried not to whine at her hold on you.

“You can always leave because I don’t think it runs through that pretty little head of yours that I didn’t get divorced and remarried just to repeat the same shit I did with him. You think this is some fucking charity ?”

You fell back on forming a response when the glint in Tashis eyes as she narrowed at you had, scared you much more than you intended — yet at the same time you couldn’t look away as she got in your face.

“I give you everything. Life, a career, a voice. Let you choose your own hours and let you become of whatever you want while you whine and complain in jewelry that cost more than most people’s rent. And you want what ?” Tashi furrowed her eyebrow as she had grow repugnant of you, which you couldn’t help but love.

“Don’t forget I was your boss first. And I always will be.” Her tone has gone darker as she peers at you, your eyes wide with craving and you’d be lying if you said your core hadn’t become soaking wet when her sent of oak and raspberries was almost suffocating you now.

You’d shown her a soft grin on your lips, signaling you couldn’t have wanted her more right then, she wet her lips intermittently. Tashi turned you around with force and pushed your lower back onto the counter that was embarking you,

“Is this what you want ?” The woman croaked hungrily over your ear as she pushed on your slender body to bend over for her,

“Yes,” you let out a breathe of satisfaction finally.

panting softly as her hands explored your shape and your eyebrows knitted in exhausting bliss when her palm had came down hard on your now exposed ass.

Tashi kissed the space between your neck and shoulders briefly as she whispered,

“You’ve always been an attention whore.”

You couldn’t help but smile as she pulled on your hair to lean up and her fingers graced your heat, wet and pulsing for her. Tashi had hesitated before dipping them into you and you let out a pleading moan, face against the cold marble counter top.

You clawed at something to grab at as her digits pumped you slow than gradually faster, other hand grasping at your waist to seize you because she knew you’d come quick.

And you did with half a cry and half whimper.

You only had a second to catch your breath before Tashi pulled you up straight. She had gently placed your skirt back over your thighs, fixing your presence back to how she found you. Your wife then hovered over your lips,

“Behave.” Was the last thing she said to you without even an apologetic kiss before walking back to her lap top like nothing. You had gone back to your tea and with a pleased simper on your lips indeed.

You were a wild card that would do whatever to be under Tashi’s control, have her notice, and with that she’d known that you’d now be her perfect little model the moment you two would land this evening.

[finalgilmoregirl]

everyone online is bringing back the fact that josh hutcherson learned spanish for his girlfriend so now i’m projecting that onto mike sorry it’s the law + i’m where are my fellow latina josh fans at…this one is for you

☆ mike schmidt x bilingual!reader (latina eng/esp) includes :

- mike knows the most basic of conversational spanish from his high school secondary language courses

- and after meeting you and learning about your roots, he is on a mission to connect to that part of you

- he soon looks for any and every way to learn more of the language

- he goes to the video store and looks for some his favorite movies in spanish (he thinks : if he knows them by heart already, then he can def pick up on a few dozen words)

- he buys an english to spanish dictionary, workbooks, even thinks about renting a rosetta stone cd program to listen to on his way to and from work

- maybe a month into this process he starts to show off his new knowledge, starting by pointing at things here and there and naming them in spanish

- like when he you guys go out for coffee one cold morning and after offering him a piece of your croissant, he rips off a small portion and eats it before pointing to the pastry and saying “hmm, almendras”, referring to the slices of almonds that were sprinkled on the top

- and when you look up at his face with a confused look that turns into slight surprise, he just has the smallest smirk on his face, just hoping to god in his head that you’re impressed

- or when you try to think of a word and even though it’s so simple, for some reason only the spanish version appears in your head

- “do you mind getting the um…” you attempt to ask mike one morning after you invited him over for breakfast after he had taken abby to school

-“the…?” mike looks up from the kitchen table at where you stand, pointing to the surface of the table, waving a hand over it as you try to think of the word

- “the…ugh damn. sorry, the manteles? the things-“

- “oh! the tablecloths, got it” he says as he stands to grab them from where you kept them next to the sink

- you look at him astonished, and as you watch him set the table you start to wonder where all this seemingly sudden knowledge came from

- as you both eat you point out his recent upgrade in vocabulary

- “i thought you said you only really knew how to ask where the bathroom was in spanish.”

- mike just shrugs, trying to hide his smile as he says, “yeah, i’ve just been trying to pick up a few new things here and there.”

- from then on he’s way more shameless about it, constantly asking how to say certain things that his research hasn’t taught him yet and asking you to say things in spanish to test him

- you find it silly at first, but only because it’s something that you were raised to know and you just can’t fathom someone learning it solely because of you

- but you soon realize how incredible it is for you to witness the effort he’s putting in since now you know… he obviously takes your relationship pretty seriously

- and it’s just so sweet to see.

some more of mike’s antics might include :

- being on the phone with your family and mike following you around, trying to understand what you’re gasping and ranting about

- him complimenting you in spanish

- “ay que linda” he’ll softly say after greeting you with a soft kiss before a night out

- impressing your family by introducing himself in spanish, which immediately seems to win them over

- speaking spanish in front of abby when you don’t want her to understand what the two of you are saying

- i need him in my life.

i hope you enjoyed ☆

[phantasmiac]

best friends brother!touya who has had his eye on you longer than you realize

cw/tw: reader is in college, reader is 18 and touya is 19, one mention of touya smoking, fluffy fluffy fluffy

wc: 2.3k

a/n: this is part two of my bfb!touya au. part one can be found here.

if there was one thing that had always prevented your crush on touya from being a total cliche, it was the fact that you had a good relationship. you were never reduced to being just his baby sister's equally babyish friend, there to ignore or treat like a nuisance. whether he really knew it or not, touya was your friend, too; and you were his.

it’d be inaccurate, however, to describe your current predicament as a “friends” quarrel. it might even be inaccurate to call something so one-sided a quarrel at all. all you know for sure is that touya’s been giving you the silent treatment for far too long, and you’re going to do something about it.

after weeks of avoiding you and his own house, he’s forced to reappear for shouto’s birthday (although you think rei repeatedly asking him if fuyumi is now her oldest child during their daily phone calls should also be credited). it’s meant to be a small celebration between the family that they all insist you’re a part of. shouto has plans to spend the rest of the evening with his new school friends.

“you still friends with the little shit that looks like he bites, shou?” touya asks while rummaging through the kitchen drawer for candles, unbothered by rei’s soft swat on the back of his head and hissing of his name. it’s the second one he’s received from her since he’s arrived, the first having been provoked by a new tattoo taking up a large portion of the side of his neck (needless to say, it made you feel a bit delusional for thinking you were entirely to blame for his lack of visits).

despite his crappy description, shouto understands enough to mumble an “mhm”.

“what about the one with the freckles? he’s a good kid. i’d keep him around if i were you.”

“thank god we have such an upstanding citizen for a brother,” natsuo teases, large enough to ruffle his big brothers white head of hair while he’s still sat. “share some more of your wis— get off of me!”

touya’s interest has shifted to putting natsuo in a headlock, wrestling him to the ground in a competition he’s bound to lose, if their past scuffles have anything to say about it. the box falls from his hold, spilling dozens of multicolored candles all over the kitchen floor. the sounds of the sticks crunching and breaking under shoes puts a halt to their little match.

touya pulls away, unaware that you’re already crouched under the table trying to recover the salvageable candles yourself. it’s his hand landing on top of your smaller ones that alerts him, eyes shooting up to meet yours like a deer caught in headlights. the constrictions of the tight space causes you to nearly knock face first into one another. despite the proximity, you’re suddenly reminded that you’re not nearly as close as you were weeks ago, when your tongues were down each others throats.

it takes all your willpower not to squeal from embarrassment as you squirm your way out from underneath the table, body running dangerously hot. it’s ironic, you think, that you’re the first to back away after begging for a chance to be near him again all this time; but more so the fact that touya is the one left with a sad, longing expression on his face when he stands.

light snow is falling by the time shouto’s celebration comes to an end, accompanied by bitter cold weather. kind of depressing, but touya figures that’s just how his oddball little brother would like it. it’s only four thirty in the afternoon, but the lamps lined along the pathway in front of the todoroki household are already on. his black down jacket is zipped all the way to his nose, hood struggling against the unruliness of his hair. the crunching of the snow underneath his boots brings him a nice calm — ruined by the sound of your warm voice.

normally, your shouts of his name were more than welcome. but given the circumstances, he can’t help but feel a sense of impending doom. he turns on his heel to see you running down the yard without a care in the world, and fights the urge to yell at you to be careful (though the thought of you slipping and landing on your butt is kind of endearing too). by the time you reach him, you’re out of breath. it comes as no surprise to the creep who’d spectated you in the past during your high school sports festivals.

“touya,” you pant, hand on his shoulder. “walk me home, will you?”

you’re cruel. it’s a request he can’t say no to; you might as well have put a gun to his head. there’s a sadistic, pleased little grin on your face as you start waddling alongside him. touya figures it shouldn’t be too difficult taking you home without sparing a word; you only live about ten minutes away. what’s ten more minutes after weeks of keeping this up?

he fails to take into account that having you this close strips him of all immunity to your charm, especially when you look this adorable. you look well prepared for an expedition to the antarctic, in your oversized puffer jacket, winter mittens, gloves and scarf. all the bundles practically swallow you whole, only leaving your cute little face exposed.

there’s students roaming the streets, probably heading home from their after school clubs. you’re people watching; touya knows you’ve always had a knack for that. he quickly averts the side gaze he’s had on you when he notices your head turning up towards him.

“did you ever realize how popular you were in high school?” there’s a hint of nostalgia in your voice.

you receive a shrug in response. “not really.”

“everyone in my year was in love with you,” you chuckle into your scarf.

touya’s eyebrow quirks up. everyone? even you? he wills himself not to say. your new boyfriend probably wouldn’t like that.

but your power over him must have upgraded to telepathy, because you proceed to answer his question. “even i was a victim to the touya disease, you know.”

“oh yeah?” even if he can’t steady his heart rate, he’ll maintain his cool.

“oh yeah. i think everyone would agree it was hard crushing on someone who didn’t even know they existed.”

touya digs his face deeper into his jacket, hands curled tighter in his pockets.

“right.”

touya’s ears pick up on your voice before he actually sees you for the first time. just standing in the school library is enough to send shivers down his edgy spine, but he’s willing to make the sacrifice to wait around for his buddy, who’s been forced into tutoring sessions. he’s made himself busy scanning through the aisles for books that pique his interest, a safe distance from the tables where you and his friend had agreed to meet up.

“hey, that’s alright! even i struggled learning this at first. you’ll get the hang of it in no time. i believe in you.”

touya snorts. he can imagine his friend currently trying to dig his fingers into his eyeballs. but even funnier is the sweet voice you're using and your gentle words of encouragement. most people fearfully trip over their own feet and fumble their words at the mere sight of his group of friends: yet you’re treating the scariest looking one of the group like a grade schooler learning his times tables.

touya had promised to make himself invisible while waiting around; his friend was already humiliated by just the prospect of needing tutoring. but his curiosity always came out victorious, and he’s soon peeking from behind the shelves just to catch a tiny glimpse of you.

your pretty face matches your voice.

the next time touya catches a glimpse of you, your back is turned to him. he’s performing his regular routine of sneaking out of his p.e. class in order to head to the bathroom for a smoke. you’re walking down the halls with your headphones in, completely oblivious to the presence behind you, and through the silence he can faintly hear the instrumental of whatever it is you’re listening to. he knows it’s a shitty thing to make judgements about someone he’s never even had a conversation with, but he can’t help but think whatever’s playing in your headphones is far different from what he’d expect someone as soft as you to listen to. he’s able to make out the sounds of heavy drums and electric guitar riffs. it’s as if you lived to surprise him, he thinks, when you start whispering the lyrics to the song; one that’s been on nearly all of his playlists.

touya thinks the universe is trying to get him arrested when he finds himself coincidentally trailing behind you on the way home a week later. he also thinks you should have more concern for your safety, seeing as you could’ve had a full fledged stalker at this point and had no idea. five minutes into your journey home, he watches as you come to a stop under a lamp post, and reach into your backpack. maybe you’re finally taking out pepper spray, or a pocket knife, touya guesses (and secretly hopes). instead, you pull out a can of food, kneeling down and placing it in front of a nearby bush. there’s a rustling and the sound of a meow before a stray ball of fluff comes running out, circling and rubbing his head against you in familiarity before indulging in your offering. as he watches you coo and gently scratch around the cats ears, touya comes to a conclusion: he has a fat crush on you.

for the next year, touya’s attempts at doing anything about his crush on you don’t surpass staring at you from afar for no more than three seconds at a time; and that was just fine for him. leave it to his little siblings to screw it all up. granted, the last of his siblings he would have expected to act as the agent of chaos was fuyumi. the day he came home to find you sitting at his kitchen table and giggling with his little sister, touya knew he was well beyond fucked.

there’s a tug on the sleeve of your jacket that forces you to stop in your tracks. the snow that’s now been disguised by the complete darkness of the evening is reilluminated by the light radiating from the lamp post above you.

“i’ll cut the bullshit. i like you. a lot,” touya declares, blinking away the snowflakes that make his eyelashes look impossibly prettier. “hearing that you had a boyfriend fucking sucked, and i had this petty, stupid idea to bring some girl over. i don’t know what exactly i was trying to accomplish.”

you’d had a whole speech planned and written in your heart for the boy looking down at you; you figure you should also correct his faulty assumption, but his confession leaves you tongue tied.

“but then you had this sad look on your face the whole time and that’s all i could think about for the next day. kissing you was a dick move, i know but….” he sighs, looking up at the night sky as if it might throw him a bone. “but you kissed me back. and i don’t want to be like… your side bitch, or something.”

you’re able to read genuine hurt in touya’s eyes, but his claim and it’s wording throws you into a fit of giggles. even as you’re laughing at his misery, touya can’t help but have goo-goo eyes for you.

“i’m serious! i went back to my room with a sad boner, you know! and it’s honestly blasphemous for you of all people to two time your poor boyfriend. i thought you were supposed to be a saint!”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry. it’s just— you’re so stupid,” you wheeze.

it’s difficult for touya to take the fact that you just called him stupid to heart as you unsuccessfully attempt to wipe your tears away with your mittens on; so he does it for you. you give a soft smile of gratitude in return, a glint in your eyes. you take off your gloves so that you’re able to pull down the zipper covering his face. and despite his declaration that he didn’t want to be your “side bitch”, touya doesn’t stop you when you get on your tippy toes and loop your arms around his torso to plant a soft kiss on his lips; nor does he complain when it lands on his cupids bow instead. the softness of it all only makes him blush even harder, an effect he hopes is you’ll blame on the cold weather.

you don’t.

your chin is propped on his chest as you look up at him with a goofy smile. “i’m not dating that guy. i was peer pressured by fuyumi into going on one date, but nothing came out of it. you’d know that if you hadn’t stormed out of the room like a big baby. i kissed you back because i have feelings for you, dummy.”

with wide eyes, touya lets out a breathy laugh, before pulling his hands out of his pockets to grab your face and crash his lips into yours, hard and needy. you’re lips are locked for what feels like far too little a time before he pulls away.

“if i were you i probably wouldn’t want to date such an idiot after all this but…. will you? date me?”

“i’d love nothing more than to date this idiot.”

touya’s going to have to tell you later how you got together in the same spot he fell for you; but his first order of business is to take you back to his place and make up for lost time.

★ tag list: @ushygushybaby @stvrrlight @gbbibbi @julietdelamare @dabisearpiercings @gracefulbumblebee @sky-casino @twerkformammon @mika-writes-fanfics @iheartgeto @doulcha @aicakee @alondraapple19 @imeverycliche

[stealingyourbones]

Superboy meets Danny

Ok. Let me explain my points here. First of all, Things these boys got in common:

Was cloned by a crazy billionaire (Match & Dani)

Has a father who doesn’t understand or is actively trying to stop/kill them

Trying their best to not be related to said crazy billionaire who cloned them

The crazy billionaire is also a villain

Rebellious teen

Has a trio friend group that (is partially) comprised of a tech geek and rich friend.

That’s all I can think of just at the moment! There’s so much more. These bitches would be a force to be reckoned with if they ever met.

Danny goes to Metropolis on a school trip. You know how some American schools will have a weekend trip to DC? Every year the Juniors in the school have the opportunity to go to Metropolis.

Danny’s parents happily give Danny the money and permission to go.

With the only drawback that you have to write a paper on the history of how superheroes changed america, Danny was ecstatic to go.

Danny, Dash, Sam, and Tucker are all put in a team to explore Metropolis and collect information for their paper. Their first stop: An impressive viewing deck on the top of a 30 story building that has a good view on the city's skyline that was streamlined so Superman could have easy access to rooftops and all building entrances.

The four are on the viewing deck and taking photos of the view and informational plaques when Intergang attacks the building they’re in with Apoklyptian tech.

One of their gizmos is like a flamethrower on steroids that’s able to shoot a stream of fire dozens of stories high. Within minutes the first 10 stories are completely engulfed in flame. Danny, not wanting to expose his secret identity to Dash, tells everyone to shout for Superman because he supposedly helped people in distress who shouted his name.

Superboy shows up a minute later. Not who they expected but they weren’t picky with who was saving them with over half the building engulfed in flame and no escape in sight.

Danny is super casually talking to Superboy and flirting back and forth as they’re flown down to the street. Dash is confused because Danny Fenton, the kid who he beats the shit out of on the daily and has no bitches, is chatting up Superboy like they’ve known each other for years, and Dash knows damn well that they’ve never met before. Danny can’t make friends with a superhero before him so Dash tries to do his cool guy act on Superboy.

Dash probably shouldn’t have tried to insult someone who was a superpowered teen and flying him hundreds of feet above solid ground because Superboy did NOT like that. He shot down Dash with insults so scathing that Dash is pretty sure the rest of his entire bloodline won’t be able to recover.

After that Dash knew to simply shut up as Superboy brought the rest of the crew to the ground. Just before he was about to leave, Superboy slipped Danny a piece of paper, winked, and mimed “call me” before flying off.

…Did Danny just score a date with THE Superboy?!

Well, not a date per se, but Danny DID get Superboy’s number. They met up as much as they could over the weekend that Danny was in Metropolis and quickly became fast friends.

These two are an incredibly tight duo who are some of the most mischievous motherfuckers ever when left to their own devices.

One of those times is when they convinced Tucker to hack into the Batcomputer. Superboy told him what he knew and Tucker went to work.

Twenty or so minutes later, Barbara and Tim are freaking the fuck out because they were both on monitor duty and someone hacked into the batcomputer. After panicking and tracing back the hack, they take over the hackers computer camera and see Superboy and another black haired teen triumphantly cheering while the boy who apparently infiltrated the batcaves computers, was holding his head in his hands mockingly at the two superpowered kids' actions.

Tim and Babs realize that this wasn’t a malicious attack and instead just a couple of insanely competent idiots having fun. If these guys can have fun why can’t they?

Babs infiltrates the computer that has shockingly insanely well crafted cyber security. She changes the lockscreen and every tab open to an image of Red Robin getting fucking beaned in the skull with a jug of juice. Tucker responds 15 minutes later on the batcomputer with a low angle photo of himself and Superboy flipping off the camera. At the far top of the image is Danny crawling upside down on the ceiling, feet and fingers embedded into the bumpy surface. His eyes glowing a bright green and looking like an eldritch abomination.

This starts one of the strangest friendships that Tucker has ever had. Actively hacking into eachothers computers to send back and forth increasingly elaborate shitposts and enhancing their firewalls with each breach of security. Danny actively repairs ghost nations, ghost politics, ghost relations, and completes a BUNCH of ghost king related activities he normally would have hated for the sole purpose of getting specific ghosts together to create the new shitpost of the week that they would send to Oracle and Red Robin.

Batman finds out only because Superboy let it slip. “Got through to your stupid batcomputer three times this week! You’re slacking Gordon.”

In all honesty, Batman thinks it’s fucking halarious. His kids managed to find the nerdiest possible way to make friends and they’re making massive improvements on the Batcomputer and Watchtower’s security. If these kids ever DO become a threat… Batman knows exactly where they lived and has an armed satellite at the ready.

Now that Batman knows, Superboy gets Red Robin and Impulse together to meet the Phantom trio. I need you guys to picture this: It’s a cozy family owned diner. Warm oranges, reds, and tans cover the inside of the building. A very sweet looking mid 40s lady with her hair in a bun and an apron around her waist, walks over to a corner booth and asks the customers what they would want to eat.

At this table: Danny, Sam, and Tucker all are wearing their casual everyday clothes sit at one side of the table while talking animatedly to the trio on the other side of the table: Red Robin, Impulse, and Superboy, all in their full superhero uniforms, are talking just as excitedly right back at the Phantom Gang on what to order.

So Sam. Sam would be amazing with Tim. Imagine the amount of eco-friendly ideas she could propose to Tim to better the public's view of WayneTech. With Sam’s help, Tim launches a campaign to fix infrastructure and do a HUGE plant based rehabilitation plan to help reduce smog and add greenery to Gotham. Tim hires Poison Ivy to help with the enhanced growth of trees and gardens around Gotham and it goes extremely well. Poison Ivy commits bioterrorism for the betterment of the environment after all, they remove the terrorism bit and just keep the bio, she isn’t that bad. It’s amazing because that means there’s one less villain on their asses all the times tearing up Gotham.

Sam also absolutely gives everyone makeup lessons and fashion tips to embrace their own personal aesthetic better.

Tucker is super good friends with Tim and Impulse. He somehow can keep up with Impulses talking and the pair will spend hours excitedly infodumping each other. Tucker chatting with Tim about tech and some improvements that they could send to the engineering division of WayneTech. The amount of chaotic bullshittery Tucker will do with the two is unparalleled.

Danny is extremely good friends with Impulse and Superboy. Superboy and him bond over their experiences and powers. They go on bi weekly night flights to brainstorm pranks and insults to throw at their respective villains. Danny is able to also keep up with Impulse's excited speech and they give each other tips on how to control powers granted to them by all powerful other dimensions.

idk this ends my rambling but I just… Danny would be such good friends with Superboy. If you want to go romantic, they would be an incredible couple. The flirting and nonstop jabs could absolutely be simply bros being bros but I genuinely think these two could have a very solid romantic connection with each other if you want to go in that direction. Their backgrounds are so very similar, their personalities would mesh together extremely well, they’re vigilantes so no worries about endangering a weak civilian, and you cannot tell me that Danny wouldn’t steal Connor’s jackets even if he wasn’t in a relationship with him.

In the far future I truly believe they would stay friends. When Danny reveals to Impulse and Robin that he’s actually a ghost and the photos they were sending to the batcave were honest to god images of another dimension, it certainly causes momentary panic and chaos but it quickly settles into acceptance. How on earth Robin or Impulse would react to the Ghost Zone I am completely unsure. If someone else wants to add onto this with that concept you can surely go for it. All I do know is that their awe and wonder of this brilliantly strange and odd dimension that their friend (who’s apparently the ruler of?! What?!?!) lives in. They all use the GZ as a sort of hideaway when things get complicated and too much in the mortal plane. They all have little rooms in Danny’s lair that they are free to crash in at any time.

This offer may spread to everyone else too. Connor invites Danny and the rest of Young Just Us over to the Kent’s farm to enjoy some incredible homemade meals and to take their mind off things to focus on chores around the farm. Tim invites the group over to Wayne Manor for their assistance on difficult cases (if the research session turns into a Mario Kart tournament or movie marathon, that’s between them and Alfred)

I am very much so unsure how to end this so I’ll just say this: Danny’s life changed for the better and no matter what he does, he can never escape “are you an angel?” jokes.