#its just me whose a little fucking freak.

[spiked-mall-goth]

i need to fight somebody. like a real fight no holding back. i need to punch someone hard in the stomach. i need to be kicked in the guts. i need to be repeatedly slapped in the face. i need to bite someone really really hard. i need to scratch and to be scratched. i need to be knocked over on my ass. i need to kick someones legs out. i need to pin someone down and start punching them repeatedly. i need to do all of this and then fuck nasty. i think that would fix me. even just for a minute

[greaseonmymouth]

I saw this shared around on Threads (why do I go there, I hate it) and commented on as 'this article is so good' and 'must read' including by a few people whose opinion I normally respect, and seeing as monsterfucking and monster everything is like a special little interest for me, I of course instantly clicked through to read it

and I have to say

what the everloving heterosexual fuck is this

two fat paragraphs about omegaverse that don't even mention its origins - I mean - I just - gaze upon this phrase, and despair:

During estrous, Omegas’ vaginas ooze with “slick,” responding to the Alpha’s intoxicating pheromonal perfume.

IT'S CALLED "SLICK" BECAUSE IT'S FROM SELF-LUBRICATING ANUSES. THE REASON THE OMEGAS NEED SELF-LUBRICATING ANUSES TO BEGIN WITH IS BECAUSE THEY DON'T HAVE VAGINAS.

I. have been rendered figuratively speechless. the straights don't know what slick is. the. i. how. how did we end up like this

their dicks swell at the base, creating a “knot,” which lodges them inextricably in the Omega’s slick-soaked (I am so sorry) vagina.

"(I am so sorry)" girl you're writing an article about monster smut and then you have the gall to be embarrassed by the this tame ass (or should i say vagina?) heterosexual omegaverse?

okay, okay. deep breaths. we've only just got started. we started by covering Morning Glory Milking Farm, a minotaur/human erotic romance novel, which well - I've read it, and it's not a bad book by any means, it was actually very very good, a solid story with a great cast and perfectly paced and satisfying romance and loads of sex - is very straight. it's just a minotaur. it's a big guy with a big dick. it's your standard gentle giant/normal sized girl romance. it's not very freaky, but you know, I don't blame the average reader for coming into this thinking this is some out there stuff. gotta start somewhere, right? we didn't all come up through draco/the giant squid crackfic in 2005, you know? and now we've covered Sarah J Maas and we're entering omegaverse territory, this is getting knottier now, right, freakier? this article is going somewhere, right?

you can imagine the intrigue, enemies-to-lovers, and other story lines involved as each captured female eventually finds the member of the barbarian tribe who is destined to worship and fuck the living daylights out of her for the rest of their lives. Oh, and their dicks have a sensitive spur on top designed for clitoral stimulation. It’s just as blue and velvety as the rest of their big alien bodies.

okay so the minotaurs aliens are blue now, i guess.

It seems, also, like the romance genre as a whole is being pushed by monster romance to make things in human-human books as freaky as possible.

ohh?? are we finally getting a proper freak on now??

This genre, “why choose?” or “MMF” (or sometimes even MMMF or MMFM), and also known as “reverse harem,” always features a heroine who is showered with sexual attention by men who are also sexually involved with each other.

having a thousand yard stare moment over here

this author seriously thinks that all these heterofied monster romance tropes are paving the way for the real freaky stuff that is, checks notes, "two hockey players fucking each other while the heroine calls the shots"

this author is positing that human queer erotica/romance are freakier than monster erotica/romance. like. she said that. with her whole chest. black on white.

on one hand a monster, an inhuman being, and on the other, a queer person, a human being. and apparently the real freak is not the minotaur or the blue alien. it is the queer human.

is this satire? it has to be, right?

because if it's not satire, this article is an entire case study in itself on the monstering* of queer people. stunning.

*academic term

[ashasdiary]

Five Margaritas, Five Senses

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!Reader

Synopsis: You enjoy a night out with your girlfriends. You all get enamoured with a dark haired bartender. Gojo gets jealous so naturally, he has to remind you whose you are. 

CW: drinking, alcohol, established relationship, jealous Gojo, possessive Gojo, smut — unprotected sex, drunk sex, overstimulation, creampie, dacryphilia if you squint WC: 5.9k A/N: loosely based off of my own shenanigans. still steaming from last night as I write this 😹 ENJOY <3

You were drunk. 

There was no denying it.

You’d all but downed your first three margaritas, had inhaled a strawberry daiquiri, were halfway through your fourth margarita and had every intention of getting some shots after. 

You found your body moving on its own accord to the groove of the music that was playing in the bar, hands in the air, hips swaying without a care in the world as you danced. 

Your two friends, Shoko and Utahime cheered as you danced, getting up from the booth to join you. 

Your third friend, Suki, walked into the room: a cute little secluded spot with pink fur on the walls, a disco ball shining in the corner, and plush seating, drinks in hand. 

“Guys! There was a bartender that just started his shift, he was soooo handsome!” She tries to set down the two cocktails carefully on the table but a little spills from the sides. “Go and get more drinks and you’ll see him!” 

Suki’s insistence for you all to see this handsome bartender doesn’t so much faze you because there are handsome bartenders everywhere. Utahime’s interest however is piqued slightly so she dances away from the group with a laugh to Suki, “Let me get another cocktail and see some eye candy.”

Suki draws her away for couple of minutes as you and Shoko keep dancing and giggling together. Utahime comes back to the room with her drink, squealing in excitement to you and Shoko, “You have to see him! He was so freaking pretty!” 

Utahime is quite the character so her reaction was not out of the ordinary. Shoko twirls you under your joined arms and grins, “I’ll go get some shots for us.”

Shoko sashays away to the bar, leaving you to finish your fourth margarita. You set down the empty glass and you giggle, twirling around, the music taking control of your body. 

“Is Gojo picking you up later?” Suki asks as she slings her arms around your neck, swaying with you.

“Mhm…he said he’d come at 11 so we can get an early night,” you smile at the mention of your boyfriend, the blush on your cheeks deepening a little. 

“You lovebirds…make me sick,” Suki laughs and she pinches your cheek. 

Shoko comes back to the room, wide eyed, a tray of shots in hand as she calls your name, “They weren’t lying. That bartender is fucking beautiful.”

“My goodness, you three, relax! There’s beautiful people everywhere!” You spin on your heel and stumble a little, Utahime catching you. 

“I do want another drink though. So I will be back shortly,” you nod, earning a couple of snickers from them. 

You stroll over to the bar and lean over it, waiting to be served. There was a man with his hair gathered up in a little man bun, crouched down tending to the fridge on the other side, so his back was to you. He stands and straightens up and turns towards you and stops when he sees you. “Hi,” he greets you, voice velvet smooth and brown eyes twinkling, “what can I get for you?”

You just blink at him for a moment. The alcohol already in your system was slowing things down considerably but you were in awe of just how beautiful this man was. How the strand of hair that he had loose was framing his face perfectly. You don’t usually get shy, either, but words were lost on you for a second. “Hi…” you manage to smile, “can I get a vodka lemonade please?” 

“Playin’ it safe, huh,” he chuckles, rolling up his sleeves and in the low light of the bar your eyes fall to the dark ink adorned on his skin. It was so intricate and detailed, nothing like you’d ever seen before. You watch him move around the bar and start to make your drink in the mixer bottle so effortlessly, and you suddenly come to yourself and realise that you’d been holding your breath this entire time. 

“Can’t go wrong with a vodka lemonade,” you breathe out, and his gaze locks with yours, a smirk on his pretty lips. That’s when you realise you’d taken your sweet time in responding and you blush as you fumble to occupy your hands with something, settling on the chain of your belt. 

“I saw your friend over there get some shots. Have you ever tried a baby guinness?” He decorates your vodka lemonade with a small sprig of mint on top and gently pushes it toward you, leaning on the bar and coming closer to you. 

“I can’t say that I have,” you answer, and you clear your throat, your hand absentmindedly coming to play with the straw in your drink. 

“I’ll make you one to try. On me,” he gives you a grin and holds your gaze longer than he should have before he looks away to find the bottles of Irish cream and coffee liqueur.

Placing a shot glass in front of you, he is mesmerising as he makes the drink carefully so that the Irish cream doesn’t sink into the liqueur. He gestures to the smaller glass and gives you a playful smile. 

“Have a try. I bet you’ll like it.” 

His voice…oh, his voice. It’s so smooth and so deep that it rumbles through his chest, the tone of it something sublime. It’s a voice that you could fall asleep to from how soothing it was. 

You take the shot glass between your fingers and hold it up, “Salud,” and he lets out a chuckle right before you knock it back. You were expecting a burn, because it’s a shot after all, but were surprisingly greeted with the soft touch of what genuinely tasted like chocolate.

“Oh my god, that was divine,” you tell him excitedly, “can I get 4 more?”

He grins at you, “I told you you’d enjoy it. But sure. We do table service. You go enjoy your vodka lemonade and I’ll bring 4 more to your table in a minute.”

“Thank you…” you gaze at him, unable to look away, “sorry, I didn’t get your name?”

“I’m Geto,” he gives you a friendly smile and holds your gaze and it continues on until you get bashful and look down at your hands. 

“Thank you, Geto. I’ll see you in a minute,” you grab your vodka lemonade and shuffle away from the bar as fast as your legs would allow, not looking back because you know in your drunken state you’re extra playful and extra daring. 

The three girls were talking and giggling and sipping on their drinks when you came in and they all turn to you as you sit down among them. “I hate to admit that you were all right,” you take a quick sip of your drink, “he was unbelievable. None of you even saw his tattoos! And I really don’t know why, but I asked for his name, too.”

“He has tattoos—?”

“His name—?!”

“What w—?”

“And,” you interrupt the chiming of your friends, “he gave me this delicious chocolate tasting shot, for free.”

That admissions sends them into a frenzy, Utahime grabbing at your thigh, Suki falling back onto the sofa, and Shoko spluttering on her drink. Granted, their reactions were exaggerated what with the state of drunkenness you were all in. 

“And when I walk in all that I wanna hear…is you say daddy’s home…home for me,” you all hear the familiar voice of Gojo singing as he strolls into the pink room and he snorts at just how pink it is.

“Look who it is,” Shoko giggles and you smile widely when you see him. 

He walks on over, giving Suki, Utahime, and Shoko brief hugs in greeting before he reaches you, bright blue eyes twinkling. “Hi, baby. I missed ya.”

“Hi, my love, I missed you as well,” you give him a drunk smile and make grabby hands to him and he chuckles, plopping himself next to you and pulls your legs over his lap while leaning in to give you a kiss. You drape your arms around his neck and settle against him comfortably. 

“Havin’ fun, hm?” He asks. 

“Oh, you don’t even know,” Suki answers him before you can, and all three girls laugh. 

You sip on your drink until you hear the air being sucked from the straw, signalling its emptiness. Gojo gently takes the empty glass from you and places it down on the table. 

“I’m glad that you’ve been enjoying yourselves. I’ve gotta get all of you home soon, don’t I?” He says and Shoko and Utahime groan. 

“Absolutely not. I got us more shots!” You tell him and he raises a brow, gaze falling onto the empty shot glasses on the table. “Those were…Shoko, were they yours? Yeah, she got some jolly rancher shots before but the ones I got are so delicious, literally like chocol—“

“Knock knock,” you all hear that captivatingly deep voice from the doorway of the room and you all look up to see Geto, tray of shots in hand. Everyone falls quiet as he waltzes in, placing the baby guinness shots down and collecting the empty glasses. From the girls’ silence, you know that they’re all just drinking him in, admiring his tattoos and his full frame. “You have your beautiful friend here to thank for these,” he nods towards you and you blink at him, cheeks blushing crimson red when he winks at you and throws you a smile. “Enjoy your night,” his gazes trails over all five of you in the room before he leaves. 

The girls stay silent as they watch the dark haired man exit the room and turn to look at you, then at Gojo.

“Uh oh,” Suki breaks the silence when she notes that Gojo isn’t smiling anymore. “Gojo, you good?”

He’s quiet for a moment, completely still as he replays what just happened in front of him and then looks to you. “I’m actually shocked at the audacity of that man to flirt with her seeing the way that she’s draped over me like this,” he says and your fingers play with the soft hair at the back of his head. 

“It happens, dude, relax,” Shoko says and she gets up and hands around the shots, skipping Gojo as he is the dedicated carer for the evening. 

“Geto’s very nice, he wasn’t flirting,” you find yourself saying matter of factly through your drunken state, and this makes Gojo’s brows furrow together. 

“You’re on a first name basis already?” He lets out a dry laugh. 

“He just gave me his name before, that’s all,” you shrug and the girls all hold up their shot glasses, and you follow suit. 

“To being smart and sexy!” Shoko says and you all repeat it before downing the shots. 

“That was quite a pleasant shot actually, everyone say thank you,” Utahime comments and stands up to dance again. Shoko and Suki follow suit, all three enjoying the rhythm as they dance. 

“My smart and sexy girlfriend has been quite the minx tonight, then,” Gojo’s lips ghost over the shell of your ear as he caresses your jaw and kisses your temple. 

“I had…” you start giggling uncontrollably, head falling back as you hold onto his neck, “I had like five margaritas. Have you heard that song?” You ask Gojo but Suki is quick to respond. 

“Give me one margarita, imma open my legs!” She sings and drops into a squat, opening her legs. 

“Give me two margaritas, imma give you some head,” Shoko sings.

“Give me three margaritas, imma put it in my puss—“ you add and laugh as Gojo pushes his finger over your lips to quieten you and the girls all giggle, holding onto each other so they don’t fall over. 

“Give me four margaritas, imma put it in my tush!” Utahime is quick to add, and all four of you sing the next line in unison as Gojo sits and watches, shaking his head as he tries not to laugh.

“GIVE ME FIVE MARGARITAS, IMMA HAVE SOME FUN!” All of you burst out in uncontrollable laughter, tears in your eyes. 

“Alright, gang, I think you have all had plenty of fun tonight and you should all get home and recharge your batteries,” Gojo announces and is met with a chorus of ‘aw’s. “C’mon now. Get your things, ladies, we don’t want to leave anything behind.”

You stay wrapped around him for a moment, breathing him in, kissing his neck, playing with his hands, “I was really enjoying myself tonight so I’m sad we’re going home but I also love when you get all…authoritative,” you tell him and he smirks down at you. 

“I know you do,” he tells you quietly and you bite your lip as you gaze at each other. He steals a quick kiss before you get up and grab your coat and bag from the corner, overwhelmed all of a sudden by the urge to pee. 

“Oh, god, I need to pee. I’ll be right back,” you walk — not in a straight line — out of the room and towards the restrooms which thankfully weren’t far. It’s a unisex bathroom with the toilets in individual spaces. You lock the door once you get in and shove down your tights and underwear, holding up your skirt as you feel the relief of an empty bladder. You sigh and then smile to yourself, reading the scribbles on the walls. There’s always some clarity gained upon reading the writing on the walls of a bar toilet while drunk. 

Once you’re finished, you fix your clothes and go to head out but come out of the toilet and crash into a large, firm chest. “Oh!” 

The large, firm chest of the dark haired man. Geto. 

“Careful, there, shortcake,” that silky smooth voice….his gentle hands holding your upper arms to keep you steady…the soft twinkle of his brown eyes. Jesus, he’s mesmerising. He lets go of your arms as you blink at him, again. Shortcake? 

“Sorry about that,” you say quickly. 

“You’re fine,” he reassures you. “I’ll see you later.“

He turns and disappears around the corner. See you later? You go and wash your hands and try to think. Why would he see you later? Was he flirting? 

You dry your hands with the paper towel and check yourself in the mirror before you exit, making your way back to the pink room, but it was empty. The heck? Where had they all gone? You look around for them, but can’t find them in your vicinity. You walk around the bar slowly, scanning through the crowd of people, unsuccessfully. You huff to yourself. They can’t have just left you, especially not Gojo. 

You stand in the middle of the bar, trying to find a familiar face, until you do, but it’s not the familiar face you were hoping for. “Geto!” You call out to him as he’s walking back to the bar. 

“Hi again, shortcake,” he smiles softly, “saw you sooner than I thought. You okay?”

You swallow upon hearing the use of that nickname he’d chosen for you. It made sense. He was tall. You were not. “I…yeah, I’m okay. Did you see where my friends went, by any chance?”

“Yeah. Come with me,” he nods his head to the side and holds out his hand for you, which you don’t think too much about taking because in a crowd of people, it’s easy to get lost. 

When your hand slips into his, it’s warm and gentle, and he envelopes your hand as he leads you to the bar. You feel a flush on your cheeks at the touch. 

On your approach to the bar, you see your boyfriend’s white hair peeking out in the crowd. They were at the bar, paying off the tab. Of course. Geto leads you to the group and taps Gojo on the shoulder to inform him of your arrival. 

“Make sure this beautiful lady doesn’t get lost again,” Geto tells him, and Gojo eyes how he’s holding your hand. 

“Thanks,” Gojo replies curtly, staring daggers at the other man. Geto releases your hand and heads back behind the bar. The girls are all wide eyed trying to stifle their giggles. 

“Baby, we told you we were going to come pay off the tab. How’d you get lost?” Gojo asks you, arm snaking around your waist to pull you against him. 

“I didn’t hear you guys say that,” you whine and rest your forehead against his chest. He kisses the crown of your head. 

“It’s okay. Tab’s paid now. Let’s go home,” he squeezes you gently as he gathers your friends. 

“Good night, Geto!” Suki waves enthusiastically at the bartender and blows him a kiss. 

“Suki!” Shoko hisses, pulling Suki’s arm down. 

The sound of Geto’s laugh reaches your ears, “Good night, ladies. Hope you had a great evening.”

You find yourself smiling over at Geto before Gojo moves to block your view with a deadpan look, “Home time.”

“We’re just saying bye,” Utahime sighs dreamily. 

It takes some effort but finally, all 5 of you are buckled in Gojo’s fancy car, with you curled up in the front. He begins the drive to Suki’s place which is closest, and when he drops her off, he goes up with her to make sure she gets in safely. 

You love how thoughtful he is, taking his time to ensure their wellbeing with each stop. Utahime was next, and then Shoko, and then…there were two. 

You laze in the seat, fumbling with the buttons and making the seat lie back, trying to get your mind off of the urge to pee. 

“I need to pee again,” you tell him and he reaches over and caresses your knee. 

“We’re almost home, sweetheart,” he says, putting his foot down on the accelerator a little more. 

“Hm…my pretty man,” you gaze at him, enjoying the view of his side profile, soft white hair framing it. He glances over with an enthused expression and before he can reply, you reach over to cup his jaw. “So pretty it hurts.”

“No need to flatter me, sweetness. Not when you’re as beautiful as you are. I can’t wait to see what our kids will look like,” he says the last sentence more to himself, but you hear it, and it makes your heart skip a beat as he turns his head to kiss your palm. And for some reason, that same sentence makes your pussy awaken from its slumber. 

You stay quiet, letting him take your hand in his, fingers interlacing with yours. Your mind races for a minute, thinking of everything Gojo has done this evening. For a moment, the acknowledgement of each action — picking you up, protecting you and your friends, taking care of you and your friends, paying the tab, driving your friends home and making sure they get in safely — leads to gratitude of having such a thoughtful, considerate, perfect man being yours. But that gratitude quickly transforms and only adds to your growing arousal. You almost forgot how horny you get when you’re drunk. 

It’s not long before he’s pulling into the garage and parking the car, cutting the engine. The single act of him turning the steering wheel with his palm makes your pussy purr and you try to ignore the wetness that’s accumulating at your core. He gets out and walks around, opening the door and scooping you up into his arms. You let out a little squeal in happiness as he carries you all the way and inside your shared abode, a nice penthouse with the most breathtaking views of Tokyo. 

Once inside, he toes off his shoes, gently pulling off yours and letting them fall with small thuds on the floor by the door. He carries you still and sets you down in the bathroom, where you keep your arms around his neck and smoothly pull him into a kiss. 

When you break apart, he makes sure that you’re steady since alcohol is still surging through your bloodstream. “Pee. Wash up. And I’ll get you some water and your pajamas.”

He washes his hands quickly and leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You try to go about your night routine as best as your drunk and horny brain would allow you to. 

Gojo had every intention of taking care of you this evening, he really, truly did. He wanted to tend to you, cuddle you, love on you, and make sure you were hangover free tomorrow morning. But there was something inside him that he simply could not ignore. The fiery flames of jealousy were ignited within him. Hand in hand with his possessiveness, oh, it was a lethal combination on his hands. 

He did as he promised, getting you a glass of water, some painkillers, and your pajamas, setting them neatly on the night stand and the bed, respectively. He slips out of his outside clothes as he waits for you, pulling on a cotton t-shirt and foregoing any pants. 

You emerge from the bathroom, having haphazardly pulled your hair up and put it in place with a claw clip, and stripped down to your underwear. “My tummy hurts a little.”

“You didn’t eat anything yet, sweetheart. You want me to get you some food? I can make you a sandwich,” he offers, moving around the bed to get you the water and painkillers, handing it to you. You take them and drink the water to wash them down, still a little dazed, but the more you look at him, the more you want to pounce on him. 

“M’not hungry,” you tell him and he circles his arm around your waist loosely. 

“Maybe not now, but you will be in…” he turns and looks at the clock on the wall, and turns back to you, “half an hour.”

“That’s specific,” you laugh a little. Your arms slip up around his neck, finding their place there. “Are you in my stomach keeping watch of how much food is in there?”

“I can be in your guts if you want me to be,” he smirks, and you snort at this. “You should know I’m setting myself a time limit,” he nods in all seriousness. 

“For?” Your inquiry lit the fuse in him. 

You dared to ask?

His eyes flash with mischief as he gazes at you, his hold on you tightening, pulling your hips flush against his. 

“To remind you whose you are,” his voice is low and gravelly as he speaks, lips ghosting by yours.

Your brain takes a moment to register. Fuck. Oh, fuck. Of course he’d gotten jealous of that bartender. Of course he had. You should have sooner realised this but in your hazy mind, it had slipped. 

“Satoru…” you press yourself against him, showing that you’re eager for him, wanting him, needing him. He knows, of course, he knows how you can get disgustingly horny when you’re drunk, so he’d perfectly orchestrated the last hour with that in mind. 

“My beautiful girl…” he brings a hand up to cup your face, thumb caressing the apple of your cheek as he gazes into your eyes so intensely you feel like he’s seeing the depths of your soul. “You are. You’re my beautiful girl,” he murmurs, thumb swiping over your bottom lip. 

“Satoru…I know I’m yours,” you whine softly, giving into your carnal desires, “please…I need you right now.”

He fucking loves when he has you begging for him like this. 

“Aw, my sweet girl needs me, huh,” he hums, bringing his lips to yours. You eagerly press your tongue against the seam of his lips and he instantly parts them to tangle his tongue with yours in a filthy kiss. 

Taste.

He debates on edging you, making you beg for it, but he decides that the best method right now is to consume all of your senses to the point of overwhelm. He wants you to cry. 

He walks you the half a metre over to the bed and breaks the kiss to pick you up and place you by the pillows. 

He kneels in front of you and pulls off his shirt in one movement, something which makes you stupidly excited. 

Sharing another dirty kiss, your lips are locked and he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra and pull it away. At the same time, you push off your underwear and toss it to the side. 

“Show me how wet you are,” he requests, warm hand rubbing the outside of your knee as he sits back a little. You part your legs for him and bring your hand to your centre, drawing your fingers up and down through your folds, spreading the wetness around easily. God, he loved your pretty pussy. He loved her even more when she was dripping wet like she was now. He groans at the sight, his cock throbbing. He has to free himself from the confines so he quickly and deftly gets his boxers off, kicking them to the side. 

“She’s cryin’ for me,” he purrs, smirking a little, “Who got you this wet, baby?” He brings his fingers to your folds and teases them alongside your own. You shudder when he circles your sensitive clit. 

Touch. 

“Y-you, Satoru, only you.” 

“That’s right, sweetness. Tell me again,” he hums. 

“Only you can get me this wet,” you sigh, and you go to circle your entrance with your middle fingers and dip them inside but he stops you. 

“Ah ah…I’m gonna give you what you want, baby. C’mere.” He slips a strong arm under your waist and lifts you easily, and your legs automatically lock around his hips as he switches the position, lying back against the pillows and perching you on top of him.

Your lips curl into a smile as you lean down to kiss him again, “Mmm…I love this view.”

“Mine’s better,” he quips, leaning his head up to kiss all over one of your breasts, teasing your nipple with his tongue. 

His hands roam up over your back and you find your hips moving on their own accord, grinding your folds over his hard length. Your wetness coats him and he groans against you, one hand gripping your hip and the other swiftly reaching down to guide his cock into you.  

Your head falls back as you feel the tip push past your entrance. He’s slipping inside you easily from how wet you are, but your walls weren’t ready to be stretched out so suddenly. He keeps pushing in, pressing his hips up, until he’s bottomed out inside you completely. You bite your lip and let out a soft whine from just how full you feel with him inside you. “S—ah…Toru…I…” you can’t formulate any coherent words in this moment, so you stop trying. You can’t think, because all that’s in your head right now is the thought of him stuffing you full of his cock. 

Satoru doesn’t like to rush, so he allows you a moment to adjust to him, because the last thing he wants is for you to be hurt. He gently guides your hips to rock back and forth and you start to do it on your own, gasping when you feel the fullness again. 

“Who’s got you full of his cock, baby? Huh?” He asks, a smugness in his tone. 

“Y-you,” you muster, rolling your hips in gradually bigger circles. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he praises you, letting you take the reins, his hands resting on your ass, squeezing the supple flesh. Your walls adjust to him relatively quickly and you lean forward, bouncing your hips on him faster, pussy gripping his cock tighter each time you sink down onto him. “Fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, cupping your face to bring your lips to his. 

“Mmm…Toru, I’m close…” you moan out against him, making him groan to your lips. 

“Not yet,” he tells you, and you feel your walls clench at the sound of his authoritative tone. You slow down your hips a little and pant softly as you continue to ride him slower. 

In a flash of white, he’s snaked his arm around your hips and flipped you onto your back, slipping out of you in the process. Your legs dangle up in the air as you blink at him and catch your breath a bit. 

He gives no warning as he takes control and slides into you again, all the way home, and you keen from the perfection of his dick fitting so wonderfully inside you. His pubic bone teases your clit and your eyes almost roll into the back of your head as he draws his hips back and fucks into you again, but harder. 

You feel his balls slap against your ass each time he ruts his hips into yours and you are rendered speechless from the feeling of his cock pounding into you. 

Your brain is overcome with emotion from a combination of not being able to articulate any words and the way he’s fucking you senseless, and you find tears pricking your eyes and filling your vision. 

You try to blink them away and avoid eye contact by looking down to watch the way he fits so smoothly inside you, but this only overwhelms your senses more. 

Sight. 

Your back arches, a whine falling from your lips which quickly turns into a breathless moan of his name. 

“Baby…you cryin’?” He coos, leaning down and resting his body weight on yours, continuing to fuck his cock into your heat. 

“M-m…” your lip trembles as you cry, the tears rolling along the side of your face as your legs quake. You try to ground yourself, bringing a shaky hand up around his back, feeling the way his muscles are tensing, but it’s no use. 

You feel the imminence of your orgasm as the pressure increases, your walls tightening, making it harder for him to keep pounding into you the way he was. But he doesn’t let up. He keeps going, knowing all too well the signs your body was giving him. He reaches between you, pressing his thumb to your clit, teasing it, circling it. 

You gasp for breath, shallowly, your heart racing, the sound of your wetness accentuating the way your hips were colliding. 

Sound. 

You had made a complete mess of yourself, him, and the bed, but your senses were so overwhelmed by him that you didn’t even notice. 

With each pump of his cock into you, you’re pushed closer and closer to the edge. Your body cannot hold up for another second, the tension having built up so forcefully that it’s sudden; your body releases, the orgasm washing over your entire body and causing you to let out a sound that’s partly a moan and partly a cry. Your walls clench so tightly around Satoru’s cock that it pulls a strangled groan from him, his deep pants only adding to the high of your orgasm. 

He slows down, rocking his hips into yours now and riding you through it as your walls clench less. But he doesn’t stop. 

You tremble under him as you feel the heavy drag of him sliding in and out of your gummy walls. “You’re doin’ so good for me, baby,” he praises, and you choke out a soft cry as you melt into the sheets. “Shh…I’ve got you, sweetheart.” 

His soft voice contrasts with the harsh plunge of his cock deep into you and he begins to fuck you relentlessly once again. Your body had not fully recovered from your first orgasm, yet your second was fast approaching. Feeling overwhelmed and quickly becoming overstimulated, you try to inhale deeply to steady your mind but the delicious scent of his sweat and his pheromones takes over your nose. 

Smell. 

That was it. The final sense, unlocked, consumed in full. Every single cell in your body is consumed by him. Your brain begins to shut down, very well and truly cockdrunk, and he can see this, how he’s got you putty in his hands, senses so gone that you’ve been rendered speechless and become his fuck toy. 

He brings his fingers to your cheek and caresses it softly, “Talk to me, sweetness… wanna hear you.”

His soft coaxing stirs something to life inside you and you feel like you’d been outside of your body for a moment and had come crashing back into it and into this moment. 

“I’m gonna come,” you rasp out. You let out a gasp when you feel the emptiness of your walls when he slips out of you, stopping the tension that was building in its tracks. 

He loves having control, the power, it’s something he gets off on. So when he grabs your legs and pushes them back, folding you in half, you find yourself starting to cry once more. Not from discomfort, nor from sadness, just from pure overwhelm. 

“Toru,” you cry his name and he lets out a low grunt at how fucking sexy you sound. 

“Give me one more, sweet girl,” he dips his head to lock his lips with yours in a long kiss and all you can do is nod through your tears as he slips into you again. 

He’s quick to return to his previous pace, rough, deep, making sure you feel every single ridge of his cock inside you. You felt everything more now because of the new position, and you cling onto the pillow as you feel the tension building fast.

“I-I…I’m close, Toru,” you whine out and you sit up a little, mustering whatever strength you had left in that moment to pull him down to kiss you. With his lips on yours in a bruising kiss, his thumb rubbing quick circles on your swollen clit, and his cock pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, you’re tipped over the edge into the throes of bliss, breathless moans being drawn from you. You feel the rush of your second release wash over your body, this one stronger and more prominent than the first, every nerve ending in your body on fire. 

Satoru’s hips stutter at the feeling of your pussy clenching around him so tightly, and he tries to hold off but he doesn’t know if he can. He kisses you again, and again, finding a steady pace as he allows you to catch your breath for a moment. “Come for me,” you whisper to his lips, and it catches him off guard slightly, but he wasn’t ready for what you said next, “come in me.”

He groans your name deeply, rutting his hips roughly into yours a few more times until his orgasm takes hold of him, hot streams of cum being released into you and painting your walls. He slows to a stop and then lies on top of you, closing his eyes as he enjoys the high. Your hand threads through his soft hair, and you run your fingers through it gently, both of your bodies are covered in a sheen of sweat as you pant for breath. 

“You definitely sobered me up,” you let out a breathless, tired laugh. 

He looks up at you, giving you a languid kiss, staying connected and in your arms. 

“I had to mark my territory,” he shrugs and you flick his arm. “What? I had to remind you that you’re all mine, and always will be,” he smirks. 

 The phrase ‘fucked your brains out’ had found a whole new meaning, because, fuck, did he. 

~

Do not copy or translate my work.

© ashasdiary, all rights reserved.

[most-creature-vibe-tournament]

FINALS!!!

Propaganda:

Taylor Hebert (Worm (webserial by Wildbow))

Human girl who has superpowers that let her control bugs. She shunts all emotions off into her swarm of bugs, leaving her totally blank and stoic. She outsources sensory-input to her bugs, so she never looks or reacts to anything. In a fight, she reacts to opponents there is no possible way she could see, because she sensed them with her bugs. Overall has virtually no facial tells and moves in a way that makes her seem like she isn't a person. very creature <3 she is just a bug girl

shes such a FREAK. shes completely human (tho with an eldritch alien creature extradimensionally attached to her mind) but God does she not act like it sometimes. she has the superpower to control bugs and uses it to become the worlds most terrifying hero slash villain slash warlord slash apocalyptic threat. she has her bugs crawling all over her all the time. she uses a swarm of flies to scout out areas and then leaves flies in everybodys hair so she can keep track of where they are. she practiced having her bugs make noises until she figured out how to combine their noises into human speech so now she can talk through her swarm. she makes decoys of herself out of large pillars of bugs. once she was concussed and in the hospital and subconsciously calling her bugs to her so she was just covered in insects while the doctor tried to help her. then there was ANOTHER time she was hospitalized and got bored so she made a bunch of bugs so a little dance on her chest. whenever she's in costume and talking she has her bugs make noises to distort her voice and make her sound more scary and she doesnt even realize shes doing it anymore. she surrounds herself in a swarm to disorient her enemies. she doesn't even notice when her hair covers her eyes or anything like that because shes scouting out the area using her bugs so she doesnt have to see. she once used a tide of bugs to clean herself off and dust off her dress after having sex.

#she views herself as more of a swarm of bugs with a girl-shaped computer to control them than a girl herself#her body is just an extension of her bugs which is large and inconvenient but ultimately part of the weapon

#taylor “dissociates into bugs” hebert#taylor “keeps bugs in her hair” hebert#taylor “choke them with bugs” hebert#taylor “no one could ever love me” hebert#taylor “violence is always the answer” hebert

#normally i would want a worm character to win#but#bdubs is a strange little man. he's unusual.#Taylor's just got the 'tism.

she literally is a walking superorganism comprised of one human and a lot more bugs to the point where she frequently moves her head as if she can see through walls (with her bugs, she can), talks through her bugs, has been described like a corpse whose ghost is living on in her swarm, keeps functioning thru her bugs even when her human body is out for the count, et cetera. no disrespect intended but genuinely what in the world are you talking about. She cleans her pussy off with bugs after fucking. Her pussy. With bugs. And she thinks it's normal. Because the bugs are part of her. Is this thing on. I reiterate that she literally requires an emotional support cloak of bugs. She is so dissociated from being an actual person that she treats her human body like an inconvenience and her bugs like the primary operators. Is This Thing On.

#now i told myself i wouldnt comment anything on the rb... but#“She cleans her pussy off with bugs after fucking. Her pussy. With bugs.” CHAT IS THAT FUCKIN REAL??? IS THAT CANON???#cause if thats just a hc thats wild and i dont know if its better or worse if its canon#propaganda

this is indeed canon! there is a scene where, after fucking her boyfriend in an abandoned building, she stands up and cleans dust/etc off her naked ass body by having her bugs run across her and clean her, which presumably translates to "they are eating the dirt/sweat/etc off her." her boyfriend smiles affectionately at this, because he also has something wrong with him. she also does things like use bugs and spider silk to deliver her toothbrush straight to her hand in the morning while monologuing about "checking in on her hive" (her hive is the people in her villain territory.) she is a walking panopticon. her friends sometimes talk to bugs under the assumption it's taylor watching them and they're always right. at one point she confusedly asks someone if he's arachnophobic because he doesn't want her 10k black widow spiders to live in his apartment with him. she is basically like if a cockroach was a girl. I would never lie to you about Taylor Hebert, Unsung Champion of Polls About Weird Characters.

#taylor ofc#wait hey those are my tags as propaganda!! cool!#i stand by it#anyways yeah one of her main character traits when looked at by an outside perspective is just how WEIRD she is#everyone thinks she's a freak#even when you're reading her POV you sometimes have to stop and be like 'hey girl what the fuck'#one time she put bugs on her boyfriend's dick

She also turns into a bug monster at one point. Not all on her own, but she very much turns into a bug monster. Literally And Physically.

And she uses this to survive like a cockroach, she had Just Been Ripped In Fucking Half and thrown in the ocean to die and BOOM. bug monster transformation (with a little help) climb out and keep fighting, against an opponent so vast and powerful a human couldn't even comprehend his true form (not eldritch cognitohazard, just planet-sized + multidimensional), who could kill her in an instant. She's always surviving against the odds she's so cockroach coded (affectionate!) #@ pollrunner if you're still accepting propaganda please take the 'turns into a bug monster' as propaganda#the rest can be ignored or trimmed to 'she's always surviving she's so cockroach coded' but pleamse. the Time she Became A Bug

#she's such a freak!!!#she kills like it's the only thing she was built how to do#she kills people and things like it's chess and she's a grandmaster#as soon as the violence is off she's just a fucked up offputting little one woman panopticon

One of my favourite descriptions of Taylor from someone else's POV, from Interlude 14.

“A figure stood behind Yan. Her costume was barely recognizable—She wore a short cape of tattered black cloth over her body armor, a skintight black suit beneath that, and there were folds of black cloth draped around her legs like a dress or a robe. The entire fabric seemed to ripple and move. It took Sierra a second to realize it was crawling with a carpet of insects.”

“The disconcerting part was the girl’s face, or lack thereof. Her expression was masked behind a shifting mass of bugs that moved in and out of her hairline. Sierra couldn’t even tell where the bugs ended and the scalp began, as the small black bodies crawled into and onto the black curls. There was a hint of something like glass where Skitter’s eyes were, but the bugs ventured far enough over her eyelids and around the frames that nothing was visible in the way of goggles, glasses or skin.”

“Skitter hadn’t made a sound as she entered. She hadn’t spoken, and her footsteps had been quiet.”

#taylor “driving while blind wasn’t as hard as I’d thought it would be” hebert#taylor “hangs out in superpowered darkness for a long time without being at all worried” hebert#taylor “fools a near-perfect lie detecting hero by offloading her emotions on her bugs” hebert#taylor “figures out how to communicate with the Dog Autism girl like right away” hebert

#taylor hebert kill them with your self-sustained insectoid dehumanity!

Jonny d’Ville (The Mechanisms)

Since we’re not technically human

He’s so feral hes canonically committed every single crime theres a name for i think he deserves to have a tail that flicks around when hes being mischevous. perhaps some horns or fangs as well. as a treat

Idk why but he's a feral creature

Have you seen the man? Especially in that one picture where he is fully on the wall.

absolutely no canon implications that he isn't human, but that man* absolutely has a tail. and sharp teeth. and creature ears. he purrs but he pretends he doesn't and if you bring it up he'll bite you. he's had rabies more times than you can count.

#Just sayin#Johnny eats people and says it's not cannibalism if you aren't human

#DID LYF SING THE PART IN SLEEPING BEAUTY? NO. VOTE JONNY

#Jonny’s a creature#vote Jonny

#sorry for that Hermitfans but my boy Jonny is feral and i think he is a creature

#chat vote jonny#HES LITERALLY JUST A LITTLE CRITTER PLEASE

#look at that face#he’s a creacher

#it's jonny d'ville i don't have any more to say

All crimes but sex crimes, because Jonny isn’t a MONSTER

#JONNY#i'm so sorry pearl you are too well adjusted for this#he's got devil in his name#(that he gave himself because he's a huge fucking nerd)

#LITERALLY LOOK AT HIM THE GREMLIN ENERGY IS OFF THE CHARTS

#voted jonny for the rabies

also. hold up. the pearl propaganda is saying to vote for her because she's an alien and a bloodthirsty fighter? BOY DO I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU ABOUT JONNY FUCKING D'VILLE

five am pearl this five am pearl that, jonny's just like that all the time

#please vote jonny. i know we're pitting two bad bitches against each other but jonny has tried to eat a guitar

#CMON GUYS VOTE JONNY D’VILLE HES SUCH A CREATURE#HAVE YOU SEEN HIM??? HAVE YOU HEARD HIM TALK ABOUT THE OCTOKITTENS???#VOTE JONNY

#Jonny is such a creature

#jonny is literally THE creature

#come on vote Jonny that thing is creachur incarnate#and he can sing#his fave food is human flesh and more violence

Jonny man entire existence is teeth claws belts and trauma

#that guy is so feral#just vote jonny#also there was this one time where he found a half dead dude on the moon and brang it home to show to his gay pirate friends#just sayin#and also this harmonica solo over his father's dead body in one eyed jacks#iconic#anyway vote jonny

#literally jonny bites people and eats them regularly

[gallusrostromegalus]

So could it be said that Seiretei is Yamamoto sneaking his unionizing underneath the nobles' noses, if I understand correctly what he pulled, by getting all the psychics signed up to have food and wages and some sort of job security?

That is *EXACTLY* what he's doing.

Well, its the extremely sexy and cunning plan his Wife Tsubaki came up with but fortunately for him she thinks it's equally hot shit when he's a huge fucking problem for the Bourgeoisie on her behalf.

After she leaves him, his plans aren't quite as... subtle, but the willingness to be a huge asshole for the benefit of future generations remains, and what he can't get my subtle manipulation or cunning tactics he's more than willing to achieve with strategic use of extreme violence.

His first few years trying to manage Zaraki are... Difficult. Yamamoto often muses on the old curse of teachers that one should suffer a student just like yourself, as he struggles with another catastrophic asshole who unfortunately has the physical chops and social skills to back his bullshit up. The Giant Bastard's monstrous Reiatsu is it's own problem but unfortunately Zaraki is also in possession of a startlingly cunning mind, a long memory and a fiendish sense of humor. Tsubaki's influence on the lad became clear in the first captain's meeting when Zaraki dog-walked him through naming specific statutes until he had to admit defeat and let him restock the 11th with every freak and monster in the Rukongai.

...a week after The Calamity In Hiroshima though, Yamamoto realizes that A Giant Bastard is *exactly* what he needs.

It's midnight when he arrives at the 11th Division to 'have a little walk' with Zaraki.

It's 1:04 AM when he gets over to the 4th Division where the man actually is.

As the Giant Bastard is redressing (and Unohana is indicating via Very Pointed Eye Contact that there will be Consequences (TM) for this interruption) Yamamoto explains he needs Zaraki to come with him on a trip to "A Place several people who legally I do not know the names of- much less their professions! are gathering in secret. They have tremendous sway in the governing of Soul Society, and somehow they have gotten ahold of a Schematic for The Device. I think it only appropriate that they be reassured that the construction of such a device should not even be considered, as there is More Than Enough Destructive Power between the two of us, isn't there?"

Zaraki peered down at him with the one functioning eyeball (and the malfunctioning one too, if the prickling in Yamamoto's thumbs was anything to go by) for a minute and he worried he might have to try again with smaller words when Zaraki grinned in comprehension.

"I get it now!" He laughed, patting Yamamoto's shoulder and the old man sighed with relief.

"-Gotta say, it was kinda buggin' me, but now I see what Madame Tsubaki saw in ya!" he laughed, and Yamamoto realized several decades too late that Zaraki's former Employer and his own Ex-wife were one in the same.

"C'mon Grandpa, show me whose head needs knocking into the outer districts."

[whitehotwild]

!!!!!!!SPOILER FOR THE NEW EPISODE!!!!!!! but what if you were the one to make butcher realize kessler was a hallucination...

ouuuuu episode 6 pissed me off so bad (really just the hughie stuff, it made me feel so icky), but the butcher scenes were the few bits i actually appreciated. that part where butcher realizes its not real was so well done.

ANYWAY!!! sorry this took so long, this was really hard to write for whatever reason and im not… the most proud of it. BUT, i’ll post beach fluff soon (ish). LOVE YOU

☆ You got all the way to the subway station when you realize you'd forgotten your apartment keys at the office. You curse yourself during the almost 15 minutes it takes to walk 8 blocks and ride the elevator back up to the office that you barely notice Butcher talking to himself when you walk through the door. He doesn't notice you at all.

He's turned towards the back of the room, steady yapping away at the empty space where the noticeboard is. You wait, confused. Maybe he's talking to someone on the phone, but from what you can tell, his phone is nowhere near him.

"Who ya talking to?" You call from the door, assuming he's just talking to himself.

Butcher stops his one-sided conversation, turning in his chair to face you. "Back already? Was just talking 'bout you a minute ago; got someone I want you to meet." He waves you over as he stands up from his chair.

"Joe, this is our little wild card I was tellin' you about. Love, this is Joe Kessler, an old war mate of mine." He introduces you to the wall with his arm over your shoulder.

A mixture of shock and confusion washes over you as you look up at him. "Wha—Butcher…" you start, quiet concern heavy in your tone. " There's no one there."

Butcher pulls away and looks at you like you're the crazy one. "Fuck are you on about?" He looks between you and where Kessler stands in front of them, "He's standing right here, plain as fuckin' day."

"I-"You shake your head, "We are the only ones in here." Trying to reason with him, you keep your voice as steady as possible through your panic.

"She can't fuckin' see me, dumbass." Kessler snarks, a huff of amusement escaping him. "I'm you."

Butcher's brows furrow, a tense look in his eyes, "The fuck's that supposed to mean, you're me?"

"I mean, out of all the people your festering, fucked up brain coulda conjured up… ya picked me," Kessler answers with a proud smile.

Butcher reels back a bit at the sudden realization. The silence between you and him stretches on long enough, "Butcher… Joe Kessler is dead. You told me he died in Afghanistan, remember?"

About a year or two ago, you and Butcher got a little too deep over a bottle of whiskey. Somehow, the conversation led to Butcher telling you he was in the military, he told you about his friend Joe, he told you how Joe was probably the only person he knew who was as bad as him, and he told you that he died in the valley.

Butcher looks to you, "You fuckin' remember that? That was forever ago…" his brows furrow as he recalls the conversation.

"… I remember everything you tell me." You shrug as if that's the most obvious answer.

In the corner of Butcher's eye, Kessler mockingly pouts and coos, "Aw, ain't that fucking precious; looks like someone's got a little crush on you."

Butcher shakes his head with a scoff; you take it a bit personally, not being able to see Kessler. "No…"

"Man, c'mon. The real Joe Kessler? He's dead in the Panjshir Valley, you know that! You never dragged me out. You left me to die.."

"No… No. I remember that… I fuckin' remember that."

"Unless, of course, you got a big ol' fat V'd up brain tumor, ya cunt, which is why you are seeing me in the first place-"

"Butcher, you are freaking me the fuck out. Do I- Should I take you to the fucking hospital?" Your voice overlaps Kessler's in Butcher's head, "Not sure if you're aware, but seeing people that aren't there isn't fucking normal, especially for someone whose health is on a steady decline!"

Kessler groans, "Goddamn, she's a worse nag than your fuckin' wife!"

"Don't you fuckin' talk about her!" Butcher shouts back, but it's unclear to him whether he's talking about you or Becca. Maybe both? Maybe you?

"Butcher!" You can't take any more of this. You step before him, trying to draw his attention back to you.

His eyes shift from Kessler behind you, finally acknowledging you. "I ain't going to the fuckin' hospital. They're just gonna tell me what I already know." He shrugs like this might as well happen. He's already been talking to his dead wife for months. Why not tack on another one.

"Stop saying that shit, God! Fuck! You're not gonna fucking die!" You snap at him, shoving his chest.

Butcher looks at you, exasperation written all over his face. It feels like you've had this conversation a billion times, him casually mentioning his impending doom and you not having any of it, practically throwing a tantrum every time it comes up.

"Yeah? Because you've already found something to fix this? You have to stop with this. I'm dying. It is what it is." Butcher sighs heavily through his nose as he sits back in his chair.

He doesn't know how much more of this either of you can take. It always ends the same way: you make a promise to him that he knows you can't keep it, and he pretends to believe you just to calm you down.

Tears well in your eyes as you shake your head like a petulant child. "No! I already told you, no, I won't- I'm not gonna let you just fucking die. I'm gonna find a way to fix this. I already fucking told you that-"

"For fuck's sake, you can't fix this! What the fuck are you gonna do, huh? You gonna get Frenchie to cook up some magic cure for this? I ain't gonna put all my eggs in your basket. You don't know what you're doing, love. You're just chasin' your tail." Butcher tries to reason with you.

You groan out, "At least I'm fucking trying! Don't you think it's a little bit selfish to just… give up?! You got people who care about you, whether or not you wanna believe that! Hughie, Ryan-"

"You?"

"Yeah, me! I wouldn't be here yelling at you if I didn't fucking care about you, you fucking asshole! God, Butcher, are you fucking stupid? I can't keep-"

"Listen to her, Billy." Becca's voice rings in Butcher's head, and he does everything in his power not to look behind him. "Listen to her. She cares about you more than any of them, you know that. You have to listen to her."

Butcher stands up and lays his hands on your shoulders, "Shut up." His voice is ignored as you keep on with your rant. He shakes you gently, "Shut. Up. I believe you. I believe that you care about me, and I believe that you want to save me, but I know I can't hold my breath for something like that… But… You're you. You're stubborn, you're a pain in my arse, and you're the best at getting what you want. So I believe you. I'll believe you till I'm dead. That's the best I got."

A long silence passes between you before you shrug his hands off your shoulders and wrap your arms around his neck. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Billy. I'm gonna fix this, we're gonna fix it." Your tone is soft and full of promise, muffled by his shoulder.

All he can do is nod, he's hesitant as he wraps his arms around you, one hand fisting your shirt, his chin rests on your head. "I know, pet. I know you will."

(divider by @/plutism)

[its-time-to-write]

I saw you asked for requests a few days ago. I was wondering if you would consider doing another part of the Kent!reader x Jamie fics.

I was thinking they do end up pregnant and its them telling everyone they’re pregnant . I can see everyone being so excited for them. And then Roy is just freaking out.

Since they’ve already discussed wanting to be together forever and have kids I can also see them deciding to get married before the baby is born in a small ceremony like Beard had.

I have quite a few requests about Jamie x reader having a kid, so if that ain’t your jam, maybe don’t read my next few posts😂 It’s totally my jam tho, maybe bc I’m suffering from baby fever again. thanks for requesting and for your patience!!

let’s fall in love for the night  

Jamie’s jiggling his leg up and down so fast that you’re surprised he hasn’t cramped yet. 

“Calm down,” you hiss, hand on his knee. 

“Can’t,” he whispers back. “Roy’s gonna fucking kill me.”  

You have no sympathy for him. “Yeah, and whose fault is that? Yours.”

Jamie shoots you a sideways glance. “Excuse me, this was a team effort.”

“Whatever,” you say. “I still say it’s your fault.”

Molly swoops by to refill your water glasses. “Dinner’s ready in a few minutes. Roy and Phoebe have been working very hard,” she says. 

She raises her eyebrows on the word very, and you’re sure that Roy’s patience is being pushed to his limits. He loves cooking and refuses to let anyone help him, but he also loves your niece and can’t deny her anything she wants. 

“Better go check on them,” she says, leaving you and Jamie alone again in the backyard. 

Jamie resumes the previous conversation and says, “Well, I wasn’t the one wearing that blue thing with the flowers.”

“Well obviously,” you shoot back, “it wouldn’t even fit you.”

Jamie’s stopped jiggling his leg and he places his hand on top of yours. “Oi. Has Roy ever actually killed anyone before, or does he just have serial killer eyebrows?”

You wrinkle your nose and ask, “Why the fuck would I know?”

“You’re his sister,” Jamie replies in Phoebe’s patented duh tone. 

“I’m his baby sister,” you say. “I’m even younger than Molly. If he’s killed someone, they’ve both conspired to make sure I’ll never find out. And hey, don’t make fun of the eyebrows. There’s a good chance this baby’s gonna end up with them.”

“Babe you don’t have ‘em,” Jamie points out. 

“I wax,” you say smugly. “Oh, Molly texted. Time to go inside.”

Jamie groans but lets you lead him to the table. 

—

All told, Phoebe didn’t do half bad. 

“Auntie, I did the potatoes all by myself,” she says. 

You look to Roy for confirmation. He grunts and gives a tiny nod. 

“Great job, Phoebs,” you say. 

Molly sets down her fork. “I’ve been thinking of changing my name back to ‘Kent,’” she says. 

“Brill,” says Jamie. 

“Fucking finally,” Roy says as he hands Phoebe some money. “For future words,” he mouths to her as she counts it before depositing what you’re pretty sure is 20 quid into her pocket. 

Molly says, “We’ll all be the Kents again,” and you can feel Jamie go stiff next to you.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Roy asks, and you turn to see Jamie’s gone completely pale. 

You pinch his thigh and he jumps. “Nothing,” he says hurriedly. “Well, not nothing. But, I dunno, don’t want to overshadow Molls’s good news, ya know? It ain’t important.”

You pinch him again. 

“Ok, it’s actually a little fucking important (sorry Phoebe, take it from Roy). But um, maybe you could help me babe?”

He shoots you a pleading look so you take pity on him. You’ve had more than twenty years dealing with Roy, so you’ll let Jamie slide this once.

“Right, so, we’ve been meaning to tell you- I’m having a baby,” you blurt out. 

Roy’s dinner roll gets crushed in his hand as his face goes bright red. 

“What,” he growls, and you’re not sure if you’re more terrified by the absence of “fuck”s or the fact that it was a statement, not a question. 

“That’s wonderful, love!” Molly says before Roy can say anything else. She’s not looking at him but you can practically feel him take psychic damage from the shut up and be happy you prick, message she’s sure to be telepathically sending him. 

“It’s Jamie’s, right?” she continues, taking a bite of salad. 

“The fuck kind of question is that?” you ask indignantly. “Who else’s would it be?”

“You don’t have to pay me for that one,” Phoebe pipes up. “I’ll give you a free tab of one hundred words because of the baby. If it’s a girl, you can have fifty more.”

You grin. “Sounds like a plan.”

“You’re probably going to owe her the fifty, Phoebs,” Molly says. She points to Jamie with her fork. “I mean, look at him. He practically screams ‘girl dad.’” 

“That’s- fucking- great,” Roy garbles out. “‘Scuse me.”

“We’re having a backyard wedding next Saturday, too,” you call after him. “So we probably won’t all be the Kents again.”

You wince as he slams a door from somewhere in the house. 

“He’ll come ‘round,” Molly says consolingly. “Remember how he was with Phoebe? And I was already married!”

You grip Jamie’s hand. “Molls, why can’t he just emote like a regular person? I mean honestly, did our parents fuck him up that bad?”

Molly raises a shoulder in a half shrug. “I don’t know, babe. Think he’s just like us, really, afraid of loving something so he just pushes it all away. And besides, you’re the baby of the family. We’ve always tried to protect you and keep you safe, and sometimes he feels like you’re out of reach.”

You ask, “He told you that?” and Molly just laughs. 

“Not in so many words,” she replies. “But you know how he is.”

“He’s an arsehole,” you grumble. “I’m going to go talk to him.

—

Roy is, predictably, in the backyard. Not many places for him to go and think properly. 

You find him sitting under the tree. 

“Oi,” you say, “budge over.”

He grunts and moves so you’re not quite in the dirt. 

“Can you be sitting on the ground?” he asks. 

“It’s been like three months,” you reply, “That isn’t long enough for me to get stuck places.”

Roy says, “hmm,” but doesn’t offer up anything else so you just sit in silence next to him, pressing your shoulder to his. 

“Why the fuck did it have to be Tartt?” he asks after a beat. “Could’ve been fucking anyone in the fucking world, and you fucking chose him.”

“You like Jamie,” you say in confusion. 

“I don’t,” Roy replies, “he’s a prick. And a fucking footballer. Why’d you have to go for a fucking good-for-nothing footballer? He can’t even be around for his family when they go through shit because he’s going to be busy scoring fucking meaningless goals or some shit.”

That stings for a moment, but you take a good look at Roy’s face. It’s stoic, but shit if you can’t read it like a book. Blood is blood, and you’re a Kent just like him. 

“This isn’t about him, is it. It’s about you. You think you did a shit job as a brother and an uncle so Jamie’s going to be a shit father.”

“I missed out on a lot,” Roy says hoarsely. “And before you say fucking shit, I’m not fucking crying. So shut the fuck about it.”

You grin and wrap your arms around him. “You’re the best big brother a girl could ask for. Took all my cues from you. And anyway, you’ve been there when it counts. Phoebe fucking adores you, practically attached at the hip you two. And yeah, Molls and I missed you when you were at Sunderland and Chelsea and wherever. But… you came back. We needed you, and you came back. So don’t go projecting your stupid self-image on Jamie, because he’s not like that. And you’re not either, you absolute fucking ape-armed frizzy-haired shit-faced twat.”

Roy huffs out a chuckle. “Ape-arms. Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“Almost went with ‘camel knees.’ Haven’t used that since I was ten, but I thought it might hit too close to home these days.”

Roy laughs for real this time and tilts his head so it’s resting on yours. “Still fucking weird that my little sister’s having a kid.”

You say, “You’ll get over it. Oh, and don’t wear a goddamn T-shirt on Saturday.”

—

It’s rainy, so the backyard wedding becomes a living room wedding, because who really gives a shit? Richmond have a game tomorrow, but for today they’re in yours and Jamie’s house all dressed up (but still in trainers) laughing and smiling as Dani officiates what you’re sure is your dream wedding. 

It’s not the one you and Molly would’ve giggled about as kids when you sneaked from your bed into hers, but everyone you loves is here. 

For once, Jamie’s house almost seems too small.  

(Dani was the only person you two knew who was ordained or whatever. And hey, could you have picked a happier person for it?)

Molly and Keeley had gone out with you to find a white dress, Sam and Phoebe were the flower-people, and Roy walked you down the stairs to where Jamie was standing with Isaac by his side. 

“I’m not fucking crying,” Roy whispers in your ear. “It’s fucking allergies from being in this prick’s house for too long.”

“It’s my house too,” you remind him. 

Roy just sniffs, pats your hand where it’s tucked into his arm, and presses a kiss to your cheek.

All in all, it was pretty great. 

Gifts range from hair products to restaurant gift cards to designer baby clothes, including a tie-dyed onesie from Phoebe. 

“I have a matching one at home,” she explains. 

But now it’s the evening and everyone is gone except family. 

“Can’t believe my baby’s married,” says a beaming Georgie as she ruffles Jamie’s hair from their place on the couch.

“Can’t believe he attained his childhood goal of marrying into the Kent family,” Molly remarks. 

Jamie grins smugly. “What can I say, I’m a fucking goal-getter.”

You’re snuggled in Jamie’s arms, dress exchanged for a white sweatshirt and sweatpants set, courtesy of Rebecca. 

“I’d’ve had a poster of you on me wall if they made one, babe,” Jamie says. “Better sight than that hairy git.”

Roy just rolls his eyes and says “I’m getting another beer.”

“Can you bring me a piece of cake?” you call after him.

“Me too?” Phoebe asks, looking hopefully at Molly. 

Jamie pats your knee. “Don’t think he heard you, love. I’ll get it for ya. You too, Phoebs.” He shoots a wink in her direction, and she giggles. 

“Oi, grandad,” Jamie says, walking into the kitchen. “Did you hear your sister?”

Roy turns around from the fridge with a menacing look.  

“If she has a single moment of unhappiness, I’m going to fucking kill you,” he growls.

“Jesus, sorry,” Jamie says, hands in the air. “What’s got your knickers all in a twist?”

Fucking Jamie, never able to back down from a good squabble with Roy. 

They’re both keeping their voices down because they know if they got caught, no less than three people would be grabbing them by the ear and yelling. 

They might know this from personal experience. 

Roy says, “She’s my little sister. I’d fucking murder for her, and so would Molly. Always tried to make it easier for her when she missed our parents and shit, but it always fucking got to her anyway. Didn’t help that I fucked off to Sunderland at fucking nine, before she was even fucking born. She’s wanted a family of her own for fucking ages, and if you fuck this up for her they will never. Find. Your body.”

Jamie’s not sure Roy’s ever looked this menacing, which is saying something, because he’s Roy fucking Kent. He always looks menacing. 

So he nods and says quietly, “I ain’t gonna fuck it up, Coach. Had a shit dad too. Always wished he were around, except when he was then he’d get all fuckin’ angry and shit. But… still wanted him, y’know? Weird. Anyway, not gonna be like that with her. I want a family too.”

Roy looks straight into his eyes, looking for the barest hint of insincerity. Jamie’s gaze doesn’t waver. He’s not sure of much, but he’s sure of this. He’s sure of you. 

Roy says, “Right,” nods once, then claps Jamie on the shoulder right at his phone dings. 

Jamie pulls out his phone to a text from you that reads, pls stop fangirling over my brother. baby wants cake and so does ur mum

He smiles and tries to figure out how to balance three plates at once. 

[drdemonprince]

this will sound like one of those "let men be masculine" level niche internet community brained posts, but i honestly really was embarrassed of how much i like drag for a while. in the circles that i run in, liking drag too much is seen as pretty cringey and for wealthy cis gays. like everybody knows a few cool avante garde local performers that they fuck with who run queer dance parties that are inclusive and the like, but very few people that i know will just go to a drag show at an entertainment or social engagement for their own sake. it's almost seen as a tourist thing, a normie gay thing.

but its one of the few spaces where i can actually recognize a lot of feminine men and nonbinary man-thing-girly-freaks like of the particular type that i am. leather bars are so masc and buff and im often invisible. bear bars are really nice and i do feel welcome there! but people are only feminine in their mannerisms, not presentation very often. the more explicitly gender inclusive trans/queer spaces cater to more of a wlw and adjacent crowd whose relationships to masculinity and femininity are different from mine. circuit gay bars are obviously terrible.

drag is nice. there's guys with weird little haircuts and long earrings who aren't buff and are swishy and dress interestingly but are a little uncomfortable as their regular selves and have to don alternate personas in order to be outgoing. and i even like that it's okay to be bitchy and insulting sometimes in drag world, like sometimes that is just your genuine feedback on the work someone has done and it's not the end of the world. there's lot of open conflict in the drag world that actually works out pretty alright.

it's a local nightlife scene like all the rest, its got its theater kid bullshit and egos and superficiality out the ass and so many people are trying to be famous or make money, but even to this day i forget that i can just be a really weird feminine guy until i'm around some of them and watching them prance about. i worry about how i look or am being read and then even just watching a fucking drag race episode i'll see like 9 different guys who are so fucking androgynous with their weird assymetrical self cut haircuts that they pass less than i do and they're cis men. they have bodies or faces like i do. and in the local scene it's obviously even better because you're looking at real life people. maybe i should be over it by now but im not, i need to see weird little awkward feminine guys with funny outfits playing dress up and crying and fighting with one another because they never got over their last picked in gym class baggage. its meeee i relateee. i even like that its a little toxic! we've got some issues out here, let's joke with them and make a character of them instead of pretending to be nice!!

i tend to be pretty skeptical of "representation matters!" type shit but part of that is probably because i never really feel represented. i know, boo hoo, thin white man doesnt feel depicted on screen, sounds very silly. but then i see kade gottmik on drag race and i swell with emotion and suddenly feel like who i am is POSSIBLE in this world and i realize that even with all my privileges i am starved for representation and that it does benefit you to have it. theres trans guys on screen but thats not close enough to ping that ooh!!! ahh!!! i can love myself!! radar for me. it has to be a very particular kinda person. matt bernstein makes me feel similarly

[timemachineyeah]

I think it’s interesting that we learn Philip and Caleb became witch hunters to fit in to the existing culture of Gravesfield.

Because the thing about witch hunts is, there’s a lot of zealotry and tattling involved. If they weren’t a pair of traveling radicals, but rather two side characters in an ongoing town furor? That changes things.

Up until now I’ve been a little curious about the dynamic of having Philip be the younger brother. We are more used to stories where the older person has authority over the younger in a way that allows them to be despotic. Basically when you have two siblings in fiction and one is evil, it’s usually the older one. But Caleb seemed pretty chill? People with chill authority figures usually don’t grow up to do genocide? But Philip is really committed to genocide? And jealousy over your older brother getting a girlfriend is a weird thing to genocide over?

But now we learn, that’s not really the story. Or not the whole story.

This is a JoJo Rabbit situation. This is a Hitler Youth situation.

In a town that’s in a fervor to find the hidden secret evil citizens among them, kids are potentially dangerous. The children you love and care for are also the most likely to be unsavvy and get you killed. Sometimes older relatives under those circumstances have to, or at least feel like they have to, let their younger family members be indoctrinated without openly opposing it, even pretending to support it, because, well. Children talk. Often without filter. Maybe it would be okay, but

Is it worth risking one or both of you being hung in the square to test that theory?

So they get to this town. This town will hang or burn you if you aren’t pious enough. And this town defines piety by its hatred of The Devil. We are all trying to prove we hate the devil the most. And Caleb, older brother, is like, okay then. That’s what’ll keep us fed. That’s what’ll keep us safe. He’s not a zealot so much as he’s just trying to keep him and his kid brother alive and win the town’s favor. Maybe the zealotry even freaks him out a bit, but not enough. Not until he meets Evelyn.

But Philip? Philip believes. Of course he does. His brother has never made any indication to him that there’s room for doubt. No one has ever done that. At least no one whose execution he didn’t later watch with his entire community cheering it on. Because they were dangerous. Everyone knows how this neighbor got sick, how witches caused that terrible accident, how Satan tries to keep us from our eternal salvation. This is literal. This is real. This is eternal souls and cosmic reality. He’s a kid, at first. He gets indoctrinated young. He believes this.

And then they find the actual realm of demons. Actual hell. The source of all evil in the universe. Fucking obviously it is his divine calling to destroy it once and for all. Wouldn’t you? If you could end all suffering? Save everyone for eternity? Surely that is noble. Righteous. Sacred.

And how is he supposed to believe anything else? What is easier to believe: the whole world is a lie and he has been watching innocent people killed for entertainment since he was a child - which goes against everything he was ever taught and also feels fucking bad. Or: the witches used their evil magic to convince my brother they aren’t evil, which proves how evil they are. That lines up perfectly with everything I know, everything everyone around me has always said, and makes it okay that I participated in those public executions, and also gives me some good righteous anger to fuel me on a genocidal rampage for as long as I continue to exist.

In Philip’s head, he’s the center of his dramatic fantasy epic. He’s the lone hero up against the big bad. He’s going to take on the Devil himself.

Idk, I just think it’s cool that The Owl House was like, “hey, Satanic panics, fascism, and genocide are allied ideologies, perhaps even the same ideology, and it’s Bad”

Also, “societal pressure to conform enables and even encourages people to hurt those they love”. Camila tried to send Luz to camp because she didn’t want Luz to be bullied the way she had been, because Luz’s principal told her she had to. It was a gesture born out of a desire to protect her, but one that would ultimately hurt. Caleb let Philip grow up more pious than he was because it seemed safest, to protect him. Philip grew up believing in eternal damnation and righteous cruelty, something that has clearly ultimately hurt him I mean look at what he is now. Philip, meanwhile, hurt Caleb and continues to hurt his family because he thinks there’s a Right and Wrong way to exist. To be. The ultimate call for conformity. For hegemony. But he didn’t spontaneously generate this belief. It was reinforced from a young age from a society that wanted to make sure no one was deviating too much. To centralize and maintain power through manipulation, exploitation, and force.

Anyway I cannot fucking wait for Camila and Eda to meet oh my fucking god

[abbysdruidess]

˜”°•.˜”°• headcanons about you and abby's wedding - modern au •°”˜.•°”˜

wc: 1.1k

warnings: wedding w modern au(obvs), crying, tooth rotting fluff, allusions to sex, no use of y/n

a/n: lmk what you guys think of this one and whether you'd like more of reader and Abby in this universe! don't hesitate to send any requests<33

this is sort of on theme with a previous fic where abby proposes to you, this one can be read as a standalone though:))

❦ after the proposal, you guys hurrying too much to get the wedding off the road and on the rails- you're still extremely proud and giddy to call each other your fianceé, and you've sent about 100 pictures of your wedding ring to everyone.

❦ it isn't until one night where you're having dinner over at jerry's that he brings up the wedding preparations and you're like oh shit, you two kinda need to haul ass and start sending invites.

❦ you decided on a small affair, only your immediate families and close friends over. I imagine that in the insistence of your future brother in law Lev you sent out RSVP invitations that were ocean themed with cute little sharkies on the front that say in a vast ocean of people we found each other(💀). A lot of people found them pretty funny though, and Lev was pretty excited about them.

❦ on par with the beach theme of your engagement, you decided to have the wedding on a beautiful beach resort in the beginning of June-not too hot, not too cold;)-with the ceremony and the reception on the shore.

❦ of course, you couldn't leave out the bachelorette party! You and Abby travel to Vegas with your respective friend groups for a weekend of clubbing and partying in general. And lets be fr, someone from either of two groups ends up getting lost and you have to recover him Hangover style. Thank God you didn't arrange for it the day before the wedding.

❦ the days before the upcoming event are mostly a blur, both of you making last minute arrangements about the food, the flowers, the music. Your gown with the final adjustments is delivered and you have to hide it in a fridge box in the basement so Abby won't take a peek.

❦ "But baaabe, I just wanna see what it looks like! You know this stuff about bad luck isn't actually legit." "I know, but it will be more exciting to see the final look at the wedding. I promise you."

❦ finally the big day is here! And let me just say, as a very emotionally constipated person, you'd probably be a little teary eyed all day long. When you put on your gown and look at yourself in the mirror and realise that holy shit, I'm about to marry the love of my life, my Abigail, she wants to spend the rest of her life with me. And this just hits you all at once and a few tears run down your chin.

❦ if you have any wedding traditions from your culture that you'd like to honour, Abby would be 100% down for it. It makes her feel closer to you, and part of the new family she's going to be in. She also really likes listening to its origins and what it's supposed to represent. In my country, we do this thing where the wedding squad writes all their names down in the couples' shoes and by the end of the night whoever's name is the most smudged is the one who's going to get married first. Let's be real, if they did this, it'd probably Manny whose name had almost disappeared and he'd freak the fuck out.

❦ once you're ready to walk down the aisle, and you glance at Abby you let out a small ᵍᵃˢᵖ at the sight, with Abby dressed to the nines and a glowing expression on her beautiful face. Her mouth also formed a little O at the sight of you, ready to become her wife, looking so so happy and a slightly teary eyed.

❦ during the actual ceremony, you two keep stealing glances at each other, smiling kinda goofily like :]. You two are goobers fr.

❦ for the vows, I think the game establishes that Abby is a big bookworm, so she chooses something perhaps from Emily Bronte or Jane Austen. Of course this isn't the entirety of what she wrote, she just finds it more accurate to express her love for you through someone's else perfectly adept words.

❦ once the reception kicks in, you're carefully wiping tears from your eyes so you don't smudge your makeup, and take some photos with the wedding party on the beach. You're accepting everyone's congratulations for your newlywed status, and settling down to prepare for your first dance.

❦ you had decided on dancing to Por Una Gabeza, and had actually rehearsed the slow tango a couple times so your movements are synchronised. By the end of the dance, you're in each other's arms, cheek to cheek simply enjoying the moment.

❦ by the time you've finished you meal, the party is in full swing, and you join in for a few dances until you decide on a cake break and allow Yara to be Abby's dancing partner. By the way, your wedding cake? Exquisite, chocolate ice cream with strawberry.

❦ I also imagine you guys doing the whole tossing the bouquet thing and -surprise surprise!-it ends up on Manny's lap on accident. He almost leaves.

❦ by the night, you're both clinging to each other, ready to resume your lives as Mrs and Mrs, and also ready to break into the bridal bed. Seriously, you can feel Abby's fingers feeling up your thigh and she's been whispering the things she wants to do to you all night. By 2 in the morning you're home, very much exhausted by the preparations and the emotional high, but also very ready to let Abby peak what's under your bridal gown.

❦ for wedding gifts to each other? She hands you two tickets for some exotic island you guys always talked about going, and make it your honeymoon. You get her an antique vinyl record player, because she had always been going about getting something to listen music to while cooking. Needless to say you both love each other's gifts:D

❦ a week or so after the ceremony you receive the photographs, and Abby makes it her duty to hand them on every corner of the house. Seriously, at some point, you could see a photo of you two in your field of vision pretty much about everywhere.

❦ her favourite one remains in her desk, one where you two are about to leave, sweaty and drunk, the camera capturing your musky faces as you sit on her lap clinging for dear life. It's so sweet and endearing, and it reminds her why she married you in the first place.

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

yknow we do a lot of like stevie realising she's transfem bc of a dare or like robin telling her about queer stuff and having a 'you can do that?' moment, but now im thinking of stevie who figures it out entirely on her own and doesn't know how to tell anyone. like she doesn't fully have the words and even with robin it's like. one thing to be gay but gender stuff is a whole other level and she has no idea where she stands on that

but like, stevie who used to play with his mothers makeup as a child, whose parents would laugh at his antics until he got too old to be so childish, time to act like a Real Boy. and every time he's supposed to act like One Of The Boys he thinks of how it felt when his mom would do his hair for him and comment on how alike they looked, and how much better that felt, and he knows that isn't normal, and he has to be normal

but after the upside down that really seems to matter less. nothings fucking normal anymore, why should steve be? so she starts branching out a little. breaks into her mothers closet again, tries on all the clothes she left behind when she went on her latest trip. slowly amasses a decent collection of makeup by going to several different stores over the course of months with the excuse of 'oh my mom/girlfriend sent me to pick up x'. she doesn't do the Whole Deal often, in case nancy comes over or later in case the kids suddenly ask her to drive them somewhere. doesn't do anything that can't be removed in like three seconds. and she's definitely never telling anyone about this. she doesn't know anyone who would understand.

after starcourt, she wonders about telling robin sometimes. like sure, stevie doesn't like men but she's still like. some kind of queer. robins the only other queer person she knows (and yeah, robin turning her down bc she was only into girls did sort of hurt, but it wasn't robins fault bc she didn't know, and also it turned out stevie just didn't understand what actual friendship felt like so it was for the best anyway), so if she can't tell robin who can she tell?

but something always stops her. robins technically never done anything that makes stevie think she'd be mean about it, but there's something like imposter syndrome keeping her mouth closed. like she's not the right kind of queer. like robins being queer the good and honest way and stevies just being some kind of freak. and yeah, she knows it's dumb to think like that and robin would call her a dingus if she said it out loud, but it sits pretty heavy in her heart

so it's not until after vecna, when stevies on the eddie shift in the hospital and eddie says, while high on possibly every drug in the world, 'man i spent all that time trying to grow my tits and bats ate an entire boob in under five minutes' and stevie goes ??? what???? and eddie, still too high to self-censor, makes some comment like yeah they weren't huge but that black market estrogen i got was finally working its magic, definitely had like an a-cup. rest in peace. and stevies like why were you growing boobs?? 'bc girls are supposed to have boobs, man, keep up'

and eddie passes out again like five seconds later, but stevie just sits there watching her snore with her heart about to beat out of her chest because. holy shit. she's not the only one. eddie might understand, might be able to help her, if she was able to grow her own boobs. stevie would love to grow her own boobs. she'd stuffed some socks down a bra once and they looked lumpy as hell but even just the suggestion of a bust had almost brought her to tears.

and suddenly, looking at the sleeping form of the first person stevie has ever met that she's ever had this so intrinsic thing in common with, everything doesn't seem so scary

[friccafracc]

For the love of god info dump about the fucked up creature known as vash

OK SO HERES THE THING RIGHT ppl on twitter dot com have this trend going on with Vash the Stampede from the series TRIGUN, mainly the most recent studio Orange reboot's incarnation. The headcanon's origin is unknown to me, but I've seen lots of stellar art on the concept of Vash appearing as human but slightly to the left--which is very much in line with his original concept. This is Uncanny Vash; a Vash whose teeth are a little bit too sharp, whose eyes glow eerily in the dark, and who has strange glowing markings all over his body and i LOVE all of it SO MUCH. but most of it is not uncanny. Its monstrous.

Uncanny is what happens when someone's skin looks more like plastic than flesh. Someone who's smile stretches a bit too wide. Who's eyes are unblinkingly wide. Uncanny is undetectable at a glance. It's just someone you pass on the street. Maybe they give you sort of a strange vibe, but nothing worth dwelling on. You feel it when you stand next to them in the grocery line. Something about them starts rubbing you the wrong way. Their arms and fingers are too long, they way they turn their head is too smooth and slow. Their eyes are glassy. You notice they dont exactly know how to smile properly, or that it just looks like they're snarling. Their voice doesn't sound like it should be coming from them, like they stole it from someone else. Realizing these things feels akin to being boiled alive. It makes your skin crawl and you mind screams at you to get away. Uncanny is when something that isnt human is doing its best to mimic being human, and its almost there. I want uncanny Vash to struggle learning how to blend in with humanity and FREAK PEOPLE OUT ABOUT IT. i want him to scare people enough he becomes a creature whispered about like the boogeyman to scare naughty children into behaving. The human face is so complex and expressive, Vash finds it difficult to nail simple expressions like being happy or sad, so when he smiles it looks like hes about to start chasing you through the woods on all fours. I want him to keep his big blue eyes WIDE THE FUCK OPEN in the DAY on a DESERT PLANET. But hes not malicious or anything, hes the same ol' goofy, tragic Vash

[lexithwrites]

what bkdk fics have you read and really liked? what other mha ships do you read?

OKAY! Imma do a lil fic rec list rn because I’ve been reading BakuDeku like crazy and have some good bookmarks. Now, I still have a LOT of bookmarked stories to get through, so I'll be sure to update this if people would like me too, but here are my fav bakudeku fics/short stories I've read so far:

From The Sidelines by suffocatingspring

You know this had to be on here, its just,,,,i know people have mixed opinions (mostly the outfit choices which i do agree with are,,,,choices) but this story was beautiful. I loved katsuki's chapters so fucking much, being able to see inside his mind and how he thinks and views izuku was amazing and its just a really fun, angsty, romance filled story. its quite smutty, although i think people freak out about that a little too much on tiktok but thats coming from someone that writes petplay regularly lmao, but i really love this. its so long, its addicting, and my god its CINEMATIC. this was the first bakudeku fic i ever read too, so it really got me into the anime again as well as the ship PLUS IT HAS SO MUCH GOOD 80s MUSIC THAT IVE SAVED AND LISTEN TO DAILY NOW PLS DOWNLOAD THE PLAYLIST FOR THE FULL EXPERIANCE MY GOD

It's Okay Because its You by suffocatingspring

this is the authors only other story and it was another joy! ive never read hanahaki stories before but it was gut wrenching, ilterally, how beautiful and horrifying the fictional disease is. we see a pining, desperatley in love katsuki with such a sweet izuku. they're both silly for not admitting their feelings but we had to have the angst somewhere, it was just another joy to read!

Drop Dead, Gorgeous by thewunderkind

THIS. FIC. its got rpg, its got angst, its got miscommunication, its got childhood friends to lovers, its got the bakusquad being so into this relationship, its got BOTTOM BAKUGO, and its got police officer deku in uniform good lord guys. its so fucking funny and sweet and fluffy and just very lovely, i havent fully finished it yet but im so into the world they've created, i fucking love video games and romance bro UGHHHHHH and katsuki is a DESPERATE man in this one, also the video game lore??? its great

Save Your Tears by starless_skies

this fic has kept me up at night. its not completed yet, the author hasn't updated since june, and im truly praying to a god i dont believe in that they update one day. im so into this story, its got bumbass yo shindo in it (i love him in canon but hes a bitch here) and izuku just doing his best and THEN ONCE AGAIN YEARNING PINING BAKUGO WHOSE ALWAYS LOVED HIM BUT LET HIM GO TO WORK ON HIMSELF PLEASE i love this bakugo guys seriously, and their relationship is so beautiful and they know each other like clockwork, HOWEVER i will say there are a couple TW in this one for what id say is emotional abuse in the marriage, just a lot of mistrust and lying and MAJOR gaslighting so just bare that in mind going into it, Yo is a twat

if anyone has any fic recs for other mha ships pls send them my way! i love kiribaku, tododeku, kirirmina, momojiro, todomomo, kamijiro, and ive been eyeing up todobaku,,,,,i'll read a lot haha

[piratefishmama]

Crossing The Line | Part 7

Again. Right. Okay. Again, Kas wanted him to say it again. Cool. Definitely wasn’t high key anxiety inducing to do it the first time. Robin was right, straight from wooed to the apartment? Probably not going to happen, he was super overestimating his level of game.

He had no game. None, nada, zip, zilch, bupkis.

He almost bailed, almost bolted with his tail between his legs but no, no he’d be brave, sure this man was kind of an asshole to him and honestly it may be a bad idea because what if he was still an asshole, like… what if he was just constantly an asshole, like… toxic kind of asshole. He had to hope though, someone that pretty couldn’t be awful, right? In what universe would that be fair?

“Uh… you, me, dinner? Tonight maybe? Or tomorrow if that’s better. Or… or y’know, any day this week, I’m flexible.”

“Why?” The guy practically choked, his grip on the rolling pin loosening a little. “I mean—why me?” Why him? Why him? God why him? Why the nerdy metalhead whose name he didn’t even know? Why the guy who’d spent a whole week bitching him out over social media over an experiment? Steve didn’t know.

He had no idea! He didn’t know why he’d fallen so hard so fast, why he’d spent hours just watching those talented fingers dance along the neck of that beautiful warlock, he had no idea, Steve was just following the dopamine and Kas seemed to be an endless supply of it for him.

“Uhm, I like you?”

“You don’t even know me, dude. In fact, the only knowledge you have of me is that I bitched you out for a week.” True, he didn’t seem to be gearing up to apologise for that either. The anxiety was only growing by the second, oh no. He felt so small all of a sudden, so stupid, of course it was stupid, he never should have come. “And now you come and what… hunt me down at work and ask me out? That’s so fuckin weird an I’m—"

“Grass, bitch, and I’m the mower!!” Steve had to spin round fast just to catch Robin as she stormed in there having been listening close by the door, the grip on that rolling pin tightened again.

“Jesus H. Christ!” The rolling pin poised to launch.

“Robin, no!”

“No he’s being mean again! I’m not having it! You spent a whole week just lying there mooning over this fucking idiot’s hands for crying out loud even when he was being a dick to you for something you only did for fun and now we’ve come all this way and he’s being mean in person and I’m not having it, I refuse, lemme at him!” Honestly ‘Kas’ was lucky Steve was as strong as he was, Robin would have gotten out of that hold easy if he were any weaker.

“Mean?! I’m being HONEST, you psycho!”

“Motherfucker, I’ll show you psych—"

“ROBIN!” She stopped struggling. Steve rarely raised his voice, honestly the only time he ever raised his voice was when the kids were involved. When pushy labels or producers tried shit with his kids, that was the only time Steve ever raised his voice. Also that one brief stint in acting where the script demanded it. “Go back outside.”

“But—”

“Go, i’m a grown man, I can fight my own battles, now go back out there.” His voice back to its usual soft tone, she shot the other man a sharp glare before returning back through the swinging door “go sit down! Away from the door!”

“FINE!” She’d have only lingered behind that door again if he hadn’t told her not to. Steve kept an eye on the door for a moment, just in case, before turning back to Kas, his shoulders slumping as a deep sigh escaped him at the sight. The poor guy was backed right into that little gap, rolling pin clutched tight to his chest, this was a bad idea, he looked so freaked.

“I’m sorry.” Steve breathed softly. “I’m sorry for Robin, she’s uh—she’s protective, and um, for turning up out of nowhere, for scaring you, I really didn’t mean to turn up at your work, this was… this was hugely by a weird amount of chance,I just… I was going to go to your gig? We even bought clothes for it but uhm… shit, I should have just... I dunno, dm’d you or something, it would have been easier.” Probably wouldn’t have wasted the money on the flights or the apartment that way, Kas could have just rejected him over DM! “And uh… I’m not stupid, like… I know I don’t know you, I still don’t know your actual name, or if you even like guys, I wasn’t assuming just… hoping, but… I dunno, I was hoping at dinner I could get to know you an y’know… we’d hit it off despite our obvious differences in musical preferences…” maybe they could have been friends if nothing else.

The silence drew on for a moment, Steve had said his piece, and Eddie was clearly processing it, eyes flitting, micro expressions creasing his brow, his jaw shifting in a way that made it obvious that he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, and the grip on the rolling pin had relaxed again.

“…You were going to come to my gig?”

“Mmhm, Tuesday 9pm, right? Robin forced me to get different clothes because what I was going to wear probably wouldn’t have cut it.”

“What were you going to wear?”

“You’ll mock me.”

“I won’t.”

“You will”

“I promise I won’t.”

“…Promise?”

“Scouts honour.” He even put the rolling pin down to do the little hand gesture. Cute, Steve thought to himself.

“I’m dubious of your history of boy scoutery” he could see the quirk of a lip, just a little ghost of a smile at the corner of Kas’s lips “but fine, okay, I’ll trust you to be gentle, I have this really nice grey sweater vest, and I was gonna put a—” his words cut short by the snort of a laugh that bubbled from his ridiculous crush “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“Sweetheart, I said I wouldn’t mock, I said nothing about laughing” sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart— moving on. “A sweater vest at a metal gig? Cute.” The way his voice dipped? Unfair on every level.

Every single goddamn level.

“Y-yes well, now I have a new outfit, so you won’t get to see the sweater vest.”

“Oh, oh no” Kas clutched his hand to his chest as if pained “the pain! Jail for you, jail for one hundred years, you’ve hurt me so very deeply. Jail for the pretty boy.” Pretty boy? Steve felt those invasive little bastard butterflies kick up a flurry in his chest, pretty boy? “I really won’t ever get to see the sweater vest? That’s just a goddamn travesty, truly” it sounded sarcastic but honestly it also didn’t. It was a weird mix, like he was taking the piss but also being genuinely honest. “Worst punishment you could give me, no sweater vest for Eddie.”

Eddie.

“No sweater vest for Eddie” Steve parroted with a smile so full of sunshine warmth that Eddie couldn’t stop himself from mirroring it. Maybe… maybe it wasn’t a lost cause then… maybe he could still make this work maybe— “So… uhm… dinner?” Maybe he wouldn’t get shot down if he asked again.

“…Ask me again after the gig if you enjoy the show.” Oh the hopes, they were HIGH, he knew he’d like the show! He knew he would! “Now, about that coffee you and your menace to society came in for.”

“Fuckin heard that you moms' basement dwelling bitch baby!!”

“She seems lovely.” Steve only let out a quiet snrk of a laugh.

Part 9

[most-creature-vibe-tournament]

Semifinal 1

Propaganda:

Taylor Hebert (Worm (webserial by Wildbow))

Human girl who has superpowers that let her control bugs. She shunts all emotions off into her swarm of bugs, leaving her totally blank and stoic. She outsources sensory-input to her bugs, so she never looks or reacts to anything. In a fight, she reacts to opponents there is no possible way she could see, because she sensed them with her bugs. Overall has virtually no facial tells and moves in a way that makes her seem like she isn't a person. very creature <3 she is just a bug girl

shes such a FREAK. shes completely human (tho with an eldritch alien creature extradimensionally attached to her mind) but God does she not act like it sometimes. she has the superpower to control bugs and uses it to become the worlds most terrifying hero slash villain slash warlord slash apocalyptic threat. she has her bugs crawling all over her all the time. she uses a swarm of flies to scout out areas and then leaves flies in everybodys hair so she can keep track of where they are. she practiced having her bugs make noises until she figured out how to combine their noises into human speech so now she can talk through her swarm. she makes decoys of herself out of large pillars of bugs. once she was concussed and in the hospital and subconsciously calling her bugs to her so she was just covered in insects while the doctor tried to help her. then there was ANOTHER time she was hospitalized and got bored so she made a bunch of bugs so a little dance on her chest. whenever she's in costume and talking she has her bugs make noises to distort her voice and make her sound more scary and she doesnt even realize shes doing it anymore. she surrounds herself in a swarm to disorient her enemies. she doesn't even notice when her hair covers her eyes or anything like that because shes scouting out the area using her bugs so she doesnt have to see. she once used a tide of bugs to clean herself off and dust off her dress after having sex.

#she views herself as more of a swarm of bugs with a girl-shaped computer to control them than a girl herself#her body is just an extension of her bugs which is large and inconvenient but ultimately part of the weapon

#taylor “dissociates into bugs” hebert#taylor “keeps bugs in her hair” hebert#taylor “choke them with bugs” hebert#taylor “no one could ever love me” hebert#taylor “violence is always the answer” hebert

#normally i would want a worm character to win#but#bdubs is a strange little man. he's unusual.#Taylor's just got the 'tism.

she literally is a walking superorganism comprised of one human and a lot more bugs to the point where she frequently moves her head as if she can see through walls (with her bugs, she can), talks through her bugs, has been described like a corpse whose ghost is living on in her swarm, keeps functioning thru her bugs even when her human body is out for the count, et cetera. no disrespect intended but genuinely what in the world are you talking about. She cleans her pussy off with bugs after fucking. Her pussy. With bugs. And she thinks it's normal. Because the bugs are part of her. Is this thing on. I reiterate that she literally requires an emotional support cloak of bugs. She is so dissociated from being an actual person that she treats her human body like an inconvenience and her bugs like the primary operators. Is This Thing On.

#now i told myself i wouldnt comment anything on the rb... but#“She cleans her pussy off with bugs after fucking. Her pussy. With bugs.” CHAT IS THAT FUCKIN REAL??? IS THAT CANON???#cause if thats just a hc thats wild and i dont know if its better or worse if its canon#propaganda

this is indeed canon! there is a scene where, after fucking her boyfriend in an abandoned building, she stands up and cleans dust/etc off her naked ass body by having her bugs run across her and clean her, which presumably translates to "they are eating the dirt/sweat/etc off her." her boyfriend smiles affectionately at this, because he also has something wrong with him. she also does things like use bugs and spider silk to deliver her toothbrush straight to her hand in the morning while monologuing about "checking in on her hive" (her hive is the people in her villain territory.) she is a walking panopticon. her friends sometimes talk to bugs under the assumption it's taylor watching them and they're always right. at one point she confusedly asks someone if he's arachnophobic because he doesn't want her 10k black widow spiders to live in his apartment with him. she is basically like if a cockroach was a girl. I would never lie to you about Taylor Hebert, Unsung Champion of Polls About Weird Characters.

#taylor ofc#wait hey those are my tags as propaganda!! cool!#i stand by it#anyways yeah one of her main character traits when looked at by an outside perspective is just how WEIRD she is#everyone thinks she's a freak#even when you're reading her POV you sometimes have to stop and be like 'hey girl what the fuck'#one time she put bugs on her boyfriend's dick

She also turns into a bug monster at one point. Not all on her own, but she very much turns into a bug monster. Literally And Physically.

• And she uses this to survive like a cockroach, she had Just Been Ripped In Fucking Half and thrown in the ocean to die and BOOM. bug monster transformation (with a little help) climb out and keep fighting, against an opponent so vast and powerful a human couldn't even comprehend his true form (not eldritch cognitohazard, just planet-sized + multidimensional), who could kill her in an instant. She's always surviving against the odds she's so cockroach coded (affectionate!) #@ pollrunner if you're still accepting propaganda please take the 'turns into a bug monster' as propaganda#the rest can be ignored or trimmed to 'she's always surviving she's so cockroach coded' but pleamse. the Time she Became A Bug • #she's such a freak!!!#she kills like it's the only thing she was built how to do#she kills people and things like it's chess and she's a grandmaster#as soon as the violence is off she's just a fucked up offputting little one woman panopticon • One of my favourite descriptions of Taylor from someone else's POV, from Interlude 14.

“A figure stood behind Yan. Her costume was barely recognizable—She wore a short cape of tattered black cloth over her body armor, a skintight black suit beneath that, and there were folds of black cloth draped around her legs like a dress or a robe. The entire fabric seemed to ripple and move. It took Sierra a second to realize it was crawling with a carpet of insects.” “The disconcerting part was the girl’s face, or lack thereof. Her expression was masked behind a shifting mass of bugs that moved in and out of her hairline. Sierra couldn’t even tell where the bugs ended and the scalp began, as the small black bodies crawled into and onto the black curls. There was a hint of something like glass where Skitter’s eyes were, but the bugs ventured far enough over her eyelids and around the frames that nothing was visible in the way of goggles, glasses or skin.” “Skitter hadn’t made a sound as she entered. She hadn’t spoken, and her footsteps had been quiet.”

Goodtimeswithscar (Hermitcraft / life series)

Scared for life

I must say that scar, who is a vex and an elf, wins this one.

He was also a witch, but was so busy building an airplane he didn't even notice it. Probably because he is so used to shape changing, having also been a pirate, wizard, trader, superhero, and imagineer.

There were also some rumors about him being a mattress store but those have been debunked.

[sansxfuckyou]

sugar and spice, but not so nice

Summary: Riff's definitely not hurting for a Pop Troll, regardless, Barb offers to lend him a hand in getting Floyd's attention

Warnings: swear words censored when spoken by Pop Trolls cause its funny, there is tension and its almost sexual

Authors Note: the fliff brainworms got to me guys, I couldn't stop myself the second I got a keyboard in hand, it just happened. hope ya'll enjoy, and if you do consider dropping a reblog or checkin' the ao3 port

"Really, Riff? That Pop freak is the Troll you're jonesing for?" Barb asked.

Riff just nodded and Barb had the audacity to laugh, "What's so funny about it?"

"Oh nothing, it's just that he's the epitome of sugar, spice, and everything nice," Barb stated boldly, almost abrasively at that. She looks so very, very disappointed in Riff, "C'mon man! There's so many rockers and you choose a Pop troll! We got Death, we got Punk, we got Thrash- and you choose someone who clearly isn't any of the above."

"He's sort of like, Pop Punk," Riff said, "But he could totally pull a death scream if he wanted too."

Barb scoffed, "He's pink, he's so pink it makes me want to vomit."

"Magenta," Riff corrected sharply, "His hair is magenta and white, we could introduce him to hair dye."

"That's illegal in Pop," Barb said, "He'd be staked if you dyed his hair."

"Then he could stay in Rock, until it faded out, just for a little bit," Riff said.

Barb gave a faux gag and the tuft of her tail puffed up, "You're gross."

Riff props the rim of his toque up with the blunt end of his drumstick, "How about Viva? Isn't she also a Pop troll?" He's pushing his luck, he's pushing it harder than he thought he ever would.

"Let's move onto the next subject," Barb swiftly answered with, quick to defend her own sanctity of being a Rock Troll who definitely isn't out for a Pop Troll. A Pop Troll without any Rock tendencies, because she'll admit it, Floyd has some Rock potential despite everything. "Hair dye. You want to dye his hair for a date?"

"To help him blend in more," Riff answered with, tail flipping back and forth, "I'd really like to perform some music with him."

"I'll pull some strings for you, my shockingly smart friend," Barb answered with.

-/-/-/-

Floyd is the one who chose the song, he's the one who chose the list of songs he wanted to perform. And all of them were shockingly raunchy, shockingly explicit, very unbecoming of a Troll whose origin is Pop. It shocks Barb more than it does Riff, she just stares at the list and reads over them while Floyd looks at her like a puppy.

"Lemme just," She pauses, then speaks, "Nine Inch Nails?"

"If you don't mind," Floyd tacked on before she could further question.

Barb laughed a bit, "Please, I love them, woulda been a fan since day one but I wasn't quite born yet. But the songs?"

Floyd can't quite form a verbal answer, just give this sheepish grin. Barb swears his fringe falls a little further over his eyes and she's bold enough to reach out a paw and bat it away. The bleached section is frail, it feels like hay compared to what still retained that magenta hue she mocked. He almost lurches back, his fur just stands on end, and Barb pulls back her hand.

"Personally, I like them. But singing about fucking someone to feel alive doesn't seem your speed, isn't there a weird Pop language barrier?" Barb asked, "Or that one line from a different song, 'I am a good boy and I will swallow it all,' Floyd, that's an amazing song but jeez."

"I thought it'd be funny, cause whenever I try and swear it just," He pauses, trying to find out how to describe it before settling on just swearing, "F*ck, a$$."

Barb laughs until her stomach hurts at the garbled intentions of swearing that Floyd manages to provide. The Pop swear barrier has never been funnier in her entire life, but the fact he can enunciate enough to get the idea of an expletive across is impressive. Trolls like Poppy can barely say 'frick' without a large censor forcing itself in place, but Floyd? He's almost broken it.

"Alright kid-"

"I'm older than you,"

"Same difference; I'll cue up the songs for you and Riff,"

"You aren't joining?"

"Not unless you want me too, might hog the spotlight, sorry if I do," A small giggle snort, "It would be fun to try and go at it with a Pop Troll."

-/-/-/-

Riff stares.

He stares the entire fucking show.

He can't help it really, eyes stuck on a Troll like Floyd as he just drums out the beats and Barb strums out the additional bass lines. It's a comfort really, having someone in the back man the soundboard for the industrious instruments they can't quite do as a trio.

He holds on tight to whatever sense of sanity he can grasp whenever he gets gifted a glance at Floyd's face. He really is head over heels, he really is deep in this pit, for a Pop Troll of all genres. Albeit, a Pop Troll that's belting out songs of the industrial rock genre with an uncanny amount of ease. But still a Pop Troll, still something he'll be disowned over at the dinner table even if Barb goes public with Viva.

He'll just take this if he can't get anything else.

He'll take performing songs with his two favorite Trolls over nothing any day of the week.

-/-/-/-

Post show jitters reside comfortably on Floyd's fur, splayed atop an amp larger than he is with his tail lazily thumping on the material. His chest is heaving and he's curling and uncurling the mic cord around a finger, painted nail scratching at the plastic so rarely.

"Good show," He manages, voice cracking just a bit with how much he stressed it trying to break the Pop swear barrier for one song. He failed to do so, but he still tried until he felt like he was passing out, vision nearly going spotty. It was more fun than he'd ever had performing with his brothers.

Riff takes a heavy breath, "Great show," He's giving this long exhale that's almost a laugh as he speaks.

"Amazing show, I should go work an after party," Barb mused.

"Aw, is your girlfriend rubbing off on you?" Riff teased, rolling onto his stomach where he lay on the cold, hard, concrete ground. It eased his nerves, they were still on fire, the layers of denim and torn fabric probably didn't help much.

"Girlfriend? Tell me more, Riffy," Floyd said before he could stop himself, glancing down at the navy Troll from where he lay.

"Barb has a crush on Viva," Riff drawled as he pulled himself into a criss crossed position, one leg over the other. Floyd nearly laughs.

"Hey man! We agreed not to talk about her," Barb snapped as she stood up from her chair. She stretched her arms over her head and her tail snapped to punctuate her sentence, "Not like you can talk either."

Floyd raises a brow, "Tell me all about it, Barb," he lets his legs sway over the edge of the amp.

Riff sends Barb a pleading look, a begging look, desperation impossibly clear on his partially obscured face.

She just grins, "Well, our friend here has a crush on a Pop Troll. A fella trying to change genres when no one's looking," She winks at Floyd and watches as Riff tries not to respond to the words viscerally, that would give it away and he's highly aware that Barb is trying to play him like the cheap kazoo he is.

"Controversial," Floyd managed to supply, "But fun, inter-genre relations are still kind of, ya know."

"Yeah, kind of," Riff answered with, "Rock Trolls are wide open to the idea in my experience. We legalized polyamory a hundred some odd years ago. We're working on the papers for inter-genre stuff as we speak."

Floyd laughed, "I should just, live here as a Rock Troll. Pop Rock, Pop Punk, Pop Thrash- I could make it work."

"That you could," Barb said, there's this twisted grin on her face, showing off all of her fangs, "But really, I gotta catch that after party, you two can chat."

It's a segue into a conversation really, a shoe in for them to continue speaking as she leaves. She wants this as much as Riff does, maybe if she gets him with Floyd he'll let her fawn over Viva in peace.

Riff just taps his drumstick on the ground, balanced between fingers and tapping back and forth. Floyd just stares at Riff from the amp comfortably, sort of like a cat on a high perch.

"So this mystery Troll, tell me more," Floyd prompts as he slides off of the amp, "If you want too."

And Riff does want too, he wants to tell Floyd everything, but he bites his tongue. He just shrugs, "Nice guy really, probably heading back to Pop sooner than later."

"Pop? Are you crushing on JD?"

Riff shudders, "No offense, but he's too Country coded."

"Did you just call my brother Country coded?" Floyd asked with this devilish smirk, slowly stepping closer to Riff as he goes.

"Am I wrong?" Riff countered with a nervous chuckle.

"Never said you were, but continue about this Troll," Floyd urged, if he just reached out he could trace his hands across Riff's face. Learn every contour, twirl a finger through his hair, that would be nice, that could also be the adrenaline talking.

"Right, right," Riff stalled, what else he could say that isn't virtually outright saying that it's Floyd? Not a whole lot, "Got a great voice, an amazing voice with even greater range. It's scary really, he just hops on stage and gets into it, like he's a different person."

Floyd's tail flicks just a bit, Riff doesn't notice the tell that the Pop Troll is onto him.

"And then he starts to sing, most Rockers have deep voices naturally, but this breath of fresh air, a blend of Pop and Punk? It's amazing," Riff overexplained, just going off, "I'm talking too much, aren't I?" He looks up to find Floyd much, much closer than before. Red instantly rises to the Rocker's face, a stark contrast to his usual hue.

"No," Floyd said quietly, the flow of words pausing just enough to make Riff worry. He comes to a complete halt when the gap is small enough their knees are almost knocked against each other, "Keep going."

"I would," Riff begins, drawing out the syllables as he stares at Floyd through the blur of black hair and fabric alike. He brings a paw to run through his hair and it knocks back the toque just a bit, "But, I don't know what else there is to say without totally blowing the covers," He pauses, "He's really pretty."

"It's me," Floyd declares.

"It is," Riff confirms.

The Pop troll places a gentle kiss to Riff's forehead, one of the few spots where frizzy black hair isn't splayed over his fur. He rears back just a bit, "That's pretty fuckin' sweet," He doesn't even realize the Pop swear barrier dissolved entirely for a brief moment.

"Pretty fuckin' sweet," Riff echoes back before pushing aside a chunk of Floyd's fringe to return the motion. He almost flinches back from it, expecting the contact to sting or ache with how frail that performance left him, but it doesn't. It just feels nice, a warmth sprouting all over his body, it tingles and he loves the sensation.

"You should go tell Barb, we could pressure her into telling Viva," Floyd proposed, "That'd be fun, no?"

Riff is reeling, it took a moment for it to catch up but he is fucking reeling when it finally does. His eyes widen just a bit, there goes the boldness of adrenaline, "That actually happened," He tentatively places his paw on Floyd's, it isn't shoved off, "Oh my god it actually, it happened."

"Yeah man," Floyd said, pressing another chaste kiss to Riff's face, this time his cheek, "It did, and I'll do it again."

Before he freaks out he manages to collect himself enough to breath, "Let's go find Barb, she's been listening to me talk about you for a while now."

"Oh? So this crush isn't a new development?" Floyd teased gently.

"Not at all. But her thing for Viva? That's new," Riff countered with a laugh, it's nervous, just to fill the silence, "But us, we're a thing, those kisses?"

"Those kisses made us a thing," It's a calm reaffirmation, a promise with the squeeze of a paw.

"See, that's new, newer than Barb's crush on Viva," Riff explained, "Which is why we need to find her and tell her."

"You're freaking out,"

"Oh absolutely, you just kissed me, why wouldn't I be freaking out?"