#like the pronouns i asked to be called and were specifically told that people would start using them is she/her

[retordedd]

I never use this blog because the eddsworld fandom is genuinely the only fandom I've been completely fucking miserable trying to engage with. It's full of trans people and yet the community is SO hostile towards non-afab or non masc aligned in some way trans people. I've had people blatantly refused to respect my pronouns after saying they would. I've been misgendered in a server full of trans people where literally no one else was misgendered because there were pronoun roles. In that same server, while I was uplifting trans people making jokes about being proud of their bodies, they made fun of me for not having breasts. I've had multiple people debate my boundaries like it's a topic of discussion because I asked not to be called dude, a GENDERED TERM. I've had people gang up on me to the point of tears because I dared to describe my experiences being raised with an unconventional relationship to gender. I've been accused of holding grudges and being aggressive for even daring to speak up when I'm tired of being treated this way

And these events don't refer to a bunch of random assholes, they refer to people well known in the fandom. People I've seen on multiple servers. People whose names you say and it gets recognized

The eddsworld fandom has a HUGE transmisogyny problem and it needs to be discussed. The way I constantly feel unsafe when in a fandom surrounded by trans people is completely unacceptable

[zalayni]

𓂃 💫 ੭ ᝢ SUGAR ༉

spendin' all my nights alone waiting for you to call me. you're the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep 💤

❛ pairing: earth42!miles x reader

❛ summary: after a long day there's nothing better than having your lover help you as you do your night time routine, no matter how girly it might be.

❛ warnings: the lower caps are intended. reader uses she/her pronouns.

❛ author's note: this is supposed to be longer but I lost everything and had to restart it from scratch. also this isn't proofread what so ever. I live like a warrior i'll die like a warrior 🫡🫡(I'm too lazy to read alat)

if anybody told Miles from when he was new to being prowler that he would be sitting in his room, wiping a girls makeup off specifically HIS girls makeup off he'd just tell them. “man you're buggin.”

yet here he was.

after a long day of standing around with music blasting in your ear while people laughed in the background you were finally back alone with Miles. it was silent but at the same time it was comforting. Miles was there kneeling infront of you, wiping your makeup off as you sat on the vanity chair he had bought and installed in his room along with the hello kitty mirror he saw people hyping up on tiktok.

don't get it mixed up though Miles would never use that vanity, he bought it for you. he filled up the drawers with makeup and products he'd see you use just for you. he did all of this because all he wished was for you to feel at home with him.

he went through the hard work of building and putting up the parts by himself as he was too embarrassed to ask uncle aaron or his mom for help. what would uncle aaron say if miles would randomly come in his home saying “help me build this pretty pink and white vanity I just bought.”

you always crashed at his place or miles would crash at yours. either way he always insisted on helping you with your nightly routine.

"all done Mami, now go wash up. I'll get your pajamas from the laundry." Miles attempted to get up before getting stopped by your hands pulling him down to peck his cheek. you pulled away while muttering a thank you.

Miles smirked at you while getting up.

"yeah, no problem. anything for my girl."

miles was the sweetest person to ever come into your life. who knew Brooklyn's number one killer would be such a lover boy? maybe it's because of the fact that he's always been a mamas boy growing up.

you finished up your shower, wrapping the towel around your body before a knock echoed through the bathroom. "ma, can I come in? I've got your pajamas." you quickly opened the door to see Miles standing there with your pink pajama set in his hands.

he stared at your figure watching as water droplets still slowly rolled down your body.

"Morales you're staring at me." you playfully said while side eyeing before taking the clothes out of his hands. Miles huffed and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer silencing your giggles with a kiss.

"whatever ma you're trippin' I wasn't even staring you're just reading into it too much. even if I was can you blame me? I bagged such a pretty girlfriend."

Miles eyed you down once again before leaning close to your ear. "maybe even future wife."

ugh what a tease. yet everytime he did this you felt butterflies in your stomach.

he chuckled before exiting the bathroom leaving you there staring at his back, stunned. you shook it off with a laugh and got dressed so you could be back in his arms.

you brushed your teeth and did your skincare that Miles would always restock on. you felt bad as they were pricey but he would always insist on buying them for you.

you hanged the towel on the rack to dry and exited the bathroom, practically speed walking to Miles room. once you opened the door you were met with Miles laying comfortably on his bed with nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants on. He had his arms up with his phone in his hands scrolling on whatever socials he was checking up on.

you closed his bedroom door before crawling in between his arms, laying your head on his chest. Miles sighed and put down his phone, wrapping his arms around you. He pecked the top of your head making you look up at him. "long day?" you asked him making miles suck his teeth.

"tch. ma you were there with me, yes the function was fun but of course my mom had to make us stay till past midnight talking about some ‘hold on we'll leave after I'm done talking.’" you laughed at him mimicking his mom's voice whole repeating what she would keep saying during the function.

mrs morales loved you so she told Miles to invite you to their family's function as his date which you gladly said yes to.

the day was long and your feet might've ached from all the standing as every seat was taken up, your stomach might've hurt from all the aunties insisting on you to eat more but at the end of day you got to see Miles smile, and it wasn't because of you. for some that was the rarest sight to witness.

after the death of his dad Miles drifted away from everyone but here he was laughing and bickering with his favourite cousins. he was actually playing his favorite sport, basketball for once and laughing whenever he'd steal the ball from his cousins.

you witnessed Miles grow as a person and slowly pick up broken pieces. it was truly heart warming.

here you laid in the dead of night, ear on Miles chest hearing his soft heartbeat with your eyes closed. you were calm yet your head was racing with thoughts. you decided to break the silence after awhile of listening to his breathing pattern and heartbeats. "hey Miles, I'm not sure if you're asleep but I have a question."

it was silent for awhile making you think Miles fell asleep before you could ask it but then he answered. "go ahead Mami, I'm listening."

"would you give the world to me?" you looked up at him only to see his half lidded eyes staring down at you. "mhmm no."

your heart dropped at his answer, lips close to quivering, but the hard beating of your heart slamming against your chest was calmed down with what you heard him say afterwards.

"hermosa, why would I do that when there's other planets too?"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

please do not steal, copy, translate or put my work on any other apps. thank you for reading 🫶

artwork in header made by koscribbls on instagram

[shubblelive]

— FRONT ROW

summary : for the first time, you see just how many fans wilbur has in person, and for the first time, you begin to feel like you might not be able to handle it.

genre : angst -> fluff, happy ending

warnings : one or two swearwords, reader gets overwhelmed, they almost break up (but not really i promise)

pairing : cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader

pronouns : she/her, reader is called wilbur's girlfriend

featuring : cc!wilbur soot, cc!ranboo (mentioned), cc!philza (mentioned), kristen

requested : @gracietaylorsversions Hiii! Ilysm could you maybe write a fic inspired by the song “dark red” by steve lacey, more specifically the part: “only you my girl, only you babe” where the reader gets insecure and jealous but wilbur makes sure to reassure her <333

word count : 1.5K

note : hello angel! now, i personallly hate writing jealousy fics i feel like i can NOT do it well, so i opted to delve more into insecurity than jealousy with this one. i'm so glad you're liking my stuff thank you so much it means the worlds

the room was massive. it was like a warehouse, but with seperate rooms off the main one, and way more people. you were in one of the separate rooms, carpeted and less crowded, a yellow card around your neck with your name written on it suspended by a lanyard. 

you weren’t a creator. you didn’t stream or make youtube videos or anything, you hardly even posted on instagram. the only reason you were attending vidcon was because of the man whose arm was wrapped around your shoulder as he chatted avidly to ranboo. 

they had a panel later, the first one since the pandemic had started. it had been somewhat of a surprise to you, when wilbur started getting so big as quickly, but you’d always know it was bound to happen. now, three years into your relationship, you were about to see your boyfriend in front of his first live audience.

one of the vidcon crew members arrived in the room as signalled everyone’s attention, everyone in your group falling silent. they’d all be leaving to go on stage soon. you wouldn’t be alone though, phil’s wife would be there in the audience with you. 

while wilbur got instructions from the crew member, another producer lead you, kristen, and a few other guests of creators into your seats, and you waited anxiously for your boyfriend to come out. 

the two of you had together since 2019. you had helped him move into his streaming office (and subsequently out of his streaming office after getting evicted), and had been there every single step of the way through his streaming career. his fans knew of you. they knew your name and what you looked like, and that you and wilbur had been dating for years, but not much more than that. 

you were as supportive of a partner as you physically could be, helping him out as much as you were able to. for his first ever vidcon, you’d been lucky enough to be able to take time off work to go to LA with him, and he’d let you know over and over how grateful he was for it. you’d held his hand across the atlantic ocean and let him go just in time for him to meet his adoring public. 

and adoring they were. it had been your first time ever truly seeing your partner’s fans in person aside from the odd chance meeting. this was extremely overwhelming. he stepped out of the wings and made eye contact with you immediately, waving at you subtly as he greeted the rest of the crowd. the featured creator hour went for, predictably, about an hour, and as your boyfriend and his friends left the stage, the audience was left to disperse on their own. you guys had saved seats for this one in advance, so you’d had a producer escort you into them, but this time it was just you and kristen in a sea of hundreds of teenagers.

“excuse me,” a small voice piped up, and you whirled around to see a young girl, no older than fourteen standing nervously behind you. she introduced herself nervously, and told you that she thought you had always seemed lovely, and asked for a photo. kristen took it for her, and she left with a beaming smile on her face as you felt your heart thrash against your ribcage. 

there were so many people here, and you were already incredibly overwhelmed by the noise, but now the knowledge that people were perceiving you, even if it was only one fourteen year old girl was just too much to handle. “hey!” you called out to kristen as you both reached the door, having to nearly yell over the noise. “bathroom, i’ll be right back.”

“do you want me to come with you?” her husband would be back in the creator lounge by now, you knew, so you shook your head. 

“no, i’ll be alright, you get back to phil. will you tell wilbur where i am though, please?” she nodded at you, and you took off towards the nearest bathroom. it was absolutely packed, so you skipped it and went straight outside to the carpark. it was hot, and you took a swig of your water bottle as you sat down on the concrete, back against the wall of the building. there were still somehow dozens of fans out here, but you didn’t care.

you needed to get better with this stuff. this was wilbur’s job, and you were his partner. if you were going to spend the rest of your life with him, then you’d need to be able to go to things like this and support him. 

he had so many people’s eyes on him, and you knew that all he wanted was yours. you couldn’t be there for him in the way you needed to. he deserved better. 

the internet was a cruel place. of course you’d seen hate of yourself. you’d seen wilbur shipped with any female friend he came into contact with, and you had always been okay about it. but maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if he dated someone from the industry. he was bound to find someone eventually, someone who loved him just as hard as you did and was able to be there to support him. 

you weren’t cut out for this. you needed wilbur.

he was beside you. “are you alright? what’s going on?” he was scanning the small scattering of fans around the carpark areas, hoping to find somewhere to get you away from prying eyes. “darling?”

“i’m okay,” your voice shook, and he helped you to your feet. “you should go back inside.”

“i am not going anywhere without you,” he said resolutely, hand securely wrapped around yours. 

“i’m such a shit girlfriend,” you tried to laugh, but their were anxious tears forming in your eyes. it was so bright that you had to squint to look at wilbur, who was shielding you from the LA sun. “i’m sorry.”

“what are you talking about?” he asked softly. “you’re not shit, darling. furthest from it, in fact. you’re the best girlfriend i’ve ever had.”

“i’d hope so considering we’re still dating,” you said quietly. “maybe we shouldn’t be, though.”

wilbur thought he couldn’t feel more anxious after the creator hour. existing in front of such a massive croud of people was something that had never felt real to him, but then he’d looked out into the audience and had seen you, and he knew that after he left he’d be able to pull you into his arms and kiss you, and that you would fix the pounding of his heart. and then he’d stepped back inside the lounge and been met with just kristen, he waited, ten, fifteen minutes, believing you when you’d said you’d gone to the bathroom, before he used the find my friends app on his phone to see where you were. but that sentence made earlier feel like the most calm he had ever felt. “you want to break up?”

his voice quivered, low and deep, and you shook your head frantically. “of course i don’t want to. i was just thinking that…”

“that we should.” he finished flatly. “why?”

his hands were still around yours, but this felt more for his sake than yours now. “i can’t do this, wilbur.” you breathed out. “i can’t do the crowds and the screaming and the hoards of people who know that i exist, i can’t do it.”

wilbur’s face crumpled with relief. “you don’t have to, darling. i promise. from now on, no more events or conventions or panels that you don’t want to go to. please, i love you so much, i’m not gonna lose you over this.”

“but you deserve to have someone there who can do these things!” you argued. “someone who gets it, who understands!”

“i don’t want someone who gets it.” wilbur shot back immediately, silencing you. “i want you. i love you so much, darling. i don’t care if you don’t like the crowds, or if you don’t feel comfortable with me talking about you on stream or posting photos on instagram. none of that means anything to me. the only important thing is you and only you.”

you were almost crying as you kissed him, having to close your eyes instinctively against the sun as his lips pushed against yours, his hands caressing your back comfortingly. “i’m sorry, wil.” you said softly, lips still on his. “i’m being silly.”

“just a little,” he admitted between kisses. “but so am i. i’m just glad you’re here. i love you, silly.”

“i’d say it back but i don’t feel like it anymore.”

he barked out a laugh. “fine! i’m sorry. i love you, darling. my serious girl.”

“that’s somehow worse.” he kissed you to make it up to you, though, so you allowed him to drag you back inside, this time he got a security guard to sneak you in through a back corridor where you were still met with a room full of people who knew your name. except this one had a reserved seat right next to wilbur as you got to watch him live out his dreams, right there in the front row. 

[queerism1969]

General stuff I wish more cis people knew:

Being trans is a situation one is born into. No, trans children are not cis kids who are being manipulated or abused by parents because it's "trendy". That shit is just a modern reworking of the "gays are recruiting kids into homosexuality!" bullshit from the 70's and 80's.

Trans women are not "biologically male" and trans men are not "biologically female". Transition causes massive biological changes; trans men who are on testosterone and have had a hysterectomy have far more biologically in common with cis men than with cis women, and trans women who are on estrogen and have had reconstructive surgery have far more biologically in common with cis women than with cis men.

The existence of trans people is not a recent phenomenon, and the number of trans people is not increasing. Trans people have always existed; there are just more out trans people now.

Trans women are not gay men who attempt to become women in response to homophobia, trans men are not women who attempt to become men in response to sexism, and trans people would still exist and still need to transition even if both homophobia and sexism were eliminated.

Many trans women are bi or lesbian; many trans men are bi or gay (attracted to other men) (see p.28-29)

Allowing trans women and girls to use the same public facilities as other women (e.g., restrooms, locker rooms, etc) does not put cis women and girls at risk

That there are not more trans women than there are trans men.

Most trans people are not visibly identifiable as trans

Being trans and/or transition is not biblically condemned, and being trans/transitioning is not universally condemned by mainstream religious organizations

Spelling and grammatical notes:

It's transgender, not "transgendered"

It's dysphoria, not "dysmorphia". Dysmorphia is an unrelated anxiety condition on the OCD spectrum.

Transgender is an adjective, not a noun. So there are transgender people, but nobody is "a transgender".

The word cis is a Latin prefix, not an acronym, so there's no need to capitalize it as CIS. Cis is short for cisgender, which is the opposite of transgender. The prefix cis- means "on this side/on the same side", while trans- means "across/beyond/on the other side". E.g., cislunar vs. Translunar orbits

Faux pas to avoid:

Don't ask about our genitals unless you're our doctors or there's mutual interest in sex. Don't ask about "the surgery" either, which is still really just asking about our genitals

Same goes for the graphic details of our sex lives. Unless we're already in the kind of relationship where we casually discuss these matters, it's none of your business

When talking about something a trans person did before they transitioned, refer to them by the name and pronouns they use now unless they have specifically told you otherwise. It's like talking about someone who used to be married to an abusive asshole, but has since divorced him and stopped using his name. Even if talking about something she did while still married, I really hope you wouldn't call her "Mrs. Abusive Ex". That would be spectacularly tactless. That's not her name now and not how she wants to be known.

Never out someone unless they have given you explicit permission to do so. Don't assume that because they're out to some people that they are comfortable having others know that aspect of their medical history

If you accidentally refer to someone by the wrong pronouns, just correct yourself and move on. Don't dwell on it, just make a serious effort to not do it again

[anjelicawrites]

The perfect stay at home husband

Paring: Billy Washington x reader

Synopsis: slowly Billy learns to become the perfect house husband and welcomes his spouse home in the best of ways.

Warnings: dom / sub vibes, kissing, crying, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, collar and leash usage, Billy being very needy, ‘pup’ used a pet name, f masturbation with a rabbit vibrator.

A/N: reader is AFAB but not described. Where needed, they/them pronouns used.

NSFW and 18+ only under the cut!

Your life with Billy didn’t start in the best of ways. Indeed, the fact that he was jobless didn’t help his mental health; that the job market was, and still is, a nightmare for someone without big credentials like his, was another nail in that specific coffin. To you it wasn’t an issue, you didn’t think any less of him because of this, temporary, condition and you were more than happy to provide for the two of you, your job paying you well enough for the feat; if only Billy pulled his weight at home!

You had told Lana repeatedly that their parents didn’t do a good job at making sure Billy was capable of taking care of himself, he mostly left the bulk of the housework to you and would look at you with his baby blue opened wide, telling you he didn’t realize that those chores needed to be carried out.

One Friday you literally exploded at him, screaming that he wasn’t a guest in the house and that you were sick and tired of picking up his slack! You didn’t even give him the chance to explain himself, you left slamming the door and went to your friend’s house to spend the night, getting absolutely hammered in the process. 

Billy came to pick you up in the morning, his head more hidden between his shoulders than usual, the judging glares of your friend didn’t help his already crumbling self worth: he knew well enough your friend didn’t like him and believed you could have so much better than him. You two walked home blanketed by a tick silence, only enhanced by the sounds of London around you two, your head hurting and him more pathetic than his usual self. 

The apartment wasn’t as messy as you left it the day before: the array of dirty plates and cups had disappeared from the sink, the reusable shopping bags all neatly folded and the mountain of shoes shelved in the shoe rack next to the door.

“That's all I could do.” Billy told you, his eyes not truly meeting yours. “You were right, I should help you more with housework. I don’t know what to do, but I’ll try.”

You cupped his cheek and he nuzzled your palm like a cat: he missed you last night, his guilty heart keeping him awake most of the night.

“You can ask me, if you want. And there’s Google to help you.”

And that’s where you made a huge mistake: not considering how much of a people pleaser Billy is, how much he lives to be told that he's done good and that he is not as subpar as he thinks he is. 

He tries, bless his heart, but his learning curve is very steep. 

You’ve lost count of the amount of shirts he burned while ironing, or the plants he knocked off by mistake while he was dusting, or that one time he tried to unclog the drain and almost flooded the apartment. 

And then there's TikTok. 

In his personal quest to become good at maintaining the apartment clean, he stumbles upon the videos of people mixing up chemicals, and he follows them religiously, without truly thinking about which detergents he's using at the same time, if he should put those together and that, perhaps, he should keep the window open. You've lost count of the amount of times your local A&E called, because he's almost poisoned himself; you are basically on a friendship level with the nurses there and one, a friendly brunette, has told you they tend to get worried when they don't see Billy pop up every once in a while. 

As steep as his learning curve had been, he's now become very good at keeping the house spotless, so much so you two decided he should be a stay at home husband, by the time you two tightened the knot. 

It had taken him a while to unpack all the toxic ideas he was raised with, how a man should be and act: be the breadwinner or be a failure, find yourself a job and don’t live off your spouse and housework is not real work and it’s not for a man to do.  It hasn’t been easy for him to accept that he could still be a man and take care of you in ways that aren’t a big paycheck, that the world outside, how competitive it is, isn’t truly for him, and that he isn’t less of a man for this.

The last nail in the coffin had been your promotion and the probable move to the Milan office; neither of you wanted to suffer through a long distance relationship and the meager positions Billy had applied for, didn’t have the option for him to work overseas.  When Milan stopped being an option, you both had decided that he should still stay at home and be happy.

When you unlock the door you welcome the sight of Billy kneeling on a pillow, naked and collared, with his head bent and the leash neatly folded in his hands; his eyes fleetingly meet yours to then focus on the freshly clean carpet again.

“Welcome back” He says with a deep voice, tinged with a need you know all too well.

“Hi sweetling.” You answer back.

Slowly you remove your shoes and leave them on the rack; you savor the feel of the carpet under your feet and that your heels are finally off for the day. Through your lashes you observe Billy’s body vibrate with need and decide to play with him, because you haven’t tormented him in a while.

You walk towards him and stand where he’s kneeling, your center in front of his face and you can see the way his pink tongue darts out to lick his beautiful lips.

“Is there something the matter, my love?” You ask with a sweet voice.

“Please.” He whines.

“What do you need, pup?”

His face falls against your skirt, right where your cunt is and he takes a long whiff.

“Use your words Billy.”

Your voice is stern now, your fingers in his hair hurt him when you force his face up, to stare at his expression.

“I need it, please.”

His voice is a pathetic, little whine, his eyes don’t meet yours to show his submission to you.

“Billy, Billy Billy.” You punctuate every iteration of his name with a strong pull to his hair. “You need to be more specific and don’t act like a dog in heat.”

With that you use your fist in his hair to pull him towards the couch; you could have used leash, you could have ordered him to walk, but you need that extra bout of ownership over him, as he does and he complies with small whines as he tries to crawl at your pace and can’t truly manage.

You lose your hold when you sit on the couch with your legs spread, Billy kneeling between them; you see the way his eyes focus on your, now, exposed panties. You can’t help but smirk at his naked desire, his need to bury his face in your cunt: with him is almost a daily occurrence, one way or another he’s on his knees, worshiping you, hungry for you like you are the only meal he’s going to have for days.

“I’m going to ask you for the last time, BIlly: what do you need, my sweet pup?”

“Please, let me eat you?”

For the first time since you returned home, his pretty blue eyes bore into yours, so huge and sad and pathetic.

“But I’ve been out and about for the whole day Billy, I need a shower.”

You pretend to stand up and he panics, his hands go to your hips and his face burrows against your clothed cunt.

“No, no, please! Don’t make me wait!”

You try to dislodge his face from between your legs and he just curls his hands tighter around the soft meat of your hips, as he whines, desperately against your clothed cunt, the vibrations traveling up your spine, almost stealing a moan from you.

“Billy! Billy!” You try to say as you grab fistfuls of his hair to make him move. “Be good and behave or I will not let you eat me!”

You know that he knows you’re not kidding, your tone carries the weight of your treat, and he pulls his face back, but doesn’t stop him from pouting, staring at you with big, accusatory eyes.

You wind your hand around the leash before he can start any more shenanigans.

“I need you so bad!” He wails, with a pathetic, sad voice.

“I know I have been at work a lot, pup, but you should remember your manners, always.”

He looks contrite now, with his head lowered again.

“I just missed you so much.” He mumbles.

“As I did you. Look at me now.” You say with a firm, yet gentle, voice.

Billy complies, his eyes are glossy with unshed tears and his lower lip is bitten raw: he’s not kidding when he’s saying that he needs you badly.

“You will eat my pussy, eventually. I will have to punish you first, though.”

His breathing quickens after your words and the tears start to fall, silently they roll down his pink cheeks, making him look even more pathetic. You hug him and his long arms sneak around you, curling as tight as possible around your frame: he needs you, needs to know you’re not mad at him.

“Shh, sweetest pup, shh.” You kiss the crown of his head. “I love you so much.”

He cries harder at your words, the sobs wreak his big body and you have to hug him with all your strength, gently rocking your bodies until he calms down and lifts his head to look at you; his eyes are crystal clear, the color of the mountain sky after a rainstorm and his cheeks are apple red.

“Do you feel better?” You ask, caressing his cheekbones with your thumbs.

“Yes. I worked myself up over nothing. I’m sorry.” He sounds contrite and ashamed of himself.

“No pup, I’m the one that’s sorry. I’ve let work overrun my life, and that should have never happened.”

You tend to do that, hyperfocus and work yourself into exhaustion; even with Billy in your life you still make the mistake to forget that there’s a life outside your office. When you were still single, you were the only one suffering, but now you have to consider your husband’s feelings and needs as well, and you were terrible at that, as of late.

“I’ll tell you, next time. I will not let your job steal you away from me again.”

“Thank you, pup. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

You lean into him and kiss him slowly, tongue sliding against his with sensual strokes that have him moan wantonly, precume leaking from his reddened tip copiously with every slide of your tongue against his.

“Let’s go to bed. Your knees must be raw.”

“As long as you’re happy, I don’t care.”

“This is the reason why that’s my job.” You smile down at him.

You help him stand up and interlock your fingers with his; he stares at you as if you’re a miracle and you can’t help yourself but kiss his stubby cheek, giggling like a teenager.

You let him undress you, his big hands caress your body with gentle strokes that turn heated when your breasts and cunt are revealed to his hungry eyes.

“Go kneel on the bed, pup. I need something before you can feast on me.”

Billy follows your order with his eyes fixed on you, drinking down the sight of your naked skin as you retrieve the small box with the toys; you make sure he sees the rabbit vibrator in your hands, and the lube.

Leisurely you walk to the bed and stand behind him, before bending to kiss his nape.

“I’m going to be quick with your punishment. I’ve missed your mouth so much, pup” You whisper in his ear and he shudders, willing himself not to come untouched.

Billy is kneeling at the end of the bed, you sit with your legs spread and your back against the pillows; your hole is already wet and you know he can see it, the thought makes you clench and he moans.

“Are you thinking about my cunt strangling your cock? How tight I can be just for you?”

Billy moans and his hands curl into fists.

“Yes. I love your cunt so much.” He whines.

“What a good pup that you are.”

Looking straight into his blue eyes you uncap the lube and pour a generous amount on the vibrator, before turning it on and spreading your labia for Billy to see.

“Tell me, pup, why do you like my cunt so much?”

His intake of breath is visible when you insert the vibe which is set on the lowest speed.

“It’s…” He gulps. “It’s pretty and warm.”

He has to close his eyes when you start pumping the vibrator in and out, nice and slow, your eyes never leaving his.

“Yeah?” You moan.

“Your lips are so plump and soft. Christ please!”

“Keep going, pup.” Your hips jut up when you insert the vibe fully, letting the small part sit against your clit.

Billy is staring at your center unabashedly, his tongue is liking his lips with hunger.

“Puppy please, tell me more.”

You can feel your body arch under his stare and your hands go to your breasts to play with your nipples: you want to be as wet as possible for him, give him all of your essence.

“Taste so good.” He pants, visibly restraining himself. “So much of it for me, can live off it.”

“Yes, oh!” 

The head of the vibe pushes against your G spot as you writhe on the bed and you almost come.

“Clit so small and pretty, needs licking and sucking, baby please!”

He’s so desperate, thinking about your perfect cunt has him fuck the air like a dog in heat and seeing you touching your body, all your muscles vibrating with pleasure, drives him absolutely mad, his nerves burning with the need for your body.

“Yes pup, come to me. Drink from me.”

You lift your hand to him and he jumps to you, hastily removing the vibe to suck your essence there and discard it on the bed.

He lays on the mattress and grabs your hips to plaster his face against your center, his tongue licking at your folds desperately, his nose pushing haphazardly against your puffy clit. You keen and moan, your hips pushing against his face as his tongue fucks you and you curl your muscles around it to feel him fully.

“Billy! Billy, yes!!!” You scream. “So close Billy!”

You explode in his face, and he keeps going, slipping one finger inside of you and sucking on your clit like a desperate man, the pad rough against your G spot and you fuck yourself against his face, the pleasure making you delirious for him.

“Fuck all my holes Billy” You keen. “I love you so much!”

You scream when you come again, tears streaming down your face when he doesn’t stop and licks fat stripes up and down your cunt, his hands hurt where he’s keeping you in place and your feet kick against his back, you beg and cry, too much pleasure burning through your body life wildfire.

You try to slip away and he grunts, making you jump, forcing you closer to his hungry mouth and tongue, his teeth nibble at your abused clit and you squirm and cry, your body arching under him, so much pleasure, too much pleasure frying your brain, 

It hurts, you can’t get enough of him, so much pressure builds inside of you, his tongue flicks your poor clit and his lips suck it harshly as you whine and cry. 

He slurps on your honey, hungry and fast, your nerves burning for him, your hands in his hair grabbing the strands with desperation; his moans destroy you and you squirt all over him, his tongue fast to lick everything you’re giving him, until it hurts and he lets go, only to lay his face on your tummy, breathing your intoxicating scent in.

“So good, Billy.” You smil, drunkenly at him.

BIlly stares at you with adoring eyes, his lips leave small kisses on your tummy and you laugh, his stubble tickles you and, you fear, you’re going to have burns everywhere on your tights.

“Were you serious?” He asks, after a bit.

“About what?”

He’s cuddling you now, keeping your face close to his chest.

“Me using all your holes.”

His cheeks burn bright with embarrassment and you hug him with all your might. 

“I very much like it, Billy. I love your cock so much and I would gladly let you use it on me however you want.”

Billy almost chokes on his tongue and can’t meet your eyes.

“Even your arse?”

Sweet Billy; you don’t laugh because you know he will likely feel offended. He’s still exploring his sexuality, trying with you all that he has never had the courage to do in his past relationships.

“Even that. I want to feel you for days. Every time I walk and sit, I want to remember the weekend you fucked me like a whore.”

Billy’s hips stutter against your tummy, and you feel a drop of come splutter against your skin.

“Would you like that, pup?”

Billy’s eyes cross at the mere idea: he’ll do anything you want, tarnish your body  in all the ways you’ll order him to use.

“Yes.” He moans. “I can’t wait.”

[cameronspecial]

Thorn In My Side, Rose In My Hand (Part 6)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Under Age Drinking, Under Age Marijuana Use, Violence and Displays of Toxic Relationship Acts. If I missed one, please let me know.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: Rafe throws a party in an attempt to see Y/N. Y/N finds out a heart breaking truth. 

Masterlist

Rafe knows Y/N is ignoring him. No matter what he tries, she never so much as utters a word in his direction. So he is giving her some space. He could say that he isn’t throwing a party for the sole purpose of hopefully seeing Y/N for a split second if she chooses to come, but he’d be lying. Normally, he goes from room to room to check on people. Today, he is in the kitchen, guarding the stuff he bought specifically for Y/N in case she shows up. He sees someone reaching for the hard kombucha in the fridge, “Touch that can and I will throw you out of my house faster than you can say kombucha.” The person quickly closed the fridge and exited the kitchen. “You better not be opening that Oreo package,” he threatens to Mason, who Rafe knows has been eyeing the package. 

“Dude, come on. I told you that she isn’t coming. She went to something that Wilson is holding. It sounded fancy. So let me just have one, please,” Mason begs while he inches toward the package again.

“Still you never know. Maybe she’ll get bored and stop by?”

“I love you, dude. And I want to see you guys together, but I think it’s time to call it. I don’t want you to get your hopes up.” 

“I know my chances. I still have hope though. We are meant to be, I just know it.”

———

Y/N sits at the dinner table with all of Wilson’s friends. He is having a dinner soirée. Honestly, Y/N is bored out of her mind, but Wilson is her boyfriend and this is typically a girlfriend's duty. La Bleue Fleur is catering and the topic of conversation is that uninteresting Civil War documentary that Wilson made her watch.  Y/N is pushing around the leftover garnish on her plate as she is the first person to finish eating. “Y/N, what did you think of Timothy Satonis’ masterpiece?” Allen asks, looking toward the girl. She is caught off guard by the question because she has mostly been left out of the conversation. “Uhh, not gonna lie, I zoned out during the movie. Docs really aren’t my thing,” she replies to the group, which causes them to look at her with horror in their eyes. The group is awkwardly silent for a second before Wilson directs the conversation to something Y/N can be involved in, “Did you guys know Y/N is Cassie Y/L/N’s daughter?” 

This sparks a conversation between the dinner guests. “Have you met her?” Hailey questions excitedly. Wilson smiles with pride, “Yes, I have. We met when I took Y/N to Midsummer. Later on,  I gave her a manuscript of my book when I visited Y/N’s house the other day. Hopefully, she can pass it on to her publisher and it gets published.” Y/N finds it strange that Wilson would say it like he was the one to ask her to Midsummer when in reality she is the one to ask him out. “That is an amazing idea. Y/N, what is your favourite book of hers?” Josh inquiries. “Um, probably Murder in The Deep. The series is inspired by my love of murder mysteries and the main character, Arabella, is modelled after me. So it feels pretty personal and sentimental to me. She even mentions me in the dedication and named a murder victim after me.” “I see. Wilson did not tell us you were one of those types of readers,” Josh remarks with judgement in his tone. She turns towards Wilson to see if he will stand up for her. He doesn’t, so Y/N once again zones out as everyone else continues talking about her mom like she is not there. She feels a little uncomfortable, but she doesn’t say anything to avoid making anyone else feel the same way. 

After dinner and dessert are finished, the evening continues in the family room with a game of trivia. Y/N is usually good at trivia as she is on track to being valedictorian and she loves to know random, obscure facts. However, this game of trivia is all related to the same topics, which bore her to death. “If you’re a fan of Ella Fitzgerald, Benny Goodman, and Miles Davis, which museum in Kansas City will be music to your ears?” Allen reads from the card. Hailey rings her bell quickly, “Amerian Jazz Museum!” The group claps at her answer. Y/N didn’t even know there was a museum only for Jazz music, let alone that it was in Kansas City. Hailey takes the next card, “Bela Bartok and Romantic composer Franz Liszt are typically considered the greatest composers to emerge from what European nation?” Y/N wants to be included in the game, so she tries to take a guess at the answer and rings her bell, “Is it Germany?” Wilson shakes his head in disappointment and she can see the embarrassment in his eyes. “Of course, it is not Germany, Y/N. Everyone knows they are from Hungary. If you do not know the answer, then do not bother answering the question,” he chastises and Y/N feels as though she is a child. 

“Excuse me, I’m going to go to the bathroom,” Y/N excuses as she gets up to find the bathroom, hoping to escape the situation. Y/N knew she should stand up for herself, but she didn’t wanna make a scene because that would also be embarrassing. She is walking back to the family room when she hears her name being spoken. She stops just outside of the family room archway, hiding behind the wall. “I do not understand why you are dating her. She has no substance at all. She is vapid and I do not know how you can spend so much time with her,” she hears Hailey complain. This absolutely guts Y/N because this is another one of her insecurities. When compared to the intelligent life of the part, Elizabeth Huntington, she felt uninteresting with her more reserved personality. However, nothing prepares her for the feeling of what Wilson says next. “It is about looking at the advantages. Y/N may be vapid, but I got to meet Cassie and hopefully, I can be mentored by her. It is the only reason why I asked her out. I heard a rumour that the Y/L/N’s like to spend time on the beach where we met. I figured I was bound to meet one of them eventually.”

Y/N could continue to just stand there and be sorry for herself, but her blood is now boiling and she decides to stand up for herself, no matter how much she wants to cry right now. She steps out from behind the wall, “I may be vapid, but at least, I’m not a lonely boy, who is so obsessed with an author that I stalked her and her family. It is so sad that you used another human being just to get your boring ass manuscript read. My mom showed me the manuscript and we both agree that you sound like a giant stick in the mud even when you write. You don’t have to worry about putting up with me any longer because we are over!” This isn’t her finest moment, but she storms out in a hurry. She can only make it so far before she realizes that she could not walk home all the way. Her vision is blurry, meaning she could not see three feet in front of her. 

She decides it is safer to call someone to come pick her up. She takes out her phone and dials her brother’s number, “Dude, why are you calling? Are you a boomer? Anyways leave a message at the beep.” Voicemail. She calls her parents and gets voicemail again. Right, they are staying on the mainland for the night because her mom has a back-to-back book signing there. She goes to call Lacey, but notices she has a voicemail from her friend. “Y/NNNNN, I love youuuuu. Before you ask, I amz totes not drink. Drink. Drunk, lol. Okay, maybe I am. But, I wants you to know I loves you. Alsoooo, I total- total- totally made out with Derren. He is so h-” The voicemail cuts off before Lacey could finish her drunken rant. This causes Y/N to stop crying for a second and giggle at Lacey’s drunken antics. But the realization that she only has one other person to call whom she felt comfortable with makes her feel anxious because she is not even sure he is going to answer her call after the way she has been ignoring him. 

———

Rafe sits on his couch with Elizabeth on his lap and her tongue down his throat. He was able to convince her that saying Y/N’s name during Midsummer was a mistake, which leads to them having been making out for the last ten minutes. Even with the raging music of the party, Rafe could hear the beginning notes of “The Book of You and I” by Alec Benjamin. It is the ringtone he assigned for Y/N. He must admit it is a strange song to have chosen because it talks about a breakup and he and Y/N haven’t even started their story. The song reminds him of her and he knows Y/N loves the song just because of the mention of a book. She loves the idea of a love story being a book of the two people in the relationship. He immediately pulls away from Elizabeth, leaving the girl frustrated again to go answer the phone somewhere quieter. The song couldn’t even make it to the second note because Rafe answers it. 

“Y/L/N, are you hurt?” he immediately interrogates with worry seeping into his voice. With Y/N ignoring him for the past couple of weeks, he knows it must be serious if she is calling him right now at night. “Ca- Can y- yo- you pi-pick m-e u-u-up, please?” he hears her struggle to say through her tears. Rafe’s eyebrows knit together in concern, “Absolutely, send me your pin and I’ll be there immediately.” Y/N whispers a meek okay and goodbye before hanging up the phone, not giving him a chance to ask further questions.

———

Once again another party ended early for Y/N’s safety, but seeing as Rafe threw the party just to get her attention, he had no problem with ushering everyone out of his house as fast as he can. He doesn’t even wait for everyone to be gone before hopping into his jeep and driving off to the location Y/N sent him. He held very little regard for his own safety as he drove past stop signs and red lights. All that matters is making sure she is safe. He finally gets to his destination, the end of Wilson’s driveway. Y/N sits on the decorative rock in a full-on sobbing fit. Rafe jumps out after double-checking he put the car in park. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her into his neck without saying a word. After a few minutes, she calms down enough to tell him what happened. “He was only dating me to get to my mom. He said I was vapid and I know it’s true, but it just hurts to hear someone else confirm it.” Rafe blood boils at how Wilson made Y/N feel, “You are not vapid. You’re a rose. When you meet a new person, you are the bud. You are more reserved around them. But when you start to bloom, your passion, love, and joy start to show. Just like how when a rose starts to open up you start to see the beautiful red colour that hides within. Wilson was just too selfish and boring for you to do anything interesting with him.” She smiles up at him and nods her head in understanding. “Wait, here for a second. I’m going to go do something real quick before we leave,” he explains before getting up and walking toward the front door.

Rafe knocks on the auspicious door and waits for Wilson to open it. “What are y-” Wilson tries to say, but he is interrupted by Rafe’s fist punching him in the face. “Come near Y/N again and I’ll do a whole lot worse,” he warns, running off toward Y/N. She stands there shocked at what just happened. She giggles at the image of Rafe coming towards her. He grabs her hand as he passes by and drags her toward his car. Once he helps her up, he goes around and drives off, watching in the back mirror as Wilson and his friends finally catch up to the street. Rafe pulls out his phone to play “Getaway Car” by Taylor Swift, which causes Y/N to fall into hysterics.  

Rafe drives Y/N to Tannyhill because he knows her parents aren’t home and that Mason is probably still in a guest room with Amanda, even after the party is ended. “Where is everyone?” Y/N ponders out loud as she sees the empty house. Mason told her about the party Rafe was throwing. “Sent them home when you called,” he informs her without skipping a beat. He says it in a matter-of-fact way that she knows he doesn’t want her to feel guilty. The car stops and they see Mason come out to join them outside. “Dude, where did you go?” Mason pauses when he sees the tear-streaked face belonging to his twin. “Y/N/N, what’s wrong?” “Wilson was only dating me because of mom,” Y/N mumbles, attaching herself to Rafe. His being there during her time of vulnerability has caused her to feel comfort in his grasp. Mason’s face contorts into anger, “HE DID WHAT! I’M GOING TO KILL HIM!” Y/N quickly goes to her brother’s side and puts her arm out so he can’t get past her. “Don’t worry. Rafe already punched him for me,” she assures her brother, who pulls her into a hug. “Mace, you didn’t pick up your phone.” He grimaces and places a kiss on her forehead, “I know, I’m sorry.” “It’s okay, Rafe was there,” she whispers in the nook. “Should we go home?” Mason asks. “No, can we go to the balcony?” She replies, looking between Mason and Rafe. Both boys nod and follow her to her desired destination. 

Rafe and Y/N make a quick stop to get her more comfortable clothes, so Mason goes to get some snacks. Rafe goes past his room, heading towards Sarah’s room. He looks back to check in with Y/N and notices she isn’t following him. She is paused at his door, waiting for him to follow her. “What’s wrong? Sarah’s room is this way,” he points in the direction of the room. Y/N looks at her feet while shifting her weight between the two, “Actually, can I borrow some of your clothes, please? They are comfy.” Rafe smiles at her suggestion, “Of course, you can, Y/L/N.” he takes her inside. He gives her a plain gray T-shirt and black sweatpants. It may be a mundane outfit, but Rafe loved how she looked in his clothes. She is practically swimming in his shirt because he is so much taller than her and she had to tie her sweatpants very tight so they wouldn’t slip down so much. They both giggle at her constant need to pull up the pants as they head to the balcony. 

———

Mason sits opposite from Y/N and Rafe with a joint in hand while Y/N cuddles herself into Rafe’s arms. They’ve been talking about anything and everything just to cheer Y/N up. “Why the dude never used contractions was so fucking weird. He sounded like such an old person,” Mason jokes while taking a drag of his blunt. Rafe laughs, “Those stupid button-up shirts he’d wear all the damn time. With his name monogrammed onto them. He looked like such a douchebag in them.” This continuous mockery of Wilson has cheered Y/N up. “I caught him ironing the collar of it. Only an asshole is that uptight,” she joins in while taking a swing of her hard kombucha. The boys nod in agreement. Mason snubs out the joint and gets up from his seat, “I’m gonna head to bed. Y/N, you cool if we sleep here?” She nods; originally, she was supposed to sleep over at Wilson’s house. With that, Mason leaves the two alone. 

They sit in comfortable silence, drinking their drinks and looking up at the stars. She has now shifted so her head is on his chest and his arm is around her neck. Y/N opens up the pack of Oreos placed on the coffee table in front of them. She untwists the top of the one she picks up and gives the bottom with the cream on it to Rafe. Understanding what she wants him to do, he grabs the bottom and eats the cream for her before handing it back to her. Y/N and Wilson never had this unspoken language while they were dating. “Why doesn’t anyone love me for me?” She wonders as she gives him another Oreo. “Someone does. He’s just waiting for you to be ready,” Rafe whispers without realizing that she heard him. She looks up at him from her position and he looks down at her. She closes her eyes and starts to lean in to kiss him. No matter how much he wishes he could lean down to meet her lips, he knows this isn’t the right moment, so he pulls away. “As much as I want to kiss you right now, I would rather our first kiss be when you are feeling less vulnerable and are 100% sober,” he tells her. Disappointment is written all over her face, but she knows that he made the right decision. She would prefer their first kiss to feel more right and not just because he is there being sweet to her after a breakup. She nuzzles back into his chest and they go back to just enjoy each other’s company. Her light snores tell him she has fallen asleep and instead of waking her up from her slumber, he picks her up and takes her to the other guest bedroom. He tucks her into the bed and admires the serene look on her face as she sleeps. He lightly kisses her forehead and goes back to his room to welcome the sleep. 

Taglist: @itsalexwin @sublimepenguinpeach-blog  @gillybear17  @terraeluce​  @f4ll-for-you​ 

[sword-is-bored]

Wow. Just wow.

Link X Reader

Reader is gender neutral (if I missed a pronoun let me know!)

Reader is also Zelda’s sibling :)

(OOT Link/HW Link, TP Link, BOTW Link it doesn’t matter to me)

Link was present with the other guards as the princess was announced. Being the Hero and all, he was required to make an appearance to show loyalty to Hyrule. Zelda was called and she curtsied in front of her audience before joining the king. Link was ready to leave. He’d been at this celebration for ages. Hyrule had been rebuilt as soon as the peril had ended, and now they were celebrating the health of the royal family. Big deal. A ball for the people was nice, but Link never found himself wanting to mingle with people. His plan was to pay his respects and leave as soon as humanly possible.

And then, a second royal was announced. (Y/n). Link’s eyes snapped to attention. He wasn’t aware there was a second royal child. And yet, there they stood. In front of the crowd of people their face reflected poise and elegance. Link’s breath left his lips, and he couldn’t believe it. They were beautiful. Radiant. Why didn’t he know there was a second. Judging by their face, they couldn’t be more than a year or two younger than Zelda. Link found himself embarrassed at the lack of formal attire he chose to wear. Just his adventure gear… which hasn’t been washed.

Link was disgusted with himself. He bathed, sure, but these clothes? They smell like blood, sweat and like he rolled in Epona’s stall and then slept there. Standing with the guards, yeah they’re men. But a beautiful royal like (Y/n)? He tried to rack his brain for any idea on what to do. And then said (Y/n) was walking towards him. Link continued to panic, hoping the young royal would stay away from him. “Link, it’s so nice to meet you.” Their voice sounded like a choir of angels specifically picked by Hylia to speak with him. “My sister has told me all about you.” They said, smiling at him. It’s like the whole kingdom decided to stare at the two. Link felt his face heat up, he took a knee and couldn’t muster anything. They laughed, patting his head gently. Their laugh sounded like a bell. He loved it. “I’ll see you at the ball then?” The royal asked. Link nodded, continuing to stare at the ground. “Alright then. I’ll see you.” And with that, they pulled away. Link’s head slowly rose to watch as the royal walked away. “Wow.” He whispered. Immediately Link turned to the guards that stood around him. “Where can I get something to wear for the ball?”

(Y/n) awaited the hero, nervousness flooding their body. They watched the crowd whilst they sat at their throne. Zelda sat beside them, gently placing a hand on theirs. “He might not come, (Y/n). He’s not big on parties, or other people.” She said. (Y/n) chewed their lip, the calming feeling of their older sisters hand atop theirs was nice. “He… he said…” They continued to look anxiously. “I just thought he’d be different. I’ve been meaning to make a move ever since you’ve gotten closer to him. He’s so gentle and kind and amazing. I was hoping to ask him on a date.” Zelda gave (Y/n) a sad smile. Link had voiced his anxieties about being around others often enough that she doubted he would show. However, the blonde running into the ballroom would say different.

Link managed to get his hands on a royal guard outfit. The blues and reds cascading down his body made him look regal and elegant. (Y/n) straightened up in their throne and quickly stood. Link turned, facing the royal. His eyes slowly drank in how they looked. Elegant and absolutely breathtaking. “(Y/n), I’m so sorry I’m late.” The words tumbled out of his mouth. “I needed to find something to wear. I wasn’t planning on coming.” He admitted before letting out a laugh. “But, plans changed.” (Y/n)’s heart soared hearing that. “Yes. Yes they do.” They approached Link, taking his hands and staring into his pretty eyes. “Hello there.” (Y/n) smiled. “Can we start dancing now?” Link nodded and (Y/n) led him to the dance floor. Together the two began to dance. Link was following their lead as closely as possible. After a few moments, (Y/n) broke the ice.

“I was, uh, actually wondering something important?” Step, step, twirl. (Y/n) avoided his eyes. “And what’s that?” Link steps back, (Y/n) steps forward. “Would you be willing to accompany me? Through the gardens sometime?” Link seemed confused by the request. “Like, as your bodyguard? Because I’m sure there’s knights anywhere who could do that for you. I’m a bit of overkill if you’re worried—“ Link began to ramble and (Y/n) quickly put a stop to that. “No, as a date. I want you to go on a date with me.”

[iris0-0]

I promise I’m here.

Mom!Tess Servopoulos x sh!daughter reader

Synopsis: Tess, your mother has always given you tough love. Trying to raise you to be respectful and grateful. Though when hard times fall upon you, you cannot seem to tell your mother as you feel she will see you as weak and pathetic.

Warnings: Tess being soft, reader is referred to in more female pronouns, blood, mentions of depression, mentions and descriptions of self harm, I do not encourage this behavior and am here for anyone <3 this is definitely not personal

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Familiar sounding music invaded the current deep sleep you were in. Eyes fluttering open, before quickly closing them due to the early morning light invading through the blinds.

The door opens and you feel a harsh pat on your back, “Cmon kid, gotta catch the bus.” Tess says, making sure you’re awake before leaving the room.

Getting up you looked at the old digital clock on the nightstand that read 6:40 a.m. Fuck. If you didn’t pick up the pace there would be another tardy slip with your name on it, and with that a scold from your mother.

Grabbing whatever pants were on the desk chair and a shirt you grab the same black zip-up jacket you took everyday…to hide the scars. Thankfully your mother Tess wasn’t very noisy as long as you didn’t give any “teenage attitude” was what she liked to call it. So she never really picked up on your habits

Self-harm wasn’t something you were proud of. It started 3 years ago when you were 13. Middle school was an absolute bitch, not to mention the other struggles that have happened in the meantime. You tried to get clean….but it never lasted long, it was a tough battle.

Slipping on the jacket and grabbing your book bag you go down the stairs to grab a banana or some shit to say you ate breakfast. Tess was brewing a cup of coffee before she herself was off to work. She eyed you up and down a bit before smirking to herself. Annoyed you give her a look that basically said ‘what?’.

“When’s the last time you washed that jacket?” She asked. “You were it practically everyday.” Walking towards you she tried to get closer to at least make sure it smelled clean, as teenagers could be lazy or dirty sometimes.

Not wanting her to move the jacket in case of any risk of exposing what was below you responded in a bantering manner to try and keep up your cool act. “Mom! Stop it! I washed it this week.” You smile dodging her grasp and walking to the door to catch the bus.

“If you say so.” She shrugs. “Go learn and shit.”

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

School. Highschool sophomore to be specific. Grades weren’t that much of a problem, you were told you were ‘a smart kid’. Having average level classes and a work ethic (sometimes) helped. It wasn’t the work, it was the people.

Once again for English there was a project. Why do English teachers have a project nobody likes every week? Everyone got up and looked around to choose partners…nobody chose you. Shocker. ‘Okay, who cares? I’ll do it myself as usual.’ You thought.

But of course it wasn’t okay. Depression shuffled your mind again replaying old scenarios and listing reasons why none of the other kids wanted to work with you.

Putting headphones on and shuffling random shit, mainly tv girl you got to work and try to forget but to no avail. Taking a break in the middle to go to the bathroom.

Always keeping a blade handy you sit in the bathroom stall. ‘Why am I doing this again? Don’t really know don’t really care.’ You think.

Taking the jacket off halfway the view of the old and fresh marks come into place. It was never enough. Addicted was the word, but it’s perfectly fine isn’t it?

‘Doing what I do best.’ Sliding the blade like it was a damn hobby. Did it sting? Maybe a little but the relief was too strong, it overpowered any pain. That was, until you zoned out. Going deeper, was it intentional? Who knows.

Hitting a vein blood trickled down, quicker than the cuts before that would stop bleeding soon. There was too much. And of course depression comes with anxiety. How come you were fine mutilating yourself but the moment you got dizzy all hell broke loose. I need to get out.

Quickly thinking of an excuse out of habit you called the only person you had, your mom. Were you dying of blood loss? Hell no. But you were on the verge of passing out and eating shit on the schools bathroom floor.

The phone rang a few times.

“Please..please..please.” You mutter.

T: “Hello? Im in a meeting did you butt dial me again?” Your mom Tess says, a bit confused.

“I need you to pick me up, please.”

T: “Kid, I’m in the middle of a meeting.” She sighs, though she hears the panic in your voice. “If it means that much to ya I’ll getchu right after, in maybe half an hour?”

“Okay.” You respond swallowing your tears.

T: “You cryin kid?” She asks suddenly concerned.

“No.” You deny, and you can hear her sigh from the other end.

T: “I’ll get you in a bit.” She said sternly.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

About a half an hour passed. The bleeding was under control but you were weak as hell. Loosing blood was no joke, dizzy and nauseating to say the least. ‘I think I just lost more blood than a period.’ You thought.

A text from your mom saying she’s here and you signed out at the front office, slightly swaying in your steps as you walk the short walk from the front of the school to the car.

Tess was sitting, hand on the steering wheel. The glint from the sun shining just over the scar under her eye. You couldn’t read her face. Was she pissed about picking you up two hours into the school day and about you interrupting her meeting. Regardless you opened the car door.

“Thank you.” Was the only thing spoken and Tess nodded to the action keeping her eyes forward as she drove the two of you home.

Walking in the house Tess put up her keys. You tried to sneak upstairs. “Nope. Come back.” Tess said sternly before pointing to the couch. “Sit.”

Annoyed but not trying to test your mother, you sat your ass back down. “Tell me why I picked you up.” She asked and you just shrugged looking at the floor.

“That’s not an answer and you know it. I love you and I’m trying not to be upset with you but kid, I need to know. You called me in the middle of a meeting you knew I was in crying.” Tess said, a bit stern.

“It doesn’t even matter.” You say a bit annoyed at the persistence and not having an answer to the question that you wanted to tell her.

“Look at me.” She says, as you look straight at the ground. “I just didn’t feel good.” You say looking her in the eye, it was hard. She had the type of eyes that made you spill everything.

Staring felt like forever her eyes narrowing, until your left eye twitched. “You’re lying.” She says crossing her arms over her chest. “No I’m not.” Your eye twitches again, betraying you.

“Yes you are! Your eye is twitching like Nemo’s fucking special fin.” Tess responded. “How the hell would you even know if I was lying? You’re always gone!”

“Language! I’m gone providing for you!” The two of you yelled back and forth for ages. Slowly but surely you were growing enraged. Having bipolar disorder and anger issues Tess knew you needed to calm down before you passed out.

“Okay come on you need to calm down.” She says strictly but assuringly. Even though she was upset with the argument as well she didn’t want it to get worse with you passing out for continuing to dig your nails into your arms.

She took ahold of your shoulders and began to guide you to your room. And shortly after being alone you’d calm down and she’d come back and the two of you would talk it out.

But…that did not happen this time. As she tried to move you, you resisted. “Hey stop. Calm down.” She said trying to grab your arms as you tried to get out her reach. With the fresh cuts and the excessive deep one a whine of pain was let out.

Tess paused momentarily and debated on backing off, but she didn’t. You had been acting different and were on the verge of a panic attack.

With harsh short breaths through go your nose you knew there was nothing else you could do to hide anymore, you were too weak. “What’s hurtin’ hm?” Tess states touching your hands, shoulders, and head gently.

But when she glides over your arms you bit your lip. Razor burn was hitting hard. “Okay let’s get this off..” she mumbles slowly taking the jacket off after she sat you down on the couch.

“Oh honey…” was all Tess could say, staring at the cuts, scars, deep, and shallow. She tries to comfort you but too shaked up and overstimulated. “Okay okay.” Tess backs off, leaving for a short moment to grab the random first aid crap in the bathroom.

She comes back and cleans very carefully, trying not to upset or overstimulate you. As well as to not hurt you. “Breath baby.” She holds your face softly trying to calm you down.

After awhile the cleaning and wrapping is done. It was safe to say Tess could understand why. You had bad bipolar disorder and meltdowns. “Why didn’t you tell me hm?” She asks sitting next to you.

“Cause I didn’t want to worry you and give you more trouble cause it started when dad left and-“ You couldn’t finish beginning to sob.

She pulls you into her tightly and holds you. Quietly shh’ing you, cradling you like a baby. “I’m here I’m not going anywhere. I’m not him.”

Tess holds onto you as you fall asleep. And she’ll always be there for you.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

THIS TOOK FOREVER OVER A WEEK I GOT STUCK. Anyways happy birthday to me <3 Love you stay safe.

[p1-f1]

Happy Birthday.

`,°*•~*~-☆

Pairings: Eric Cartman x reader

Pronouns: none. No gender implied

Warnings: swearing. (Rushed, sorry.)

WC: 1.1k

Authors notes: made for @h-harleybaby !! Happy birthday my love!! I love you sosososoo much!! (Yes, I already announced my break, but I love my wife, duck you if you dont.) Everyone with Harley a great birthday!! She deserves it!!

As you woke up in the morning, you heard that special alarm that reminded you it was your special day. Along with that, when you sat up, a sweet scent coming from the kitchen entered your nose.

Throwing on your best clothing, a cute outfit you had planned out over a few days, you walked to the kitchen, the cold floors sending a shiver down your spine.

There in the kitchen was the love of your life. In all of his adorable, chubby, and assholeness.

"I made you breakfast. Enjoy, bitch."

The brown haired boy sat the plate in front of you, and there were a few pancakes stacked perfectly with sweet white whipped cream on top. Eric may have been rude, but he meant well.

"Thank you, love."

He didn't respond, only kissed your head and sat next to you. I guess your birthday gift was having him watch you eat, because the boy wouldn't take his eyes off of you. (Or, your plate.)

A few minutes later, your head was rested on his shoulder, looking up at him with a sweet smile.

"What? What do you want?"

Eric said, an eyebrow raised.

"You remembered?"

"Yeah, course I would. You're a senior fucking citizen now. Happy one day closer to death."

The chubby boy stood up, walking to the sink with your plate.

"Thank you, bear."

That nickname you gave him always made him melt. (He'd never admit it. He's not a soft bitch in his words.)

"Stop calling me that, stupid."

Eric must have had plans for you on your special day, because once those dishes were done, you were rushed out of your apartment and down the street.

At least he dressed up for you. Or, tried. A nice t-shirt that didn't have a cuss or slur, black pants you swore he only wore for special occasions, and his adorable bracelet you bought with a small bat charm. Much like the plushie you owned.

"Did you make any plans for today?"

He asked, his arm around your shoulder.

"Just you."

The boy nodded, making a turn with you on his side. You weren't sure where you were headed, but you trusted Eric enough.

"My friends wanted to see you, or whatever. I told them to fuck off but Kahl said he already told Kinny to come over at one."

Eric scoffed as you giggled, thinking about that tone of voice he had when talking about his friends, it was like he hadn't changed since fourth grade.

"They did? That's sweet."

"Yeah, whatever, let's just get this over with."

"Okay, honey."

`,°*•~*~-☆

An hour later, you were sitting in Kyle and Stans shared kitchen, sipping on a small glass of soda (Faygo, to be specific.), while your boyfriend was judging you and Stan from the corner.

"I don't understand how you stay with him, Y/N."

"What? Eric? He's amazing! I don't understand how other people wouldn't want him."

The boy chuckled, shaking his head.

"I think that's just you."

"Nuh uh! I'm sure plenty of girls would want him!"

You said defensively, your hand pointing to the boy who was once distracted by Kenny's antics, but was now watching you.

"I'm not so sure about that."

"He-"

"And don't bring up Heidi, N/N."

"Whatever."

You could already feel your boyfriend's glare on the two of you, signaling it was time to get out of there or he'd be in a bad mood the rest of the day.

The cold Colorado air hit you as Eric opened the door, and waved bye to his friends, with you in tow.

"So, because you're like, my partner or whatever, I bought you some gifts. And don't make it a big deal do I'll hate you forever!"

A small giggle escaped your mouth at the thought of him shopping for you, knowing you were one of the only people he'd go into a shop for.

"Yeah? Thanks."

"Stop saying thank you. It's your birthday, goddamnit. You don't owe anyone anything. You're an old person."

"Eric, you're older than me."

"Shut up!"

"Okay, dear."

You couldn't help but giggle a tiny bit more, causing Eric to glare at you and loosen his grip around your waist. Your head found his shoulder, resting it there for the while as the two of you walked.

It's like he almost said something, but decided to save it. Save it for later, maybe? You couldn't help but wonder what it was.

The walk home would've been cold if not for Eric, his body radiating heat like no other with his adorable chubbiness you couldn't get enough of. He was like a teddy bear. Your teddy bear.

He opened the door for you, and shushed you before you could thank him. Giving a "what did I say" look before walking past you to his bedroom.

You quickly followed behind, but he closed the door on you. Pretty much slamming it in your face. Your head tilted, staring at the white door.

"Sorry."

Eric muttered from the other side, muffled from the paint and wood of the door. A minute later, it opened.

You almost teared up. Petals on the ground, leading to a small basket. Inside was a pack of bracelets, some to match, a few bottles of Faygo, a drink you had loved for a good while, and many other things like snacks and candy.

Your silence made him nervous. Eric pushed up his glasses as they were sliding down from him sweating, his cheeks and nose a light pink from embarrassment and worry you wouldn't like the gift he had spent so long on.

"Eric…"

The softness of your voice almost melted him, as his brown eyes met yours. Your face was of pure adoration. He was in love.

"I-"

"Shut up."

Eric knew what you were going to say, and he wanted to say it first. He cleaned up his bed, brushing off a few petals and pulling you down. You fell onto his chest, resting your head on the softness. With his hand on the back of your head, he spoke softly.

"I know I'm a total asshole and all, but uh… "

He hesitated.

"I love you."

If it weren't for the fact he was basically holding you down, you would have jumped up and down while squealing. The first time your boyfriend of five months had said "I love you" and you couldn't get enough of it. Though, you calmed yourself.

"I love you too."

He chuckles, pulling your small body further up him to press a soft peck to your lips.

"Happy birthday, Y/N."

[olderthannetfic]

One time I was on a discord server, I was in my early 20s (I'm still in my 20s tbf), server for the collecting of a certain item type. Some random drama happened with a user claiming to be abused at home, we tried to help. Girl got kicked because people got too sus about it.

Anyway, because I had been involved speaking to her, one of the mods contacted me in the DMs. Told me about the situation, and I was kinda shocked, so I asked a few extra questions. Call them Mod15

Well another mod then contacted me, and told me that Mod15 was talking shit about me, for asking the questions about the situation, and that Mod15 IS 15!!! I had no idea. That mod was really mad at Mod15 because 1) she didn't like that a mod was just 15 years old. 2) the mod had basically bought themselves into the role by buying the server nitro. 3) the admin didn't do anything/incredibly passive. Let's call that mod: ModP

I showed ModP the conversation with Mod15, and showed her that my talk with him was pretty basic bitch. But man did I fucking feel disgusted by this. I never contacted Mod15, he contacted ME. I deleted my entire talk with him. It was basically just "What happened? Is everyone ok? Do you know if she's ok." that stuff.

Side info: When I joined I also asked if they'd have a NSFW channel, just "because" it kinda was the norm to have one if the hobby had a lot of adults, even if it wouldn't contain anything sexually explicit. So it was made, but there was very little happening all things considered.

Well skip forward a few weeks. We had a vent channel, and Idk how it started. (I still have the screenshots from start to finish somewhere on another discord with a friend, but I'd need to look for them.)

But for some reason we started talking about how minors, who're minors entering the 18+ channel should be kicked from the server. The admin only made the NSFW channel "click to confirm" instead of role based, which is something that was discussed later between him and the mods I was told my ModP later. (Or another Mod I got to know.)

And guess whoms't but Mod15 would freak the fuck out and start an entire thing about it. He said we couldn't demand this blah blah. One argument he had was shit like "Well we see things like these on twitter, so why care if we see it here." and like, because this is a closed space. A lot of that kinda logic, that it wasn't a problem finding 18+ content anywhere on the web, and we shouldn't bitch about it.

Hell even some other minor and a lot of adults said that this was not a good point to make, and that these warnings and channels aren't made to "just keep minors safe", but to keep adults safe as well. And that adults have a right to want spaces where minors can't and won't enter. Anyway, this went on for far too long. I mean I think this thing went on for a few hours. Mod15 also freaked out when someone suggested making it role only.

Mod15 admitted to having entered the NSFW channel, which wasn't the great point he was trying to make, and one of the other adults admitted to having shared some bodypillow designs with Mod15. Which also wasn't a particular flex you'd make tbh.

ModP contacted me in that time, and another Mod, ModT, and they were actually annoyed that the Admin refused to do anything, and still wanted to keep Mod15. They had apparently also tried to make some specific roles before, but Admin just didn't wanna do it. You know, roles that give you identifiers such as "minor, male, female, adult" or pronouns etc.

They asked me if I could talk to Admin, and I did try, but Admin was so fucking passive, he said "Well, the problem was that you had asked about the NSFW channel." Not the fact that a minor decided that this was a free invitation to enter, or that the minor decided he had the random right to contact me about something, and then bitch about me to the other mods. That's when I decided I couldn't deal with this and left, if he couldn't even see how annoying it had gotten. At that point the collection discord had also grown considerably in size, because it got the "official (collectors) server" on reddit as well, and I didn't wanna stick around for the shitshow.

Extra info: The server did have an "introduction" channel, but it didn't have roles to give identifiers. And as probably anyone on a slightly bigger server would know, you start muting a lot of channels quickly. Admin tried to blame me for not checking the channel, in his DMs to me, when at that time there were constantly people joining and I had like half the channels muted to begin with.

--

15-year-olds make terrible mods.

[fanby-fckry]

It’s not Wednesday, but UH3 brainrot has once again consumed me.

I’m supposed to be catching up on Ace Alastor Week, and instead I’m writing ahead in the Season 1 fic.

Sneak peek below, heed the tags.

Content Warning: self harm*, blood, references to canon-typical violence, implied/referenced child abuse, inconsistent terminology regarding sex and gender**

*Whether or not this is self harm could probably be up for debate, but I, personally, consider it to be a form of self harm. Please put your own health and safety first; read with caution of feel free to keep scrolling. Stay safe, readers.

**Alastor sometimes conflates sex and gender because he just doesn’t think about or care what people have in their pants. He grew up in a time where the two were considered interchangeable; while he knows neither sex nor gender are static/that not everyone matches up with the gender they were assigned and will call a trans person by their chosen name/pronouns, gender them correctly, and treat them exactly like he’d treat anyone else, he still gets the terms a little mixed up from time to time. He wouldn’t gatekeep someone based on their transition status, because the physical state of someone else’s body isn’t his concern unless he’s actively in the process of killing them. And even then, he’s not focused on sex characteristics of any kind.

…

…

…

“And all this time, I thought it was mere population control!” Alastor ranted ino the private connection. He was pacing across his meticulously sound-proofed hotel room while his shadow flew from wall to wall.

“Well,” Lucifer began, but Alastor wasn’t done speaking and didn’t care for being interrupted.

“Ha!” Alastor laughed, threading a hand through his own hair. “Can you blame me?” he asked.

A rhetorical question, but Lucifer gave his best attempt at answering. “It is p-”

“They’ve got no style, no finesse! And barely any skill!” Alastor’s shadow curled its claws into fists, and Alastor removed his hand from his hair to keep himself from pulling it or digging his claws into his scalp as he felt the urge to do the same.

“Year after year, decade after decade, it’s nothing but artless, soulless slaughter!” Alastor laughed again, manic, hysterical, and lacking any and all joy. “Is it any wonder I assumed it was simply a mindless masacre?”

“Alastor-”

“Entertainment…” Alastor dug his claws into the inside of his palm, attempting to ground himself with the pain.

“If killing Sinners for one’s own entertainment is so damned Holy, then why is he in Heaven while I’m down here?” Alastor demanded, static rising in his voice. “Why, one could argue that he’s worse than I am!”

“He’s certainly killed more Sinners than I have by now, considering how long the Exterminations have been in effect.” Hell’s history books were patchy at best, and Lucifer only talked about his – and by extension, Hell’s – past in vague, non-specific terms, often while drunk or sentimental. Or both.

Alastor’s claws began to draw blood. “And from the combination of what Charlie and Lilith and you have all told me, he’s a vulgar, disrespectful chauvinist!”

The pain no longer felt like an anchor. It was fuel on the fire that was the rage burning within him, the wrath he felt at the injustice of it all.

“My mother raised me to be a gentleman,” Alastor said. “Any disrespect I show is based on a woman's actions, not her sex. But Adam expected Lilith to bend to his whims simply on the basis of her gender! He talked down to Charlie, likely on the same logic!”

“And yes, I kill because I enjoy it, but I’m selective with my victims! I enact vengeance on behalf of the weak and vulnerable! In life, I corrected the injustices of a corrupt system, and in death I punish those already Damned by their sins!”

Blood was seeping through Alastor’s knuckles. He pushed his claws deeper, sinking them into the meat of his palms.

“So why…?” There were bloodstains on the carpet. Niffty would be quite upset if she learned that the blood was Alastor’s rather than one of his meals’.

“Why?” Alastor repeated, barely audible above his own feedback. His cheeks were wet. He must have gotten blood on them at some point.

Everything was silent for a moment, save for the static Alastor couldn’t reign in.

Then, Lucifer spoke. “It’s complicated,” he said, quietly.

Alastor made an animalistic sound deep in the back of his throat, something between a growl and a whimper. But he let the Devil speak.

“I don’t know the particulars, but murder and vengeance are both Damnable sins.”

“Then why isn’t he Damned,” Alastor said through gritted teeth. “Why hasn’t Adam Fallen?”

Lucifer sighed. “Nepotism?”

Alastor laughed. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you!”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Lucifer asked, his volume increasing. “My Father kicked me out of Heaven for falling in love with Lilith and for daring to dream of a world where humanity wasn’t bound by eternal ignorance.”

“And he gave you a kingdom!” Alastor swung his arms, flinging blood across the room with the sheer force of the movement. “He let you and Lilith elope when he could’ve smited you both! Do you think he’d give the same courtesy to his other angelic children, or do the rumors of you being his favorite son hold true, hm, Lightbringer?”

The radio began to smoke and glow with a faint golden light.

“Get that name out of your fucking mouth, Alastor.”

Alastor ignored him, ignored the projections of his power.

“My father never would’ve shown me such benevolence if I’d disobeyed him the way you did yours.” Alastor moved to inspect the bloodstains on the walls. “And the best thing he ever gave me was a lesson in the inherent cruelty of man.”

[tommymllrr]

coffee shop cowboy [ch. 2]

agent whiskey x barista!reader (coffee shop!au)

summary: if you were being honest, you’d had an absolute garbage day. up until the moment he strode through the front door of the cute little café that you worked at in those stupid cowboy boots.

rating: Explicit, 18+ (MINORS DNI)

word count: 6.1k

warnings: cunnilingus, oral sex, blowjob, vaginal fingering, soft!agent whiskey, lot of kisses

notes: here's chapter 2!! reader is afab, but no pronouns or gendered terms are used so it can be read as gender-neutral. also i'm not super active here so find me on twitter if you're interested in seeing me talk about my upcoming fanfics and talk about pedro pascal and oscar isaac. :-)

chapter 1 on tumblr // read fic on ao3

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The months went on and Whiskey showed no sign that he had gotten sick of the coffee shop - or more specifically, you - yet. 

Sure, there had been a few times where he’d gone almost a full week without visiting, but he always turned up one day with a smile and a more-than-generous tip. The two of you made light conversation while you worked the register or, during days you were behind the bar making drinks, after he’d gotten his coffee, leaning an arm on the bar so he could talk to you. Your co-workers, especially the ones you were actually friends with, teased you incredibly hard for it, always leaving your cheeks burning in embarrassment. One of the newest hires at the café, a very sweet girl named Angie, had asked during a slow morning shift how you and your boyfriend met. When met with your confusion, she’d simply replied, “That cute cowboy guy I’ve seen you with. He’s your boyfriend, right?” Your entire body was on fire as you told her that no , you were just friends , and then had spent a good five minutes in the walk-in cooler pretending to stock items while you recovered.

You had thought about making a move by asking if he’d like to get coffee from your favorite place that’s just outside of the city (you refuse to be one of those people who comes into their job to order something on their day off), but the one time you’d tried to ask him, he’d looked at you with those big, gorgeous brown eyes of his and you’d chickened out, instead sputtering something about how the weather outside was nice today. You’d called your best friend on Discord that night feeling absolutely miserable and they’d teased you gently, but reassured you it was okay and that the universe had its way of sorting everything out.

You had no idea how right they would be.

It was unusually busy for a random Thursday morning, but you were managing just fine (even if you were dragging a bit because you’d stayed up way too late last night starting to play The Last of Us now that the TV adaptation of it was coming out soon). And, because your luck happens to be absolutely terrible sometimes, a steady line of customers at the register had started in the minutes before Whiskey strolled in. You gave him a small smile and a wave while the customer in front of you finished paying for their coffee and he tipped his hat to you in response. After getting through the few customers ahead of him, Whiskey was in front of your register, grinning down at you. He had already reached into the pocket of the leather jacket he was wearing to grab his wallet.

“You know what, sugar,” Whiskey said. “I’m feelin’ like a latte today. Can ya make me that one ya always get for me?”

“Yeah, I can do that!” You looked to the people in line behind him and the smile slid off your face. “Actually… I know I always make it, but it’s busier than usual today and I don’t wanna throw off Aubrey by stepping in just to make one drink,” you said apologetically.

“Darlin’, it’s fine. Just promise you’ll be the one to make it for me next time.” He gave you a wink as he handed you a twenty to pay for his latte. Warmth spread through your whole body and you were grinning so big you knew you probably looked like an idiot to the half-dozen people who were behind your favorite customer. Whiskey stuffed the handful of bills you’d given him as his change into the tip-jar and shuffled out of the way. The customer behind Whiskey rattled off a couple of pastries he wanted and, out of the corner of your eye, you could see Whiskey talking to Aubrey at the bar. You don’t know why you suddenly felt anxious, but you did. Aubrey knew all about your crush with Whiskey – hell, she was the person teasing you the most about him – but you trusted her to keep your secret.

You put the two’s interaction out of your mind and went back to focusing on helping the people in front of you. While pouring a cup of coffee for a stern-looking businesswoman, you turned and saw Aubrey finally hand Whiskey his latte. Whiskey was about to walk away but you saw Aubrey lean in and say something, but you couldn’t make it out. He looked down at the cup and you watched as a slow smirk slid onto his face. Whiskey nodded his head toward your co-worker and he made his way out of the coffee shop.

The businesswoman you were pouring the coffee for snapped at you for taking too long and, immediately, you were brought back to what you were doing. You snapped the lid on her drink and apologized profusely while you cashed her out. 

A couple hours later, when it had finally died down enough that you weren’t swamped with people, you sauntered over to Aubrey, who was drinking her usual iced vanilla matcha latte and scrolling through Instagram.

“Hey, uh, what was that whole thing with Whiskey earlier?” you asked. Her eyes flicked up from her phone to yours before shooting back down to stare at her screen. You knew her. And right now, she was desperately trying not to look suspicious.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, trying to sound as innocent as possible. “May wanna check your phone though.”

You pulled your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans and clicked the button on the side to turn on your screen. A couple notifications from Twitter, a handful of new emails, an alert that your favorite podcast had posted a new episode… 

And a text message from an unknown number. 

You felt your heart stop as you hurriedly typed in your passcode to unlock your phone. There was no way. You were imagining this. Or today was all just one weird, very realistic dream and your alarm was going to go off any minute now. Opening the Messages app, you clicked on the message.

Today, 10:37AM Hey there sugar ;) Finally got your number.

Your pulse quickened. There was no mistaking whose number that was. There was no way. Unless this was some absolutely insane prank that Aubrey was currently pulling off with the help of your coworkers. But you didn’t think your coworkers were that cruel. So the only thing you were left with was that…

“Aubrey, you fucking did not give him my phone number ,” you hissed. She gave you a shit-eating grin and took a big sip from her matcha latte, slurping it way louder than necessary.

“Wrote your number on his cup. You can thank me later.”

Your eyes widened. “ Aubrey ."

“What?!” she said with mock offense. “Look, I know you’re too embarrassed about your little crush to actually do something yourself. If you get a date out of this, you owe me lunch for a week, bestie.” You groaned and covered your face with your hands. Honestly, with how chaotic Aubrey is, you shouldn’t be surprised in the slightest that this happened. But that doesn’t mean you were prepared for this to happen.

You decided to wait until after work to text Whiskey back, but the rest of your shift had been a blur. Even an inkling of an idea of what to say eluded you, even as you were walking through the door to your apartment. Pulling out your phone, you opened the Messages app and stared down at the two lines Whiskey had sent. You eventually just said “fuck it” and typed out a quick text.

Today, 3:43PM god i am so sorry for aubrey if you dont wanna message its totally cool i mean we barely know each other  and my coworker thought it’d funny to give you my number just don't wanna make things weird between us

You flopped back onto your bed and covered your face with your hands for the second time that day, wishing you could sink down into the earth. God, why were you cursed with being so fucking awkward?

Right as you were wishing you could go back in time and say literally anything else to come off as more smooth, your phone pinged with the notification sound of a new text. With slightly shaky hands, you unlocked your phone and stared at the message Whiskey had just sent you.

Today, 3:46PM Darlin, I’ve been wantin’ to get to know you more for a while now. You’re real sweet and funny. Comin’ to get coffee is the highlight of my week.

You stared at your phone, your eyes wide open. Holy shit. Before you even knew what you were doing, you started screaming into your pillow so as to not scare or disturb your neighbors. Your entire body was burning with warmth as you typed out a reply to him. 

Today, 3:54PM oh! im really flattered honestly i’ve wanted to talk more too just been too anxious to say anything

You stared at the screen for what felt like forever until you saw the three little dots inside of the bubble that told you Whiskey was in the process of typing something back. Your heart raced with what he could possibly say. Then, your phone pinged with a new message notification. His response was here.

Today, 3:58PM Oh, really now? Well, if you’d be interested, sugar, I’d like to invite you over for dinner. Could show you a good time. ;)

“Oh my god,” you breathed. You hurriedly typed out a response, too excited to speak, your heartbeat and your mind racing.

Today, 4:04PM consider myself very interested! give me a time and date and i’ll be there, cowboy ;)

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You may have taken one or two wrong turns and gotten stuck in traffic along the way, but you finally made it to the address Whiskey had given you. 

The date he’d given you to come over for dinner was a few days away from when he had asked you and you couldn’t have been less anxious about it if you tried. Shifts at work seemed to go by even slower than usual and Aubrey could sense something was up when you worked with her the morning after your text conversation. You didn’t dare breathe a word about it to her, though, you didn’t wanna give her a big head about the whole thing. No, she could wait to find out until after your dinner with Whiskey, even though you have her to thank for this whole situation anyway. (Also, you definitely didn’t need her on your ass about buying her lunch for a week yet.)

As you drove down the path that your GPS was telling you to follow, you realized his house must be at the very end of the street he lived on. A few more minutes passed before your phone said you had arrived at your destination. Despite the map saying you should technically be in his front yard, you could barely see Whiskey’s house from behind a massive wrought-iron gate. A little silver box on a pole was sticking out of the side of the road, so you pulled up and pressed the small black button on the device.

“Hey, darlin’, that you?” you suddenly heard Whiskey’s voice ask. The buzzer must have a speaker in it somewhere. His voice was a little crackly, but you still could tell it was definitely Whiskey.

“Yeah! I’m outside the gate,” you called back. A loud buzzing sound came from the box and, suddenly, the large iron gate in front of you opened so you could drive through. Following the long gravel driveway, you finally made it up to Whiskey’s house.

And your breath was instantly taken away the moment you saw it up close. 

It was an absolutely gorgeous ranch-style home, one that you definitely would have seen on one of those TV shows about people showing off their fancy houses and the thousands of dollars they had poured into making their house look as fancy as possible to impress other fancy people. Whiskey’s car, a gorgeous classic Bronco that was black with white trim, was parked just up the driveway, so you pulled in a few feet behind him. Right as you were getting out of your car, you heard the front door open.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he called out. He was leaning up against the doorframe, a glass of amber liquid in his hand and a wide grin on his face. He was wearing his usual blue jeans and cowboy boots, but he had swapped his usual leather jacket for one that was made from dark blue denim and had a bit of a high collar. “Glad you found the place okay. Hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“I got a bit turned around a few times but I made it. Did have some reservations about you leading me out to the middle of nowhere, though,” you teased. Whiskey let out a chuckle as you approached him.

“Sugar, this is probably one of the safest places you could ever be,” he said with a smirk. “But I’m delighted that you’re here.” You felt yourself start blushing as Whiskey stepped aside to let you in. He closed the door behind you and, as you took in the living room around you, Whiskey fiddled with a security system panel on his wall.

The interior of the house was exactly what you had expected from Whiskey, if you were being honest. Brown leather couches and armchairs were circled around a massive stone fireplace in the living room. A large wooden coffee table, one that looked like it could have been handmade, was in the center of the room and on top of a Western-looking rug. The walls were also covered with paintings, one of a river in a forest with a mountain range in the background and one that you immediately recognized as the exterior of the Statesman Distillery. You could also catch a whiff of the delicious smell of roasting meat somewhere towards the back of the house. 

Whiskey muttered something about needing to check something and walked off, leaving you by yourself. You were a little hesitant at first, not wanting to look creepy or trying to pry, but you couldn’t help but look around.

As you looked around to take everything in, your eyes landed on a wall-mounted glass display case. 

Inside was what looked to be a whip with a loop at the end that had been tied to make a noose. When you stepped a bit closer to inspect it, you could have sworn you saw a flash of blue light somehow. You were staring at it when Whiskey cleared his throat behind you. You whipped around to face the older man and you instinctively took a couple steps backward as if you’d somehow been caught red-handed.

“That ol’ thing caught yer eye, sugar?” Whiskey said. His voice was quieter than usual, softer. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and came over to where you were standing. And all you could do was just look at his face. He had this look that you couldn’t quite decipher what it was supposed to mean as he stared at the whip. But if his stare was a laser, he would have cut through the glass and the wall behind it by now with how intently he was looking ahead of him.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Why the hell do you have a whip in a display case? Not that you can’t do what you’d like with your design choice, but it’s… certainly interesting.” You tried to sound light-hearted, attempting to diffuse this situation you didn’t know you had entered into, but Whiskey sighed deeply. 

“Don’t even know why I put this up. Hate looking at it most days,” he muttered. Suddenly, his head snapped to look at you, as if realizing he’d just said that out loud. He spun on his heel and walked back toward the kitchen. “Well, dinner’s almost ready, so you can head on in here. Got everythin’ all set up for tonight.”

You watched him turn the corner and head down the hall, frozen in place until you realized you should follow him. You quickly followed after him and you were suddenly in the biggest kitchen you’d ever been inside of. There was a giant kitchen island in the middle of the room with a built-in sink and a dark marble countertop. You could see two steaks cooking in an iron skillet on the stove to your left and Whiskey was in the process of pulling what looked to be some roasted vegetables in a pan out of the oven.

“Everything smells amazing, Whiskey,” you complimented as you took a seat on one of the barstools that was at the kitchen island. “Didn’t realize you were hiding a knack for cooking from me.”

Whiskey let out a loud laugh. “Oh, darlin’, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I can’t cook worth a lick,” he replied. “Favorite steakhouse on the other side of the county helped me out. The owner’s real friendly and was willin’ to sell me a steak dinner for two that I could finish in my own kitchen. Will have to take you there sometime.” He tossed a wink your way while he fiddled with the stove and you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest.

After a few more minutes, Whiskey announced the food was ready and he escorted you into the dining room where a table big enough for the two of you to sit at and intimately enjoy dinner was set up. The meal Whiskey had got for the two of you was absolutely delicious and your mouth was already watering at the prospect of being able to eat it again, but this time in the actual restaurant itself. The two of you talked about your day at work and Whiskey even told you a couple stories from his days as a bartender. He had you laughing so hard your sides hurt at the time he had a guy who tried to pay for his tab with his prized chicken.

Whiskey brought out a plate that contained a massive slice of triple chocolate cake for dessert and, despite you insisting you couldn’t eat another bite, you dug your fork into the giant confection and almost moaned at how rich and amazing it tasted. About halfway through the cake slice, you leaned back in your chair to look Whiskey in his eyes.

“Whiskey, this was incredible, thank you so much for having me over,” you said with a smile. The older man smiled back and gently reached out to hold your hand in his. He hesitated for a second, as if he was worried that you didn’t want the touch, but when you scooted your hand a little closer, he laced his fingers with yours. It was the first time he’d touched you all evening and it made the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

“Real glad you decided to take a chance on an old guy like me,” he replied. “I… I’d been wanting to ask you out for a while now. Was worried how it’d look, what you’d think of me.” 

You squeezed his hand gently, feeling emboldened by his confession. “I, uh, actually thought about asking you to come to my favorite coffee shop with me. The place I go to when I want coffee on my days off,” you said bashfully. “But I… I chickened out at the last minute.”

“Darlin’, I’d go anywhere you asked me to,” Whiskey stated. “Say the word and I’m there.” If you weren’t currently holding hands with him, you felt like you might collapse right then and there. He would have taken you out with his words alone.

“O-Oh.” That was all you managed to get out. You were sure he could see how hard you were blushing. Whiskey let go of your hand and made his way into the kitchen with your plates from dinner. You stood and followed after him.

You watched as Whiskey set the plates in the sink before he turned back to you and walked over to where you were standing in the middle of his kitchen. His large hands settled on your hips, making your heart beat faster. Whiskey’s lips connected with yours in a passionate kiss.

The scratch of the stubble of his chin felt rough against your skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. After months, you were finally kissing the man you’d been pining after for so long. Whiskey let out a soft noise as your hands came to rest on his chest, bunching the fabric of his jean jacket in your hands.

“God, baby, you’re incredible, so gorgeous,” Whiskey groaned after pulling back from your kiss. When his mouth returned to yours, his tongue licked into your mouth and it felt so good, it was threatening to make your head spin. In between kisses that had you desperately needing more as soon as possible, he started to guide you towards the back of his house. Whiskey opened a door and you both entered the main bedroom of the property. It was a massive room with an extra-large bed and a door off to the side that was open just wide enough for you to see that it was the primary bathroom. 

The older man pulled back from your intense make-out session to look at you. His large hands were settled on your waist, rubbing the material of your shirt softly. “Please, sugar, tell me you want this as much as I do,” Whiskey said through slightly-grit teeth. “You’ve been runnin’ ‘round my head for weeks an’... I’ve been a patient man, but you bein’ here in my house is doin’ somethin’ wicked to me.”

“I do, I really do, Whiskey,” you replied with a grin. “I want you.” You leaned in to kiss him again, but his eyes drifted downward as he opened his mouth and it made you stop your advance.

“It’s… It’s Jack,” he muttered, turning his face away, suddenly interested in the carpet floor of his bedroom. It took you a couple seconds for your brain to process what he said. You gently cupped his face in your palms, the stubble on his jaw tickling your skin, but the touch made him look back at you. You met his eyes and you could see a little anxiousness hidden behind them.

“Jack…” you repeated. A wide grin broke out on your face as you breathed out his name again. “Jack.” His name fell from your lips and the man in front of you immediately softened. You watched the nervous expression, the tension of letting you know his name, not the moniker he was given during his time with Statesman, bleed out of his body. 

You pressed a kiss to his lips before you pulled back to look up at him. “Jack. Want you to fuck me. Been dreaming about it for so long now… Please .”

As if you’d flipped a switch inside of him, Whiskey – no, Jack – picked you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. You let out a little squeak before you were gently laid down onto the bed and now, Jack was on top of you, kissing you like his life depended on it. He licked into your mouth again and you moaned against him. Jack’s hips grinded down against your clothed core. God, you could feel he was rock-hard under his jeans and you were dying to rip them off of him. You’d thought about this situation before, sure, but nothing from your wet dreams and fantasies could compare to how hot it was to actually be in the moment.

Suddenly, Jack was pulling away from you and stripping off his clothes, you following suit and pulling off your outfit only to toss it all across the room. You were a little self-conscious about his response to seeing you naked, but watching his eyes grow wider and his cock twitch the smallest bit made you feel invincible.

“Absolutely breath-taking, darlin’,” he murmured. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your chest. “Scoot up the bed more fer me, baby, wanna eat you like you’re the last meal I’ll ever have.” You burned at his words and you could only nod dumbly and pull yourself back toward the headboard. After getting settled, Jack pressed soft kisses up your thighs until he had reached where you both wanted him to be the most. He started off with teasing licks that made you feel like you were going to explode right then and there. His tongue gently flicked over your clit and you responded by fisting your hands tightly in the bedsheets, eyes squeezed shut as soft noises fell from your lips that you couldn’t back any longer

“Please, Jack,” you whined. “More. I need more.” You weren’t a stranger to sex, but the very limited encounters with your past partners were currently being blown out of the water. No one had ever made you feel like this before, so close to cumming in practically a minute flat.

“As you wish, sugar,” you heard him say with a chuckle. A kiss was pressed to the skin of your thigh before, true to his word, Jack ate you like a man starved. He licked long stripes up your pussy before digging into your clit with his mouth and his tongue that had you seeing stars. You looked down at Jack and you swore you got closer to orgasm just by seeing how his eyes were closed and his big hands were pushing your legs further apart so you couldn’t clamp down on his head.

“F-Fuck, gonna cum, fucking Christ,” you moaned loudly, head tilting up to the ceiling. You felt one of his hands disappear from its spot on your leg and then you felt a thick finger slip inside of you. The whine you let out was long and high-pitched and the instant a second finger was inserted to curl and prod at your g-spot, you came, cursing loudly and crying his name.

Before your brain could even think of something to say or a way to articulate how amazing that was, Whiskey was kissing you again. The taste of yourself on your lips was so incredibly hot.

“Never tasted anything so good in my life, sweet thing,” Jack said. He leaned down to lap at one of your nipples as he tweaked the other gently in between his fingers, making the stiff bud harden even more than it already was, and all you could do was lay there and whine Jack's name at the attention. You really thought he was trying to kill you with how much worship he was giving your body. He pulled off of you to press a kiss to where your heart would be before he looked back into your eyes.

“Now, gorgeous, we can go as far as you feel comfortable,” he said. “If you don’ wanna do anything else tonight, that’s okay with me. Ya can get me off or I can go take care of myself if you’d like, I just wanted to make you feel good.” You felt the butterflies in your stomach kick into overdrive again. Honestly, you really wanted Jack to fuck you, but you were still somewhat reeling from how hard he’d just made you cum with only his mouth and his fingers (that and you were more than a bit anxious about going all the way with him yet). But there was one thing you’d fantasized about several times…

“I… Ireallywannasuckyourdick,” you spat out. After saying it, you covered your face with your hands. You couldn’t believe you’d just said that. You heard Jack chuckle before you felt him gently take your hands and move them away from your face.

“Baby, I’d love nothin’ more,” he assured you. He leaned back and bared himself to you. For a moment, you could only stare at his cock and try not to drool at how hot he looked like this. His cock was hard and curled up toward his stomach with pre-come was spilling out of it slowly, dripping onto his torso. You settled yourself between his legs and licked an exploratory stripe up the vein running down his cock. Jack let out a loud groan and it only egged you on further. You took the tip into his mouth and lapped at the beads of pre-come that had spilled out. The salty taste of him was heavenly and, despite your earlier assumption that you might not be able to cum again soon, you felt ready to go all over again.

When you finally bobbed your head down, you thought Jack couldn’t moan any louder. You managed to fit all of him inside of your warm, wet mouth, the curly brown hairs at the base of his cock tickling you a little. You stayed down for a couple more seconds before it got to be too much and you had to pull off to cough slightly.

“Fuck, sugar, look so good with your mouth so full of my cock like that,” he groaned. Jack threaded his fingers in your hair and gently nudged you back toward his cock. “Gonna burn that image into my brain.” His words had you needing to reach down to gently touch yourself and you did so as you started to move your mouth up and down his cock again.

“S-Shit,” Jack hissed. You set a steady pace, fast enough to keep up with your need to finger yourself while you sucked Jack off, and it felt like all too soon, Whiskey was tugging on your hair just enough to make your body tingle in pleasure. “G-Gonna cum, sweet thing, make sure you take it all, so wonderful, that’s it, my good darlin’ .”

And that was all it took. His praise was what sent you over the edge.

You found yourself clenching around nothing as your finger frantically rubbed circles on your clit, humming around Jack’s cock as you came. Jack pushed your mouth down the smallest bit to fully sheath himself in your mouth and then you felt the hot burst of cum splash onto your tongue and down your throat. His fingers released their grip on your hair and you pulled off, swallowing as you did so. Jack gave you a wicked smirk at seeing you swallow his cum, but in an instant, he was cupping your face in his hands and making you look at him.

“I am so sorry I forced your head down like that, sugar,” he apologized. “Did I hurt you? I-I didn’t mean to, I swear, it’s just…” You cut him off before he could say anything else.

“It’s alright, Jack, I enjoyed it,” you replied. Your voice was the slightest bit hoarse, but you couldn’t care less. That was the single hottest thing you’d ever experienced in your life.

Whiskey gave you a kiss to your forehead before he got up off the bed, stretching a little as he did so, and walked into the bathroom. You let out a deep, contented sigh as you flopped down and buried your face into the soft pillow behind you. You felt like if you tried to get out of bed at the moment, you couldn’t. Your entire body felt exhausted, well-fucked, still drunk off of Whiskey’s cock that had been in your mouth mere minutes ago.

“Sweetheart, c’mon, move a li’l bit fer me,” he muttered. His Southern accent seemed even more pronounced than usual, which you thought was cute. “Gotta clean you up. Make sure my sugar’s taken care of.” You shifted from your current position to make it easier for Whiskey to wipe you down. The warm washcloth felt nice on your skin, getting the stickiness of your sweat off of you. Whiskey also pressed the cloth between your legs for a brief second and you felt your body get a small burst of warmth. Honestly, you were so worn out, you didn’t think you could be ready for another round if you tried, but that didn’t stop your body from trying.

Whiskey sat the washcloth down on the nightstand next to the bed and laid down, tugging you into his arms gently. You snuggled into him and you felt like you could fall asleep just like this. However, you did have one question for him.

“So… your name is Jack?” you asked after a few minutes of silence into the skin of his broad chest. Whiskey pulled his head back from where it had nestled on the top of your head to look at you with a smirk on his face.

“Would ya believe me if I told you my name was Jack Daniels?” he shot back. A loud laugh bubbled out of your lips. 

“Absolutely not ,” you laughed. Whiskey shared a laugh with you before he leaned in and gave you a long kiss to your lips. Your hand drifted up the soft skin of his back – the soft skin you had probably just scratched up even with your blunt fingernails – and threaded in the hair on the nape of his neck. Kissing Whiskey in this moment was tender and affectionate and you would give anything to stay like this forever. Curled up in his arms, you felt like you could take on anything.

“Well, it’s not the name I was given when I was born,” he started after he pulled back. His voice was low now, like he was sharing a secret. “Changed my name to it when I was a younger man. So, legally speaking, I’m Jack Daniels.” You blinked at him a couple of times.

“You changed your name?” you questioned. “How come?” Your fingers were still running through the hair on the back of his neck and at the question, you felt him tense up a little. Worried, you’d pried too much – despite currently being naked in his bed – you started to do damage control. Your fingers stilled and tightened, probably almost tugging at his hair. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Before you could babble anything else, Jack pressed another kiss to your lips but it was short and chaste. It had you melting all over again. “Darlin’, it’s alright,” he soothed. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your temple. “Gonna tell you everything one day. All ‘bout my past. You’re real special to me an’ you deserve to hear it from me before someone from back then finds out about you an’ tries to tell you.” His hot breath ghosted across your skin as he spoke to you, making your body shiver. 

You weren’t exactly sure what he meant, however. But you realized very quickly into your friendship that Whiskey never really spoke about his life, preferring to change topics over actually giving you an answer to something. You had a couple snippets of comments he’d let slip while in conversation at the café, but it wasn’t much. He’d mentioned that he used to work for Statesman Distillery (then again, his belt buckle had practically given that away the day you met), still had connections to them now that he was “retired”, and occasionally did work for them. He’d also mentioned once that, at one point, he was married a long time ago but he was divorced (you’ll never forget the way he looked incredibly uncomfortable when you’d asked about it before you changed the subject, something Whiskey had been thankful for). Sure, you knew about his hobbies and his favorite movie and other things of that nature, but other than that, Whiskey was a closed book.

Suddenly, you realized you’d been off in your own head thinking instead of saying anything back. Your eyes finally focused back on Jack and you could see that he looked ready to bolt at any second. Instead of prodding for more, you kissed the tip of his nose. “Hey, it’s okay,” you reassured him. “You can tell me more about you when you’re ready. It makes me worry about you, sure, but I still trust you.”

Whiskey gave you a soft smile and his grip around you got tighter. You looked up at him just in time to see his eyes slide shut and his breathing turn steady. You weren’t sure where this left your relationship with Whiskey, but you figured you two would talk about that in the morning. For now, you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the scent and the touch of your cowboy.

[agent-calivide]

This post isn’t aimed at anyone in specific, rather, just a general overall post to the IEYTD fandom

If you don’t like my interpretation of Phoenix as she/her that’s fine, everyone has their preferences. But it really sucks to be told to your face that your interpretation is gross or wrong or straight up incorrect.

Of course when theory crafting or talking about the character I go with they/them, as that’s the pronouns used in game, but Phoenix is not a nonbinary character, they are a self insert character that you can project yourself on to because the point is the player is the Phoenix. The pronouns are neutral so anyone can fill their shoes.

And to be blunt, if I saw the same energy for he/him interpretations of Phoenix I probably wouldn’t care because it would be a fandom-wide thing where Phoenix just is they/them, but I don’t. In fact, I see a lot of love for he/him interpretations of them, I personally really love Jackson Winters in particular. But where those creators post and share and get generally positive response, I usually get some mixture of “I don’t like it, but good for you” or “why are you calling them/him she?”

And the more and more I get that response the less and less I want to share my works, because I can only handle being told my interpretation is lesser so much. I know that my personal interpretation should just be my business, but it’s hard to not take it personal when I don’t really see anyone else with that interpretation very often and these points are always made when I’m in the conversation.

Just earlier I saw someone voice relief that someone else’s fanfic didn’t give Phoenix she/her pronouns while we were complimenting their fic, literally saying “Thank god” before saying it rubbed them the wrong way. It’s hard to not take that personal, it feels like a deliberate dig, whether intentional or not.

And yeah, this was one specific instance, but I have dozens of similar stories, and it’s just… frustrating. I made Phoenix she/her because I personally have had issues with accepting my femininity in the past, and I take comfort in the fact that my Phoenix can absolutely kick ass, take names, get shit done, and not have some “she’s cool AND a woman!!!” narrative. She’s just cool.

Honestly, Unconventional is probably the one most guilty of “she’s cool and a girl” because I went into it apprehensive of what people would think of my interpretation, but over time I let go of that, and Seraphina “Phoenix” Ardeat is now one of my favorite characters.

So to be told point blank on a roughly bi-monthly basis that she’s weird, why are you calling Phoenix she, and generally being told I’m wrong for making this character into my own when that’s what everyone is doing, it’s tiring. And it just sucks.

I love creating for this fandom, but it’s hard to want to when there’s like a 20% chance someone’s gonna get in my face and make me feel shitty for the rest of the day because of a silly, nameless, faceless character.

Again, this isn’t a call out or an attack, I just ask that maybe in the future people think before saying “I don’t like this, but good for you” because that “good for you” is like putting a bandaid over a bullet hole.

[gglitch1dd]

Typically - O!Bakugou x Reader

Delta!GN!Reader x Omega!Katsuki

This is a request from the amazing @quirkyhero . I hope I achieved what you were hoping darling!! (sorry for the long wait) Katsuki is not how I personally headcannon Bakugou to act as an Omega (ish) and isn’t the same as the one in Arranged (which is getting a second part to it). I don’t personally like adding Deltas to my Omegaverse but I’m glad I tried this out.

Context: Bakugou wasn't a typical Omega and maybe that's the reason he decided to ask you to be his.

Note: Dam - Birth/Omega parent, Sire - Alpha parent. Reader does not use any pronouns but does not have an AMAB/ Alpha body type. Swearing from Bakugou (obviously) Omegaverse.

Katsuki Bakugou was a lot of things. He was a force to be reckoned with. A number Two ProHero and a skilled cook. He was great at almost everything he did and if he wasn’t the first time, he wouldn’t stop till he was. He didn’t conform to anything specific other than pure power, strength and smarts.

So it was no surprise that he did not conform to his dynamic of being an Omega.

Bakugou hated being an Omega. Loathed it. He wasn’t like the others, from the moment he presented till now. He didn’t want to be someone’s wife, someone’s home builder. If he was going to build a home he was going to use his own bare hands, gather bricks and cement and make the actual thing himself.

He never wanted to bend over for some Alpha. Yes, sometimes when he’s heats were bad enough he would call Kirishima who was the only Alpha that he would let near him in that sort of way, but other than that he would rather drive himself in a ditch than get an Alpha as a mate. Which was also part of the reason why he kept his secondary gender a secret. The moment people knew about him being such a hero and an Omega, they would start hammering and hindering him like they did to other Omegan heroes.

So it was once again, no surprise that when you came into the picture, Bakugou’s interest suddenly peaked. You weren’t an Alpha. Oh by no means were you. You were a delta. Too much of an Omega to be a Beta and too much of a Beta to be an Omega. You were a friend that Mina had brought along with her. You had met the prohero during a (one time for you) Zumba class and since then had gotten along splendidly. With Kirishima’s approval, you were introduced to the pack.

Now Bakugou didn’t like new people. Found them a nuisances. So when you arrived he wondered how long you would stay. But by the end of the night at the bar, with drinks running high and laughter in everyone’s chest, you and him ended up the closest. Running on alcohol courage and laughs the two of you hit off well, despite his sarcasm and often angry outbursts, no matter your personality you managed to get steady conversation together.

By the end of the night when you had to get going back home and the pack was heading back, Bakugou (with pushing and shoving from Denki and Mina) managed to get the courage to ask for your number.

“You don’t have to give it to me, of course.” He scoffed looking to the side. His excuse for having flushed pink cheeks were due to the weather, something about the cool air or how he was drinking. He shrugged as if not caring as much as he actually did.

You laughed as you took his phone from his hands carefully. “I don’t mind giving you my number, Bakugou.” You told him truthfully, punching in your number into his contacts. Once carefully saved, you handed his phone back to him. “Text me when you get back home safe.” You told him with a wave as you turned around and left.

Bakugou watched you for a moment. If it wasn’t for who you were, he would have probably burst out in a fit about how he could take care of himself. He was the number two hero in Japan, but somehow knowing that you were worried and still wanted him to check in when he was safe, didn’t make him feel all that bad after all.

Then suddenly, all of his free time was surrounded by you. Swarmed by you. If he wasn’t working, he was texting you. If he wasn’t sleeping, he was talking to you. If he wasn’t in his office during his lunch break, it was most probably that he was eating out, with you. The Bakusquad Pack was rejoicing at the fact that he was finally with someone and taking an interest in them genuinely.

On a particular day Bakugou decided he wanted to seal the deal. He cooked a nice fancy dinner (since he wanted privacy with you), cleaned his whole house up, made sure to open his windows so you wouldn’t be crowded with his scent and puffed out the place to perfection. Turns out his Omega instincts weren’t all bad after all. After thoroughly making sure everything was flawless from the ceiling to the tiles of his apartment, then he had to make sure he was flawless. Bakugou spent quite a bit of time on his appearance naturally but now he was sure he was in his bathroom for over an hour and a half wondering if going all black was too much. To be fair most of his items of clothing were indeed black. Before he could go try and search for another top, there was a knock at the door.

Quickly clearing up his space and sliding over to the front door, he released a shaky breath. Putting on a face of indifference, he opened the door. Staring up at him in your own cute little outfit was you. You smiled up at him and gave him a bow. “Evening Bakugou, thank you for having me.” You greeted.

He opened the door some more. He tsked to the side. “I invited you, idiot. No need to thank me.” He mostly kept looking to the side so that you wouldn’t notice how his scent had a uptake to it when you smiled up at him so graciously. He let you through.

Being the Number Two hero, his place was pretty luxurious. It looked a lot like a show apartment rather than a home but it had little elements to it that made it undoubtedly a home. Bakugou showed you to the dining table that he set up to the ‘t’ to make sure it was without fault just for you and soon dinner was served.

Just like every other talk with Bakugou it was often filled with some sort of elaborate story along with angry remarks, but he was much more at ease when he was at home, you noticed. You noticed that even though you both weren’t wearing any scent patches, Bakugou seemed to be holding back his scent from you, almost as though not wanting to overwhelm you, which you thought was sweet but you didn’t mind his scent. He already told you it could get overwhelming sometimes. It was unusual though. Rather sweeter than savoury on the few instances that you were able to be exposed to it.

“In my defense…” Bakugou started. “Deku’s a fucking nerd.”

You snorted out covering your mouth. “He doesn’t sound so bad and even from what I’ve seen of him from the media and from what the other’s say, he sounds really nice. A great hero.” You defended the green haired Number One.

Bakugou crossed his arms, his plate empty along with yours. “Please. You don’t know him like I do. I grew up with him. I’m telling you, he’s a creep.” He seemed to glare and scowl at the mention of Midoriya.

You laughed as you wiped your mouth. “Coming from you, a man who calls his own sire an ‘Old Hag’ even though she is such a nice woman…” Bakugou rolled his eyes. “I won’t take your comment too seriously.”

Bakugou shook his head but couldn’t help the small smile that came up to his face. Something inside him told him that maybe it was time to finally ask you. He cleared his throat as he adjusted his seating. “How about we go for some fresh air, out on the balcony?” He asked motioning to the glass doors.

You nodded in agreement and followed him out into the cool night air. The night stars shining just a bit but not all that much. The downside of living in the city, all the stars got outshined by the city lights. You smiled as you placed your hands on the railing. “What a nice night.” You smiled softly looking up into the stars. There wasn’t much wind if any at all. Everything seemed sort of in place.

Bakugou watched you for a moment, his mind blank. As he had led you outside, he had snatched the little courting gift he had decided to make for you. It sat in his hand, him trying not to sweat too much and drown the gift in nitroglycerin. He straightened up as he faced you. “So… I these last few weeks with you…” He started catching all of your attention. “Have been… really… pleasant.” You let out a small giggle at his words knowing he wasn’t the best with them. Bakugou felt his face grow warmer, his ears starting to grow pink. He cleared his throat. “I… I wanted to ask you if… if you maybe would consider…” He grew more nervous his scent becoming harder to control. Then you smelt it. Sweet like running caramel but hints of cinnamon and a smokey campfire. It was sweet and light. “Maybe… allowing me to court you.”

From behind him he pulled out a beanie. A knitted black beanie with a bright orange rim. Your eyes widened in surprise as you carefully took the gift from him. You sniffed it noticing how it smelt like him. It was no doubt a courting gift but then you noticed what type of courting gift. Alphas typically gifted articles of clothing of theirs or little tangibles or random objects or stuffies while Omegas typically gifted things they made like knitted wear or food. Your eyebrows furrowed for a moment as you started to piece it together.

Bakugou let out a shaky breath at your silence. “I… haven’t told you about my secondary gender and I know that might influence your decision.” He told you truthfully. “I- I’m an-”

“Omega?” You asked. Bakugou tried to stop the way his body stopped for a moment at you saying his dynamic. He nodded slowly. You looked back down at the hat, it was really well made. “But why?”

Bakugou’s face scrunched up. “I don’t know. Fucking genetics? I got the short end of the stick in my opinion but-”

“No. Not that.” You chuckled out. “Why me?” You asked confused. “I… I don’t have the body or the scent that goes with your dynamic.” You stated truthfully. “I don’t have a knot nor a strong scent and I can’t give you pups if you chose to have any.”

“Why on earth would I care about any of those things when I can still have you?” He asked you. He hesitated but placed his hands on your shoulders.

“But Bakugou-”

“Katsuki.” He interrupted you. “And we can cross that bridge when we get there, but I want you. With all you can and can not give me.” He spoke uncharacteristically softly to you.

You hesitated but let out an amused scoff. “Alright.” You smiled tightening your grip on the soft beanie he made for you. You took a step forward closer to him, finally getting to smell his warm scent unhindered. “You can court me.”

-Glitch1d

My Bakugou Masterlist.

[unknownarmageddon]

Tell me your story when you discovered you were trans if you don't mind

oh hell fucking yeah i’ve been waiting for this question

okay story time

basically when i was way young i played an online game called animal jam play wild right

and like. i’d make all my avatars without eyelashes or flower crowns or pinks. “girly things”. and i also always roleplayed male characters, and my username was based off a male book character. which all made everyone i ever really met assume i was a guy.

so i just got referred to as a dude ALL the time like. constantly. that’s just what people assumed i was. and i even, as this kept happening, thought that if i called myself a girl online and was called one online it wouldn’t feel right. like i have vivid memories of saying to myself “if someone called me she online that’d feel weird” because i had been introduced to the notion of regularly being called a dude by people. i had NO idea what this meant and didn’t look into it at all it was just like. that’s that LMAO

i guess it was because like. on animal jam i really got to experience being more of myself??? i guess??? like in terms of expression. cause i made all these fun avatars that i loved and felt so connected to and that people referred to me as a guy because of. that was my first real experience with something like that, being called something other than she because of something i controlled. or something

and kinda as time went on and as i learned a bit more about the lgbtq community and saw other people doing it i decided to make a like. painting thing that stated my pronouns

so for a really good while i went by he/they pronouns on animal jam. never even questioned it. never considered it meant something. i never even called myself trans, never even called myself a guy. because i hadn’t had that realization yet. but that’s just what felt right to me

and even when i decided to go by those pronouns i had this whole thing where i was worried i would be like. lying about my gender???? which is WILD to me now. like i was like “if i went by he would i be lying about my gender?” because i didn’t really. know anything

and i also have this like. faint memory of one of my aj friends asking me what the pronouns change was about cause i had told them prior that i was girl. (which i only did because i thought it was funny seeing people get shocked by that, not because i actually thought i was. idk it was complicated) and i remember preparing the response of “im trans” but i crashed and they left before i ever got to say that. so i guess that was the first ever acknowledgment of being trans. BUT i never actually identified as trans for a good while

while i was playing animal jam and using those pronouns i was also watching a lot of squaishy quack’s videos. and i heard them talk about using they/them pronouns, and being genderfluid. that was the first real introduction i got to titles, words, for something like i might’ve had going on. and since i didn’t really have a grasp on what specifically was going on with me i thought “oh maybe that’s me.” so for a while i identified as genderfluid. but it felt like. forced. like i was trying to make myself that. so then i switched to nonbinary. because for some reason i never considered that it’d be as simple as trans. so i went with nonbinary for a WHILE but it still didn’t feel right. they/them didn’t feel right

so. last year. i was in the car with my father and i was watching the rain go down the window and i just had this batshit epiphany out of basically nowhere like. “holy shit. i’m trans. i’m a guy” like i was finally putting two and two together

and that’s. basically it CACKLES (there was a lot more thought than that but. essentially. that’s what it was)

and. yeah. it’s been that since

if i hadn’t played animal jam i doubt i would’ve realized by now

[yellowroseswrites]

i almost cried from happiness when I found you

Jonathan Byers with a reader with ADHD and anxiety

But not the crying kind

Nerves are always fried, just stressed

knee bounces

Hands are always doing something, tracing patterns, playing with rings,

Doesn't mind crowds but some people give her random anxiety

Isn't to worried about school, but is worried about Jonathan, anxiety for loved ones

I need him not trying to fix her. Trying to appreciate her for who she is

Here you go :)

"Your string of lights is still bright to me"

Jonathan Byers x Adhd!Anxious!Fem Reader [she/her pronouns used]

{TW/CW}- Talks of adhd, fidgeting, food is mentioned, reader doesn’t eat breakfast bc of executive dysfunction, but jon does have her eat, but the actual action of eating isnt discussed, sweet jonathan byers, I love him your honor, mentions him trying to ‘help’ her but it's not fixing her, reader has issues with body temperature, like she gets hot flashes bc of overthinking and stuff, jon calls reader honey once

{Authors note}- Tbh, i kinda hate this fic, but I love jon and this reader. so please, if you have any specific scenarios or prompts you want to see with them, send me an ask with it. i want to write for them more! GIF creds to the owner, title creds to taylor swift

{Word count}- 1,101. It's a short one today babes

There was no one in this world that you loved more than Jonathan Byers. He meant everything to you. He accepted you for who you were, and that mattered more to you than anything else.

You can remember clearly how it felt when he realized there was something off about you. You can remember how you were certain he would leave you. You remember telling him about your ADHD and being scared that he would think differently of you. You remember describing what it was like to live the way you live, with feeling nervous and fidgety for no apparent reason. You thought you were too much for him, you had too many things wrong with you.

And you can remember the indescribable peace you felt when he held your hands and told you he loved you. Even with your faults, though he would never see them as such. It was all you. He promised himself that he would never let you think less of yourself for things you couldn’t control. 

That’s not to say it was easy, because it wasn’t. It still isn’t. But Jonathan’s effort to help will always have you falling for him all over again. He spends his time watching and noticing, picking up on ways he can help you.

Sometimes it’s small things, one’s that you don’t even pick up on. He’ll buy you new rings and bracelets, ones with beads and charms that you can fidget with. He’ll place rubber pieces to the ends of your pencils for you to chew on to keep your pretty little nails intact. He rubs his hand along your back when bouncing your knee, keeping you calm but never making you stay still. He lets you run your fingers through his hair when you need to do something with your hands. He keeps the temperature cooler when he knows you’re coming over, afraid you’ll overthink and overheat. 

Sometimes it’s bigger things, things that make you feel like a burden. He’ll stay over at your place when you can’t fall asleep, or drive you around until your eyes flutter closed. He’ll leave with you if you get overwhelmed, anytime and anywhere. He always asks you before inviting someone else to hang out with yall, you’re always his first priority. He would shut someone up immediately if they said anything bad about you or the way you were acting.

You had only told a few of your friends. You tended to avoid the subject, you didn’t like the way people would view you differently or the way they would treat you. You didn’t want to hear about how you should ‘take a deep breath’ or ‘just sit still’. Many people just didn’t understand, but Jonathan did.

Today was a particularly bad day. You woke up and the temperature was too hot in your room. When you wake up warm, your day is wrong, that’s how it works. You don’t know why and you always try to get past it, but your bad day usually continues to persist.

You didn’t want to brush your teeth. You weren’t too tired, or too lazy, you just felt like you couldn’t. You saw the toothbrush, and you saw the toothpaste, and you couldn’t. So, you went to your kitchen to grab something for breakfast, maybe something to kickstart your day, but nothing seemed appealing.

Finally, you simply settled in your bed. You laid down and stared at your ceiling while you let your thoughts run freely. You heard the phone ring but you couldn’t get up to get it. You couldn’t do anything but stare and think and run your hands along your blankets. You weren’t aware of how much time had passed before you heard a small knock at your door.

“Come in”

The door creaked slightly and you heard a familiar set of footsteps approach you.

“Bad day sweetheart?” Jonathan asked as he sat down on your bed, weighing down the left side and causing you to roll a little bit.

You laughed as you sat up and motioned for Jonathan to lie down. He laid back against your lap, your hands soon finding their way to his hair. 

“I’m fine.”

Even with his face being upside down for you, you could tell he didn’t believe you. He hummed before he responded,

“You sure? You didn’t answer my call and you didn’t eat breakfast.”

“How do you even know that?”

“When you eat breakfast, you have a snack right after, or chew gum. You have to keep chewing.” He replied casually, as though he didn’t just call out a specific detail a normal person would never take notice of.

It scared you a bit, and yet it didn’t surprise you at all. He always noticed things that you thought people would try to ignore. He never once judged you or tried to ‘save’ you, he only asked how he could help, and sometimes he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You were quiet while you thought, though your hands were still brushing through the boy's hair. You sighed before you spoke, “Don’t you ever get tired of me?”

Jonathan sat up at that and turned to face you, “Why would you think that?” His hands found yours before you could bring your nails to your mouth.

“I just, I don’t know, I’m a very tiring person I guess. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you ever thought I was too much.” It most certainly would hurt your feelings, but you wouldn’t say that.

He took in a breath, you could see in his eyes he was a little hurt.

Of course, you thought, he is tired of me. I gave him an out and he’s going to take it.

“Oh honey,” here it is, “I could never get tired of you.”

Oh

“Nothing you do is ‘too much’. You mean everything to me, I could never think of you like that.”

It’s moments like this that make you wonder how you were so lucky as to have Jonathan in your life. You don’t say anything back, you just allow his words to fill your mind. You take a moment to believe them. Even if you don’t feel that way about yourself, you know he wouldn’t lie to you. 

Jonathan seems to know that that’s all you needed to hear. He also knows he’ll have to tell you again, and again, and again, but he doesn’t mind. He’ll tell you forever if you needed him to.

He stands up and holds out his hand, “Come on, let’s go get something to eat mkay?”