#so that's why this is kind of scraggly looking

[linkito]

What's this au that watcher/vex art was similar to? Tell me all the things? -🎀

It’s less of an au and more of just an idea for a start of something? Either way~

It begins with young Watcher-in-training Grian fleeing from the Watchers, finding refuge in a cave that draws him in with some kind of powerful magical aura. He hopes it can mask his trace.

Unfortunately for him, it’s the home of a large, monstrous vex (Scar). He’s very feral and scraggly looking, and he has some awful magic-locked cage muzzle/gag on, leaving his teeth constantly bared and preventing him from speaking. (It doesn't make him safe by any means; he still has claws and various weapons of past attackers scattered around.)

But he’s not attacking Grian. Not yet. Not on sight. He mostly just...watches with narrowed slitted eyes, waiting for something that doesn’t seem to be coming. 

Grian is frightened, has no weapon, and he’s significantly smaller. The vex should be able to take him down easily.

So eventually they reach this sort of neutral state of neither of them moving any closer. Grian creeps along the walls and eventually, slowly, settles himself down to sit to rest his poor shaking legs. Scar stares for a moment longer, then also sits, still watching.

Grian figures maybe as long as he doesn’t provoke this beast, he’ll be safe.

(And it's true. Scar is used to people coming in here to steal and demand to make deals with him. Grian clearly didn't mean to be here though. But he's keeping a watchful eye. He doesn't trust it.)

Eventually, Grian thinks maybe the vex is asleep. So he takes this time to meditate. His real eyes close, and hee opens his Eyes to try to determine if the Watchers are on his trail yet, reaching out as far as he can to Look.

When he opens his real eyes again, Scar is directly in front of him, staring more curiously, sort of like he’s wondering if his intruder just died whilst sitting up straight.

Grian yelps and bonks his head on the wall trying to scramble backward.

But Scar also yelps (although muffled) and flails back as well.

And despite everything... Grian can’t help but laugh at that? Because why is he startled? 

Now that he’s closer, though, he can make out the Watcher’s symbol on the lock of the cage on Scar’s head. And being spiteful of anything the Watchers might do, he reaches out without even really thinking about it. 

Scar freezes.

He lets Grian touch the trap around him, but he still doesn't know for sure this isn’t an elaborate trick? Something to get close and take him down? It would have been Grian's only way of winning, truly. So Scar places a clawed hand close to Grian's neck. He's slow and soft with the touch, but it’s undeniably threatening. If Grian was going for some kind of trap here, surely he'd flinch back?

But Grian swallows nervously and tries his best to reassure the vex that he wants to help.

And, eventually, Scar removes his hand and cranes his head to help Grian look at the contraption, also baring his neck, tentatively trusting.

Grian breaks the seal and slooooowly pulls the thing off of Scar, and oh Scar is so happy.

He grins, big and toothy (full of sharp edges, but it's still so oddly charming?) and grabs Grian to spin him excitedly.

He speaks now, (and oh if his voice isn't also so charming) and he lifts Grian up, looks up at him, lips far too close. "Oooh my gosh, I swear I could kiss you right now!" he exclaims, but he doesn't, a shame, really, and instead puts Grian back down and just starts excitedly introducing himself.

In this case, Vexes have like unlimited magical potential. But they are limited by only being able to use it under the direction of someone else. (thinking like how evokers summon them and direct them) The catch is, vexes are tricky creatures. They can and will warp your instructions to their liking if you leave any room for loopholes or leeway. That’s part of the reason Scar was gagged. To prevent him from swindling you into a bad deal.

So normally Scar would do whatever he could to bend the rules and screw over his master, but he’s so overwhelmingly happy at being freed that he says to Grian, “Anything you want! It’s yours. Anything at all, no tricks, no nothing.” And he means it, too.

And that’s all I really came up with! Like I said, just a beginning.

I think Grian should ask about that kiss.

[between-two-fandoms]

Thoughts on Buck ever meeting Captain Gerard? Like… maybe they’re at the FD/cop bar and Gerard shows up while Hen and Karen, Chimey and Tommy and Eddie are all there and it’s so awkward and Tommy wants to lash out and Eddie looks like he’s gonna beat someone’s face in— but then Buck is there defending his fam? I donno why but i feel like I need this…Athena meeting Gerard would also be a THING I NEED.

oooh, I haven't thought of this one yet!

I can picture them all at the badge and ladder bar, and Gerard winds up at the bar ordering something and spots Tommy first so he moseys on over to the 118 crew/firefam. And Buck is sitting there next to Tommy. He notices how Tommy's usual suave confident nature falters in front of his old captain. Buck takes it all in for the first time, leaning into Tommy as he tries listening to old stories from Tommy's first captain.

It's clear Hen and Chimney are immediately uncomfortable with this smelly old man's presence at their table, but Bobby doesn't make him leave so Buck follows Bobby's lead at first and tries to be nice to Gerard. But then Gerard starts cracking offensive jokes. First at Buck's expense, because Buck's got a reputation a mile-wide from his 1.0 era and that's fine. Buck can handle jokes being made about him. He's a big boy. Tommy's hand grips his thigh under the table, grounding him.

(more under cut)

They're all still humoring him an hour after Gerard tells a couple of stories and lays off the jokes for a bit, but Buck has already decided he loathes this man who thinks he can get away with talking to his family like this. All the snide comments and borderline offensive one-liners. And then Gerard starts cracking jokes at Hen and Chim's expense and gets offended when Tommy doesn't play along. When Gerard starts turning his attention to Eddie he tries making a joke about Christopher when Eddie shows him a picture. Before anyone else can do anything Buck snaps. Maybe he feels brave enough for confrontation because he's had a couple beers so he's not able to control his emotional stressors like usual, or maybe he's just fully pissed off at this sorry excuse for a fire captain for thinking he's one of them.

How dare he think he can make fun of the 118 like this? They're heroes compared to scraggly old man ass. They're Buck's family. Bobby is a hundred times the captain you'll ever be Gerard! Tommy's grown into a person he can be proud of! Fuck off you asshole. He's a great boyfriend! kisses Tommy aggressively to make a point then rounds on Gerard again Chim is the best older brother ever. He's an amazing paramedic and he's going to be at the 118 longer than any of us! And how dare you insult Hen and Karen! Karen is a rocket scientist she's a million times smarter than you'll ever be asshole! Hen is my sister. She's the best paramedic in the state. how dare you talk about my sister like that! When he's done everyone looks at Buck kind of afraid but mostly just thankful he had the guts to say what everyone's been thinking.

Then Gerard gets scared off, and Buck's coming down from the high, still seething a little. Everyone thanks Buck for sticking up for them, but they inevitably decide to call it a night and taper off until it's just Buck and Tommy left. By then the exhaustion washes over Buck and he just buries his face into Tommy's chest. Tommy (who is a little turned on by Buck yelling at Gerard and being all protective over everyone, but now's not the time) wraps his arms around him telling him how brave he is, how strong he is, how much he loves him, and then he takes him home.

[thegracefulwillow]

Pandora Hearts month day 1: Coat

@i-prefer-the-term-antihero

[occamstfs]

Ugh, I Hate Bongs.

Switching it up slightly! Here's a more subtle TF as a straight edge busybody finally tries to stick it to his stoner roommate. -Occam

Chris was not going to let his roommate smoke in their apartment anymore. He was tired of the couch smelling like smoke which is reason enough, but beyond that his roommate, Nate, had fully broken two broken two bongs getting ashy water all over the work Chris had left out in the den. Hearing a telltale gurgle coming from the living room could only mean Nate had now brought a third bong into their shared space. Chris felt almost bound to act.

As soon as he opens his bedroom door he feels a wave of thick smoke blow through him, clearly getting the skunky smell he hates so much all over his clothes and bedding. This was something Chris could not let stand. It’s bad enough that he’s doing this in the apartment at all now it’s now going to start seeping into the only place he had left. He sees Nate on the couch taking in a deep breath preparing to lay into him. But? What was he mad about anyway?

Standing there continuing to breathe in smoke from Nate’s session he remembers there was definitely something he needed to do. He was in his room, then he heard his roommate, and now he is in the living room? As he continues to aimlessly circle through these seemingly insignificant events he doesn’t even notice as he stops smelling the weed in the air, before seeing Nate take another massive bong hit on the couch. Seeing him out of his room Nate smiles, breathing another wave of smoke into the room.

“Yo dude! Are you coming to join?” Nate’s eyes are bleary and red as he offers the bong and lighter to his roommate.

That’s what it was, Chris remembers as he sees the bong. He was pissed that his roommate was using a bong! It was, annoying for some reason? I mean it looks a little dirty right? “Didn’t I say no bongs dude?”

“Oh yeah dude! That’s why I rolled you a joint?”

This throws Chris for a loop. What a kind thing to do but he can’t help but feel something amiss going on. The smile briefly fades from Nate as he grows concerned seeing Chris struggle. “Woah everything good dude?”

“Yeah, sorry? My head just feels like it’s pounding,” Chris rubs his face in discomfort feeling his face grow flush and his eyes begin to dry.

“This’ll straighten you right up dude, come on just try a hit.”

Chris, upon being directly asked, puts out a hand for the joint and immediately lights it up like he has done it a thousand times over. He takes a hit like an expert, breathing slowly and naturally as to not cough. Only after doing so and realizing he had no discomfort he starts a coughing fit. Of course, he has been breathing progressively more and more smoke since stepping out of his bedroom, so this fit is almost performative. Something he is doing only because it is something he should be doing, or he thinks he should be doing? He doesn’t usually smoke, right?

This thought quickly flashes out of his head as feels lightheaded, collapsing onto the couch right next to Nate. His body growing leaner as he almost liquefies into the cushions, “See Chris what did I say, one hit and you’re already cured.” His glazed eyes look over to his friend as he takes another hit. He sees his friend’s stubbled face and wonders if he should grow one of his own. Shaving is more effort than it’s worth anyway. He exhales as he too starts to add to the pervasive smoke filling the room.

He scratches at his face as a scraggly beard starts to push out. Pausing to feel as much as he can in his body before taking another hit. Pushing his back against the couch, rubbing his arm down his chest and stomach, Nate watching as his roommate finally lets loose. Chris takes a third hit as Nate sees his hair get greasier as his pubes push out beyond the bounds of his holey underwear.

Chris launches into another coughing fit as, unbeknownst to him, he finishes the joint and starts to burn the filter. Seeing this Nate reacts as quickly as he can, clumsily putting the bong down on the table reaching out to check on Chris, rubbing his roommates back in a way that seem decidedly intimate. “Y’okay dude? Your hits were way too big but ‘s chill ‘s chill. You didn’t want any more did you?”

Sluggishly working through the words Nate just asked him he finds he doesn’t need to search for his own answer. Why wouldn’t he want more? Everything just feels so much better as he stretches, feeling his tendons and muscles expand and contract, “Mmmmm yeah I could do a little more.” Before he remembers that with his joint now impossibly consumed in three hits the only weed ready to smoke is in the bong’s bowl, still vaguely unpleasant to him.

Nate then has a masterful idea. He would shotgun the weed to Chris! Why would he be averse to that? They’re friends right? Chris, numbed beyond reason, is more than happy to give it a try. He’s sure that he's drunk after Nate before right? Or? Have they kissed before? It’s hard to tell, the benders they go on its truly impossible to say.

Chris watches as Nate takes a massive hit of the bong. Water gurgling for full seconds before he reconsiders, one last time feeling unease, he isn’t the to go on benders right? He’s so type a he wouldn’t even think about it. Continuing to question himself as he leans towards Nate, finishing his inhale as he too leans towards Chris. He opens his mouth letting the cloud of smoke leak out of his mouth, lazily gazing into Chris’ eyes expecting him to finish the job.

Seeing this Chris is unable to resist as he stumbles forward pressing his mouth to Nate’s.

Nate falls backwards, once more narrowly placing the bong on the table, as Chris crashes into him. The playful second hand smoking quickly dissolving into an aggressive grinding session as Chris hungrily slobbers over Nate’s neck. Maybe he is this type of person. Nate pulls Chris’ shirt off letting their torsos touch skin to skin as Chris begins dry humping his roommate. The two stoners continue in this regard as their cocks swiftly demand attention as sweatpants are pulled down and the two have at each other outright. Lean arms flailing in the air as they pull on each other's unwashed hair. Faces shove into hairy pits in lieu of smoking any more weed, besides of course the haze still filling the apartment. The pressure quickly mounts as Chris is inches from finishing all over his roommates’ hairy chest before he shifts and his left leg flings into the table knocking over bong number three. “Shit dude!” he cries as he does indeed finish missing Nate’s chest for his face. Coming down from their ecstasy the pair stumble off the couch narrowly avoiding glass shards as they try to clean up Chris’ mess.

“Maybe no more bongs yeah,” Chris giggles at something he can quite understand as he watches Nate struggle with a broom. His eyes shift from the unground weed on the table and his still unclad roommate as he starts to work himself up once more. Hungrily awaiting what comes next, he prepares for session two.

[just-your-average-cryptid]

most of us have heard of the red car game. you’re on a road trip, you’re bored, you start looking for red cars to do something.

and then they’re everywhere. you notice them nearly every few minutes.

there aren’t suddenly more red cars now, of course. you were seeing them already, but you weren’t noticing. you weren’t looking.

I am noticing things.

there is a plant I notice everywhere now, a small bushy plant in suburbs, along streets, by shops on the highways. dwarf umbrella bush is what the internet tells me when I look for it’s name. I did this because I wanted to know why,

every time I ever saw it, every place,

it was always dying. always the leaves turning yellow, the branches small and scraggly. inside out - nitrogen deficiency. their soil drained.

I am noticing how many of these landscaping plants are yellowing, how small and sickly they look in just a few years. I am noticing how often the grass outside the house is replaced when it once again turns brown and dry, how the type never changes and the cycle starts again. I am noticing how the unmowed, unkempt spaces on lakesides and roadsides look more alive than this. how the preserve I grew up next to was miles of “messy” unmanicured nature and the ground was covered in leaves instead of grass and there was life.

I am noticing the birds that come by the lake. there was a flash of blue wings and red chest - eastern bluebird, male, relatively common. I had never seen one before. there is a family of ducks that appear every spring; i cannot say if it’s successive generations or different ducks, but I can always look forward to ducklings. there are little brown birds with white heads whose names I do not know - are they some kind of piper? why don’t I already know?

why is it so hard to learn about my native plants (accurately, that is)? why are so many gardening sites littered with people who think a plants value is based on how pretty or useful it is to them, who think a tree shedding leaves is “messy”?

why is knowing about the world we live in so… odd? why is it a hobby and not vital knowledge? I learned about polar equations. I taught myself about mycorrhizal networks and species of insects.

(did you know there are shiny green bees? a special species of wasp pollinating figs? that white flowers bloom at night for moths? do you know? have you looked?)

I cannot look at a lawn and see life anymore. it is a wasteland, devoid of life, dying slowly itself. everywhere is grass, grass, doused in water that runs over into storm drains, soaked in fertilizer and pesticides and a hundred other poisons and sending one clear message:

this is a place of death. life is not welcome here.

I do not think I could live in a city. too loud, yes, too busy, yes, too many people, yes, but the plants would bother me. a tree allotted only a convenient square, surrounded by dead stone and metal.

a forest cleared for this, for burning asphalt streets and racing cars and shops whose bathrooms are “for paying customers only”.

this is a place of death. life is not welcome here.

and now I am noticing.

[asbealthgn]

originally posted this goofy lil steddie fic on ao3 but uhhhh you can have it

--

Max does not have a crush on Steve.

She knows this because she knows exactly how crushes feel. For the past couple years she’s been in a cycle of crushing on Lucas, dating Lucas, pissed at Lucas, breaking up with Lucas, realizing that Lucas is actually pretty adorable, rinse, repeat. She also had a brief period of crushing on El that she absolutely does not talk about because they are way better off as friends. 

So Max knows how crushes feel and she doesn’t have one on Steve. She does, however, have a healthy appreciation for how hot he is. 

On the one hand, gross, he’s like four years older than her. But on the other hand, Michael J. Fox is like six years older than him, and he’s hot too. On the other other hand, gross, Steve is like a brother to her. But on the other other other hand, she doesn’t have a crush on him so it’s not weird.

Max is running out of hands and the whole point is that she’s not going to stop herself from finding Steve hot, and she’s not going to stop herself from looking at him every once in a while. 

That’s how she makes her discovery on an afternoon that can’t seem to decide if it still wants to hang on to summer or if it’s ready to slip off into fall. She’s out on Ventura, which she kind of hates because it reminds her of Those Days, but it’s a good street for skateboarding. She’s on her own, having turned down Lucas’ offer to get shakes, and El’s offer to watch a movie, and Dustin’s offer to study for their math test tomorrow (like she was ever going to say yes to that). 

She’s sort of halfway on a mission today. Jonathan gifted her a camera on her last birthday, a Polaroid, and has been showing her the ropes of photography. She’s determined to get better at it. Most of her pictures so far have come out blurry or too dark or too overexposed or just completely boring to look at. She has the camera slung around her neck now, and she’s scanning the side of the road for anything interesting to photograph. 

Max has just stepped off her board to inspect a rusted out watering can in the grass that might make a cool photo when she hears a car door slam up the street. She’s partially concealed on the other side of a scraggly bush and watches from behind it as Steve swings his keys around his pointer finger before pocketing them as he approaches the woods. He glances around once he hits the trees and Max ducks down to avoid being seen. By the time she pokes her head back up, Steve has disappeared.

That’s suspicious. Why would Steve be all the way out here? What’s he trying to hide?

Like Max isn’t gonna follow. She stashes her board in the bush and takes off after him, trying to pick up the trail from the place Steve disappeared from. Once she’s in the trees, she can hear his movement, well up ahead of her. Honestly, for a guy trying to be sneaky, he’s making a shit ton of noise. All she has to do is hang back far enough that there’s no chance to be seen and she can keep up after the sound of branches breaking and leaves rustling and birds taking off.

Max pauses when the noise stops. It’s replaced by the sound of voices, too far away for Max to tell what they’re saying. Then that stops too and she creeps forward out of curiosity, going until she finally does see Steve.

He’s kissing someone.

Max isn’t sure who, exactly, because they’re pretty obstructed. Apparently, there’s a tree fort back here that she never knew about. It’s not high up, maybe only five feet off the ground, and the walls aren’t exactly watertight. Through the window and the gaps in the wall, she can see Steve pretty clearly and someone, some girl with curly dark hair. Max can’t see her well enough to make out anything else about her other than that. But it’s not like Max is not going to try to figure it out.

For that she’ll need evidence.

She lifts her camera, lines up the shot in the little window, and snaps a picture. But shit, flashes are a thing that exist. Bright light bounces off the trees and Steve lifts his head. Max drops, concealing herself in the undergrowth. 

“What was that?” she hears Steve ask, and she doesn’t stick around long enough for them to start investigating. She slithers off as quickly and as quietly as she can, making it back out to her skateboard in record time. She skates away, making sure to get two streets over before checking the photo that has now developed. 

Steve and the mystery girl, dark hair spilling out. Yep, Max is definitely going to use this. 

“Steve has a girlfriend,” Max announces in first period the next day, swinging into her seat right as the first bell rings. 

“So?” Mike asks at the same time that Dustin says, “He can’t!”

“What do you mean, so?” Max asks at the same time Lucas says, “Why can’t he?”

“I mean, why am I supposed to care?” Mike says at the same time Dustin says, “Because he tells me everything.”

“Hey, that’s our friend,” Will says at the same time Lucas says, “He doesn’t tell you everything.”

“Okay, can we please stop having two conversations at the same time?” Max asks as Mike and Dustin both open their mouths. Mike snaps his shut, but Dustin barrels on.

“Steve does tell me everything,” he says, “If he had a girlfriend, I’d know about it.”

“What makes you so sure, anyway?” Mike asks Max. She crosses her arm. 

“I saw them,” she says, “In the woods off Ventura. I have evidence.” She rifles through her backpack and produces the Polaroid of Steve and the mystery girl. 

“What were you even doing in the woods?” Lucas asks as everyone leans in to inspect the photo.

Max frowns. “What are you, a cop? Mind your own business.”

Lucas lifts his hands. “Geez, okay.”

Mike settles back in his seat, waving dismissively. “That doesn’t mean anything,” he says, “Steve makes out with girls, like, all the time.”

“Yeah, like Nancy,” Dustin sings, drawing out her name into a taunt.

“Ew, gross!”

“He kind of has a point,” Will says, “Steve kissing a girl in the woods doesn’t really mean anything.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Okay, then you guys aren’t paying attention,” she says, “At movie night last month, did he or did he not say that he was done with casual hookups and he wasn’t kissing anyone until it was ‘the one’ or whatever?”

Dustin nods. “He did say that. He said it to me again last week, because I hang out with him and he tells me everything.”

Lucas rolls his eyes as the warning bell rings. “Alright, if you know everything,” he says, snatching the Polaroid off Max’s desk and smacking it onto Dustin’s. “Who’s he kissing?”

“How should I know?”

“Oh, really? Guess you don’t know Steve as well as you thought.”

“Shut up!” Dustin says, “Yeah, I do! Just cause I don’t know—”

“Let me see,” Mike says, taking the picture. He studies it. “She looks kind of familiar, right? I’ve definitely seen that hair somewhere.”

“Well, she’s someone from Hawkins, so probably,” Max says.

Mike passes the photo to El. “What do you think? Do you know her?”

El takes the picture and looks at it, then shrugs. “I do not think so.”

That gives Max an idea. “Hey, El, do you think you could find her? Like when you found Heather from her picture?”

El looks back at the photo. “I am not sure. It is hard to see her.” She gives Max a tiny smile as the bell rings. “But I will try.”

That afternoon, after school, Max and the rest crowd onto El’s bed at the cabin while El sits cross-legged on the floor, blindfold over her eyes. The photo is on the ground in front of her with the radio tuned to static. Max watches in anticipation as a drop of blood slowly trickles from El’s nostril. After a few minutes, she pulls the blindfold off.

“It is no good,” she says, “I am only finding Steve.”

“Really?” Dustin asks. “Are you sure? Was anyone else with him?”

“I think he is at work,” El says, “He was with Robin and Eddie, but no girl.”

“Robin’s a girl,” Mike says.

“But not the girl,” Max says, “The hair’s all wrong.”

“Maybe she was in a wig,” Dustin says.

“Why would she be in a wig?” Lucas asks. Dustin shrugs and makes an I don’t know sound. 

“It’s not Robin in a wig,” Will says, leaning off the bed and picking up the photo. “It’s someone else.”

They pass it around again, everyone staring hard at the girl like maybe they’ll find some other clue. All they can really make out is that she’s in a black shirt, but that could still be anyone. Eventually, they give up, and the boys get bored and go back to Lucas’ to play Nintendo, and Max sticks around to watch movies with El. 

El convinces Hopper to let Max stay the night, since it’s Friday, and they try finding the girl one more time. El gives up after only a minute this time, shaking her head. 

“It is not working,” she says, “This time, I only saw Eddie.”

“Eddie?” Max asks, “Why would you see him?”

El shrugs. “I do not know,” she says, “It seemed like he is at a concert.”

Max picks up the picture and frowns at it. “Maybe the girl’s there too, but you just can’t see her for some reason? Like, ‘cause the picture isn’t clear? And maybe you’re seeing Eddie clearly ‘cause you know him?”

“Maybe,” El says, looking skeptical.

Max doesn’t blame her. She knows she’s grasping at straws here. But this is so damn confusing. She’s never had reason to doubt El’s abilities before, so why would they be failing? They give it a rest for the night and go to bed, but Max isn’t letting this go.

She’s going to figure out who this girl is. 

Max takes the strategic route and goes straight to the source.

Well, sort of to the left of the source. As close to the source as she can get without actually going to the source. Basically, she asks Robin.

It’s another movie night at Steve’s, and Max waits until Steve has disappeared into the kitchen to pop another bowl of popcorn before getting up and wedging her way in between Robin and Eddie on the couch.

“Do you know who Steve’s girlfriend is?” she asks. The others all whirl around, knowing exactly what she’s getting at. Robin’s eyes widen.

“What?” she asks, “What do you mean?”

Max narrows her eyes. “I know you know,” she says, “Steve tells you everything.”

“Hey, he tells me everything,” Dustin chimes in.

“Not helping,” Max says, pulling the polaroid out of her pocket and showing it to Robin. Eddie leans in so he can see too, then jerks back, laughing. “What’s so funny?” Max asks him.

“How’d you get that picture, Red?” he asks, not exactly answering the question.

“I took it,” Max says, “I saw them, and I wanted to know who she is.” She turns back to Robin, who is still looking at the photo. “Well? Do you know her?”

Robin shakes her head quickly. “Nope! Sorry, never seen her before in my life.”

She is so clearly lying. Max is about to call her on it, but then Steve is coming back into the room, so Max shoves the picture back in her pocket and hops off the couch to give him his spot back. 

“Stevie, how come you never told me you have a girlfriend?” Eddie asks, still sort of laughing as Steve settles in next to him. 

Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t believe this!” Dustin shouts, “How could you not tell me!”

“Not tell you what, man?” Steve asks.

“Show him the picture,” Dustin says, tugging Max’s sleeve.

“I’m not showing him the picture,” Max says. 

“Ah, go on, Red, show him,” Eddie says, looking like he’s barely holding back another laughing fit.

Maybe a little apprehensively, ‘cause she’s kind of showing her ass here, Max pulls the Polaroid out and passes it to Steve. He looks at it for a long moment, everyone except Eddie and Robin on the edge of their seat waiting to hear what he has to say.

“Huh.”

“That’s it?” Mike says, “Huh?”

Steve shrugs.

“So?” Lucas asks, “Who is she?”

Steve grins. “Ah, you wouldn’t know her,” he says, “She goes to a different school.”

That makes Eddie howl in laughter while everyone else speaks over each other, trying to figure out what that means. Something like the beginnings of an idea is occurring to Max, but she’s not sure exactly what yet. She turns over the pieces in her head as they finish the movie, analyzing Steve’s answer, gauging Robin and Eddie’s reactions, and it feels like something is starting to come together that has yet to fully reveal itself.  

After the movie’s over, Eddie gives her a ride home since they’re right across the street from each other. 

“I gotta say, Red,” Eddie says as he rolls past the sign for Forest Hills, “It’s a little voyeuristic to be snapping pictures of people in the woods.”

Max rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to be creepy,” she says, “I was just curious.”

“Hey, I’m all about encouraging curious minds,” he says as they pull up in front of Max’s trailer. He grins at her. “Just be careful what you find out.”

That’s cryptic as shit, but Max just brushes it off as she pushes open the passenger door and gets out. She’s climbing the steps to her front door when the rest of the pieces clunk into place—something about familiar curly brown hair, and El only finding Eddie, and Eddie’s tears of laughter at everyone trying to put it together. 

Max whirls around and looks at Eddie hopping up the steps to his own trailer, curly hair bouncing on his shoulders. “Eddie,” she yells. He stops and looks at her. “You motherfucker!”

He cackles and throws open his front door. “Knew you’d get there eventually!”

[bakubunny]

bringing you some thoughts on sugar daddy!yagi. it was going to be aizawa, but yagi seemed like a much better fit for what came to mind.

tw: f!reader, escort!reader, retired!yagi, retired/quirkless!yagi’s physical appearance isn’t known to the public

sugar daddy!yagi who never intended to be a sugar daddy. felt mortified at the thought that he was seriously considering hiring an escort for something as simple as companionship. why was it so hard to meet a nice woman to settle down with in his retirement? he was kind and knew very well how to build a romantic relationship… in theory. he just spent the majority of his career without one.

sugar daddy!yagi who was so nervous when he met you that his hands shook. who cleaned himself up well. who assumed you would walk away when you saw how he looked. you almost did, but it wasn’t his age or his looks. it was that he’d mentioned he was a bit “high profile,” but wanted to meet you before revealing more details.

sugar daddy!yagi who was stunned when you walked over to his table. his mouth went dry when he saw just how pretty you were in real life. you weren’t quite half his age at thirty, but it was close to that with him being in his late fifties. you hadn’t worn anything special other than a nice, casual dress. he was enraptured by the brightness of your eyes and smile, got a fluttery feeling in his chest whenever you laughed.

sugar daddy!yagi who, if he hadn’t looked so pathetic and anxious to admit that he was toshinori yagi, you wouldn’t have believed him at all. you’d taken on a couple of higher profile clients before, but never a world renowned hero, and the scraggly, dark eyed man looked nothing like all might. yagi begged you not to walk away from the secluded table he’d reserved. you hadn’t laughed in his face, but you certainly didn’t believe him either. “i can prove that i’m telling the truth,” he said. “i’ll double, triple your rate if that’s what it takes. please, give me a chance.”

sugar daddy!yagi who was indeed who he said he was. you decided to agree to meet him a few more times before setting anything into a contract because something about him drew you in. it wasn’t the flowers he bought you or the way he carried himself, it was his kindness.

sugar daddy!yagi who is so adorably nervous even after the contract is set that you can’t help but find it endearing. who makes it very clear that he wants companionship - nothing sexual - in exchange for your time. who spends the majority of his time cuddling with you, taking interest in learning your hobbies, and talking about your life.

sugar daddy!yagi who encourages you to lean into the success of your career and wants to see you grow as a person the more he knows you. who takes the time to learn about your hobbies and try them with you in an effort to have more interests in common. who shares his with you and brings you along to do things with him.

sugar daddy!yagi who doesn’t blink the first time he hands you a check large enough to cover your rent, bills, and groceries for the month thrice over. it’s far above what you’d agreed on for his temporary contract, but the moment you’d mentioned things were “a little tighter than usual,” he wouldn’t hear anything else. if you were going to be his baby, he was going to take care of you.

sugar daddy!yagi who is stunned once again when you give him a kiss on the cheek as a thank you. you really didn’t expect generosity like that, especially from a new client, but the more you get to know yagi as a person, the less it surprises you. sure, his career made him put on a character of sorts for the public, but underneath that he was still kindhearted and generous.

sugar daddy!yagi who tells you to save what you don’t need for future expenses and spoils you rotten on top of that. pretty jewelry, clothes, a nice handbag or a pair of shoes, anything your heart could desire, he could give it.

sugar daddy!yagi who blushes so hard the first time you call him daddy, you think you might have done something wrong. he’s in disbelief at how good it feels to hear that on your lips. he squeezes your hand tighter and grins a little.

sugar daddy!yagi who’s shocked when you say you don’t want to start a long term contract. he looks heartbroken until you tell him, “i… i’d rather just be with you, if that’s okay. no contract, just us.” and suddenly his heart is thrumming in his chest. his mind races. he pulls your face in and kisses you tenderly without a second thought. whose eagerness is firm and his hands rough.

sugar daddy!yagi who quickly starts coming out of his shell after that first kiss. who’s shameless in treating you like his baby - spoiling even further, having you on his arm at any given chance, pampering your mind and body as often as he can. who is far from an incompetent lover; the way his hands travel over your body tells you that much.

sugar daddy!yagi who, after a little time, fucks you better than anyone you’ve ever met. who is attentive to every little detail in how you respond. who pulls more orgasms out of you than you thought possible. who fucks you harder when you call him daddy, runs his hands and mouth over your skin while he groans. who grins sheepishly when you compliment him as his cheeks tinge pink.

sugar daddy!yagi who loves it when you sit in his lap and ride him; he gets the best view of your tits and he doesn’t have to do as much work. he loves fucking you stupid, but he’s tired more often than not and adores when you give him that. who chokes out heavy breaths and small whines as he praises you so sweetly for being his good girl.

sugar daddy!yagi who craves slow, lazy morning sex because it pulls out the prettiest mewls from your throat. who wakes you up with kisses on your neck and his hand running over your panties. who will wake you up early every once in a while to fuck you or get you off before work.

sugar daddy!yagi who swears the sound of your sweet voice heals something inside him, whose tired hero heart is mended a little when you moan his name. who adores fucking you and loving you into a complete mess. who shows you daily that he’s lucky to have you as his sweet sugar baby.

if you’d like to be added to my tag list, let me know. ♡

gremlins: @sluttyshigaraki @dcsiremc @darkstarlight82 @bookcluberror @neon-gothicc @zazter-den @breadandbutter33 @i-literally-cant-with-this @rinalouu @stvrfir3 @r4td0lll @emmab3mma @aria-chikage @mhadabiandhawks4eva @yazminetrahan @doumadono @dreamcastgirl99 @maddietries @jazzafayesworld @karebear5118 @unofficialmuilover @cherriluvs35 @erensslut @ruu-https @hana-yuri @keiva1000 @katsul0vr @trickster-kat @ayeohoh-blog @dinomeow @flamgosstuff @mistressreaper @angelltheninth @anonymously-ominous @amberexe2 @hisconsistency @nanamisbigassschlong @223princess @honeeslust @naughtygobbo @acenanxious @blumoonwisteria @chaos-gem

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 04

PREVIOUS

I really gotta figure out a name for this kid but it’s not today. I lean towards no one, aside from Wymack, actually knowing what his first name is. Dan’s the one that recruited him to be her replacement dealer so his first name has been lost to time.

They all refer to him by his last name which is, of course, something incredibly nondescript and boring. It’s Smith. He has brown hair and brown eyes, his hair isn’t scraggly or especially stylish, he’s perfectly average in height and BMI. Andrew is irritated that someone he regularly hangs out with of his own free will is so boring looking.

But he kind of respects how Fluent Freshman just flat out says no when Andrew says he should dye his hair something interesting. Doesn’t get irritated or say any reason why he’s not going to do that. Just a No. Andrew drops it because of course he does.

He doesn’t know that Fluent Freshman spends 20 minutes looking at hair dye the next time he goes to the near by CVS for his Pepto Bismol and the prescription that Abby referred him to go get. He looks at all the colors and is like “I cannot possibly dye my hair. I would look stupid / all the other foxes have the hair colors I wouldn’t look stupid in and they’d think I was COPYING their look.” He goes to the aisle where his Pepto is but it’s completely cleared out.

He, very bravely, does not just burst into tears. He gets his prescription and walks up to cash out and the girl is the usual one who helps him. She sees him and goes “OH, I kept some Pepto behind the counter for you. Do you want a bottle?” she asks. Fluent Freshman is the Pepto Bismol guy, his purchases so noticed and embarrassing that they saved some for him when they ran low. He says yes and swears to never come to this CVS again.

Fluent Freshman sees Captain Neil coming up unexpectedly while he’s doing some leisure reading of a Russian novel and Fluent Freshman has never moved so quickly in his entire life to stash it into his backpack pull out some gen-ed math assignment.

Captain Neil stops at his table and asks him how his ulcer is the next time they  and FF considers the merits of a trade school. Out loud he says “It’s fine.”

Neil gives him a look.

FF is pale and his eyes are darting rapidly between Neil and something in the distance (the OPEN backpack next to the seat Neil is in with the RUSSIAN NOVEL. AN AMATEUR MISTAKE) and Neil thinks he finally understands why his teammates hate when he says he’s fine when he’s obviously not.

He decides it’s not something to tackle right now and passes along some probiotic yogurt that Andrew had given him to pass onto Fluent Freshman when Neil had said he was going to hang out with him while Andrew was in class. Fluent Freshman takes it and then Neil helps him with his math homework while he helps teach Neil Spanish.

NEXT

And since you requested it:

@i-have-three-feelings

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Yours, Always and With Love

Warnings: (implied) MCD, angst

For @longdaytogo 🫡🥲

~

Dear "Mycroft",

I think I've finally figured out who you are. And I think it is bloody bollocking funny that I ended up with you as my pen pal. Are you really in the States? Merlin, I want to know what they think of you over there.

And you're wrong. There are people who miss you where you used to live.

You fucked up my nose,

HP

~

I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not that person. You're not always right. You're can't be all good. People like you don't survive for long. I'm nothing like you and even I barely made it. You think you're special but you're just another fool like me. Find a new life like I did. Your government does not deserve your loyalty.

You deserved it for spying on me,

D. Mycroft

~

Malfoy.

I don't do what I do out of a sense of loyalty. I do it because I want to be of some use. I'm definitely not all good and am most certainly a fool, you're right.

People keep writing about my bravery. They don't know I fake it. They don't know how afraid I am all the time. If I were less afraid, I'd find that new life.

HP

~

Dear Potter,

I think I might enjoy tales of your masked cowardice. Write some down and send them along with your next letter.

You do what you do because you were brainwashed into thinking that it is your purpose in life. It is decidedly not, I assure you.

Fake it one more time and find that new life. You'll thank me for it. And maybe you'll stop whinging about your crooked nose.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy.

~

Dear Malfoy,

Is my nose actually crooked because Hermione insists it's not, and Ron always starts talking about Ludo Bagman's nose? Needless to say, they're not very convincing. I now know why my dates never owl me back.

Speaking of which, I've had help throughout all of my many celebrated adventures. Perhaps if I had help (read: company) I might actually go start that new life. Find a new name too, maybe, while retaining my real initials of course. I'd hate to have to change my signature.

What do you think fits well with "HP"?

Best,

Harry

~

Dear Hideous Pumpkin,

I think your dates might owl you back if you shaved that scraggly beard off and found new glasses. You look like an expensively dressed homeless person in all your press photos.

We have a way of finding what we seek, I think. Three weeks ago, all I really wanted was to make a connection. Now I'm writing this one prat every other day and it feels quite fulfilling, rather.

You do have company. Look closer.

Best,

Draco M

~

Malfoy,

Sorry about the late reply. Work-related rubbish that you're probably not interested in.

I actually have been considering new frames. Do you think I should get bedazzled ones? I think they're in vogue now. They might help bring out my eyes or something.

It's a funny thing: connection. Kind of unpredictable where one might find 'em, right? I think I'm glad the pen pal agency connected me to you. It's definitely a fulfilling connection.

I'm writing this at 3am right before I run into work and get assigned a new mission. I'll be undercover and incognito so receiving/sending mail won't be possible, so I'll respond next when I'm back home. To make up for it, I've written down some of my earliest memories of my life in the cupboard and how I once locked my cousin in there. Go nuts and I hope you pull something as you laugh at me, you prat.

I'll be thinking of you.

Harry

~

Dear Potter,

I enjoyed your little collection of memories. You really were always an idiot, I've learnt. I don't know what on earth possessed you to believe that any of it would make me laugh, though. You rightfully blame me for a crooked nose but you don't think to unapologetically ruin the people who stomped on you like a bug when you were a baby and then proceeded to keep you under their boot until you were eleven?

I'm flying to England on the 24th. I'll be staying at the Ritz, London. If you're back from your mission and you're well, ring me at the hotel and ask for D. Mycroft. We'll have dinner or something. My treat.

I truly despise your job. I don't like the idea of you cut off from me the world like that.

I hope to see you soon.

Draco

~

Potter, I'm writing only because it would be incredibly rude of me to leave without telling you. I don't know what you think of me after last night. I might have asked you, if you'd been here when I woke up.

I'm sorry.

Malfoy

~

Draco, you absolute fucking idiot.

You write to me instead of ringing me on the number I gave you? And then I stroll into the fucking Ritz clutching sausage rolls and shitty coffee and the receptionist has to politely insist that I bugger off because "Mr. Mycroft has checked out already"?!

TEXT ME with your phone number and address. I'll book the next available flight to you.

You fucking idiot oh my god.

Harry

~

Dear Hideous Pumpkin Head,

You left three of your socks here and none match. Also, I know we only just hung up but I still wanted to write because somehow it's harder to insult you when I'm in front of you or listening to your voice.

My sheets stink of you. I'm never leaving this bed, I think.

Draco

~

Draco. Can't call. Destroy your phone and SIM. Stay within wards. Don't lose sight of your wand.

I will contact you as soon as possible. I am so fucking sorry. My god please be safe I am so sorry.

I love you.

Harry

~

Harry,

Did I really need to get a new owl? I'm perfectly safe and I am not afraid. Not anymore. Not when I have you.

I'm hoping that when you write me back, it will be to tell me that you've handed in your notice. The new flat here is enormous and it feels empty without you. Tell me when you'll be shipping your stuff and I'll make arrangements to have them brought here.

I can't wait.

Love,

Draco

~

Harry, why won't you answer your stupid phone? Honestly, I'm tempted to write to the Ministry right now, if only I hadn't spent the last fifteen years wiping away all traces of my existence. How's the notice period going? Have you started packing yet? It's very, very quiet here and it's unsettling. I may end up getting a talking bird and it'll be your fault.

Please call me.

Love,

Draco

~

Harry your phone is turned off and I can't think why and I am writing separately to Granger as well. If I don't hear from either of you in three days, I'm coming back there and I don't care about fucking dark wizards. I'M a dark wizard, as I was reminded often. We'll fight them off together.

Please I can't bear this respond.

Draco

~

Granger says you went missing eleven days ago. I don't care if you're undercover. My owl won't come back without finding you first.

~

Dear Harry,

Today I woke up and looked out the window and it was snowing. Almost Christmas already! That night at the Ritz you talked about your horrifying Christmas experiences as a child and I vowed to rectify that as soon as I'm able.

I've hung up twenty-two stockings, my darling, and they all have your name on it. I have a list of things I think you'd have loved and I'm going to find them all and stuff those stockings until they're bursting.

I'm getting our tree today. You said you'd always wanted a real one. I wish you were here so we could decorate it together. I hate ladders.

I keep thinking about I can't believe it's been six months alre I want you here I can't pretend anymore Please come take me away with you

I miss you. Every second of every minute, I miss you. I love you more with each passing day. I want you to come back Harry plea

Yours, always and with love,

Draco

~

[mrsshabana]

♥CW: 18+ MDNI, smut, noncon, dubcon, blackmail, manipulation, creampie, unprotected sex

♥AN: This is a birthday gift for my wonderful friend, @gyusimp! If you haven't wished her a happy birthday, please do so! I made this devious fic for you, so I hope you enjoy! (*/ω＼*)

♥WC: 3,657 Part 2

It was a shame that your family decided to move to a new city during your senior year. It was already stressful enough that you had to prepare for college, but now you had to worry about entrance exams and getting accepted into a prestigious university. At least you were finally starting to make friends.

The cheer captain had invited you over to her house after school. You were on a mission to be as friendly to her as possible so you could make it on the team, even though she was a bitch. In order to be accepted to this university, you had to participate in lots of extracurricular activities. And since you were in cheer at your last school, you were determined to join the team at your new school too.

So that brings you here. To the doorstep of Ume Shabana. Her house is huge and way nicer than yours. 

You hesitantly ring the doorbell.

After a minute there’s no answer so you send her a text.

You consider just leaving before he can open the door, but decide against it. You could kiss the cheer team goodbye if you did something like that. Plus it’d be pretty rude. You don’t know him but he could be a really sweet guy for all you know.

After you anxiously wait for a few minutes that seem more like an eternity, the door slowly opens.

You look up to see the face of who you presume is Ume’s brother. He’s significantly taller than you, and is sporting an agitated expression. He has scraggly long black hair that covers most of his face. Frowning at you with a scowl, showing his slightly crooked teeth. You try not to stare, but you can’t help but notice the large ink-like marks scattered across his face. 

His vibrant blue eyes shamelessly follow every curve of your body, stopping at your thighs peeking from beneath your skirt.

“Hello,” you say awkwardly moving your bag in front of your skirt, blocking his perverted gaze, “I’m-”

“Yeah yeah I know who you are,” he interrupts and holds the front door open for you, “You gonna come in or what?”

“Oh, sorry. Of course,” you hesitantly step inside. The foyer is huge, with a giant chandelier hanging in front of an elegant staircase. You had no idea that the Shabana family had so much money…

The tall man nonchalantly starts walking up the stairs, and you blindly follow him. It’s not like there’s much else you can do. For all you know, he’s the only one here and apparently it was your duty to keep Ume’s ‘lonely’ brother company.

You continue following him as he walks through the upstairs hall. It’s filled with picture frames of the siblings, they must be very close. In one photo there is a tall man with platinum hair, maybe he’s their dad?

“Um, what’s your name?” you break the uncomfortable silence.

“Huh?” he turns around and looks at you like you're some kind of idiot. He scoffs, “Gyutaro.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Gyutaro,” you say sweetly, trying to make this less weird. He only clicks his tongue in response. Well, now you know why her brother was so lonely. He seems like an asshole. No wonder she dumped you on him, she probably didn’t want to deal with him herself. That’s the first thought that comes to your mind anyway, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. There was a very specific reason why Ume was having you hang out with her brother. Because she loves him, it’s as simple as that. She wanted to give him something pretty to play with…

Gyutaro opens a door to what you can only assume to be his bedroom. It doesn’t smell bad per se, but doesn’t smell good either. There are a few articles of clothing thrown on the floor, along with empty monster cans and containers from chinese takeout. It looks just about how you would expect a college boys room to look like. Or at least you assume he’s in college, by the textbooks laying on his desk. Plus you’ve never seen him at your school so he must be Ume’s older brother by the looks of it.

Something deep within your gut in telling you that this is a bad idea. And that feeling only intensifies when Gyutaro locks the door behind you.

Gyutaro ignores the panicked expression on your face, leisurely walking over to sit on the edge of his bed. 

“Oi, you just gonna stand there lookin’ like an idiot?” he says with a disgusting condescending smirk on his face.

“I um…” you look around nervously as you slowly step closer to him. What does he expect you to do? All Ume had told you was to keep him company, it’s not like she gave you specific instructions on how to do so.

“Do you go to university?” you ask shyly as you stand in front of him. Trying your hardest to be polite and start some kind of friendly conversation.

“Don’t ask stupid fucking questions,” he snaps as he quickly slides a hand up your skirt and gives your ass a harsh squeeze.

“Hey!” you shout and try to back away from him. But Gyutaro puts his other hand on the small of your back, and pulls you onto the bed with him. Falling right in his lap.

“What’re you doing?!” you yelp as he continues to knead the soft flesh of your ass with his rough hands.

“Ume said you were coming over to keep me company. So fucking keep me company,” he smirks, holding you in place on top of him. 

You squirm in a pathetic attempt to wiggle out of his grasp.”S-stop! I never told her that I’d do this!”

“Pretty girls like you are used to sitting on guys' laps, right? So be a good little slut for me, eh?” he growls, his tone starting to sound a bit agitated.

“No! I-I don’t do stuff like this… I’ve never…” you look away and blush. Ashamed to admit to this incel that you’re still a virgin.

“Oh?” he quirks an eyebrow and to your surprise softens his grip.

For a split second you think that maybe your admission has gained some sympathy from him. But instead of letting you go, he starts laughing. The rasp in his voice mixed with the hysteric cackling makes your blood run cold.

“That’s perfect,” he says through his laughter, “I’m gonna have so much fun tainting you…” he leans in closer, his lips grazing against your ear as he whispers, “You’re all mine Y/N.”

There’s no way you're letting this freak have his way with you. You were saving yourself for your future college boyfriend. Even if it was only a fantasy, you had it all planned out! You were going to meet a nice boy in college and once you became his girlfriend, you inevitably have a romantic night together and happily ever after! 

You dreamt of losing your virginity to a sweet, handsome guy. Not this fucking weirdo, incel, creep!

Forcefully pushing his chest, you rip yourself away from his grasp. “I’m leaving! You fucking creep!”

With a shit-eating grin on his face, Gyutaro doesn’t even try to stop you. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“What?” turning back to look at him, you aren’t sure what he’s insinuating but you don’t like where this is going.

“I wonder if you’d still make it on the cheer team if my sister found out how rudely you treated her dear brother?” his cold blue eyes shoot straight to your core. Telling you that he isn’t bluffing.

He stands up and walks towards you. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes as he traps you against the wall, “But imagine how happy she’d be if I told her how sweet you were to me? She’d have to let you on the team.”

Is he blackmailing you right now? The cheer team is not worth being raped by this guy. But then again, your college admission may depend on it. And the trajectory of your future depends on if you get accepted to that school…

Seeing that you aren’t quite convinced, he continues, “My little sister does everything that I ask, you know? She’d do anything to make me happy, so if you play nice I’ll return the favor…”

He leans forward, and you can feel the smirk on his face as he begins kissing your neck. Not waiting for you to agree to his terms, he already knows that you don’t have much choice.

Gyutaro slithers a hand under your shirt, and starts to roughly squeeze your breast through your bra.

You just let him have his way with you, there’s no point in fighting. It’s just sex, and it’s just one time so how bad could it be? Besides, it’s obvious that he’s a virgin so lucky for you this should be quick.

“F-fine…” you sigh in defeat. 

Gyutaro pulls away from your neck and bites his bottom lip, “Good girl.”

He leads you back to the bed, pushing you down and crawling on top of you. Wasting no time, Gyutaro pulls down his pants, releasing his spotted dick. It’s bigger than you would have liked, especially for your first time because you have a feeling that he’s not going to be gentle with you.

“Take off your clothes,” he grunts as he starts stroking his throbbing length. Already dripping pre-cum as he watches you remove your clothes.

You shyly unclasp your bra and cover your chest with your arms. You’re too shy to take off your panties, ashamed to show him how your body is reacting to him, you squeeze your thighs together.

“C’mon, don’t be so shy,” he coos as he gently spreads your legs and slowly removes your panties. Enamored by the wet string of your arousal sticking to your panties as he slides them off. You avert your gaze, ashamed to present your body to him. It’s not like you give a shit about what he thinks about your body, but you do have a few insecurities.

Gyutaro throws your panties to the side before crawling back on top of you, making himself comfortable between your legs. Hovering over you, he takes a moment to admire your body. “Fuck… your body’s so perfect.”

You can’t help but blush. You may hate his guts right now, but you can’t deny that hearing him complement your body made you feel a little bit better. 

He stares at you with lust filled eyes. He can’t believe that you’re going to let him fuck you. No girl has ever let him get this close, especially not a girl as gorgeous as you. 

Ume ditching you to hang out with her brother was no mistake. Gyutaro had first seen you a week ago when he was picking his sister up from school. You were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, the kind of girl who’s physical description he types into porn hub every night. And seeing how sweetly you treated his sister only made him want you more. 

Gyutaro never asks for anything, so when he asked his sister if she could set up a way for him to hang out with you, she happily obliged. Ume really didn’t give a shit about you at all. Only using you as a toy to gift to her lonely brother. 

And you were proving to be the best gift he’d ever received.

Gyutaro brings the tip of his dick to your slick folds, collecting your wetness on his tip. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to be gentle,” he whispers as he crashes his lips to yours for a passionate kiss. Slipping his tongue past your lips, groaning deeply.

You feel so empty. Trying to detach yourself from the situation, you close your eyes and start making a list about how amazing your life will be once you make the cheer team and get accepted into your dream school. In an attempt to convince yourself that this is worth it.

Your thoughts are disrupted by a sharp pain shooting through your core.

“Ow!” you yelp as Gyutaro pushes his thick tip into you.

“Shhh,” he coos, “this’s the worst part, it’ll feel better soon.” Pushing himself further into you, it indeed does not get better. 

Your body resists him, and he has to forcefully sink himself into you to get deeper. You hold his hips back in an attempt to stop him but he’s much stronger than you and just ignores your protests, pushing forward until he’s balls deep in your tight pussy.

“Goddammit,” he groans, “you’re so fucking tight.”

To your surprise, Gyutaro keeps his promise. He slowly starts moving his hips, your walls squeezing him tightly.

It hurts so bad. The only thing you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and pray that this will end soon.

“Hey,” Gyutaro snaps as he grabs your cheeks and forces you to look at him, “Don’t pretend like you don’t like this.”

Gyutaro grunts and starts speeding up his thrusts, “Your slutty little pussy is so greedy for my cock -fuck- I know you love it.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders to ground yourself, as his thrusts are getting too violent.

Tears fall down your cheeks. The feeling of his hard cock sliding in and out of you is too much. There’s too much pain and too much pleasure. But you aren’t the only one getting overwhelmed. Gyutaro stops thrusting, looming over you.

“Where-where does it feel good?” he asks through shaky breaths.

“What?” Since when does he care about whether you feel good or not? You were under the impression that this was all about him.

Gyutaro frowns, “Where do you want me to touch you?” he starts rubbing his thumb around your clit, “Somewhere around here right?”

“Y-yeah,” you say shyly, gently guiding his fingers to your sensitive nub, “right here feels good…”

Gyutaro nods, and starts rubbing circles into your clit with his thumb as he slowly starts thrusting again. He has to take it slow or else he’s going to cum already. And to your surprise he’s actually trying to make you orgasm. He really couldn’t care less if you came or not, but he’s hoping that if you do then you might grow some kind of attachment to him.

He rubs faster, and when he feels you tighten around him he starts thrusting harder. The tip of his cock hitting your cervix. Being stretched so much for your first time really hurts, but you can’t deny that it also feels good. Having never had something reach so deep inside of you, your body is extra receptive to him.

It’s overwhelming and your body reacts on its own. You try to hold it back, but you can’t contain the moan that escapes your lips as you cum all over his dick. Your walls fluttering around him, milking him dry as he spills inside of you.

A disgusting, raspy moan leaves him as his hips still. Dick twitching inside of you as he fills you up with the most intense orgasm he’s ever had. 

With heavy breaths, Gyutaro slowly pulls out of you. He holds your legs apart so he can watch his cum leak out of you, noticing that it's slightly pink. So you really were a virgin huh? He thought you were bluffing to try to gain his sympathy, but it looks like you were telling the truth.

“You-you didn’t pull out?!” you say panicked once the haze of your orgasm fades.

“Calm down,” he murmurs, “I’ll pay for some plan B.”

He pulls up his pants and rummages around his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing you a $100 bill. You know it doesn’t cost that much, but you’re not going to tell him that.

Pocketing the cash, all you can think about is that this awful experience is finally over. So you hastily put your clothes back on. Looking around for your panties, they’re nowhere to be seen. That fucker must’ve took them. Oh well, it’s not worth staying here a second longer so you let it slide.

Gyutaro just sits there on his bed, lazily watching you dress. After you put your shirt on he grabs your wrist a little too tightly.

“You’re my girlfriend now, got it?”

“What?!” you pull your arm out of his grasp, “No, fuck that. I did what you asked, ok? That was our agreement!”

Gyutaro rolls his eyes, “Whatever.”

He doesn’t stop you as you unlock his door and leave, not looking back at the man that just took your virginity. Hopefully after this you’ll never have to see him again and you can go on with your life on the cheer team.

~

The next day you anxiously wait for Ume after class. You can’t wait for her to tell you that she’s going to let you on the team! Last night when you got home you were in the shower for two hours trying to scrub off her brother’s germs. You feel dirty. Tainted. But that’s behind you now. You won’t ever have to see that creep again and you can just pretend like it never happened. But that nagging pain between your legs keeps reminding you…

“Oh, hey,” Ume turns the corner to come face to face with you. She hands you her backpack, it’s become routine that you carry it for her. “How was it hanging out with my brother?”

“Wait, he didn’t tell you?” 

“No? Why? Did something happen?” she quirks an eyebrow in confusion.

Well yeah a lot happened, but you can’t quite tell her that. You can’t believe that her brother didn’t put in a good word for you after you let him cum inside of you! Goddammit, at least he didn’t tell her anything bad.

“Well kinda… um, he was just really cool. I like your brother a lot,” you fake a smile.

“Really?” Ume says in disbelief. No one likes her brother so this is weird. Maybe he decided to be nice for once since you’re his crush. That’s the only way that she can reason it. “Hmph, well I’m glad you two got along.”

You continue following her out the building, “So um about the cheer team-” you start but are interrupted by an unholy sight. 

Gyutaro is leaning on his motorcycle, staring straight at you. A vile smirk plastered across his face.

“Onii-chan!” Ume squeals as she runs up to him, wrapping her arms around him. She sees him everyday but always gets excited to greet her dear brother. Gyutaro returns the embrace before redirecting his attention to you.

He slowly approaches you, “Hey Y/N.”

“H-hi Gyutaro…” your eyes go wide and you have to force yourself to stay put. Your entire body is begging you to run away from him, but you can’t. Not after you’ve sacrificed so much to get this far, you have to keep up the act in front of his sister. 

He’s right in front of you, looking down at you like you’re a piece of meat. He leans forward and wraps his arms around you. Fuck, you want to cry. Feeling his skin touch yours again is bringing back all of the disgusting details from last night that you tried so desperately to forget. But you force yourself to hug him back.

All the while, Ume is just staring at you, confused as hell. Her brother is never this friendly towards anyone but her. “What’s going on Onii-chan?”

Gyutaro pulls away from the hug to face his sister, “Oh, I didn’t tell you?” he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, “We’re dating.”

“What?!” you and Ume say in unison.

“Don’t be so shy babe,” Gyutaro kisses your forehead, “It’s just my sister, she’s cool with it. Right Ume?”

“R-right. Of course! I’m so happy for you brother,” Ume clasps her hands excitedly. It’s a bit strange to her, but she’s happy nonetheless. She wants more than anything for her brother to be happy, so this is great news.

You just stand there wide eyed. Unable to believe that you’re letting him manipulate you like this. The audacity of this guy! Since you let him fuck you, he feels like he owns you now! But you can’t say anything, you just have to keep pretending that this is consensual. Because you know that if you stand up for yourself, the cheer team won’t be an option for you anymore. And on top of that, Ume will make your life a living hell. She’s the most popular girl in school, you’ve seen how she can ruin someone's reputation in the blink of an eye and you cannot afford that. Not right now.

“So, Y/N was telling me that she wanted to be on the cheer team,” Gyutaro smiles sweetly at you, then looks back at his sister.

“Right, well we are having tryouts on Friday. So-” Ume says before she’s interrupted by Gyutaro.

“No no no, she doesn’t need tryouts. You can just put her on the team. You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Well. I guess so,” Ume says nervously, “If that’s what you want brother, then I can do that for you.”

Gyutaro releases you from his grip and walks over to Ume, patting her head. “Thanks sis.” He nonchalantly gets on his bike and motions for his sister to join him, acting too normal. 

“See you later, babe,” he winks at you before driving away.

~

Later that night you receive a text from an unknown number.

Happy Birthday! I know we both like when Gyutaro is a bit toxic, so I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

[elfenbensord]

i have a need for remus lupin to call me ‘lovebug’.. i don’t know where the need has arisen from but it’s there

and as you wrote my george x reader request so well (lysm for that <3) i was wondering whether i could maybe request smth fluffy with rem calling reader lovebug, please

OH maybe she’s been studying in the library for AGES and he’s kind of worried for her health

again lysm - 🦕

a/n: hi again, cutie😊 that need is so valid and so relatable tbh. i’m also casually obsessed with this piece, hope you like it as well ❤️🥰

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader,

summary: remus finds you in the library, and accidentally confesses his love for you. friends to lovers. fluff.

wordcount: 742

warnings: none.

lovebug

15.10.23

He finds you in the library, head hanging over a long piece of parchment filled with your tiny, scraggly handwriting. 

“What are you doing, all cooped up in here? The sun is shining, it’s a beautiful day!” Remus scolds you, crossing his arms and sending you a fond look.

You won’t even look at him, too focused on your work. “I think I found this error in my essay on the uprising of the elves of 1670, I just had to fact-check it so Professor Binns doesn’t think I’m an absolute idiot–”

“No one thinks that”, Remus says softly.  You smile, finally meeting his eyes. “You’re too kind.”

He nods. “Just kind enough, I’d say.”

You let your quill fall onto the table. Standing up with a screech from the chair, you actually take a proper look at him. Remus is for once not drowning in a bulky jumper, probably due to the hot beginning-of-summer weather. Instead, he’s wearing a breezy short-sleeved shirt and a pair of light-blue jeans. His arms are exposed, both to your dismayal and pleasure. You pretend not to notice the blonde, soft-looking hairs dusting his forearms. He looks happy, he does well in summer. Freckles are starting to show across his nose and cheeks, his hair becoming just a shade lighter in the sun. It’s a teasing view of what could be yours, if one of you could just swallow your pride and tell each other. 

He towers over you even though you’re now standing instead of sitting down. He leans even closer, pretending not to notice how your breath hitches. Heart pumps faster, making you feel dizzy. “Whadd’ya say, wanna head down to the lake? Maybe a quick skinny-dip?”

“A– Skinny dip?” A warmth spreads across your face, fills your entire body. You do your best to stay afloat. “Are you actually serious?” you blubber out.

“Why wouldn’t I be.” He flashes a smile. Breath hot on your face, nose barely grazing yours. You wonder how you’re gonna survive this conversation.

He doesn’t wipe the suggestive grin from his face. He knows what he’s doing to you, how could he not? “Maybe a midnight dip is more to your liking, Lovebug?” 

Lovebug? Your brain is turning to mush.

You clear your throat. Suddenly, a cold, careless anxiety starts to spread. You take a breath, “Where’s this all coming from? Did… Did Sirius put you up to this? To tease me, or something?”

Remus’ face drops. His hands get out of control, waving in broad gestures as he talks. “No, no, no… I’m sorry, I’m just… I’m being silly. Sorry. That was, that was inappropriate. I’m really sorry.”

You smile weakly at him. Of course you forgive him. Of course.

Remus isn’t ready to give up quite yet. He places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly. It trails down, until it can toy with your fingers. “But for the record, I wouldn’t mind going skinny dipping tonight. Together. Just you and me.”

“Remus, what do you mean?” you say slowly.

“That I want to… I want… I want you.”

Your heart drops out of you Mary-Janes, leaving you limp and jelly-like. “Wh– What?”

“Sorry. That’s inappropriate too. Let’s just– Let’s just forget everything happened. I’m gonna go and uuh– die of shame now. See you at dinner-”

He turns around quickly, almost sprinting for the librabry exit. You catch his hand, stopping his escape. Your hands intertwine. Eyes meet. 

You exhale. “I want you too.” A beat of silence. 

Then his face opens up in a grin, shining like the sun. “You do?”

You nod.

Remus grabs your hand, placing a tender kiss on it. He won’t stop smiling. “What… What do we do now?”

“How about”, you grasp his shirt, feeling the light fabric between your fingers. “A skinny dip in the lake, at midnight?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Great. Now go away, please. I have an essay to write.”

“Will do, Lovebug. See you tonight.”

“See you.”

You smile as you see him leave the library. He turns around once, twice, to send a blazing smile your way. The essay in front of you melts into a million daydreams all including a certain brown-haired boy. Lovebug.

[taizi]

because it’s his birthday, can I ask for some fluff for the sunshine boy himself 🥺🥺

thankfully his birthday fell on a sunday and i had some extra time !! <3 <3

read on ao3

x

It’s hard to pin Ace’s little brother down in a way that doesn’t fall short of the truth. 

Summer boy, the villagers sometimes call him, but that’s not right. Luffy in the cold brittle heart of winter shines in exactly the same way he does the whole rest of the year. 

Golden child, and it comes a little closer, but the connotations, Sabo will say, nose wrinkling at something he heard all too often from the soulless tutors his parents hired, aren’t all good.  

Sunshine, Ace calls out once, not knowing he was going to say it until he did. Sabo blinked, taken by surprise. He turned to look at his twin, curiosity clear on his face along with a complete lack of confusion that was telling. 

They both knew who he meant. Luffy knew it, too, and came running the way he always came running when one of his brothers called his name. There were leaves in his hair and scraggly flowering weeds crammed in his pockets and—always—a big smile on his face, bright and beaming. 

It’s easy to complain about him because he makes it easy. Luffy is as low-maintenance as any little kid could be but he has an attention span so short you had to bend down to see it at all and he wouldn’t know how to stop talking if someone put a gun to his head. 

Ace gripes about him all the time, and sometimes he really does get angry at him and lose his patience, but in his heart he would sooner die than live without him. Ace may groan and drag his feet on those days in July when the heat is at its peak and the rainforest is humid and muggy, but he wouldn’t really want the sun to go away. Not really.

They need that stupid thing. The world would be dark and cold and unlivable without it. 

“Sunshine, huh?” Sabo says later that night, with Luffy a haphazard pile of rubber limbs sprawled bonelessly across his legs. 

Ace runs hot, and the idea of his little brother’s deadweight pressing into him on an already warm evening makes him want to kick his feet restlessly. But Sabo carries a chill around with him that he inherited from that mausoleum of a mansion he grew up in. Sabo always manages to feel cold. He never minds when Luffy dogpiles on him, clinging with sticky rubber limbs so that Sabo couldn’t shove him off even if he wanted to. 

Somehow, Luffy is the best at telling when Sabo gets cold. There’s no change in the air or the sky that gives it away—maybe Sabo is quieter than usual, though, or doesn’t laugh as much. So Luffy beelines for him, clambering over whatever or whoever is in his way until he can attach himself to his immediate older brother like a stubborn tree frog. 

Sabo, patient and indulgent where Ace is anything but, smiles down at Luffy when he gets particularly clingy as if Luffy is the one doing him a kindness. 

One day, the Celestial Dragons will come to Dawn Island and blow Sabo’s ship out of the water and blow a whole clean into Ace’s life, and his heart, and his future. He’ll understand then, that chill in Sabo’s house that stuck to him, that was never really about being cold as much as it was about needing warmth. 

Ace runs hot, but sometimes he’ll pass beneath a cluster of the bright tropical birds Sabo liked best, or Makino will drop off a case of the snacks they would always clamor for not knowing they were Sabo’s favorites, and Ace won’t even realize he’s shivering until Luffy crashes into him and loops rubber arms around him over and over and over. The sun coming out after a storm—and it was always there, just behind the clouds, it was always going to come back out. 

It will take Sabo’s departure for Ace to understand why he looked down at their sticky little brother like he wanted to thank him, he just didn’t know the right words. 

For now, Ace scoffs, tossing a stick into the fire. 

“Suits him, right? Annoying and gets in your eyes and follows you everywhere.”

Sabo laughs. Luffy turns his head towards the sound without waking, the way a flower unfolds in the morning light. 

———

Law is familiar with loss. The weight of it feels like a coat he never managed to outgrow, one that he’s been dragging around since he was a child. Sometimes the shape of it changes. Sometimes it settles a little kinder on his shoulders, not quite so heavy. Sometimes he can almost forget he’s wearing it at all. 

Eventually the grief becomes a thing you live with. Grow with. Something you unbox and sit with from time to time but know how to pack away again. 

But when it’s brand-new it’s a shit-show. 

Strawhat’s is outright destructive. 

The kid breaks apart everything around him, trying to tear enough chunks out of the world that it feels even a fraction of the pain he’s in, and when that isn’t enough he moves onto tearing chunks out of himself.

When Jimbei hauls him out of the forest, trembling and too weak to stand and bleeding through his bandages, Law thinks I risked myself and my crew and my whole goddamn mission for nothing because Strawhat looks like he’s about to drop dead. 

It was a shot in the dark in the first place, and the surgery was long and grueling and just barely on the right side of impossible even for the master of the Op Op Fruit. The only way Strawhat could live through it is if he wanted to. 

Law understands loss. Law once sent himself on a suicide mission when he was barely more than three feet tall because his life was empty where it used to be so full and he couldn’t conceive of anything that could make it worth living again. 

He also learned the hard way—the stubborn, gritted-his-teeth, fought-it-every-step-kicking-and-screaming way—that you can survive losing everything and come out the other side. 

Cora-san showed him that other side. Cora-san carried him there, betraying and abandoning everything else, making a promise he knew was a lie because it was the kindest thing he could do.  

“I love you,” he said, knowing as he said it that he would die because of it. Choosing to. There was no other choice he could make.

And somehow Law survived losing him on top of it all. It was a choice he had to make, too. One he still has to make, some days. 

Fire Fist Ace died in about the worst way he possibly could have. He couldn’t have made it more traumatizing for Strawhat if he had actually tried. But it was an act of love like Cora-san’s. Protecting something more important to him than anything else with his own life, his own body. 

If Strawhat Luffy survives, it will be because he wants to. Because he dug in his heels and put in the work and fought for it. 

Jimbei sits him down on a bed in the recovery room, his deep, proud voice rumbling, “I’m going to find a blanket. You’re freezing.”

Strawhat hums as he leaves, eyes lined with red and puffy from crying. He studies the rust-stained bandages on his hands, flexes his fingers, and looks up at Law.

“I’m cold?” he says, like it’s a question. 

It’s the first coherent thing he’s said since waking up that wasn’t just hopeless, helpless screaming for someone who would never answer him again. Law doesn’t know what exactly he’s asking, but he says, “Heat loss is normal after a surgery. You’ll be fine.” 

There is a brightness to the younger supernova that draws the eye. A boldness that was apparent from the very first moment Law glimpsed him at that auction house in Sabaody. Something simple and magnificent at the same time.

Back then, Law looked at him and saw a stranger it might be worth it to take a chance on.

Now, despite himself, he sees someone young and hurt and far away from home. 

He can’t be for this kid what Cora-san was for him. He can haul someone back from the brink of death but he can’t give them a reason to keep existing. There isn’t enough of himself left to carve out that kind of hope or kindness for someone else. There isn’t enough of himself left to even really want to. 

All he has to offer is, “Shachi is making soup.”

“Sanji’s soup is better,” Strawhat announces with perfect authority, even though there is no way he could possibly know that, having literally never tried Shachi’s cooking before.

Law is too exhausted to feel anything but mildly annoyed. It’s enough of a return to what passes for normalcy that he leans in to begin checking the kid’s vitals. 

Hand on Strawhat’s wrist, he says, “If you want Sanji’s soup so bad, go get it then.”

Strawhat tilts his chin up, defiant. His pulse thunders beneath Law’s fingers, like one or two or a dozen drums. 

“I will!” he declares. 

This is the boy who shot down the World Government flag at Enies Lobby, and attacked a Celestial Dragon while knowing what would come after, and stormed an impenetrable prison and then the front lines of a war, all for one person. 

Each time, for just one person. 

How stupid do you have to be?

How simple and magnificent, like looking up at the same sky you see every day and letting yourself be stunned into stillness by the endless, vivid blue?

By the time Jimbei comes back with a quilt under one arm, and a meal tray in the opposite hand, it’s a much livelier Strawhat Luffy who greets him. 

The recovery room, sparse and sterile, is always a little cold. But as Law sits back in his chair and draws his newest patient’s baffling medical charts closer, the thought occurs, fleeting and insignificant, that it feels warmer than usual. 

———

Someday, when the Gum Gum Fruit that was never actually the Gum Gum Fruit awakens into something spectacular and Luffy unlocks his fifth and final gear, his crew acclimates with startling quickness. 

His crew, who sometimes had to squint when they looked at him, like they were staring at something high in the sky in the middle of a cloudless afternoon. His friends, who spent every day and night beside him and got used to it early on—the packed heat he put out like a little furnace, the way whatever room he was in would always get warmer when he laughed. His nakama, who loved him in all shapes, in all weather, from the beginning and all the way to the very end. 

“Sun god, huh?” Zoro would say. Discarding a former truth and embracing this new one, as casually as every other impossible thing he had ever done. Future historians would be ripping their hair out, trying to make sense of what it could mean. According to legend, the pirate king’s first mate only said, “Sounds about right.”

But in this moment, in the underbelly of a colosseum, Luffy’s fruit is still just the silly, bouncy thing he ate when he was a little kid and there’s no reason to believe it will ever be anything else. 

He’s wearing a costume that does nothing to hide his identity from the people who really know him. 

He’s anxious and seems torn in two directions, wanting to help his friends but unwilling to leave his big brother’s fire in the hands of someone who wouldn’t use it the way Ace would want. It makes him short-tempered and quicker to pick a fight than usual, frowning at the stranger who approaches him so familiarly. 

He’s the brightest thing for a thousand miles, the focal point of every room he walks into and the center of the galaxy, but not because of any fruit.  

And looking at him, at his wide brown eyes and the curve of a smiling scar on his cheekbone, the chill in Sabo’s chest warms to nothing for the first time in twelve years.  

His little brother, all things summer and golden and shining. Didn’t Ace say it best?

“Hi, sunshine,” Sabo says. 

[cheeriecherrymain]

Please can we have the conclusion to the lipstick ask? I wanna hear what Viktor has to say and how he's gonna apologize for being dumb

Final (fourth) Part!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

---

Viktor x fem!Reader (18+)

Content tags: enthusiastic blowjobs | face sitting | Viktor being kind of a tease | vaginal fingering

---

-You stand in your doorway, frozen. Of all the people you’d expected to see at your door - a stranger, a delivery driver, one of your neighbors - Viktor is not one of them. After everything that had transpired between the two of you, you were certain that he wouldn’t have wanted to seek you out.

-After staring at him for a moment though, completely perplexed, your gaze darts downwards, to where he’d fidgeting with his hands. Or rather…to where he’s fidgeting with…a potted plant?

-It’s just a small pot, with an even smaller leafy thing in it - scraggly and viney and drooping all over the edges. The poor thing almost looks pathetic, with how wispy it is, but what’s most notable about it are its flowers.

-Bitty bundles of miniscule blooms, so pale that they almost glow in the gloom of the evening.

- “You don’t like it when people behead flowers just to give them as gifts,” Viktor says, finally breaking the silence. “You think it’s mean. But I…wanted to get you something, and you mentioned a while ago that you’d never seen the little plants that sometimes pop up between cracks in the undercity.”

-You frown slightly, trying to think back to when you’d even had that conversation. It would have been years ago, by now. Had he really somehow retained that information?

- “You said that they were hard to find,” you nod along, only somewhat remembering. “And prettier in person. Viktor, what are you doing here?”

-He glances a couple times between you and the flowers, searching desperately for words. He opens his mouth a couple of times, taking a breath to start speaking, but…nothing comes out, save for a soft croak.

-Pink rises to his cheeks, darkening to a substantial flush the longer the two of you stand there. You have half the mind to be annoyed with his sudden appearance, especially after the kind of emotional hell he’d put you through: was this him trying to apologize? Trying to make things right after carving your heart out and grinding it into-

- “I had a whole speech planned,” he finally mutters, his somewhat-hopeful expression falling. “Some grand gesture, explaining everything from my perspective. Explaining how inebriated I was over the weekend, explaining that my mind was not where it should have been.”

-Oh.

-So he’s apologizing for sleeping with you.

-...why does that hurt so much?

- “This morning, though,” he continues, “You…you said that you…told me how you felt. That you, despite all odds, have secretly been harboring romantic feelings for me for years, and I’ve been stupid and oblivious.”

-He rubs little circles into the crisp clay of the pot in his grip, his lips pressed into a thin line.

- “I don’t remember,” he admits, then.

-You’re fully taken aback.

- “I don’t remember you telling me how you felt. I don’t remember much of our conversation at all. I just…remember laughing with you. Having a good time. Feeling lighter than I have in as long as my memory goes. And I…I don’t remember a lot of what happened…later.”

-Judging by the hue of his cheeks, you know exactly what he’s referencing, and you pop out of your little trance long enough to realize that you’re still standing in the doorway of your home, out where anyone could hear what you were saying.

-Everything in you is screaming at you not to trust him, to not fall for some kind of ploy again, but you decide to ignore it: because maybe you’d been wrong from the start. Maybe you’d been given the incorrect information, and you’d made assumptions, and maybe it’s a misunderstanding.

-Unlikely, but…you’ll hate yourself for it later if you don’t at least hear him out.

-So you quietly step aside, allowing Viktor to stride into your apartment enough for you to close the door behind him. Casting you both into a new type of silence as you both idle at the end of the hallway for a couple seconds.

-Before you nod him further in, and lead him to your quaint living room. Your couches are mismatched, and dated, but they’re comfortable and you don’t really care about the fact that they clash. The two of you find your seats across from each other, and Viktor sets the little plant down on your wobbly coffee table.

-He wastes no time in continuing his explanation.

- “If I had remembered what words had been exchanged between us, I wouldn’t have called that night a mistake,” he tells you, with the utmost seriousness. “I woke up beside you with broken, mismatched fragments of everything, and I fear I pieced them together incorrectly.”

- “I assumed that you would be angry with me,” he admits. “We got drunk, we had sex - I figured-”

- “That I would have thought it was a mistake,” you finish, your shoulders drooping with the realization. “You forgot that I told you I loved you, so your mind went to the worst place. God, Viktor.”

-You push yourself off the couch and nearly trip over your own feet as you move your seat to his side. “I wish you’d just told me,” you chastise him, pressing yourself right up against his side. “We’re adults, which means we can have a grown up conversation.”

-He at least has the sense to look ashamed of his actions, even as you run your fingers through his hair and draw him into a hug.

- “I forgive you,” you sigh, squeezing him a little harder when he hesitates wrapping his arms around you, and only once he does so do you continue speaking, “But you need to stop trying to predict my reactions, okay? Even if you’re anxious about what I might say, I need you to trust that I’ll face any issues with compassion. I need you to trust me.”

-His sigh tickles the soft hairs on your neck, but you’re still able to feel the minute shift in his body as he nods.

- “Okay,” he agrees quietly. “I- okay.”

-The two of you stay like that for a little while, wrapped up in each other’s arms, enjoying the closeness and allowing all the negative feelings from the day to slowly dissipate. And they do, eventually - as you allow his warmth to seep into your bones, your anxiety fades, your anger fades, your sadness fades - mostly.

-You’re still saddened slightly, by the fact that his first instinct was to prepare for your anger upon finding out you slept with him. But you suppose you can’t fault him too much: he’s spent most of his life being an unwanted second thought, despite the fact that you have never seen him that way.

-But…that’s a talk for another time.

-For now, you pull back from him slightly, just enough to rest your forehead against his to stare into his pretty honey eyes. You want to warn him about what you’re going to do - after everything that’s happened, you feel like you should. But he beats you to the chase.

-Closing the small gap between you, his lips find yours. Barely a fluttering touch, soft and simple, but enough to coax you forward into something deeper. Something hotter, sending off millions of little flutters within your chest as your breath mixes and you press yourself harder against him. Or perhaps he draws you in closer. 

-You’re not sure.

-You suppose it doesn’t matter.

-You’re fumbling with the buttons of his shirt after a couple of minutes, trying your best to pull away from him enough to see what you’re doing: though he’s having none of it. His lips locate some other patch of exposed skin, latching on with mischievous intent as he begins trying to leave a bruise.

- “I’m trying to get you naked,” you grumble, without any sort of malice. You can feel him grin against your throat for a moment, before he sinks his teeth in hard enough that you have to pause what you’re doing, a soft whine falling past your parted lips.

- “I’m not stopping you,” he replies, breath tickling your skin. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, though you feel nothing but affection. 

-He doesn’t make removing his clothes easy for you, not by any means. He teases you relentlessly throughout the process, making little quips and remarks, just for the sake of driving you up the wall.

- “I don’t remember you being this chatty,” you huff, finally removing his shirt in the most offended manner possible. You’re covered in little bite marks by then, and riled up beyond the point of impatience: you never knew that Viktor of all people was prone to running at the mouth.

- “Perhaps you should find a way to shut me up, then?” he suggests, grinning up at you where you sit on his lap.

-It pushes you over the edge.

-You stand up without a word, shoving yourself off him in a frustrated flurry. He looks startled for a couple of moments, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head: wondering if he’d done something wrong, or if he’d overstepped, or if you’d changed your mind.

-You soften by a fraction when you realize he’s probably just nervous. He’d recently been of the mind that you were angry with him, after all, and you’re willing to bet that he’s got some residual anxiety.

- “Go and get comfy on my bed,” you tell him, nodding towards the open door that leads to your room. “If you want me to shut you up, then I’ll do so by putting your mouth to use. You seemed pretty keen on it last time, too.”

-It takes a second for him to understand what you’re implying, but the moment the pieces click into place, he’s on his feet. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him move so quickly in all the time you’ve known him, and you worry for a brief second that he’s going to cause extra trouble for his knee later.

-But he’s eager to draw you out of your thoughts, gaining your attention once he disappears into the depths of your bedroom. “I thought you were going to do something,” he calls, and you can hear the brief shuffle of clothing, followed by the creak of your mattress.

- “Janna, you’re impatient,” you grumble, though you’re unable to hide the crooked grin that tugs at the corners of your mouth.

-You find him comfortably settled in the center of your bed a couple moments later, and he’s been courteous enough to divest himself of his trousers. Left them in the middle of the floor, mind you, but that’s a problem for later, you suppose. 

-He smiles sweetly at you from where he reclines against all the pillows you keep the company of, and lazily gestures towards his face. “You are taking an awfully long time,” he quips.

-You narrow your eyes at him, only breaking contact when you pull your shirt over your head. You’ve half a mind to feel shy about baring yourself to him the way you are, until you remember that you’ve been here before. He might not entirely recall all of the weekend’s events, but you’re quite certain he wouldn’t forget what you look like naked.

-Despite all this, he stares. Watches with rapt attention as you kick the rest of your clothes off and carefully fold them over the back of your door. Lets his lovely honey gaze trail across every curve of your body, almost lecherous and without an ounce of shame.

- “You’re still not sitting on my face,” he tells you, though it’s less of a demand and more of a whine. 

-In any case, you decide to have mercy on him. You slowly clamber onto your bed, and make your way up his body, stopping every couple inches to lay kisses to the pale warmth of his exposed flesh. Stopping for a few moments to tease him.

- “All we’ve been doing is kissing,” you murmur, staring down at where his cock lays against his tummy, already hard and flushed the prettiest shade of red at the tip. “You really want it, don’t you?”

-A sharp sigh passes his lips when you stoop down just slightly, to lick a flat stripe up the side. It’s barely enough to be considered pleasurable, and yet such a simple touch sends little tremors through his body. You watch entranced as a pearlescent bead wells from the tip of his cock, and begins drooling down towards his stomach.

-Well that won’t do, you think, and wrap your hand around him.

-His soft little sighs turn into broken cries, when you bring his length to your mouth. Closing your lips around him, you slowly start bobbing your head - it’s messy and filthy, and you can feel your spit dripping down over your fingers, slicking him up and making it easier to slide your fist around him.

-He’s less chatty now, as you’d put it, but he’s no quieter. Debauched little moans fall past his lips, without a care in the world, as you continue your onslaught. Tightening your hand by a fraction, stroking a little faster, sucking a little harder. You can feel his thighs quake beneath you, strung tight with pleasure.

- “Wait-” he gasps, and you freeze.

-You pull your mouth off him, worried for a moment that you’d done something wrong…until you see the way he looks at you.

-Breathless and hazy, half-lidded honey eyes nearly eclipsed by the black of his pupils. Looking at you like you’ve given him the moon, cheeks flushed and lips parted…

-Oh.

- “Are you really about to come?” you wonder, giving him a few teasing strokes. He whines again in response, and bats aimlessly at your hand until you finally release him.

- “Alright,” you agree, continuing your path up his body, “I guess I’ll be nice this time.” 

-You stop briefly at his face, smiling softly at him before bringing your lips together. It’s a tender kiss, almost innocent with the way you melt into each other, though it doesn’t take long for the mood to settle back in. You pull away from him, with one last bite to his bottom lip, and hoist yourself upwards.

-It’s a little bit awkward, you’ll admit, hovering above Viktor’s face like you are, rather than being on your back. Part of you worries that you might squish him, or somehow suffocate him, even though you know he’d be happy to go in such a way.

-He wraps his arms underneath your thighs, scooting you a little further up. 

-Staring at you.

-Nudging you down towards him.

-You humour him a little bit, lowering yourself down a couple centimeters, so that you’re close enough for him to reach you. But apparently it’s not enough. His grip tightens on you, and he urges you to come closer still, despite the fact that if you do, he’ll have nowhere to move his head.

- “You’re supposed to sit on my face,” he quips, with a quirk of a brow. “You know, like a chair? Sit?”

- “I don’t want to kill you or something!” you whine, embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck. “What if I like - I dunno, break your spine? Or your jaw? Or-”

- He seems to lose some of his patience then, pulling you down with strength you didn’t realize he possessed. You gasp at the sudden shift in position, but you’re barely able to collect your thoughts before his mouth starts moving against you - and oh god you almost forgot how divine his tongue is.

-He eats you out like a man starved, working his tongue against you in differing patterns, so that you never know what to expect. Closing his lips around your clit to suck gently on it. It sends a warm wash of pleasure over you, until he flicks the tip of his tongue against it within his mouth.

-If you’d been hovering over him at that point, your legs would have given out. A cry nearly punching itself out of your lungs. The white hot, unrelenting sensation between your legs.

-You have to grip the headboard so you don’t tip over.

-Slack jawed and holding on for dear life, you cry and moan and tremble as Viktor brings you closer to the edge. Lapping up every drop of fluid as it drools out of you, as if you’re the finest delicacy he’s ever had the pleasure of tasting.

-And oh, when he slides two slender fingers into you.

-You’re gone. Too lost in your desire to come to care much about appearances. You all but grind against his face, feeling his digits working inside you. Spreading you open to prepare you for his thick cock, curling them perfectly against that sweet little spot within you.

-You don’t even have time to warn him about your oncoming orgasm. It crests over you with sudden ferocity, tensing every muscle in your body as it fully encompasses you. All you can feel is Viktor, easing you through it, groaning as he drinks you in and witnesses you at the height of your pleasure.

-Basking in the fact that he’s the one who’s made you feel good.

-It takes a good thirty seconds for you to come back to yourself, breathless and trembling, leaning heavily against the headboard while you try to gather your thoughts.

-Viktor’s hands, slowly stroking up and down your thighs, drawing little patterns into the supple squish of your hips. Your eyes meet for a brief moment, and he grins up at you with the most shit-eating expression you’ve ever seen him wear. Entirely too pleased with himself.

-You can’t help but share the sentiment, mirroring his smile.

-You crawl off him a couple moments later, now intent on bringing the same rapture to him. Only…his confident smirk turns somewhat sheepish, and the moment he turns around, you see why.

- “Viktor,” you’re barely able to withhold your delighted glee. “Did you come from eating me out?”

-You watch as an embarrassed flush travels up his neck, across his cheeks and out to the tips of his ears. He stumbles over his words for a few seconds, trying desperately to explain himself and promise that he’ll be ready to go again in a little while.

-But you don’t care.

-You flop down beside him, and pull him into a deep, tender kiss. Pressing your body flush against his, drawing him impossibly closer by crooking your leg over his hip.

- “You’re perfect,” you sigh, before his lips find yours again.

[jankwritten]

you know what no. i don't think any of the pjo characters should be ripped actually. WITH THE EXCEPTION of annabeth who would have the drive and dedication to actually properly develop muscle and keep it on and shit like that. She has a routine that she follows every day and she's built like a brick wall because of it.

the rest of them fuckers? no. no nono. leo literally has baby noodle arms. nico can lift heavy things but he can't hold them up for long and often is the one who needs a break first when moving furniture/heavy boxes. Reyna and Jason are the next closest to "ripped" but literally they're just like, slightly above average atheltic build, that's all. Neither one of them has abs (Reyna does but only if she flexes). Percy is also just a little bit above average, he doesn't have huge crackling muscle arms, he's smaller, slighter, he's built like a swimmer - his shoulders are broad but that's about it.

idk why i'm thinking about this oaisudaoisduoasdiu I guess I'm just on that train of thought where the PJO characters in the books are just like....normal teenagers. Like they're not ripped for the gods ultra attractive obviously not mortal creatures, they're....teenagers. Kids. Every time Leo stands up he looks at his chair to see if he left a butt-sweat stain. Nico has like 4 scraggly gross little beard hairs that he REFUSES to shave no matter how much Will/Jason begs him. Jason has acne scars and an unbeatable breakout on his cheek because he cannot stop rubbing his face. Every single one of them has yellow teeth because fuck knows they can't be bothered to wait around for a sink to be open in the communal bathrooms every morning. Piper swears by dry shampoo she hasn't showered in 2 weeks. Annabeth constantly forgets to put on deodorant. (All of them forget to put on deodorant oh my god they all smell SO bad all the time). jason and percy do that thing that guys do where you rub your leg hair really hard until it knots up into a ball and then you yank it out. like why do teenagers do that. i dunno but Jason and percy do it.

i dunno guys, i guess i'm in the "mundane is magical" kind of mood lmao i just want. to let these guys behave as if they are in real life for just 15 minutes. Frank Zhang sweats through 4 shirts a day. Hazel does that gross loogie shit and is spitting CONSTANTLY. let them be GROSS.

[lorimnnn]

I watched ✨House of WAX✨and YOU BEST BELIEVE I'M POPPING OUT A REVERSE HAREM WITH THE SINCLAIRS ONCE I'M FINISHED WITH THE FICS I PROMISED YOU. ALL OF YOU. YOU'RE FINISHED.

Vincent the voyeur. The second you come into town you can feel eyes on you but you don't know who they belong to, and you can't shake the feeling of being watched. But he's everywhere. He's sneaking peaks at you hiding in plain sight, shuddering as he completes his sketch, pencil moving frantically over every inch of the page. He can't move fast enough.

You're in awe of all the effort he takes into making the wax sculptures and beg to meet the artist himself, and he's scared shitless that the mask will bother you but you're just impressed it's molded so accurately to his face. Let's you touch it and guides your fingers over the contours of his mask, shaking at the miniscule tingles he can feel against his weathered skin.

obviously you're attracted to him

Bo the flirt, of course. The second he sees you he knows you'll be fun. Heat licks up your spine every time he looks at you and it's a burrowing, soul-squirming, slow and steady kind of stare that makes it feel like he's looking at every part of you, not just the parts that they all usually like.

And obviously you're this sweet, shy thing emboldened by his attraction. You can't get enough of it and he can't get enough of you. It really will be a shame to kill you.

All your friends are terrified of the goofy, scraggly driver and kind of dicks to him, and you're frowning and he's feeling his heart stutter at someone finally standing up for him and appreciating him the way he deserves. Lester giggles when you ask him more questions, normal questions, almost like you're trying to get to know him. Calls you a 'pretty thing' and gives you a little pendant made from a squirrels skull for good luck, knowing what lies ahead.

And he's falling all over himself too to be the perfect gentleman. Holding your hand to help you out the truck, the touch lingering a tad too long (he's not extending this gesture to your dick head friends of course) leaning against said truck to talk to you and missing like a complete dork, falling on his face. Embarrassed but it's all worth it when you laugh

and then all three of them when you're still roaming around and you can't find your friends, not knowing they're already dead and you're the only one left. You go to the gas station to ask around and they're all there and pretending they have no idea, smirking at your flustered expression when Bo flirts to redirect the conversation, backing you into Vincent as he does. Now you're a bit intimidated. Why are they cornering you like this? Even Lester isn't doing anything apart from an occasional 'knock it off, eh?" when you're too flustered to speak

Hehe you're in for a ride

Mini rant:

No because immediately what struck me watching it is that Carly and her friends are kind of asses??? Like yes I'm all for character flaws but just being an idiot is basically your death sentence. It was karma. The only one I feel bad for is Paige. Tell me why I had hope that they would deserve to live when it was a bunch of college kids - - - you can never trust them to be protagonists of a horror movie because WHERE IN UR RIGHT MIND DOES IT BECOME ACCEPTABLE TO TRESPASS INTO AN AREA THAT CLEARLY SAYS 'CLOSED' OR KEY A WALL FOR PROOF??? like what if I went to ur house and saw it was locked and was like "oh, that's just a decoration" and to prove your window was real glass I threw a brick at it??? Same energy really Carly's boyfriend had it coming.

p.s. i've started writing a reverse harem novel based on house of wax--- it's gonna be a slow burn that's kind of romantic and has a lot of sexual tension hehe. would any of you be interested if I posted it on ao3, or posted updates here so you know when you can perhaps... buy it? i feel like it's going to be around 150,000 - 200,000 words

[msmargarita]

A little bit about Johnathon's concept art (from an animator!)

These are what we call "thumbnails". They are little sketches we do based on a character's description to explore their appearance. These are different versions of what the character could look like, instead of just Spot wearing different clothes and hairstyles. So yeah, these are not exactly canon. That's why in some sketches his hair is shorter or longer, some straighter or curlier. It's because the artist was still experimenting in this phase.

However, you can see that they are kind of similar in the way that they all seem to have the same skin tone, hair color, and mannerisms. This tells me that the character designer who did these was given a very specific direction to follow. Usually the more important the character is to the plot, the more details you'll get before doing their design.

I'm guessing this character designer received something like this:

"Johnathon Ohnn is a white man in his late thirties. He is (insert height here) and a little chubby. He has long brown hair and a scraggly beard, and wears glasses. He is a scientist and a bit of a hipster. He is messy and always tired from work."

These notes are probably adjustments. Character designers usually make a first batch of thumbnails and then get notes from the art director such as "please use 1's hair with 4's shirt", or "can we get him wearing different pants?"

The first designs of a character don't need to be perfect (and no one expects them to). You just need to know how to develop your idea to get to the final product.

THIS is (most likely) his final design, because it shows up in the movie (if not with a slightly darker skin tone). In my experience, sometimes designs change when the animators are already doing the finishing touches on their scenes. Who knows on what point in production this illustration was made? I'm just guessing based on the information we have.

That being said, just because the thumbnails aren't canon, doesn't mean you can't use them as inspiration for your art or fanfiction. My fic's Johnathon has 2's tattoos for one.

I also always treat the character designer's work as word of god instead of what the executive's paying for the movies decide will be aproved or not. Sometimes a character may have their whole face changed because some boomer guy in a chair says it will make the movie sell better. So fuck them executives!!

FUCK THEM!