#that feel when you eat your double to become the real one

[prolitarart]

I’ll Eat God and Become Her

[munson-blurbs]

hope you don't mind me asking but could reader adopt harris officially? it'd be a sweet little blurb ☺️

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: Harris makes a special request on his birthday: for you to adopt him and officially be his mommy.

TW: mention of parental neglect/drug use, pretty much just all fluff and happiness

WC: 2.2k

A/N: Happy Mother's Day to all of the moms out there! Y'all are badasses who deserve to be celebrated. I used this video for the judge's dialogue to ensure accuracy.

February 2001

“So, Har,” Eddie starts through a mouthful of cake, “did you have a good birthday?”

Harris nods emphatically, digging into his own slice. A dollop of vanilla frosting dots the tip of his nose, but he continues eating, unbothered.

Eddie looks at you as you try to contain the inevitable mess that Hendrix will make. His chubby cheeks are already decorated with chocolate cake, and he’s only a few bites in. “Can you believe we have a nine-year-old now?”

You shake your head. The years truly have flown by, and though you haven’t had the privilege of being there for all of them, it feels as though Harris’s fifth birthday was only yesterday. 

“What’s crazy to me is that Harris is the same age you were when I took you in,” Wayne says to Eddie. He glances at his nephew, a wistful look in his old eyes. 

“Oh, yeah!” Harris grins. “I forgot you took care of Daddy.”

Eddie leans back in his seat and smirks. “Did you ever regret adopting me, Old Man?” 

“Every damn day.”

While he may have tuned out his dad and grandfather’s back-and-forth, you can see Harris pause before he continues eating. He’s never been one to stifle his curiosity, the wheels in his head turning as he processes the information. 

His time to ask a question grinds to a halt when Hendrix slams his little palm right into the cake slice, grabs a chunk of it, and smashes it into his face. If any actually got in his mouth, it would be a miracle. 

Harris gets his opportunity later that night. Eddie tucks him into bed, pulling the SpongeBob comforter up to his chin, and kisses his head. 

“Daddy?” Harris asks before Eddie can stand up. 

“Hmm?”

“Why did Grampa adopt you?”

Eddie exhales, chewing on the inside of his cheek. As his eldest son has gotten older, he’s become more honest with him, not constantly shielding him from painful truths. He chooses his words carefully before speaking again. 

“Well, my mom and dad weren’t good parents. They didn’t take care of me, and they made a lot of bad choices,” he says. Memories flash through his mind, ones of eviction notices and strangers constantly in his home. Ones of police officers snapping handcuffs on his parents’ wrists, the two of them too far gone to even register to the severity of the situation. He shakes it off, turning his attention back to Harris. “And so Grampa Wayne took me in and adopted me so I would have a safe, happy home.”

“Like how my mom made bad choices? My real mom?”

Eddie nods, wondering if Harris knows how closely their situations resembled each other. Except you did what your father didn’t–you changed, he reminds himself. 

“Yeah, like that.”

Harris thinks for a moment. “But now Mom is my mom. So does that mean she adopted me?”

“No, she didn’t adopt you.” His heart sinks when he sees the small pout forming on Harris’s lips. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Why not?”

Eddie scratches at his jawline, his nails digging into a particular itchy patch of stubble. “Well, honestly…we wanted to make sure it was what you wanted, Har. Because Mom will love you no matter what,” he makes sure to add. 

Without any hesitation, Harris declares, “It’s what I want.”

“Are you sure? You can sleep on it—” Eddie feels a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth despite his attempt to remain neutral. Yes, his son often acts on impulse, but Eddie can tell this isn’t one of those instances. 

Harris huffs out an impatient sigh, irritated that he even has to explain himself. “Dad, I’m nine now,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’m almost double-digits. And I know I want Mom to adopt me.”

Eddie grins wider, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. “All right, bud. You got it.” He stands up with a grunt, something that Harris has already dubbed an ‘old man noise.’ “We’ll talk about this more tomorrow, okay?”

“Mm-hm,” Harris agrees sleepily, cocooning himself in his blankets while Eddie turns out the light. 

Eddie is teeming with excitement when he sees you sitting in the family room, an open bag of sour cream and onion potato chips in your lap. Hendrix was fast asleep in his crib, and it was finally time for you and your husband to relax. 

“So,” Eddie says, sliding onto the couch cushion next to you and plucking a chip from the bag, “it turns out that the birthday boy has one more gift request. A big one, actually.”

You raise your brows. “How big? Like, Hot Wheels track big or space camp big?”

“Neither.” Eddie’s eyes gleam. “He wants you to adopt him.”

You sit up quickly, a smile stretching across your face. “Are you…are you serious?”

“One hundred percent.” Eddie says with a nod. “He insisted on it, actually. I don’t think you could say no even if you wanted to.”

His teasing would normally draw a snarky retort from you, but you’re too overwhelmed to come up with a quip. “Harris wants me to adopt him,” you say slowly, letting each word seep into your tongue. 

Eddie kisses your cheek, his nose brushing your warm skin. “This is everything I ever wanted for him, you know,” he murmurs. Another kiss, then he tilts your chin so he can place his lips on yours. “Thank you for loving him.”

You snuggle in closer, your head resting on his shoulder. “Thank you for letting me.”

September 2002

It’s a special occasion when you can convince Eddie and Wayne Munson to wear a suit and tie, but you didn’t even have to ask today. Both men are dressed with their shirts tucked into their slacks—not jeans. 

You smooth out a pleat in your dress, scoop Hendrix out of his Pack-N-Play, and grin at your family. 

“You guys ready?” You ask, desperate to get everyone into the car before someone spills something on their clothes. While Harris and Hendrix would be the most obvious culprits of a mess, the men are just as capable of causing chaos.

Eddie slings Hendrix’s diaper bag over his shoulder and takes Harris’s hand in his. “Let’s ship out, team.”

“Ship out!” Hendrix echoes–loudly, right in your ear. You wince, but you can’t stay annoyed for too long, considering how happy you are. How happy everyone is; even the baby of the family, who doesn’t know why he’s in a good mood, just that he is.

Everyone piles into the sedan: Eddie in the driver’s seat, you in the passenger seat, and Wayne squished between his grandsons in the back.

“Don’t know how I ended up here,” Wayne grumbles, reaching behind for his seatbelt. 

Eddie grabs your hand as he pulls onto the road, giving it a tender squeeze. This is a huge deal; logically, you know this. To Eddie, he’s officially giving his son the mother he always deserved, and you’ll be able to make all sorts of important decisions for Harris. But to you, there is no piece of paper that can strengthen or weaken your love for your oldest son. Still, this is a promise from you to Harris, one that you will never break.

The courthouse’s silence is promptly broken with the Munsons’ arrival, as your family’s presence tends to do. Hendrix enjoys the way his delighted shrieks reverberate down the empty hallway, and Harris grips a nearby bench to jump out his nervous energy.

“Har?” you call out, waving him over to a private spot. He stops jumping long enough to follow you, shaking his hands excitedly.

You crouch down to his height and dig through your purse until you find what you’re looking for: a shiny silver compass with a quote engraved on the back:

“If you don’t get lost, there’s a chance you may never be found.” 

“Uncle Dusty recommended his favorite compass, and he said you can bring it on your next camping trip” you say with a smile, your lower lip trembling as you hold back tears. “I hope that every time you use it, you remember that I’ll always be here to help you find your way.”

Harris looks from you to the compass and back again. He grins and flings his arms around you, nearly knocking you over in the process.

“This is so cool!” He cheers. “I’m gonna show everyone!”

“What do you say?” Eddie reminds him, a twinkle in his eye.

Harris barely turns around to you to yell, “Thanks, Mom!”

Mom. That title never gets old, and you don’t think it ever will.

“Munson?” You jump slightly when a bailiff announces that it’s your turn to see the judge. He gives a small smile as you enter the courtroom, probably relieved that this is a joyful occasion that won’t likely require his intervention.

This is it, you think. You wish your dress had pockets to hide your trembling hands.

Everyone takes their positions. Harris stands between you and Eddie, and Wayne holds Hendrix at the end, ready to make a quick getaway in case the youngest Munson decides to throw a tantrum.

The judge addresses you directly. Her tone is firm but warm as she says, “Do you understand that if your petition for the adoption of Harris Wayne Munson is granted, you will be legally responsible for him?”

“Yes.” You feel Harris’s palm slide against yours; when you briefly look down, you see that his other hand is holding Eddie’s.

“And do you understand that this support includes food, clothing, shelter, as well as medical and educational support?” She continues.

You nod. “Yes.”

“And do you understand that if your request is granted, that you will be Harris’s parent in all respects, just as if he had been born to you?”

“Yes.” Your heart swells with love. Just as if he had been born to you. Even with the memorable pains and trials brought on by carrying and delivering Hendrix, you considered Harris just as much your son.

“And do you understand you will be undertaking the intellectual, spiritual, and moral guidance of Harris?”

You can almost hear your husband’s thoughts: Better her than me.

“Yes.” 

The judge goes through a few more questions, all regarding your abilities to care for Harris. With each one, you feel Harris’s bouncing get more exuberant; part of you wishes you could join him.

Finally, she declares, “Based upon the reports and recommendations, this court finds that granting this petition is in the best interest of Harris.” She looks directly at Harris as she says, “Congratulations, she’s officially your Mommy.”

A choked sob escapes your throat, and your free hand flies to your mouth. You and Eddie both crouch down to embrace Harris, and you can’t help but notice the tears in your husband’s eyes. Wayne makes his way to you and, as best as he can with Hendrix still in his arms, wraps you in a hug. You think he might be the only adult not crying, but a tell-tale sniffle gives him away.

Hendrix is very confused by the overt display of emotion. The last time Wayne cried was well before the boy was born, back when the Colts won the 1970 Super Bowl against the Cowboys.

“Daddy? Mommy? Grampa?” He asks. “Why you cry?”

“We’re fine, buddy. Just have some big feelings. Happy feelings,” Eddie clarifies, kissing Hendrix on a chubby cheek. He looks at Harris and grins. “How does it feel, Har? Now that Mom adopted you?”

Harris scrunches up his face. “Like the same.”

You laugh and ruffle his hair. It’s not as wild as it was when he was your student, his curls less of a mop. “Good ‘the same’?”

He grins, nodding and hugging you again. “I can’t wait to tell all of my friends, and Uncle Dusty, and Mr. Will…”

Harris continues listing people he’s going to share his news with all the way to the parking lot. Some names you recognize, and others he might as well be making up.

“Wait! I almost forgot!” You reach into your purse and pull out a Ziploc bag containing five Oreos. “Everyone take one, but don’t eat it yet.”

When each person has an Oreo in their hand, you raise your own to eye-level and begin your toast. “To my first son, Harris. Thank you for making me a mommy.”

“To Harris!” Wayne and Eddie chorus, and Hendrix just yells his brother’s name before chowing down on his cookie. 

As you all pile back into the car, Eddie takes your hand in his. Chocolate is still tucked into the crevices of his lips. 

“To you, Sweetheart. Thank you for being the mommy Harris always wanted. Thank you for making us a family again.”

The kiss tastes of vanilla creme, sugary sweet, and you swear you wouldn’t have broken it if Wayne didn’t clear his throat. 

“No need to make a third kid up there,” he mutters under his breath. 

Eddie glares at him, hoping Harris didn’t overhear the comment, but you press on. “Shall we celebrate at the diner?”

“Can we share pancakes?” Harris beams.

You crane your neck and look back at him, once again overwhelmed by the amount of love you hold for him–for your son.

“I’d love to.”

--

[dilfartist]

Missed - short (pt.2)

Pairing; Yandere Las Plagas Leon Kennedy x reader

Synopsis; it’s the week after Leon’s attack and the scientists examining and aiding Leon, need your assistance.

Reader description; Female/GN

Word count; 1k

TW; Dead dove do not eat, non-con, there isn’t really a smut scene, depends on how you interpret it, nonconsensual touching, messed up shit, ooc Leon. NSFW. Also tagged everyone who wanted to be tagged but its acting weird so few may not be notified.

!Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Nothing seems real to you anymore.

Your boyfriend working for the government was more than enough news to handle, but Leon obtaining some parasite, becoming one himself understandably tended to hurt your head.

After last week's events, you come by daily. While they did request this of you, you would have done it anyways.

Every day you wake then drive straight to the facility holding him; never missing a day. And with each passing day, he grows worse. His body changed, sprouting more veins than the last time you saw him. He looks lifeless. His baby blue eyes are now a piercing ruby color, that stare into your soul.

Leon as a person has altered. He’s more touchy, touching you anytime he can. Leon doesn’t care for your opinion, or consent on the matter. Not anymore. Aggression is a main part of his personality now. While Leon was rarely aggressive with you, it still terrified you to see him throw a tantrum and nearly rip out a security guard’s throat because you wanted to leave early.

His presence alone has grown suffocating. And You’re starting to get uncomfortable just being around him.

And the experimenters monitoring Leon aren't helping. They only ever approve of you around to gather intel. Sometimes they’ll guilt you into staying in his enclosure, observing his actions on the other side of a double mirror. Other times they’d full-on pay you to spend five or more hours with Leon. Of course, you’d have no issues if Leon acted like his old self. But that was the issue. He wasn't himself anymore.

It’s currently two o’clock and you’re attending Leon’s daily visits.

“We have one more experiment we’d like to run on Leon, but we need your help to explore what we’d like to explore.”

You nod, observing Leon from the other side of the double mirror. Leon sits crisscrossed next to a large television watching MTV mindlessly, gnawing on a slice of pizza. Leon sports grey sweatpants and a slight sauce messy white tee.

You turn your head finally providing your attention to the scientist beside you, “What is it?” you questioned.

She fixed her glasses to look down at her clipboard, “Well, Leon has been very emotional lately. We’d appreciate it if you’d go inside and just talk with him.”

You lift an eyebrow looking at her septically, “Is that all?”

She nods. “Yes, that is all. You know he only communicates with you.”

“Alright then.”

You enter Leon’s isolation when the door slides open. Leon’s room contained paper-white walls, an extensive mirror, both a couch and bed on opposite sides of each other, a television, and a bathroom area. It felt like a zoo enclosure.

Leon took a minute to glance your way. He was too captivated by the flashing images on the television. Wanting to get the interaction over with, you called out for him. “Leon.”

Leon’s eyes darted in your direction. “(Name)!” he jumped up, jogging over to you. He hugged you tightly, running kisses up and down your neck. You're frozen in an awkward position, “Hey, missed you too, Lee.”

Leon ceases his kissing, pulling away from your neck to look you in the eyes. “Been wondering when’s the next time you’d visit.”

You chuckle, “I visit every day, Leon.”

“It feels like an eternity when you're not around.”

Leon and you lay on the couch, Leon resting his head on top of your chest. You held him close, staring at the ceiling. For abeat there was a pregnant silence, the both of you focusing on each other’s company. Then Leon spoke. Leon asked about your life: how was work? Was anything new happing? Any recent drama. He yearned for a bit of normalcy. Wanted to forget about Spain. Just wanted his main reflections on you.

Since Leon’s trip nothing was the same, not for him. Not for you. While, yes, his normal life ended after the raccoon city incident, he managed to somehow have a- what would you call it? Semi-normal life. Living with you at least.

But now it was gone. The las plazas had terminated any chance of normality for Leon. And if by chance the government’s scientists somehow cured Leon of his parasite, he’d still be left with the side effects of retaining the Las plagas for as long as he did.

Leon’s body had changed in such drastic ways. And his main concern was the upsurge in his libido.

Hours and hours he’d fist his cock, mulling on the times you’ve sucked his cock. No matter how hard, how fast, or even the time spent he couldn't stop. It hurt too much if he did. The other day the pain didn't go away until he fainted from exhaustion. He needed you. He needed to stuff you so bad it physically pained him.

His mind was barraged with thoughts of breeding your sweet pussy. Leon wasn’t the idea of having kids with you, honestly, it thought about a lot. However, this was different. It was an obsession now. Thoughts on breeding you made him cum so quickly, it became his number one fantasy.

Laying here listening to your rambling on the next-door neighbor's fight last night, his nose picks up an ambrosial smell originating from you. You smell sweet. Oh so, so, so sweet.

Leon’s ears ring, deafening him. His eyes focus on your clothed thighs. How he missed the plush skin he used to lay on after a hard week of work. More than that, he missed planting kisses on them; earing drawled out moans of his name.

Almost like an instinct, Leon’s rough, calloused, hands griped your hips. You halt and looked down at him with curiousness. Uncertain of his next actions, you press your hands against him. Worriedly you utter his name, “Leon?”

Leon refuses to acknowledge the call of his name. His main priority being his cock beginning to stiffen in his sweats.

You swallow nervously, endeavoring to pry his hands off. “Leon, please take your hands off me.” you plead in a stern manner, to come off more as a command.

Leon shakes his head. “No,” he responded, voice trembling. “You have no idea how much I need you, (Name). It's torture not having you stroke me.” he nearly moans at the last part. He climbs up the couch to be face to face.

Leon’s eyes held an immense dose of desire as he looks at you through his eyelashes. “Please touch me, baby,” he whines. “Want ‘ya so bad!” he grips your hand, placing it near your mouth to plant a kiss.

You glance at the mirror, silently pleading for assistance. Comprehending Leon’s increase in strength, kicking him off wouldn't be an option since his grip on you tautened. “Leon, stop!”

Quickly you thought of a method of escape. You acted, moving to the side for your body to decline to the ground. Both you and Leon fell to the ground, dragging cushions with you. Immediately you are on your feet, dashing to the door. You slam your fist against the metal, bruising them in the process. You could care less. Your shouting so loud your throat starts to sting. Yet there’s no reply.

You know there are people out there! You saw at least five before entering.

Then a thought comes to mind. Did they plan this?

Leon yanks you out of your shock, slamming his body against yours. Your nose whacks against the metal, prompting a whine of pain. Akin to a vampire, Leon laches on your neck, trailing kisses up and down. He sucks, bites, and drags his tongue over the marks as his hand travels down the slit in your pants.

“Sorry, baby, can’t deny myself any longer!” he apologizes, surprisingly genuinely. You accept your fate, sobbing silently to yourself.

On the opposite side of the mirror, a group of scientists observe the interaction. They all have their clipboards out, noting down every action, movent, and emotion. A Handful of them watches in revulsion while the scene unfolds in front of them. Others treat it as any other experiment, having no sympathy for you. After all, they have no idea if you’re the worst person in existence or not.

There's one thing for certain. They’d be investigating the pregnancy of a human mother and a parasite having father.

Tagged

@fbiopenups , @athanasia-day , @leonskndy , @ineedrealfriends , @destinys-dreamer, @carlosluv3r, @connorsoddsock, @sl33paholics , @explosiongamora , @idiotuvu-blog , @tarcroach, @mikeywaysghost, @jinna-aka-ninja , @lovelysserafim, @jujupia , @lomaeuwu, @briefwinnerpersonaturtle , @sammy213ui , @stella-fleurets, @elliellielliesgirl

[lxdymoon0357]

Hi, Navi! May I request some headcanons for Felix Chamberlain from I have become the hero’s rival with a transmigrator!reader who just wants her favs to be happy and to have a peaceful life too, but somehow gets the magician’s attention anyway? It would be interesting if one of the original male leads had interest in the transmigrator!reader, though it’s all up to you! :)

Felix Chamberlain X Transmigrator! Reader HCs

▼ You were ECSTATIC to be a transmigrator and that to your special manhwa!! You were definitely gonna help Irene, Claudia and Felix and you really wanted to see Irene and Felix's love bloom in front of your eyes and luckily you were a middle-class person and you applied to be Claudia's playmate or something...

▼ You quickly got close with her and Irene and you three were the ICONIC trio!! and you quickly became friends with Felix as well, you'd help Claudia escape the male leads as much as you could by remembering the manhwa!

▼ And you slowly started developing feelings, before it was for him like a fictional character, but now for real....But you were afraid that after this finished, you'd be thrown back into your real world, so you didn't act on your feelings...

▼ You became very close with them and eventually told them about you being from another world, Irene was VERY happy to learn someone was from her world, and you couldn't bother to explain to her how she was also a part of the manhwa, so you went along with it!

▼ Also Irene was mean to end up with Felix, right? Yeah, it's not like the manhwas you read where you might end up with the character when their love interest is RIGHT THERE! But he seemingly never got close with Irene in a romantic path and neither did Irene...and this confused you...

▼ Felix would love to bond with you by asking you how you used to live, what you used to eat, where you lived, what you looked like...and whom you dated, yes he's jealous of them...don't worry...

▼ And soon you confessed and you started dating, it was such a big thing for Irene and Claudia who had been shipping you two since day 1 and Lerase himself was quite happy as he seemed to have taken a liking to you as well...

▼ He would love to hear stories about how you lived, how things are different in your world and whom you hated and loved and liked or some random stories from childhood...He wanted to know what you are like before you came into his arms in this world.

▼ He would have a portrait of you painted on what you looked like before, and he gets a smaller copy on a page and he sleeps with the smaller portrait beside his bed! He can not get over the fact you looked so cute!

▼ Irene and you would often reminisce on how life was before you came here and how much you miss things from back then, but you both are so utterly grateful to be here and be in love with the Chamberlains...Yes, Irene liked Claudia...

▼ Oh btw, Benjamin took a weird liking for you and Lerase apparently didn't like that....and crushed his skull in his bare hands, of-course you didn't see him crush his skull, but you were there during the aftermath and god in your eyes does Felix look hot covered in blood...

▼ Oh you got Irene and Felix and told them how in the original story, Irene and Felix were meant to be together and how they both....yeah...of-course those two looked a bit grossed out and a felt a bit weird, because first, they don't like each other, they like Claudia and you respectively and they can't honestly see themselves together, no matter what you say or do...and you honestly find it funny and bring it to make the two cringe up and look grossed out...

▼ Claudia loves to hear about the pretty dresses and what women can do and can't do in the modern world and how much people wanted her and Irene to get together and sh's happy to hear that

▼ In all honesty, it's a adventure everyday with the trio and you being with them! Double dates, double couples and quadrouple trouble~

[bxtchycaprisun]

let it be me | a. anderson ONE-SHOT

summary: you’d been avoiding your best friend for weeks, and she was determined to figure out what was wrong. she never would have guessed your absence was due to your repressed romantic feelings, which she also happened to share.

notes: fem!reader, bsf!abby, softdom!abby, porn w/ a plot, mutual pining, friends to lovers, angst but in a fluffy way, SMUT, fingering (both receiving), pussy eating (r!receiving), thigh riding, dirty talk, lots of pet names, i think that’s it? 

a/n: i know this isn’t obstinate, but it’s wlw season and i’m WOMANLESS, so i needed to write some smut.

MDNI!!! sexual content. comment if you want to be added to my tag list

(named after the ray lamontagne song)

you and abby never fought.

attached at the hip from the start of elementary school, the two of you were never seen without each other. and as new friend groups came and left, you and abby always stayed inseparable.

you were so close that she’d even followed you out of state to your dream university after you’d graduated high school.

despite the feelings that emerged in your early teen years when abby had grown taller, and the impact of her various high school sports was clear on her toned arms, you never dared to express your changing perspective of her.

other than some consistent cuddling most friends would consider crossing a boundary, the lines of your friendship never thought to cross between platonic and romantic. you figured that if she were to ever return your feelings, she would have by now.

and even though you two were only friends, in a way, she was yours, and you were hers.

or at least, that’s how you saw it.

that was until you saw her out with angela, her chem partner who you’d heard her complain about dozens of times, a girl you thought she hated. and they were drinking coffee and eating pastries at the east campus cafe, you and abby’s cafe.

and though you knew your perception of your relationship was nothing but a fantasy, it almost felt like a betrayal to see her like that with someone else. but of course, you couldn’t actually be mad at her for it, nor would you explain what was making you so upset.

so you did the one thing you thought was logical, you avoided her.

knowing that she would see right through you from the beginning, and demand that you tell her what was wrong, you tried to be strategic about it.

but you couldn’t a thing past your best friend, the girl who knew you like the back to your hand.

and you had no idea what you were in for if you continued your fit.

…

it had been two weeks since you sent abby the text, and now, as she laid belly down on her crammed dorm bed, she was rereading it.

y/n: oh my god abs, i’ve got the worst week coming up everrr. hannah scheduled me like double the hours i’ve asked for and i’ve got two exams! fmlllll

abby: damn, i’m sorry bun. still room for me in that schedule of yours?

y/n: you know it abby. text you later, off to work

the conversation didn’t worry abby much initially. but looking back on it, she saw it in a different light.

you didn’t make time for her. and she was determined to know why.

abby sat up in her bed, furrowing her brows as she remembered the date. it was a wednesday.

she opened back up her texts, quickly typing out her message.

abby: what time you coming over tonight? it’s october, so we can officially make our movie nights halloween dedicated :)

she pursed her lips worriedly as she awaited your response. she had been shot down daily over the last couple of weeks, always given the same excuse. work, exams, stomach flu, etc.

abby knew something was up, she just needed one final confirmation.

y/n: shit, i totally forgot! i promised i’d take my coworkers closing shift since she opened for me. next wednesday i promise!

abby felt her heart sink, the situation becoming all too real and unavoidable. you were angry at her, and she didn’t have a clue why.

she scrambled out a message, quickly pressing send and biting the inside of her cheek as she watched the unchanging screen.

abby: are you mad at me? please tell me what i did, and i’ll fix it

she watches with a tight chest as the bubble of your response appears and disappears. and as ten minutes pass with no text back, she throws her phone down on the bed, groaning into her hands.

if it had been anyone else, she’d assume you were just busy at work. but this was you.

abby sprung up from the bed, throwing on a jacket and slipping her feet swiftly into her beat up sneakers. the sneakers you’d bought her for her 16th birthday.

she swung open the door, grabbing her things and moving swiftly down the stairs and out her dorm hall. she tucked her hands under her arms, pulling her hoodie over her head as she walked through the breezy fall air.

she rounded the familiar block and pushed into the entrance of your dorms.

and before she could think twice, she brought her fist up to your door, banging loudly with her other hand stuffed in her pocket.

“open the door!” she says sternly, already hearing your movement in the dorm.

you pull the door open with a displeased grunt, but as you recognize the rosy cheeked girl in front of you, your eyes widen.

“a-abby?” you stutter, staring up at her with a guilty expression.

she stares at you, taking in your loose sweats and braless tank. you weren’t at work, and you certainly weren’t getting ready.

after a long pause, the reality of the situation setting in, abby speaks up.

“you lied.” she murmurs, her voice low.

you cast your gaze down, stepping back to let her in silently. you knew you weren’t gonna get out of this one.

she shoves her way into your room, shutting the door loudly and pulling her hood off to look down at you disapprovingly.

“so,” she huffs, throwing her arms up and crossing them against her chest. “are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you?”

you sigh, pinching your temples. “nothings… nothings going on i just-” you begin before being cut off abruptly.

“nothings going on?” she repeats desperately, “y/n, you’ve avoided me for weeks!”

“i- i haven’t avoided you,” you reply breathlessly, stepping forward. “i’ve been really busy.”

“oh right, busy,” she scoffs, “just like how you’re so busy right now?”

you bow your head silently, avoiding her burning gaze. “i- i can explain..” you say slowly, although you sure as hell didn’t want to.

“great!” she snaps, “good, let’s hear it.” she shifts her weight back and forth on her legs, her figure now trembling with anger and desperation.

you look up at her with pleading eyes, trying to find away to avoid this conversation if you had any hope of keeping your friendship the same.

you were so disappointed with yourself you felt like you could cry. for years you’d stuffed your feelings down, terrified not just of rejection but of your own selfishness.

abby was the perfect friend, she was everything you could ask for and more, and yet your inconsiderate mind desired more. and when she didn’t give that to you, you pushed her away.

abby watched your expressions alter, staring at you with her mouth agape. “well?” she asks in a final, breathless plea.

when she doesn’t get a response, her mind jumps to the only conclusion she could think of.

“you’re… you’re seeing someone?” she whispers, her face falling.

your expression twists in confusion and frustration at her accusation, shaking your head fervently. “what? what are you talking about?”

“you are, aren’t you?” she presses on, taking a step forward.

you roll your eyes at the irony of her words. “no okay, i’m not seeing anyone,” you huff, the attitude clear in your voice. “you’re the one that’s seeing someone,” you murmur, back turned to your best friend. your eyes widen at your own words, cursing yourself for letting that slip.

you hear abby’s breath falter behind you. “what?” she asks, voice somewhat amused which annoyed the hell out of you. “did you say i’m seeing someone?”

despite knowing how childish you were being, you narrow your eyes, continuing on with your antics.

“well you are, aren’t you?” you say with a pout, tilting you chin up at her.

at this, abby laughs at you. “y/n… are you talking about angela?” she says with a smirk. “i’ve been trying to tell you about that, so much happened!” she exclaims and you nearly feel like breaking down then and there.

your expression drops, lips curling into a proper frown as you turn away from her once again. she stutters as she sees your change in demeanor.

“yeah right, i’d just love to hear all about angela,” you mutter, unable to meet her piercing blue eyes.

“no no.. it was bad, okay, it was really bad,” she chuckles, rushing over to grab your arms and turn you to face her. but as she takes in your distressed expression, abby’s mouth hangs open, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place in her mind.

“hey, hey, what is it?” she cooes, her voice softened as she brings her hand to cup the side of your face, stroking your cheek.

when you don’t respond once again, her back straightens, and she drops her hands from your skin, staring down at you in contemplation.

“you’re… you’re jealous,” she says quietly, her words laced with certainty.

you shake your head, stepping back from her with worry as she figured it out. “no, why the hell would i be jealous?” you heave, but abby doesn’t let you get away.

“because you like me,” she asserts once again, hands going for your wrists as she reaches out to you.

“hey, look at me, hey..” she brings her face close to yours, lowering to your height. your arms go limp in defeat as she holds you still, grabbing your chin gently to make you look at her.

as she studies your face, the way your eyes crease with uncertainty, she knows.

“you do..” she whispers.

the only thing you can do is drop your head in shame, praying silently that she would agree to just forget this conversation completely and return to your blissful friendship.

your murmur is nearly inaudible as a small “i’m sorry,” passes through your lips.

abby inhales sharply, taking your cheeks into your hands and lifting your head to face hers in a quick motion.

“oh sweet girl… don’t be sorry..” she breathes, brushing her thumb over your bottom lip.

she stares at you for a moment, chest heaving with her uneven breathes, contemplating the same action she’d been dreaming of for years. the action she never thought she’d get the opportunity of doing.

and just as your eyes meet hers, they flutter shut to the feeling of her lips pressing against yours.

you sigh against her, the tension easing from your muscles as she guides you gently against the door, running her hands desperately, yet hesitantly over your arms and shoulders.

the touch, the way her lips gently parted yours, her tongue rolling into your mouth with a soft hum, it was foreign, yet so painfully familiar.

this was abby. your abby. the girl who had been attached to your hip for a decade. the girl you had convinced yourself never to kiss and never confess to out of fear of ruining your perfect friendship.

and you couldn’t be happier as she did it for you.

you bring your arms around her broad shoulders, pulling her against you as your noses clashed together in a desperate kiss, her hands getting rougher and more curious, and so do yours. you tug her hoodie up over her head, touching her chilled skin from the cool fall air outside.

you feel her calloused palm reach below your shirt, grazing the soft skin on your belly, inching upward to your unclothed breast. you feel her hand suddenly stop, her mouth pulling away from yours.

“abby-” you call out her name in a slight moan, digging your fingers into her hair and tugging on her braid. you knew what she was thinking. you knew she thought she was rushing things, but you didn’t care. you’d waited so long.

“i know.. i know..” she nods, eyes nearly shut as she peers down at you, leaning in again to kiss you, slowing her rhythm and taking her time with you.

you whine into her mouth, brows furrowing as you grabbed her hand, trying to pull it towards your chest once again, and she chuckles against your lips.

“so needy,” she smiles, but with how shaky her voice is, she sounds almost hypocritical.

“neglected you for so long, huh?” she grins, kissing the corner of your mouth gently.

even though abby hadn’t had many relationships or sexual partners, mostly thanks to her hopeless pining towards you, she was undeniably more experienced than you.

you could feel the hesitance in her fingertips, the uncertainty in her eyes. knowing she didn’t want to rush you, you grab her cheek, pulling her lips away to speak.

“then don’t make me wait any longer,” you whisper, eyes looking up at her pleadingly as your thighs squeezed together, desperately trying to relieve the ache between your legs.

abby smiles, not missing a beat to crash her lips to yours once again, and this time her hand travels up your chest without hesitation. you whine as you feel her thumb brush over your nipple, and arch your back against the wall.

she dips her head down to your neck, peppering kisses along your throat, and sucking soft marks onto your skin. she groans as she hears your quiet moans, feeling like she could cum on the spot. she’d envisioned how you would sound so many times, but to actually hear it was so much better.

“you’re so fucking pretty, you know that?” she hums, large palms needing your tits as she pushes your legs apart with her knee, and slots her thigh in between them. “sound so fucking pretty”

your face is red and hot as you let out a quiet whimper in response, grabbing on to her toned stomach to pull her closer. as you feel the friction of her muscular thigh against your clothed cunt, you absentmindedly grind yourself against her.

“there you go, sweetheart,” abby praises you, hands leaving your tits to hold onto your hips. she gently guides you against her propped leg, and leaves small love bites below your ear as she whispers to you. “tell me if we’re going too fast, okay? you tell me.”

you shake your head, hips picking up their rhythm as you try to chase that sensation that slowly builds in your cunt. “not too fast, abs. i want more, please?”

normally, you would care about sounding too desperate, but since this was abby, you couldn’t hold back. even in this unfamiliar situation, you were comfortable with her. and even more importantly, you needed her so bad.

“you want more, huh baby?” she cooes, smiling ear to ear as she helps you keep up your pace. suddenly, her hands push your hips back off of her, and you whine in disappointment. before you can protest the loss of contact, she brings her hands to the hem of your tank top, pulling it off your chest in a swift motion.

her palms return to your waist, guiding you quickly against your small bed, her lips instantly connected with yours once again. she pushes you gently down, situating herself between your legs, and hooking a finger at the hem of your sweatpants.

the fabric is tugged down to your ankles in seconds, and she tosses the pants across the room with a shit eating grin. you can’t help but look up and giggle at her as she crawls on the bed to meet you, kissing up your stomach and on the fat of your chest.

“whatcha laughing about, pretty girl?” abby smirks as she sucks hickeys onto your skin. she tried her best to sound stern, but she couldn’t help but melt as she heard your laugh.

“nothing, this is just weird,” you can’t help but admit with blushed cheeks. “i just… never imagined we would be doing this..”

“oh?” abby says with faux surprise, “so you’re telling me… you didn’t imagine me doing this?” she asks mischievously as she takes on of your nipples into her mouth, sucking gently.

you’re breathing falters and you let out a small gasp, handing falling the the back of her head as she runs her tongue over your hardening nipple. “n-no i mean… i imagined it… just didn’t think we actually ever would.”

abby smiles against your skin, kissing her way down your stomach and settling between your thighs. “what would you imagine, bun?” she asks teasingly as she kisses just above your underwear. “would you picture me doing this to you? dream about my mouth on your cunt?”

with that statement, abby drops in between your legs, pressing her face against your panties and inhaling dirtily. she shakes her nose against your clothed pussy, nudging your clit deliciously. you cry out into your hand, instantly squirming from her touch.

you felt her start to kitten lick your clint through the fabric, causing you to let out an deep whine. you lift your head with hazy eyes, listening to her soft growls against you, which only made your stomach whir.

“abby pl-ease,” you say brokenly, desperately bucking your hips upward to chase the friction you needed, “stop teasing me…”

“m’not teasing…” she mumbles, her voice low as she runs her tongue flat against your underwear, applying pressure to your folds.

“a-ah, please!” you moan, feeling your cunt gush with more arousal.

“you are teasing me, you are-” you begin your protest when she suddenly yanks your panties down from your hips, and before you can process it, her hot mouth is licking a stripe from your hole to your clit.

you release a borderline pornographic moan at the sensation, eyes rolling to the back of your head. she doesn’t waist any time to start sucking at your clit with vigor, and alternating to lap up your juices.

you’re nearly shaking at this point, your chest heaving with every breath and hips twitching from every touch she gives you.

“fuck- i love the way you taste bun…” abby moans into your pussy, her hands keeping a bruising grip on your waist. “knew you’d taste good.. so fucking good…”

she already sounds pussy drunk as she flattens her tongue against your clit, helping you grind your hips against her mouth however you wanted. you continuously tried to close your legs around her head, completely overwhelmed by how good she was fucking you, but each time her palm would catch your leg, only pulling you further apart.

“gotta stop squirming, baby,” abby would growl as your thighs continued to tremble and your arms would thrash around aimlessly. you respond with an apologetic whine, already too cloudy minded to form words.

when you continue to move in her grip, she finally pushes your knees against your chest, keeping you firmly pinned with your cunt fully exposed for her.

“look at that…” abby cooes as she gives your pussy a small slap before dipping her mouth back down to your hole, lapping you up quickly.

“how many fingers you want, sweet girl?” she breaks away from your cunt to ask you breathlessly, before returning to suck at your clit.

you whimper from the added pressure of the position, head falling weakly against the pillow as you tried to clear your thoughts.

“ngh.. don’t know… o-one..?” you manage to muster, but you can’t already feel yourself tipping over the edge. anything abby gave you, you would take.

“hmm…” abby smiles against your pussy, keeping your legs pushed up with one hand while bringing the other down to slide through your folds.

you groan as you feel the tips of her fingers prodding at your hole, unconsciously pushing yourself against them. “we can do two…” she whisper as she slowly inserts her middle and ring finger into your pussy, hissing through her teeth as she feels you clench around her.

“relax baby… it’s only me,” she comforts you as she curls her fingers experimentally inside of you. you let out a soft cry, back arching against your mattress as she explores your insides.

abby watches your expression carefully, her tongue giving your clit small, stimulating licks as she searched for the spot that made you scream.

when she felt the spongy area deep in your core, and watched as you jolted against her fingers, panting out a moan, she knew she found it. she gave you one last lick, collecting the juices that leaked around her fingers on her tongue, she crawled up to your face with her fingers still deep inside of you.

her strokes were slow and gentle at first, teasing that spot with an almost unbearable pace. her eyes met yours and she positioned herself above you, but her pupils were darkened.

“i want to go harder,” she whispers, her voice low and full of lust. “can i do that, bun, can i go harder?”

you nod and quickly, grabbing onto her neck and pulling her lips against yours, moaning at the taste of yourself on her tongue. “please… so close..”

she didn’t need to hear another word before her pace turned from gentle to hammering. the air is punched out of you as she drills her fingers into your pussy, curling upward and hitting that spot with every thrust.

you were crying and moaning out her name, grabbing onto anything you could as she continued her rough assault on your hole. obscene squelches from your pussy fill the room, and your face blooms from embarrassment.

abby kisses you sweetly, in sharp contrast to the brutal pace of her fingers. you wrap your arms around her, hoping for a bit of her comfort to ground you in this moment. she immediately recognizes your need, bringing her forehead against yours as she fingered you.

“that feel good baby? yeah?” she whispers, her voice sultry as her palm rubs perfectly against your clit.

“m’gonna cum.. abby.. oh my god,” you cry out, fingernails digging into her back without even realizing. she clenched her teeth, the stinging pain only enhancing her desperation.

“that’s it sweet girl..” she mumbles, her pace unbreaking. “cum on my fucking fingers- let it out.”

without missing a beat, you feel your hearing practically go out, white hot pleasure coursing through your body as your orgasm crashes down on you. you shake, mouth open in a silent moan as you ride out your high, abby’s fingers never ceasing. your final sound comes out in a shattered moan, your eyes rolled back as you grind your hips into her fingers, feeling the best high of your life.

“good girl…” abby praises, her fingers slowing down even so slightly as she watches your expression.

“good. fucking. girl.” she finishes, her pace coming to a stop as she feels you tense up from the overstimulation.

you fall against the mattress, your face completely red from your post-orgasm, and your chest heaving with every breath. abby takes her fingers out of you, shoving them into her mouth and licking them clean.

you watch her in amazement as she lowers down to your face, pressing her lips against yours gingerly. you smile against her, pulling her closer by your shoulders until she practically falling on top of you.

“y/n,” abby giggles, trying to remain propped up from her elbows. “i’m gonna crush you!”

“don’t care,” you shake your head with a wide grin.

she smiles, kissing you again, but this time with a little bit more desperation. her tongue slips past your lips, massaging the inside of your mouth.

you tug on the waist band of her sweats, looking up at her with a pout. “take ‘em off,” you whine.

abby smirks at your plea, shaking her head. “so bossy,” she mumbles, pulling down her pants and tossing them aside. you instantly spring up on your knees, smashing your lips against hers.

abby flinches a bit, startled by how quickly your fingers find their way to the waistband of her boxers. you yank them down her muscular thighs, diving your much smaller fingers between her folds as you kiss her sweetly.

“woah- baby,” abby breathes, her voice almost failing her as she grabs onto your wrist. “what’re you doing?”

“returning the favor, silly,” you grumble against her lips, smiling as you feel just how wet she is. “i think i got you a little excited,” you giggle.

“no.” abby shakes her head firmly, “you’re not the one that gets to tease me.” she tries to sound stern, but the shake in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.

it wasn’t often that abby was on the receiving side. but staring down at you, with your eyes blown wide staring at her dripping cunt, she couldn’t help but grow just as desperate. she needed this too.

you palm her aching pussy, watching in awe as she bucked her hips against you, bringing her hands up to clutch the headboard. you hold your breath to surpress your own moans at the sight, wanting to only hear her soft sighs and the dirty sounds of her wetness.

“fuck… yeah like that,” abby groans, head falling back, and her knees trembling as she stays upright for you, not even realizing how she’s furthering spreading her thighs, and grinding into your palm.

she felt herself getting red the moment she realized she was already about to cum. but the pleasure was too consuming, and she was too pent up to feel any embarrassment.

the second you slipped your middle finger into her folds, your thumb instantly finding her clit, she toppled over the edge. she released a strained moan, instantly falling against you. she props herself up on the headboard to keep up her weight, and lets her head fall into your neck. she brings one hand down to cover yours, keeping your palm in place as she practically humps your fingers. she rides out her orgasm in shuddering breathes.

you watch her in shock and awe, remaining silent as she started to come down. she pulls your hand away, burying her face further into your neck with a deep sigh.

“did you just..” you begin, and she could practically hear your smile.

“yes..” she groans, rolling her face towards yours and pressing her lips at the base of your throat.

your grin widens as you stare up at the ceiling, stroking her back carefully. abby lifts her head, and secures her arms around your waist.

in a quick movement, you are rolled on top of her, your legs intertwined. she holds you tight to her chest, kissing the top of your head affectionately. you blush as you feel the stickiness between both your legs.

“we’re a mess,” you say softly, smiling up at her.

“leave it for now,” she whispers, fingers tracing shapes on your bare back. “wanna stay like this for a minute.”

you lay there in silence, listening to each others slowing breaths. and in that moment, you knew this was what it was supposed to be all along.

abby’s words come out in a content hum, her fingers affectionately pinching at the soft fat below your ass.

“sorry for making you wait so long, sweet girl.”

“you’re forgiven.”

[obsessedwithlute]

If The Hazbin Hotel Characters Worked At A School

Charlie- You might think Charlie would be the principal but NO! Charlie is the therapist! She tries to get everyone into her office for a session by the end of the year- including the teachers! Vaggie- Vaggie would teach mainstream math. Her favorite thing about teaching math is giving people extra homework when they disrupt her class. (A lot of people leave with extra homework. One time Angel Dust walked in on her in the middle of a test, and she made him do a homework sheet).

Angel Dust- He is a substitute. He's actually qualified to teach computer science, but he doesn't. It's his best kept secret why he doesn't.

Husk- He teaches Italian. He's not properly fluent in Italian and only got the job because Lucifer lost a gamble to him and Husk said he'd let him keep his money if he did "one tiny favor". Angel Dust likes to lurk outside Husk's classroom when he gets the chance, and the second Husk mispronounces a word, Angel will stick his head in, correct him and then dart back out. Husk pretends to hate it but he actually finds it really hot. (Angel Dust was also actually the one who TAUGHT Husk Italian).

Lucifer- Lucifer is the principal. He doesn't really care what most of his employees do, including stalking the Italian teacher, cruel and unusual punishment during guitar lessons, or fucking in the janitor's closet. As long as "most of his employees" doesn't include Alastor.

Alastor- Alastor actually teaches health, or sex ed, or whatever you call it. He went to college and got a degree and didn't do it "The Husk Way" all so he could do two things: 1. Properly represent queer people, especially trans people, during the class because he knows, as a trans person, that it's really hard not to feel undermined during the class. 2. Make jokes about being an asexual person teaching sex ed (I'm not asexual/aromantic but it just seems like the kind of thing Alastor would do- especially considering how he reacts to Angel badly propositioning him). If you make a queerphobic comment in Alastor's class, you're dead. Possibly literally. Alastor never actually adheres to the curriculum, and Lucifer keeps trying to break into his class and catch him but somehow Al is always two steps ahead. When Lucifer is not at school, Alastor takes his whole class down to the kitchens and has them make jambalaya for the whole period. If you can't eat jambalaya, Alastor has a whole closet full of alternative ingredients for you but EVERYONE IS EATING SOME FORM OF JAMBALAYA OR EVERYONE HAS TO FIX ALASTOR'S VINTAGE RADIOS DURING DETENTION FOR A MONTH.

Lute- She teaches biology and is that one teacher who everyone either loves or hates. She runs the GSA and has weekly meetings and she's also the teacher who becomes your replacement mom if your real mom sucks. (This also applies to the teachers, she's also basically Angel Dust's mother by now). If you make a queerphobic comment in her class, she will stalk for exactly two weeks after you say it, slowly recording every single discriminatory thing you say. Then she will make you stay after school hours and reads off her entire list. Then she assigns you detention for two weeks and makes you write a 5-page essay on whatever chapter of Queer Ducks her heart desires in size 8 Arial font during the few precious hours of the day you don't have detention.

Adam- He teaches the jazz band, and if you play guitar, you get double lessons. Twice a month, Adam conducts tests randomly. You have to get up and play a song of his choice- no sheet music allowed. If you mess up even once, Adam gets to smack your guitar with a rock and you get to pay for the damages. (Lucifer knows, doesn't care, and makes rubber duck voodoo dolls all day long.)

Cherri- She teaches gym and if a student isn't running fast enough, she throws basketballs at them. Not hard to HIT them, but just enough to give them some motivation.

Sir Pentious- He doesn't work at this school. He works at a preschool in a different town. But since it's only a half-day, as soon as he gets the chance, he leaves and goes to stare longingly at Cherri while she somehow manages not to get fired. Everyone is just used to him being there, and he's fine with that.

[bellewintersroe]

Would you please write a headcanon for Malarkey, Babe, Chuck, Shifty, Liebgott, Winters (and anyone else you'd like to do) about them seeing you dressed "like a girl" for the first time. I mean all pin up looking and everything (tastefully of course though). Maybe you had to wear army fatigues just like the rest of the guys (and of course no makeup or ability to do your hair or wash everyday) and that's the only way they've really ever seen you. But you finally get the chance to really dress up for once (you're a girly girl). I'd love to know what you see their reactions being.

Oooooo being a girly girl myself I LOVE this concept!! Easy Boys x Reader - how they react to you dressed up.

Don Malarkey:

Normally Don would just muck around with you, he’d think you’re beautiful either way but he feels comfortable with you to joke around like he would similar to how he is with the guys.

so when you walk into that pub one day all dressed up like one of those pin up girls he’d seen in the magazines? Good lord-

Eyes pop out of his head fr.

double takes- cos he’s so mf stunned like- it ignites something deep inside of his body and every single inch of his body is on fire.

I feel like he’d sorta look at you differently when you’re having a conversation, like he’d be smiling and blushing- I think he’d be stammering, maybe he couldn’t hold eye contact as often?

like he’d suddenly stop throwing jokes in your direction and actually engages in a more quieter and normal? Conversation. Like you’d probably be so confused until one of your friends tells you why you’re so nervous.

unlike the other guys, I don’t think he’d make a move, not that night anyway. He’d probably be too nervous. I think after that he’d be a little more nervous around you, maybe he’d be fearful some other guy has swooped you up before he could??? Babe Heffron:

I feel like Babes reaction would depend on if he’s had a few to drink or not. But let’s say he’s sober?? We’ll set the scene in Austria, you finally have access to pretty clothes and makeup again- which you missed so dearly throughout the war.

slowly you’re doing yourself up again, getting used to being around the men all dressed up- I think it would be super nerve wracking.

Ofc all the men notice cos their jaws are on the floor, but Babe’s mind is lost. He knows that he feels the strongest out of all of these guys, you took such good care of him in Bastogne and his soft spot for you becomes well- a big fat crush that he can no longer hide.

He takes some hyping up from Ramirez and whoever else before he scurries up besides you, walking as smoothly at he can, looking all handsome in his uniform.

“Hey y/n.”

“oh hey, Babe!”

“you look real pretty y’know.”

then it would be your turn to be a blushing mess, he’s grinning towards you with a sparkle in his eyes, and although he’s nervous the genuine desire and longing for you is obvious.

“Thank you, Babe! You look real good in your uniform too.” He doesn’t expect you to throw a compliment back so for a second he’s turned away from you with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Yeah well, ya’ hair looks real nice too.” The boys deffo told him to compliment your hair and your eyes- and that’s what script he sticks to at first before growing enough confidence to genuinely compliment everywhere else on your face (and body??)

Ur bum looks real good in the dress you were, and if Babe thought you were beautiful in your army fatigues, oh my goddddddd-

Babes just a sucker, he often looks stunned and in awe of you- because that’s what he would be, real complimentary to the point you have no option but to just kiss him.

plus at the end of the night when you two have spent some time together, he loves to twist his finger through the loosened curls in your hair.

Chuck Grant:

Probs one of the men that giggles and woops at you when you walk into the small pub the troops have taken over in Holland.

ofc it’s all fun and games they’re ur friends and by no means are objectifying you.

but anyway Chuck is all amused at first, but his smile slowly fades when he feels the fluttering of his heart and stomach and oh fuck- he’s in love with you.

he knew it before, but now seeing the way all these men are looking at you in your pretty dress with your hair and makeup all done- noooo, he has to make you his there and then.

“Later, suckers.” He’d take a last swig of his drink before carrying it in his hand, sliding away from the table and approaching you. At first he’s oozing with confidence, hyped up from his cheering friends, but when he actually gets close and sees your red painted lips smiling up to him he’s a gonner.

“Uh hey… can I sit?” He awkwardly spokes, it’s a little funny but you’d find him so cute and ofc he’s fucking handsome asf so you oblige.

Accidentally stares in awe when you’re topping your lipstick up.

“You want some?” You’d tease and his lips would pull into a charming smile. “Yeah, but not from the stick.”

oooo the flirtation would be on the second he gets a little buzzed from the alcohol, you’re clearly flirting back and not to sound rude because it’s obviously consensual- but Grant can’t keep his hands to himself.

seriously he’s never seen your body so…. Tight? Like your outfit is still modest but hugging you in all the right places, if you move onto his lap at some point in the night he’ll probs get a boner.

deffo goes back to his bed that night with a smirk and red lipstick stains everywhere.

Shifty Powers:

Ugh shifty, shifty, shifty, where do I start?

yeah he’s super respectful and sweet, we all know that, but he deffo has a smart side to him. Let me explain.

when you walk into that ‘pub’ in Austria, all dolled up, he’s smirking and hiding behind his cup, eyes roaming a little too far down your body than he intends to.

he’s love struck, like he already knew you were the most beautiful thing on this planet, but now you’re a god damn Angel.

but when you’d come to sit with him out of all the other guys, again, he’d be smirking behind his pint glass.

“Y’know you look real beautiful, Y/n.” He’d give you the most genuine and kind compliment you’ve received all night, he’d hook his arm around yours to walk you somewhere, ugh he’d probably come across really calm??

I do think Shifty would be sweatinggggg, like boy he’s nervous on the inside, and when you clasp your hand with his he’s gulping.

not to sound crude, but he probably hasn’t seen a woman in a while, not one as amazing as you- so he gets a little hot and bothered when your hand runs over his shoulder.

he’s not one to be too forward, I think he’d be more traditional so he wouldn’t necessarily make a move on you- but he’d tell you how he feels there and then.

being honest he wants you soooooo bad, he feels the ache in his chest even just glancing at you. Plus, Shifty can tell you’re glowing both inside and out, he’d probably pick up on that and make you swoon like you’ve never before.

Joe Liebgott

Listen Joe has been knowing ur attractive for a realllllll long time. Like im talking since Toccoa and all.

But nothing comes of it so he treats you like his little sister, like similar to Malarkey he’d joke around with you, ruffle your hair- he likes that you’re not afraid to get dirty and have a little fun.

like he’d probably rugby tackle you (gently?) because he knows you’re so just down to earth and cool.

so he hold off all the compliments or what not and his flirtation is more through playfulness?? Like you just have a bond and he fucking loves ya- he tells you all the time, but all of a sudden you walk in looking like a fucking pin up model and he gasp- loves you in a way that isn’t so… platonic?

uhhhh Joe’s shifting in his seat, eyes fixated and mouth slightly hung open. Has to tense his jaw and blink away just so nobody see’s him looking like a creep.

doesn’t know how to act around you?? Like he’s acting all nervous and awkward because you’re so fucking beautiful and done up and god, all the men want you in there.

tries to be mean as a form of flirting, but that doesn’t work- it goes badly wrong so he ends up chasing you out of the pub, grabbing at your waist.

“Hey, y/n, slow down. I didn’t mean it like that!” “Then how did you mean it, Joe?! You think I look tacky!” “No I don’t! I really don’t!” He kinda laughs again and you attempt to shrug him off but uhhh he get carried away and the feelings just fall out his mouth. “Truthfully-” “shut up, Joe.” “No, truthfully, I think ya look gorgeous. Like shit doll, I think I’ve fallen in love with ya.”

The admission is only followed by more and more and he blurts out how nervous you made him feel- his ability to express emotion all these years later surprises you and you’d just kiss him so quickly he almost stumbles off his feet.

tells you you should dress up more often like that for him.

Dick Winters:

Ummmmmm probably already with you?? Winters has seen you all dressed up before but after a particular long time of seeing you struggling, he’s in awe to see you looking so radiant and happy.

watches from afar with the most loved up feeling ever, he’s extremely secure in your relationship, yet still oogles in utter awe from you.

has to put up with the other men (they don’t know about your relationship) staring and gawking, he legit has to close Babe’s mouth for him??

but seriously, he just smirks when he sees you laughing at the men’s advances on you cos he knows he’ll be the one in bed with you that night.

and you are ugh- he’s so amazing and can’t get over how perfect you looks, he even asks you to leave the dress on when you’re doing the deed 🙈🙈.

“I’m so glad I’ve got you all to myself.” He’d mutter whilst you’re wrapped up in his arms, hair and makeup slightly frazzled. “Me too, I couldn’t cope for a minute longer not speaking to you out there.” “And all of them gawking at you… I mean who can blame them, you look absolutely beautiful.” Lewis Nixon:

Ummm what the fuck? He’s amazed? Jaw is dropped and he has to put his glass to one side whilst Dick pushes his jaw closed for him.

“is that Y/n?” He’d squint, “as in our Y/n?”

wastes no time in getting to know you and sit besides you, it’s not like you two haven’t talked before, but you’ve never really been close or had the chance to be. Now, the war in Europe is over and Lew is divorced, it opens new opportunities- hence why he comes and speaks to you.

a little Dutch courage never did no harm, and in Lewis’ case it began a beautiful relationship. But holy fuck- he’s in complete shock at how beautiful you are, your hairs pinned up to perfection, your makeup is highlighting every feature of your face so perfectly.

you should best believe that your lipstick will be smudged over his thumb and lips later that evening, cos Lewis isn’t one to waste any time…

[from-the-clouds]

lost in the fire - kendall roy x f!reader

| masterlist | succession sideblog: @kendollroyco | my kendall playlist

chapter summary: your boyfriend works too much. a oneshot, but if we're being real, i was thinking about kendall and the reader from thinking of a place, because i miss them. pairing: kendall roy x f!reader words: 4.6k warnings: SMUT (18+ only). soft dom Kendall. Somewhat unhealthy/jealous/co-dependent relationship but this is a Succession fic so like…what do we expect? Alcohol consumption - I don't know what Kendall's definition of sobriety is but he drinks a cocktail in this. a/n: i'll get back to tlou but i've had this partially written for like a year at this point. It started out as more of a manic Ken on a power trip type of fic but then it got really soft and fluffy because I am feeling touch-deprived lately so I’m sorry if I didn’t deliver enough evil ken for ya’ll. :/ OOPS!

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

"We're like the Lewis and Clark of fucking." - Kendall Roy

Teetering down the hallway, you attempt to quell the outrageously loud click, click, click of your stilettos against the marble floor by shifting most of your weight into the ball of your feet and shuffling forward. It only makes it harder for you to balance while you attempt to put on the flashy gold hoop earrings your friend had insisted you’d wear. Of course, being quiet didn’t really matter, because you were the only person inhabiting the Hudson Yards penthouse. 

As usual, you are running late. Famously, you always underestimate how long it will take to get ready for social events – your friends could attest to that. It is a bad habit that, despite years of trying to correct, you can never quite shake. 

Beelining for the double doors of the multi-million dollar home, you are interrupted by your name being called out in a sing-songy voice. There is a blur of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you turn towards the familiar sound to find your boyfriend rounding the corner, a drink in hand.

The sight of him at home is rare these days, that for a second, you aren’t even sure if it’s really him. Maybe the place is being  haunted by an eerily similar lookalike, or it could be some new ridiculous billionaire technology that he’d invested in– holographic messaging, or something similarly dystopian that you’d roll your eyes at when he tries to explain it to you. It’s fuckin’ next level, I’m telling you. I’m a fucking tech pioneer. You can practically hear him trying to sell you on it despite your distaste.

“Ken?” you cling to the clutch under your arm, unable to stop the shit-eating grin that works its way onto your face. “Hey. When did you get home?”

“Hey yourself,” he answers, poorly hiding a bemused smirk behind Baccarat crystal. “I just got in.”

That much was clear, even though his briefcase and coat had already been cleared away from the table in the entranceway, and his suit jacket draped over the back of a barstool. “Are you going out?” He lowers the tumbler and leans against the counter, but still keeps it close, one finger sliding along the rim. 

“Yeah,” you approach Kendall cautiously. “...did you get my text? I thought I’d get ready here, we’re going to that place around the corner.”

He’d given you a key to his flat, even though the relationship was still pretty new – but decidedly not that new, given your history. Things were still moving quickly though, if you compare him to your past flings.

Kendall’s eyes close briefly in recognition, his brows pulling together as though he is scolding himself. “Oh, uh-huh, yeah….right.” It’s then, and in closing the space between you, that his haggard appearance becomes clear. You’re one of few who would probably even notice it. To the untrained eye his white dress shirt is impeccable, crisp and stark as usual – save for the lack of cufflinks, which you notice he’s discarded on the counter alongside his drink. His tie is still fastened tightly around his neck in a perfect half-Windsor. But salt and pepper stubble is sprinkled across his jawline, faint red hazy in the whites of his amber eyes. 

Work has consumed him in the last few weeks. It’s been nonstop. And he is still home earlier than you have expected, even though the sun had gone down long ago.

Kendall’s hand wraps around your waist and you lean against him, accepting his affectionate peck on the cheek. “Hey, honey.” The cedar notes of his cologne, the acidity of the vodka on his breath, and the weight of his arm around you makes your stomach flip, even as he draws back, releasing you so he can sit on a barstool. It’s probably for the better, as the impulse to throw yourself into his arms and abandon your plans will become impossible to resist if you don’t leave soon.

It would be a lie to say his career hasn’t put a strain on things lately. Business trips, dinner meetings, weekend conventions all seem determined to keep him away from you. For the past few weeks, you’ve been deprived of him, forced to accept only minutes of his time – mostly sweet nothings and apologies whispered as falls into bed beside you, then presses of his lips on your cheek, still half-asleep in the early hours of the morning as he leaves the next day. You have been forced to savor those moments, even though they are hardly substantial. But you know yourself, you aren’t better off with someone else. He has always been what you wanted.

Still, lately you have been thinking about all his failed past relationships. There is certainly a…pattern. You’ve seen enough, and sometimes it feels like you are purposely ignoring the signs – Watch Your Step!, before falling into a pit of daggers. 

He needed a break or he’d burn out, but you’ve learned when to bite your tongue and save those suggestions for when you are sure they won’t erupt. And you both aren’t always good at keeping arguments good-natured. 

Kendall shifts in his chair so he can look you up and down – this time up close. “Is this what you’re wearing out?”

“Uhhhh, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, feeling your face heat up. 

“Turn around,” his resting facial expression is already kind of indignant, but you can tell right now that he’s definitely frowning. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says. “I want to see.”

You shrug, but obey, unable to hide the way your lips quirk when you are back facing him again, hands on your hips. All you have to do is read the look on Kendall’s face to know that he doesn’t approve. And even though there is no way in hell you are going to change, the slight blaze in his narrowed eyes makes you think this is about to become a controversy. 

“Do you have a problem?” you ask, feigning innocence, glancing down at the getup. The red dress barely covers your ass – is far more revealing than anything you’d normally wear, accompanied by stiletto heels that lace up your calves. Sure, it’s a lot, but you look good, and you’re going out. 

“You’ll definitely be getting a lot of attention,” he conveniently doesn’t answer your question.

If you weren’t wearing lipstick, you would’ve bit your lower lip to keep your composure. Instead, you tilt your head and give him a coy smile. “You should come with me.” 

Kendall glances down at the countertop and shakes his head, the comment causing him to drop the subject of your attire entirely. “I can’t. I’ve got a meeting first thing.” To be fair, he avoids the club scene most of the time, so it’s not a well-thought-out offer. Too much temptation. “But you look good,” he concedes. 

“A work meeting on a Saturday?” you ask, ignoring the compliment. “Fuck,” you reach to take a sip from his tumbler. The vodka he keeps here is always chilled to perfection, so smooth it tastes like it’s melting off a glacier. “It’s that bad?”

He takes the beverage from your hand when you return it, shrugging before throwing the rest back, then standing to pour another. “Just the usual, la-dee-fuckin-dah….corporate bullshit.”

You frown and stare at your shoes, flexing your foot and inspecting its soles.

“Those heels don’t look very comfortable,” he remarks as he passes you.

“They aren’t.”

“Well then I’ll guess I’ll have to take you shopping to replace them.”

You feel yourself flush. “Let me know when you can fit me in your schedule.” 

“Uh-huh,” Kendall ignores your jab, changes the subject. “How’s your job?”

“Same as yours. La-dee-fuckin’-dah corporate bullshit,” you repeat his words from earlier, lowering your voice slightly to mimic his cadence of speaking. 

The sound of his warm chuckle makes your stomach flip again. “You want me to, uh, pour you one?”

“No, I should probably get going.” You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your friends that you are running behind, and you hear the clink of ice against crystal.

Then, his voice, deep and husky, directly against your ear. “Who’re you texting?”

You jolt in surprise at his sudden proximity.  “Fuck! Sorry,” you clear your throat. “Uh….the group chat.”

Kendall’s arm reaches past you to place his drink on the counter, and you feel his fingertips brush the hair away from the nape of your neck. Then, his lips follow, pressing there gently, his thumb trailing down your arm and then back up again. You shiver at the contact, and it dawns on you how touch-deprived you are.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs against sensitive skin. His hands land on your shoulders and begin to knead at the taut muscles there. You try to keep yourself tense, even as you feel your phone slipping out of your hands, the drafted text all-but forgotten.

But instinctually, you shift backwards to feel the weight of his chest pressed against you.“You’re all wound up,” Almost chastising. Every part of your body below your bellybutton clenches. It’s those hands, his hands. Hands that used to wrap around your throat, thread into your hair, hold your wrists in place. Pin you down, spread you open…. While you think about them, you let him work at the tension that he is partially responsible for, nodding and letting out a long exhale.

“Just a little.”

“When are you gonna quit that job?” he asks you.

You first, you want to say, but let the retort die before it could leave your mouth. “Hmmmmm,” you pretend to mull it over, but you’re only half-aware of things he’s saying to you. “I don’t know.” 

“What kind of uh, feminist would I be if I let a girl as hot as fucking you have to worry about a job?”

You can’t help but snort, turning your head so his forehead bumps against your own. “Is that how feminism works?” 

“Uh-huh,” he chides, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Fucking whatever. I wish you’d just let me look after you.”

You are unable to find your voice to answer, because you remember through your needy haze that you are running late, and when he says things like that, it certainly doesn’t help you regain composure. It’s only after you straighten, trying to pull yourself out of the trance he’s worked you into, that you discover how close he has pinned you to the countertop.

“Ken-” you try to protest, but the way it comes out sounds more like you’re pleading.

“What is it?” Kendall asks, returning his lips once more to your neck, beginning to work them tenderly up the column of your throat, which makes it impossible for you to finish the rest of the objection. “I’ve missed you so much,” he pulls you back against him by your waist.

“Me too,” you sigh. “But I-,” you’re cut off when he grinds against you, already half-hard, and your pelvis hits the granite lip of the countertop. It hurts, just for a second, but the pain is quickly replaced by warmth. Kendall pulls his hands away and you’re only held in place by his hips, the metal of his belt buckle cool against your sacrum. The dress you’re wearing is so thin it feels like there’s nothing separating him from your bare skin. 

“You what?” he prompts when you remain silent. You know him well enough to hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face, and his nails rake up and down your arms.

It’s a little petty, but you are hesitant to give yourself over so easily to him. To abandon your evening, just because he’s finally decided to see you at a reasonable hour. Of course, if your friends knew you were late because you were with him, they wouldn’t care. Kendall had been a well-kept secret until it was impossible to deny his existence in your life. But they were all a little too supportive of the relationship, since it meant they suddenly had guaranteed access to any club VIP section - and you perpetually pick up the bill. Not to mention the first-class, luxury accommodations they get on girls trips. 

There was more to it than just being late, though. You had always been willing to do anything for him, even before you were dating. He told you to jump, you asked how far? He gave you one pleading look from underneath those thick lashes – and you folded. And Kendall is very aware that he’s your weakness. So you constantly try to convince him otherwise, lest he get too comfortable. And really, after his neglectful behavior, did he really deserve you without any opposition?

“Kendall,” you manage to turn slightly. “I’m going to be late.” Wriggling some more in his grip, but it’s only enough to bring you face-to-face, looking up into his stormy eyes. 

He studies you carefully, like he might let you leave if he senses enough conviction. “I don’t care.”

You might’ve laughed, if it weren’t for how stern he sounds. It almost scares you. Almost. Hoping to soften him, you fit your thumb into the dimpled fabric of his tie, and use it to drag him forward, offering a tender kiss on his cheek. Returning the embrace, his stubble scratches your face as he smiles against you. He reaches behind you for another sip of his drink and his unoccupied hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass through the silky fabric. 

You are burning, fire licking up your arms, your neck, your face. It’s too much, to have him so close and not be able to have him. All the tension building with nowhere for it to go. When he pulls back, you lean forward.

It’s a little rough at first, because you are so desperate, tasting the vodka, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth. Kendall is the one who softens you, cradles your jaw to draw you closer, opens his mouth and deepens the kiss, so deliberate and practiced that you’re unable to speak when he pulls away. 

“Tell me something,” full lips so close to yours that they brush your own when he speaks, your eyes fluttering shut. His touch coasts up your sides, up your arms, landing on your shoulders. “Who are you showing off for in this?” Kendall hooks his pointed finger around a spaghetti strap of your dress, and lets the elastic snap back against your skin. You savor the sting it leaves behind.

Admittedly, there’s a third reason why you’re being so withholding. He’s so spoiled, so used to getting what he wants, whenever he wants it. Not just from you. And when he doesn’t get it, he becomes petulant, fiery. You’ve learned that if you piss him off just enough, you don’t have to ask him to fuck you within an inch of your life. He just does. 

So, you decide to poke the sleeping bear, shrugging and crossing your arms like it’s nothing, giving him a demure smile. “You wouldn’t know him.”

Kendall’s nostrils flare as his hand rises to grip your jaw – tightly. “Uh-huh.” Even if you’re only joking, the very idea of you dressing up at all – let alone like that –  for anyone except himself, pisses him off.  “Fuck you.”

“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” you try to keep your voice even, but it sort of loses the steadiness you were hoping for when he hooks a finger behind your knee, dragging it up across the expensive, soft wool of his slacks to peg around his hip.

The bruising kiss that answers is clearly intended to erase the smug look on your face, and it works – your breath hitching, the hand on his tie tugging him closer. Kendall seems to speak without saying anything at all, grabbing your opposite thigh and lifting until you are perched on the edge of the countertop.

It’s getting real, but you still haven’t decided if you are actually going to stick around. The way he looks right now, however, swings the pendulum farther into the side of staying in – red lipstick left behind on his cheek, shirt wrinkled, tie hanging loosely around his neck. You wanted to make him look even more wrecked. 

Kissing him again, his hands begin to roam, tugging the dress off your shoulders and freeing your tits. “Shit,” He dips his head to sloppily mouthing at the newly exposed skin. “Knew you weren’t wearing a fuckin’ bra.”

“Ken,” you squirm when he latches onto one of your nipples, pinching the other between two fingers. “I really need to get going.”

“Not yet,” he hums, the vibration of his voice against your skin makes the space between your legs ache. “If you’re going to go out in this fucking dress,  I don’t want you to forget who you belong to.”

You squirm in his grip – not because you want to get away from him – but because you want to see if he’ll pin you in place, be even rougher. He does. He is. “Stop that. This isn’t a fucking negotiation.”

Well, okay.

He kneads into your thighs now, one of his hands dipping beneath the skirt of your dress that’s already so short he’s only an inch or so away from your already-soaked panties. 

“Fuck,” You tilt your head back to look at the ceiling, like you might find some self-control there, some will to resist him, but it’s about as cold and uninspiring as the rest of the apartment. “Please.”

Kendall lets out a dark chuckle,  pushing aside your thong and brushing his knuckles against your damp cunt. He loves to tease, and right now is no exception. His touch isn’t enough to satisfy, so you press yourself forward to seek it out yourself. You don’t dare meet his eyes, which you can feel are watching you intently, admiring how you keen and arch and whimper in frustration. Still, you aren’t quite ready to beg. 

Thankfully, you don’t have to. Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, groaning as he does, his thumb finding your clit.

“Yes, Kendall, that’s–” you don’t finish the thought because you aren’t entirely sure what you actually have to say. His digits curl, attentive, practiced – tuned in to  exactly what you like, what you need.  You grip at the fabric of his shirt that’s bunched around his elbows. Despite how intense meeting his gaze right now will be, you turn to look at him anyway, surprised by the affection and warmth you find in his eyes. 

“You try so hard not to be,” he says while he continues to stare you down. “But you’re always so fucking good for me.”

Your stomach flips, partly in shame, partly because of how good it’s always felt to be seen by him. Throbbing around him, feeling your pleasure build, but he withdraws his fingers from you before it can crest. An embarrassing noise leaves you, squeezing your eyes shut. 

The clink of his belt unbuckling immediately snaps you back to reality, and you hike your dress further up your hips, shimmying out of your thong. It’s pitiful, the way you don’t want to delay any longer the feeling of him inside you. 

He strokes himself in his hand, lines his cock up, and pushes a piece of hair off your face. 

“You want me?” he asks, and you bob your head enthusiastically. “Tell me, then.”

“I want you, Kendall. Please, I want you so bad.” 

“Yeah you do,” he mutters, and wastes no time jerking forward to enter you. 

Though you’d had him plenty of times you never could quite get used to the feeling – he’s big, of course, and it’s always electric, the blood in your veins buzzing, your hands tightening on his shoulders. 

“Relax, honey,” Kendall says, feeling the way your body tenses at the intrusion, placing a hand on your sacrum, one between your shoulder blades to steady you.

He presses his hips forward until they are flush against your own, bottoming out inside you, pausing. It’s welcome at first, a chance to catch your breath, to let out a shuddery exhale - temporarily appeased by the way your cunt stretches to accommodate him, and he’s so close to you after so much time spent away. You’re embarrassed at how badly you’ve needed this, how reliant on him you’ve become, but he always feels so good. 

Kendall stays still for long enough that you grow frustrated, and you use his tie to pull him closer, loosening the knot and rutting against him until he presses his thumb into the crease of your hip and thigh so hard you are forced to stop. Once you do, he starts to move, thrusts slow but deep, lips pressing hastily between panting breaths. 

“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he laments.

Despite everything, you can’t help but talk back. “You don’t say?”

Kendall doesn’t like that at all, his hips snapping at a punishing pace, which seems more like a reward than anything else, his hand clasping your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at him. 

“Don’t speak to me like that,’ he warns.

An involuntary, low moan leaves you. It’s overwhelming – always is. You aren’t used to sex with someone you feel so connected to, or with a lover who is so attentive to your needs, who effortlessly strikes a perfect balance between rough, passionate, and tender. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, anxious to run your hands through the smattering of hair on his chest, feel the warmth of his skin under your palms. Even if it’s not possible, you want to be closer to him. Needy. So needy. You’ve heard it from him before, and would probably hear it again. He is right, and in moments like this, you can never bring yourself to care. You like it.

He’s watching you so intently, and the rest of the city might as well be too. He basically lives in a fishbowl, you’re surrounded by windows that offer panoramic views of the glittering lights of the city. The only reason you have any privacy at all is because of just how high up you are, no one else can actually see you right now. Even if they did, what could possibly happen? Kendall loves to take advantage of this – he’s taken you up against the cold glass windows, has let you sink to your knees in front of him out on his balcony. 

“What are you gonna tell your friends when they ask why you were so late tonight?” he asks. “Gonna tell them you were letting me spread you open on the fucking counter?”

“God,” you stutter out, always shocked by the things that come out of his mouth when takes you like this, voice deep and firm, enunciating each syllable like he’s giving a speech – frustratingly collected. It makes you ache that much more. “I missed you,” you whimper, pulling his shirt off his shoulders. As much as you want it fully off, not just hanging loose around his elbows, you don’t want him to release you from the bruising hold he’s got you in. This would have to do. 

“Uh-huh,” Kendall answers by fucking into you even harder, his pelvic bone kissing your clit with every thrust, and your nails etching crescents into his biceps. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

His head falls to your shoulder in a brief moment of humility, lips working on your neck, and you feel your release fast approaching. In moments like these, you don’t doubt how he really feels. He gives it all away, tries his best to make it up to you, and it’s so easy to forgive him.  Kendall’s fist wraps around one of the stiletto heels of your shoes, lifting your leg to hook over his shoulder and drive his cock deeper into you. He’s perfect, feels perfect, there’s no one else who makes you feel the way he does. When his thumb begins to rub delicate circles around your clit, you’re gone.

Your body tenses up for so long, you actually think you might’ve psyched yourself out. And then everything releases. Kendall coaxes you through your orgasm, deep voice muttering things that are either unintelligible or that you wouldn’t dare to repeat out loud, and you cling to him while your cunt pulses in waves. It lasts for a long time, or at least it feels like it does, he slows just to fuck you through it, so you can both savor how good it feels. That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl. When he tries to kiss you, you oblige, but it’s open-mouthed and sloppy since you’re struggling to breathe and can’t stop whispering his name. 

“Ken, you’re so good, it’s so good–”

You know he likes to be praised just as much as you do. He cuts you off with a deep kiss, moaning into your mouth and vibrating every nerve in your body as he follows you over the edge, spurred on by your own release. He buries his cock inside you as deep as he can, you feel warm and full and complete. 

For what feels like a few minutes, you remain tangled with one another, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You can feel the soft puffs of his breathing against your skin, which is now damp.

Eventually, he draws back, kisses your cheek and tucks himself back into his underwear. You pull the straps of your dress back into place and when you push yourself off the counter, realize your legs are trembling and you wobble.

Kendall reaches to steady you. “Go sit down,” he squeezes your arm and you barely manage to stumble to his couch before you’re slumping against the cushions and struggling to unlace the strappy heels you’ve still got on. 

He joins you a moment later, placing a glass of cold water on the coffee table and kneeling to help you out of your shoes. You can only imagine what you must look like, because he looks disheveled, shirt still hanging open, pants unbuttoned, your lipstick still smudged on his cheek. Exhausted as you are, it makes you want him all over again. 

He settles next to you, pulls you to his chest, and you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to whisper softly in his ear. “Ken,” he turns his head slightly, cheek pressed against your forehead. “I love you.” 

From this angle you can only see the corner of his eyes, the way they crinkle as he looks down bashfully, eyelashes nearly touching his cheeks at your admission, words he so rarely has heard before. Words you have vowed to repeat until he believes you – because sometimes you think he doesn’t. Still, he answers. “I love you, too.” You close your eyes a moment, your heart rate returning to normal, and take in one final deep breath. Content. 

“I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” Kendall says eventually, hands in your hair, tugging gently so you’ll look up at him. 

“Right,” you nod. “Honestly, I don’t know if I even want to go out anymore.”

“But you got all dressed up,” he smirks.

“Look where it got me.”

He laughs. “Uh-huh. You knew what you were doing what you fucking put that shit on.”

You don’t deny it, feeling your cheeks grow warm. It’d be too easy to stay with him, to slide across his lap and kiss him until he takes you again. But your phone dings on the counter, and you know you can’t abandon your friends entirely. You sigh, pulling away from Kendall and looking him in the eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” he encourages. “I’ll wait up for you.”

[ladysroom-zaza]

Imagine clueless reader redeeming a gift card for a “deep tissue” massage by masseuse!chaewon and chaewon insisting on helping reader get rid of “all the tension in her body - especially the lower half of her body” 👀

You don't call yourself lucky, but sometimes life seems to smile at you. An example of that is the day when having a nice walk in a park, you found a coupon for a free deep tissue massage in a clinic not far from where you were.

Given that you were bored and the coupon seemed still valid, you decided to give a try. So, ten minutes after, you arrived at the place; it was cozy yet elegant, and furthermore the receptionist was really pretty.

She had a blonde bob as haircut and she was so polite. "Ah, you have found one of our lucky coupon. We made just few of them. Please follow me to the massage room", she said and brought you to a dressing room to change your clothes.

Once you got naked and covered yourself just with a white towel, you went laying on your tummy on the massage table. Few moments later Chaewon entered in the room, and also her outfit was different: she was barefoot, wearing grey leggings and a white tank top. She had no bra on, you noticed that because her white top was really tight.

She seemed to had the double role of receptionist and masseuse. In fact, right after putting some oil on her hands, she began the massage from your shoulders. "Oh my, you're so stiff, you really need a bit of relax, sweetheart", she commented, while her hands were doing their magic.

You immediately melted under her warm and smooth touch, she clearly knew what she was doing. From the shoulders she moved down to your bare back. "Aigoo, you must be so stressed, maybe I should give you my special treatment", she suggested, while pleasuring you with her touch.

"Special treatment?", you asked, facing down. "Well, yes, it's a type of massage I reserve just to few clients. Do you trust me on that?", she proposed, her voice was sweet like honey. Too drunk on her touch, you just nodded.

She smirked and and crawled back, starting to massage your feet and moving super quickly till reaching your thighs. Her touch was firm, but it was feeling so good. You didn't know if squeezing thighs was a real technique, but honestly it didn't matter in that moment.

It also didn't matter when Chae removed your towel, admiring with a grin your booty, before groping your cheeks. "Don't worry about anything, sweetheart, I'm gonna treat you real good now", she said seductively, before spreading your cheeks and caressing your hole with her tongue.

A moan escaped from your mouth, followed by your panting breath. "Good girl, let me do my job", she praised you, while her tongue was moving non-stop inside you, literally eating your asshole out.

Being a good masseuse, also her hands didn't stop moving, with her fingers going to tease your other hole. "Aww, so wet for me", she commented, while rubbing against your folds, without forgetting about your clit.

Her tongue and fingers movements seemed to be inversely related: when her tongue was moving fast, her fingers seemed to slow down and viceversa. It was such a good way to not let you catch you a breath.

"Don't worry, darling, the treatment gonna reach soon...its climax", she warned you, chuckling. Your breath was short and your mind completely lost in pleasure. You could tell something was about to come out.

"Miss C-Chae, I-I'm...", you tried to talk, but you just were able to moan more. "Yes, sweetie, let yourself go, reach your reward for being a good girl", she encouraged you.

She gave you the last push adding a third fingers inside your pussy and gaining speed in her arm movement. You could only roll your eyes back to your skull, while squirting all over Chaewon hands.

"Mmm, delicious", she said, tasting her own fingers covered with your juices. "My treatment never fails, I hope you can become a regular customer here", she told you, giving a last squeeze to your booty cheeks, before leaving the room.

[thewertsearch]

Let's kick things off with a mega-giga ask compilation!

I've spent the last couple of days working through the backlog, and I've been able to answer some quite old asks that were spoilers at the time they were sent.

@kintatsu asked: So, I was rereading your blog, and got to the post where you determine that John's 13th birthday was a Monday, and complain on his behalf that he couldn't really relax due to having the whole schoolweek ahead of him. Well, I checked, and the previous day was the first Sunday after the first full moon after the equinox, i.e. Easter Sunday. So it might have been a holiday week.

John entered the Medium shortly after Easter Sunday, and he did so by biting into an apple. Forget about the god tiers – his most powerful transformation is clearly Catholic Beast Mode.

Anonymous asked: The thing about knowing your Aspect, I think, is that it's the Aspect you most GET. I GET Space and Light, I understand them completely, they are suffused in my bones and my blood, they are writ large upon my brain and every base in my DNA. What aspect do you just GET?

To be honest, I don’t think I know enough about any Aspect to ‘get’ it.

If I had to choose, then I'd probably feel the most natural affinity for Life and/or Doom – and if was forced to pick one, I’d say I'm very slightly more drawn to Life, just based on vibes.

@mhafanlol2000 asked: I think the horrorterror’s plan (or the closest thing we can comprehend) is CHAOS-by which I mean LIFE. Skaia is order. If it can want, then it wants its players to follow the script it has written-the Alpha. It wants propagation, the snake to eat it’s own tail, blah blah blah. That is order. That is perfect servitude. That is NOT life. The gods, meanwhile, want chaos. It wants its servants to live. It does not tell people to do anything. It simply gives them the facts, and says “here is what you should do. You can not, you can do whatever the hell.” It wants romance, conflict, CHAOS. that is life.

And if this theory is accurate to the canon Life aspect, then I feel justified in my affinity for it. It falls fairly closely in line with my own philosophy.

@necrowyrm asked: When searching your blog I always type "thew" before Tumblr autocompletes your URL. That has become who you are to me.. Thew, Glorious Liveblogger, navigating the treacherous seas of Homestuck

Sally ‘Thew’ Ertsearch, reporting in. 🫡

Anonymous asked: there's actually another arthurian joke to do with dave's land/quest. have another look at the disc platform that bro stabbed. how would you describe the shape of that turntable?

Ayy, Dave's a Knight of the Round Turntable! Honestly, that'd be a pretty great name for his theme song.

@caliquill asked: kanaya vs rose would be absolutely hilarious but. kanaya IS the original "I Can Fix Her" girl for a reason.

Anonymous asked: the only real requirement for a name suggestion to be picked was that the firstname was 4 letters. but by really cool coincidence strider and lalonde are 7 letters, and egbert and harley are 6, and if you add those together its 4/13! similarly, both the trolls names were required to be 6 letters (i think hussie mixed and matched them actually, some of the firstnames were suggested as surnames and vice versa) so theres a similar case to be made for 6/12. but just doubling the same number i think holds less water than adding together two different numbers

Number symbolism is just very flexible in general. All Hussie really had to do was introduce a few 'important' numbers, and the fandom could start finding them everywhere!

Anonymous asked: This may be the wrong place to ask, but have you deleted your post of analyzing the Let the Squiddles Sleep song? I can't seem to find it anywhere.

Here it is. Hopefully you're able to see it now!

Anonymous asked: Will the Mega-Ask-Compilation and Liveblog Recap also happen? ~LOSS (19/2/23)

The former is currently taking place. The latter was planned, but after skimming my blog for a bit, I realized I didn't have as much to say about it as I thought I did. Plus, it's been ages, so I'm really excited to look at some new pages. We can leave the old ones for later - I'll probably do some sort of blog retrospective eventually.

Anonymous asked: i figure the trolls' battlefield went through a full set of dnd dice/platonic solids, plus maybe some other notable johnson solids like a truncated icosahedron (aka a soccer ball or buckminsterfullerene), before becoming a sphere. maybe the outer ring went through stages like simple torus, mobius strip, borromean rings or other fun knots, before becoming a mobius net. (not really sure what a mobius net is, mathematically, but that's apparently what the thing around the final form of the kid's battlefield is called.) or maybe something weird happens with that many prototypings, and the battlefield turns into a tesseract or a klein bottle or a menger sponge or a mandelbulb.

If you so much as look at the Battlefield created by the Gigasession, your brain will leak out of your ears.

@manorinthewoods asked: <3Dave, >3>John, >3oJade, <>Rose (by process of elimination) ~LOSS (5/6/23)

I don’t think either of the girls have worn a playing card symbol. The leaf on Jade’s Wardrobifier does kind of look like a spade, but John’s already got that quadrant on lockdown.

Anonymous asked: Reading stuff about skaia on this blog reminded me of madoka, and made me consider that skaia might be like kyube and the other incubators and sburb is skaias way of keeping the unerverse from decaying

Reading this ask makes me realize that Rose is a near-perfect mark for Kyubey.

There’s only one way to save your session, Seer. Form a contract with me, and become a magical girl.

Anonymous asked: man. i dont know what i expected to happen when you found it. but for The Baby Is You to be liveblogged in less than 20 words during a post was not the way i expected it to go

I know it’s not technically part of Homestuck canon, but it really feels like Homestuck canon to me - at least to the same degree as Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, and I liveblogged that.

Anonymous asked: begging (lightheartedly) for you to add posts like LOLCAT and "this guy's an orb" to one of the liveblog tags. they're pretty funny, and it's nice to see off-the-cuff reactions like that, haha. imo it'd be a shame for new readers to miss those kind of posts

Done! I sometimes forget to tag posts like that, because I usually just fire them off and forget about ‘em.

@captorations asked: “Give me a set of rules, and I'll analyze the hell out them, every time.” hello fellow doom player. hope you like the color green

Based on ~ATH’s association with curses, as well as Sollux’s programming hobby, I think there’s a decent chance that Doom relates to coding in some way.

Coding is all about rules, so perhaps Doom, is, in fact, the aspect of rules and logic. I'm not sure why such an aspect would be named 'doom', but it's been obvious for a while that these aspect names aren't always literal.

Anonymous asked: I’d just like to clarify some terminology because it seems relevant, but Aradia isn’t a red blood, she’s a rust blood

[The blood colors all have canon names: Aradia = rust blood Tavros = bronze blood Sollux = gold blood Nepeta = olive blood Kanaya = jade blood Terezi = teal blood Vriska = blue blood (I like cerulean better tho) Equius = indigo blood Gamzee = purple blood Eridan = violet blood Feferi = fuchsia blood and Karkat has no official blood name, but people usually call him mutant blood or candy-red blood - C ]

Oh, there are official names for each color? That’s going to be helpful to disambiguate each blood caste, especially when we really start digging into troll culture and biology.

Anonymous asked: I do believe the top-left ship on the wall - no, Karkat doesn't have red eyes. […] It's probably Vrisrezi, yes, but it could also be Vriskat.

Yeah, I’m still not sure who this ship is supposed to represent.

They have Terezi’s eyes, but the hair and symbol look like Karkat’s. Plus, Nepeta hates this ship, which would make sense if it’s between her crush and someone other than her.

Honestly, my best guess is that it was meant to be Karkat, and the red eyes were just a mistake on Hussie’s part.

Anonymous asked: something I never thought about… is the blue blood sourced from equius or did he get a stock.

Aradia has real blue indigo blood in her veins, and it almost certainly belongs to Equius himself. He could have got it from a donor, but I personally doubt there was anyone else he could ask. Equius feels like he'd be an outsider, even to other indigo-bloods.

Anonymous asked: vriska would be a good strider

Vriska Serket raised by Bro Strider would be the most terrifying character imaginable. I don't even want to contemplate what that upbringing would do to her.

Anonymous asked: Any piece of lore hussie writes needs to contend with the fact that hussie is resolutely committed to the bit. Hence all the words on how different trolls are being entirely blasted aside by 'and then they're just grey humans anyway lmao'

That's the price of admission into Homestuck, for better or for worse. Hussie quite clearly enjoys screwing with us, and we have to take everything we see in the comic with a huge pinch of salt.

Anonymous asked: I'll disagree a bit on the phrasing that Eridan forces Feferi to <> him because firstly she doesn't even seem convinced that he would commit genocide and secondly she dropped him super easily once the lusus-feeding is no longer necessary. While understandable, that doesn't suggest to me someone who is obliged by Eridan's aggression to pacify him. I think she has much more agency in this relationship (or lack thereof I suppose) than that.

Feferi definitely had her doubts – but she must have believed that Eridan was dangerous to a certain degree, because that’s the basis of a moirallegiance.

Forced might not be the right word, but she certainly felt some amount of obligation to pacify him. She sure wasn’t in that relationship for the good of her health.

Anonymous asked: So, Vriska has a conversation with Karkat, where he says she seems to have blackrom feelings for Tavros, but that he doesn't think Tavros can even feel blackrom properly. Then she has another conversation with Tavros in which she antagonizes him, and he notices, but just kind of ignores it and doesn't respond emotionally. Then we see her make a huge dramatic redrom gesture and kiss him. She vacillated because he wasn't into her… incel behavior.

Yup. I’ve always held that Tavros never wanted anything to do with Vriska. He doesn't want to love or hate her - what he really wants is to live in a world where she doesn't exist.

Vriska’s refusal to accept this basic fact is one of the main reasons she’s decided to make his life a living hell.

Anonymous asked: I headcanon that troll blood is analog, but the empire culls non-digital colors because they make the troll race seem like a joke or something. Lol

If there were minor variations in blood color, the Empire probably wouldn’t want to acknowledge it, since the stratification of blood classes forms the basis of their society.

We haven’t seen any trolls besides our twelve (apart from Troll Will Smith) so we can’t compare the blood of two members of the same caste - but we can speculate. Human blood color is known to vary depending on its oxygenation level, and I imagine troll blood would reflect its current chemical composition in the same way.

Anonymous asked: Vriska must be seething while Karkat introduces the concept of quadrants to the reader. Imagine this basic and important facet of troll life, and you're just getting schoolfed it. (This message was sent on 20/10/22.)

This was a fun bit of weirdness from early Hivebent, wasn’t it? In retrospect, it's kind of hilarious that Karkat decided to infodump to Vriska about the obscure, niche topic of… dating.

@sanctferum asked: According to his formspring, Hussie's self-insert's classpect is Waste of Space. He also briefly considers Huss of Lips. This is obviously not meant to be taken seriously but. since you asked @absinthe-and-alabaster asked: i believe hussie said somewhere that FedoraFreak's classpect was "Gent of Piss" Anonymous asked: (not sure if this is technically a spoiler but) hussie has jokingly said that fedorafreak's class is a gent.

If Dad Egbert was a Player, then the Gent class would be forced into canonical existence, as the only class that could possibly define him.

Anonymous asked: If Vriska's control does require the victim to on some level want to do the thing, then Sollux's insistence that you do not under any circumstance eat the mind honey could be something he developed in response to that incident. So that if she ever controls him again, she won't be able to make him eat it.

Wow, I never considered that. That’s a very good (and tragic) take, and I think I'm at least locking it in as a headcanon.

Anonymous asked: the official extended zodiac actually has… 288 signs, if im doing my math right? and also probably hadn't yet been conceptualized when that page was posted (the earliest known evidence comes from 2015). i don't know if any thought was put into the number or if it was just pulled from their ass, but there was a running gag in hussie's q&as where he repeatedly threatened us with a 10,000 page intermission focused on 48 squiddles, each representing a sign from the alternian zodiac Anonymous asked: I believe the troll zodiac is one of the few things in HS lore that was truly retconned, there’s actually 288 signs.

Move over, 48 Squiddles. I want to hear about the 288-player clusterfuck that actually gave rise to Alternia!

@manorinthewoods asked: wheee, you got to the first god tiering! this probably opens up a load of new things to say, so, first off: do you think you need to have a full echeladder to god tier? vriska implied so.

She never outright stated that it was required, but I still think it probably is. You generally need to max out your class levels before you can prestige.

@morganwick asked: Believe it or not, you're still in the "Homestuck could have updated RIGHT NOW" phase of the comic's release schedule. The break after the Equius-Aradia kiss aside, the hiati you've heard horror stories about didn't start becoming a thing until the end of Act 5.

[this was around page 3000. still true at this page though - C]

Hussie’s sheer productivity at this stage continues to astound. Could you imagine having that much creative energy?

Maybe Hussie just drinks twenty coffees a day.

Anonymous asked: as someone who is Normal about aradia it's an absolute delight to see someone dig into her character. she's so fascinating to me. (also, fun fact, a while ago tumblr voted her the coolest character in all of homestuck. so there's that)

Aradia’s awesome, and I still don’t think her death is going to stick.

Her ghost was perfectly capable of existing without a body, so there's no reason she can’t survive her new body's destruction.

Anonymous asked: feferi hasn't just woken up, she won't be stuck asleep until 3 hours and 14 minutes into the future! timestamps, yo

Consider this the first mark on my otherwise impeccable record.

Anonymous asked: does cat have a troll/kidsona? itd be interesting to see a full 4 player session in art

[No kidsona, yes trollsona, but even a picture of her would spoil stuff from Act 6 😆 - C]

What she said. It’ll be a while until we can meet KATYAA SCRENR.

@mhafanlol2000 asked: Hey! You can just call me Fan. In all honesty I’m just some guy who likes your liveblog. He/him. I’m gonna list some fan aspects, and I want to see what you think they’d represent, and what abilities they’d give Law Dreams Might Shape Flow

Ooh, more fan aspects! These were a lot of fun to puzzle out the last time.

Law would be the aspect of command, instruction and agreement. An example power would be giving someone a simple rule they're compelled to follow, such as 'don't turn around'.

Dreams would be the aspect of ideas, motivation and symbolism. An example power would be the ability to detect people's idle thoughts - the things they're not even aware they're thinking about.

Might would be the aspect of growth, conflict and evolution. An example power would be the ability to temporarily enhance someone's Aspect abilities, at the cost of making those abilities harder to control.

Shape would be the aspect of form, encapsulation and topology. Shapeshifting is the most obvious application of this aspect, but it's appropriate.

Flow would be the aspect of persistence, momentum and continuity. An example power would be the ability to 'continue' something that has recently stopped. For example, if your PC ran out of power, they'd be able to keep it running for a while. The longer it had been previously running, the longer they could keep it running.

@martinkhall asked: I think Bro might have been raised entirely by shonen anime and My Little Pony Friendship is Magical (the version that existed only in the heads of the worst examples of Bronys). And puppets. Puppets were definitely involved in raising Bro. Anonymous asked: "He has no known relationship with any of the other parents, but was definitely getting foreknowledge of Sburb from somewhere. I’m not even sure I want to know what sort of childhood produces Bro Strider." well. i mean. he grew up with Lil Cal didn't he? the clearly haunted puppet from the sburban dreamscape of derse? it was what he dropped to earth with. i feel like that might explain at least a small part of, like, whatever he had going on.

That’s true. I don’t trust that puppet one bit, and we don’t know what it was up to before the start of the session.

I still suspect that the thing’s still just as alive as it was on Derse, and is just choosing to play dead.

Anonymous asked: I imagine you might've already been told this, but when checking out your FAQ I noticed you described PS/PQ/FS as "not exactly canon" and that you're less interested in liveblogging them because one of your favorite parts is watching all the story come together -- without spoiling anything, I find it pertinent to mention that Pesterquest & Friendsim definitely contribute to the wider "canon" even though dubiously canon themselves. Definitely "part of the story" so to speak.

Yeah, we’ll have to see what comes of this. The problem is that I’m still fuzzy on what ‘dubiously canon’ actually means.

Hopefully that will become more clear as I’m actually liveblogging these tie-in materials – which I am planning on doing. Only time will tell how in-depth the liveblog will actually be, though.

@manorinthewoods asked: In my Sundered opinion, Bec Noir is the best character design in Homestuck. I can't think of any other interesting designs at the moment, other than some which don't beat him and are spoilers anyway (like LE's). Which design do you find most interesting, out of the ones you have? ~LOSS (22/9/23)

I definitely agree that BecJack has one of the best designs in the comic. Plus, Scratch is so weirdly intimidating for a cueball-head.

Anonymous asked: My favorite part of PKWU is just how pointy Gamzee's chin is. It's so… Defined.

iT’s ToO lAtE, ErIdAn! I’vE AlReAdY DePicTeD MySeLf As ThE ChAd, AnD yOu As ThE SoYjAk >:o)

Anonymous asked: i need you to know ag canonically ripped off the sleeves on all of her shirts just to show off the robot arm

I believe it. I don't even need a source; this is just so true to Vriska's character that it's obviously correct.

@bladekindeyewear asked: If you and your ask screener decide that literary/external-media hero title examples without any details or explanation are alright to pass on unless they're too obviously revealing -- and those in and of themselves are usually in heavy dispute by classpect theorists -- I've long been of the opinion that Monkey D. Luffy and Peter Pan are the best possible literary examples of a Page of Breath.

All Pages of Breath must be associated with pirates. No exceptions.

Anonymous asked: unfun fact: the reason rose and jade dont have a lot of pesterlogs with eachother is just because their text colours were kinda eyestrainy together. thats it thats literally the whole reason!! god damn

Hussie: "I don't write Rose/Jade conversations because they’re hard to read."

Also Hussie:

Anonymous asked: you have officially passed my second favourite flash in literally all of homestuck. it's all so well hinted at beforehand but it still comes to punch you in the gut nonetheless Anonymous asked: My favourite thing in this flash is how the name of the flash isn't John: Rise Up, it's JOHN. RISE UP. it's WV sending a plead to John to not die. My second favourite thing is the way the music remixes Doctor (The theme for LoWaS). Anonymous asked: [S] JOHN. RISE UP. is one of my favorite flashes in all of Homestuck. Savior of the Waking World is some of Toby's best work What are your thoughts on our first taste of god tier? @violetsquare111 asked: So glad you liked Savior of the Waking World! One of my favorites in the comic for sure. It takes a lot of ideas from another of Toby's songs, Penumbra Phantasm, a song that… never actually got finished or officially released. There's still various renditions of it though, and the HS collection links a couple of em. (Some people have speculated that Penumbra Phantasm itself was never supposed to be a Homestuck song, and might end up being used in Deltarune, which would be cool as hell) Anonymous asked: It's crazy to think that just about 12 hours ago John was wearing silly disguises to fool his dad and now he's dying to become a god.

God time!

I do think it was the most emotional flash we’ve had, on the strength of the music alone. Savior of the Waking World goes hard as all hell.

Honestly, when WV started calling John a hero, and telling him to rise, it did start to give me some mild chills. Like, yeah – we know John’s a hero, but it feels extra special when it’s coming from someone who’s normally so irreverent.

@elkian asked: Welcome back, hope you're feeling better! I am losing it a bit over you IMMEDIATELY understanding how this coin flip sitch works, something about the narrative and reasoning doesn't match my brain so I've reread it multiple times with total understanding out of grasp and watching you dissect it halfway into the page is truly wild (delighted). Also feel like I understand it a lil better with your analysis.

Thank you! This message was actually sent the last time I returned from a pause, so apologies that I’m one hiatus late in answering it.

@royalvorpal asked: I just reread your entire blog in anticipation. Anonymous asked: This is such a good liveblog, I'm rereading it again and you are really letting me relive the pleasant parts of my middle school years. Reading this blog makes me feel like I'm back on the school bus talking to my friend about the newest update. Thank you for doing this 💛 Anonymous asked: That return page didn't have any sound, so misleading! (I jest, nice to see you're back.) ~DJ @manorinthewoods asked: Hahahah, we are BACK! Lovely, I've missed this liveblog. Most in-depth Homestuck liveblog I'm aware of, looking forward to the restart! ~LOSS (29/3/24) @popcornsalty asked: So excited to see you back!!! :D @chaosorchestrator asked: welcome back! It's good to hear that you're planning on getting back into it! I hope things have been going ok for you in the meantime! @necrowyrm asked: HAPPY 4/13 (OR AS THE ENLIGHTENED KNOW IT: 13/4) AND WELCOME BACK!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you for your votes of confidence, and happy 13/4 to you all!

@rippledphysique asked: Just found this blog and devoured it in a few days. I am selfishly wishing you the best in health and life so that it may return one day… @elkian asked: Hey Sally! Just wanted to wish you well on the recovery, the plague is no joke and I hope you've been able to enjoy some kind improvement. And that 2024 will be kinder, as well. Anonymous asked: wishing you the best in your interim, hopefully you can get a better position where you're not prone to burning out! Anonymous asked: Hope you're doing ok!! I miss seeing your cool liveblog on my dash @kittycatttmattt asked: Poor girl… Got killed by the schedule

Thanks for all the well-wishes, as well. Really, it wasn’t the schedule that was the issue – I just had a lot going on in the background last year. That’s all over now, though!

Anonymous asked: yeah, Homestuck's back babeyyyyy - the site was crashing because of traffic and everything @calamitascalliope asked: You coming back from your break resurrected Homestuck's corpse hggfffdd Anonymous asked: i think this actually is the first time homestuck has updated since you started liveblogging lol - homestuck 2 has been inactive assumed abandoned since december 25th 2020. also happy slightly belated blogiversary btw - you've been delighting us with your journey for two years now! @heliotropopause asked: New Homestuck upd8 just dropped. Apparently. Anonymous asked: what are the odds that you start liveblogging again the same exact day that postcanon comes back from the dead? Anonymous asked: crazy news. so literally just today, october 8th 2023, hussie has officially given complete free license to the newly formed "homestuck independent creative union" (HICU) to create content and monetize it with the homestuck brand however they see fit, with zero creative or financial control from any corporations or even hussie themself, though hussie has said they're available for consultation whenever the HICU wants their input. the HICU seems to be made up of people the community largely has respect for, and the person heading all of this up is James Roach, who is one of the most widely respected individual who has been inolved in homestuck "post canon" (ie. after homestuck itself ended). nobody was expecting any of this, it's completely bonkers. hopes are looking pretty high for homestuck compared to where they were merely a day ago.

Throwback to the day I personally resurrected Homestuck.

Has anything come of this since, actually? I haven’t heard anything about this new comic – although I do scroll in the opposite direction any time I see a reference to Homestuck, so I guess it makes sense that I wouldn’t.

@corporalotherbear asked: What’s your favorite Pokémon?

Contrarian, that I am, I’ll instinctively gravitate to Missingno., if only for the nostalgia factor. Gen 1 glitches were my first real experience with pulling back the curtain of a game’s code, and taking a look at what lies beneath.

My favourite official Pokémon are Porygon-Z, Shedinja, Reuniclus and Metagross!

@heliotropopause asked: Breath/Light is an interesting one, because the ‘Mixolydian’ implies a musical theme, and I thought Time was the musical Aspect. Maybe it’s not that simple. They've all got a musical reference in the name- they are called fraymotifs, after all. Anonymous asked: The Fraymotifs are all musical references actually. E.g. Breath/Time is "Ivories in the Fire", the ivories in question being John's piano keys. A fraymotif is a battle theme. Anonymous asked: ivories in the fire is a musical theme, especifically a Rap term used by Snoop Dogg. So yeah it's connected to Dave Anonymous asked: re: fraymotifs: you pointed out "mixolydian", but that's not the only musical term there. feather "cadence", pneumatic "progression", even fray "motif" itself! hell, the building where you buy these things has an emblem with a crossed sword and music note! so i think this might be less a situation of "need to rethink time aspects association with music" and more "fraymotifs have a musical association also" Anonymous asked: if you look a bit closer at those names, (including the one "fraymotif",) you may realize that "mixolydian" isn't the only musical term referenced…. @galaxa-13 asked: You say the breath/Light Fraymotif implies a musical theme, but they all do! Fraymotif is a portmanteau of "fray" (to fight) and "leitmotif" (repeated musical phrase). Each Fraymotif name implies a musical theme.

Dang it. Yup, they’re all pretty obvious references to music.

I wrote that post the day I was trying to wrangle our family PC into running the Homestuck Collection without lag, so I was a little distracted at the time. Please direct all complaints to Windows XP.

[prettyprettypaci2]

Therapy - Part 6

💕 Part 1 💕 Part 2 💕 Part 3 💕 Part 4 💕 Part 5 💕

"I think you enjoyed that a little too much!"

Your heart is racing and you're panting frantically like a puppy. Beads of drool form at the corners of your mouth and you bite your lower lip as your body is overwhelmed with ecstasy. You need more. You'll beg Miss Heather for more. She has to keep going. You've been so good...

"Please..." You whine. "Just one more time..."

"Are you sure you can handle it?" Miss Heather chuckles, leveling her chin and smiling mischievously.

"I'll do anything..." You plead.

Miss Heather considers you with serious eyes, though she doesn't break her smile. You can tell you've won. Your therapist may know how to twist every dial in your mind, but you've learned how to twist a few of hers.

"Okay," she says slowly, opening her bag and reaching inside. "But you can't tell your step-mom. Get me a waffle cone."

You grab the money Miss Heather hands you and race back over to the ice cream truck parked about fifty feet from your picnic table. Your eyes dart across the landscape of colors and textures in the refrigerated trolley, ensnaring you in a dream state. Your pupils are as big as saucers, soaking in the strawberry reds, the minty greens, the enticing purple swirls. You hadn't had ice cream -- or really any appetizing food -- since your step-mom and step-sisters forced you into diapers. You're lucky when you get to eat graham crackers and applesauce.

You settle on a large double-scoop of fudge brownie supreme. Dutifully palming Miss Heather's waffle cone of decadent lemon torte, you thank the uneasy man at the counter and are practically skipping back to your table at the park, both treats in hand. You're used to people looking at you a little funny when you're out and about. They see an adult wearing long sausage curls topped with a pink hairbow the size of a milk bottle. They watch you romp around in furry boots and thick wool socks pulled up to your knees. And of course, they notice your denim dress isn't quite long enough to cover the crinkly companion on your bum.

As you pass a table of young women your age, you overhear them sniggering. A caustic voice says "Oh, look at the ice creams; brown and yellow, just like the diapers!" Your jubilant skipping fumbles into an awkward waddle, and you almost fall over. In your moment of distraction, the tower of brown fudge ice cream tips towards you and smushes into the front of your denim dress. You gasp at the cold, gooey sensation on your chest, and let the cone slip from your hands. It lands in the grass between your furry boots.

"Whoops! Baby had a blowout," a different woman teases, and the table erupts in laughter. You look down at the thick brown smudge on your dress and feel your face get hot. The joy that was bubbling up inside you seems to drain out of your body, literally, as your sagging diaper expands beneath your hips. You've started to pee.

"Oh my GOD!"

"Is this HAPPENING right now?"

"Do we, like, call the cops or something?"

You feel frozen in time and space. The voices are different, but when you close your eyes, the taunting words become those of your step-sisters, Lauren and Olivia. It's all their fault. If they hadn't tormented you...if they hadn't faked your accidents...you wouldn't be having a real one right here in the middle of the park. You wouldn't be wearing this ridiculous hairbow or this dress or...this stupid diaper.

Your gush of pee slows to a tepid trickle, and you reflexively push your thighs together to feel the new girth of your mushy padding. At least you won't leak. You flash back to when Lauren and Olivia had forced you to keep wetting your diaper until it swelled beyond capacity, and you piddled on the carpet like a scared puppy.

MY diapers are soft.

You remember your step-mom locking the bathroom door at night, since that was the only way to keep you from trying to take your diaper off.

MY diapers are convenient.

You remember being grabbed by the pigtails and having your face shoved in your diaper pail, gagging from the acrid odor of your own making.

MY diapers smell so sweet.

You don't remember how you got back to the picnic table where Miss Heather was waiting for you. You must have handed her the yellow waffle cone you had managed to hang onto, because you see it in her hands. It feels like the last minute of your memory simply erased itself. You look forlornly at the grass.

"I've got some stain remover in my desk," Miss Heather says sympathetically. "Always good for emergencies. We'll have you good as new when we get back to the office."

You look up at Miss Heather with glistening, tearful eyes. "I think I need to be punished."

Miss Heather mouths a silent 'oh' and smiles sadly. "It was just an accident. There's no need to worry."

You smother your face with your hand, sweeping aside a bouncy sausage curl. "No, I mean...I wanted to take my diaper off. I still want to take my diaper off. That's against the rules. You should spank me."

Miss Heather reaches over and takes your hand off your face. She folds her fingers over your palm and grips it tightly.

"You're such a brave, brave person," she says. Her voice is comforting and genuine. "I've never known anyone like you. You try so hard to learn and grow. You appreciate the majesty of simple things. You're going to make someone very happy someday."

"Do I make you happy?" The question comes out of your mouth, but it's as if it were someone else's thought. It was so bold and unplanned, you hardly believe you said it. Miss Heather is caught off-guard and you feel her grip on your hand loosen a bit. You don't let go.

"You...I mean...I think I should drive you back soon. We don't want Mr. Kazoo to worry, do we? Why don't you have my ice cream in the car?" You've never heard Miss Heather sound anxious before.

You shift around a bit, feeling your diaper squish against the hard seat of the picnic table. The spring air is already making it cold and clammy against your skin. "I think I need a diaper change before my spanking," you reply matter-of-factly.

Butterflies flood your tummy as Miss Heather's grip on your hand reasserts itself. Whatever vulnerability was there disappears as you remind her why you need her. Why she needs you to need her. You feel safe. She's in charge again.

Miss Heather reaches into her bag and pulls out your giant pink pacifier. Your mouth falls open the moment it appears in her hand. You lick your lips before she slides the rubber nipple between them, pushing it deeply inside you. Your tongue laps at the familiar fullness, and you suckle calmly. Miss Heather hands you the ice cream cone and guides you to your feet, lightly smacking the back of your drooping diaper. You squirm, and feel the butterflies soar.

"Get in the car. Back seat. Now."

🦋🦋🦋

💕 Part 7 and Epilogue 💕

[cameronspecial]

Assisting In Deception (Part 10)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Sexual Jokes

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4.1K 

Summary: Can Rafe do whatever he can to get his happily ever after with Y/N?

A/N: This is the final part and I hope you enjoy it! I am going to miss writing for these two because I love their dynamic.

Masterlist

The news had gotten out, not only about Y/N and Rafe’s break up but also about their relationship being only for the media and wedding. A lower-level lawyer at Cameron Development had found their contract and after the breakup was made public by someone at the company, she thought it was a good time for a payday. In true media fashion, Y/N was crucified for being a whore and materialistic, while Rafe was praised for being such a great boyfriend to her even when the relationship was fake. The double standard bothers Rafe way more than it did Y/N. She has finally learned not to take anything to heart. Rafe on the other hand knows how much those labels sunk into her skin, especially since he called her those exact same things. He has done every single possible interview he could to clear her name, but no outlet would really listen to his words. 

Not to mention, his father’s anger just adds to his feeling of guilt. Ward screamed about how Rafe could treat her that way and he should’ve made the relationship real as soon as he knew he was falling for her. Ward wasn’t upset at the lie; instead, his feelings were more focused on the fact that his son had let love go.

Rafe is going to get her back though and this is the only thing he has ever been a hundred percent sure about in his entire life. The long days without the refreshing smell of strawberry shampoo and the long nights without the soft whispers from her sleeping lips are driving him insane. Every morning and night he reaches out to pull her into his warmth, always being left empty-handed. 

He thinks of a thousand ways to make it up to her, but he doesn’t know what to do. He decides to go to the one person who he knows could help him with her. “Juni, please talk to me. I need your help,” he begs, wedging his foot between the door and its frame to stop it from shutting in his face. The shorter girl shakes her head, “She is very angry at you. I don’t know what I can do for you. We both know she doesn’t mess around and that’s exactly what you did, Big C” His eyes flicker to the carpeted floors of the hallway, dragging his left foot back and forth across it. “You don’t need to think about anything. I just need you to send her food every week. I’ll give you my card number so you can charge it to me because I know she won’t take it if I put my name on it,” he states. His hand reaches into his pocket to pull out his card. Her head tilts and her eyebrows frow together to become one.

“If this is about getting her back, then what’s the point of sending her the food without your name?” 

“It’s not about her forgiving me or taking me back. I just want to make sure that she can still eat out. I know she’ll get frugal about her money while she is figuring out a new budget with her new income and she won’t factor in getting take-out into her budget until everything else is taken care of. Her accountant degree will definitely kick in.” 

“That’s really sweet. And I know what you mean, she’s already started cutting her own expenses on groceries. I’ve never seen her go more than a day without having coffee from the shop downstairs. It’s weird.” 

“Exactly, so do it for me, please. I just want her to be happy and cared for.”

“Fine, you are lucky that I was rooting for you guys.” 

“Thank you! Thank you so much! Let me know if you guys need anything else, okay? Nothing is too big.” 

“I know Y/N needs a trip to Cabo, but under my name.” 

He gives her a playful smile with the tilt of his head. She shrugs, “I tried. Let me know if you need any help with your plan.” Rafe nods at her offer. “I will. Thank you again,” he says, walking away from the apartment after their goodbyes. 

——

Y/N sits at her desk looking at the number on her screen. They start to merge together and she wants to bang her head against the wall. She got a job as an accountant’s assistant and she is not exactly thrilled with it, but it made the most sense because of her degree. She needed a job and she didn’t have the time to try to figure out what is the right career for her. Her boss has gone to lunch but needed her to stay behind to finish up this budget. 

The noise from the door draws her focus to Lydia, the secretary for the office. Nutmeg and parsley fill the room with its aroma. Her mouth salivates as it smells exactly like her favourite creamy mushroom gnocchi. The brown bag with a familiar logo sits in Lydia’s hand. “A delivery guy brought this over. Said it was from Juni,” she explains, placing it on her desk before exiting. Y/N grins at the bag and her hands draw together near her chest. Her shoulders sway from side to side in a little dance. She opens the bag, letting the food overwhelm her senses. With her phone in hand, she takes a selfie of herself hovering over the food and sends it to Juni with a thank you. The food hits her taste buds and she wants to melt as the creamy goodness settles in. 

——

“Sir, all of your meetings, appointments and business dinners are on your calendar. I took the liberty of decolour-coding the calendar and rearranged it in a manner that each happens in the same time frame every day. It makes more sense like that. All your meetings are arranged in the afternoon. Appointments in the mornings. And obviously the business dinners in the evening,” Ricardo debriefs, showing Rafe with his tablet what he meant. Rafe isn’t too pleased that Ricardo changed Y/N’s system, but he knows it’s because he is holding on to any piece of her he can. It isn’t Ricardo’s fault that she left. Rafe acknowledges he heard his assistant, “Okay, sounds good. Thank you. You may go back to your desk now.” 

Ricardo does as he is told and heads to his desk. The ding from Rafe’s phone immediately attracts his attention. He scrambles to pull it out of his pocket and opens the text from Juni. The screenshot she sent makes the clock stop spinning for just a second. The smile on Y/N’s face is enchanting and he wishes he saw the little dance he knew she did after taking the food out. He sends a thank you back and practically begs her to send him the actual photo so that he can save it to his camera roll. Once she does, he lets out a sigh of happiness. This is who he is trying to fight to get back. 

——

How do you make up for pushing your not-real girlfriend, but the girl you are totally in love with, away is not a Google search that has a lot of results. Something big and grand would scare her away. Something small and intimate doesn’t feel like enough. And there really isn’t a middle ground when it comes to gestures. He always defaults to food, so he wants to do something different from his norm. The sounds of his socked feet dragging against the hardwood floor bounce off of the walls as he paces the room. His head darts to the space over his bed and he stops. He takes in the painting he bought from Nancy. Each stroke comes together to show the emotions he felt at that moment and he knows the perfect way to prove to Y/N what he feels for her. 

——

When she opens the door, Nancy isn’t expecting to see her sister’s fake ex-boyfriend standing behind it. “What do you want?” she growls, crossing her arms. It is clear that her crush on him is gone with the way he upset Y/N. He looks at her with pleading eyes, “Hey Little Artist, I need your help. Please.” Her cheeks start to redden, but he can tell that it isn’t because of embarrassment or her small crush. 

“Why should I help you? You called my sister a gold digger. Do you know how much she is hurting right now? If anything I should be trying to figure out how to hide your body.”

“I know. I’m sorry that I hurt her and I want to tell her this too. I just need your help with how I execute this apology.”

“Well, I don’t want to.”

“Little Artist, please. I love your sister so much and I can’t handle knowing that I’ve made her feel bad about herself. I just want to apologize and show her her worth again. If she tells me to get lost after I do, then I promise she will never hear or see me again. I just want her to be happy.”

Nancy looks him in the eyes and her anger lessens at what she sees. Rafe is practically in tears at the thought of what he has done. His words have really hit home for her. “Fine, I’ll help you. But you are buying me food.” 

“Wow, you really do take after your sister.” 

——

Nancy watches over his shoulder as he sketches onto the canvas. The look she makes at the outline causes him to turn towards him. “What did I do wrong?” he asks, immediately erasing the mark he just made. Her hand stops his movement, “No, it’s not that. It’s just that this is great and all, but you aren’t capturing anything deep. I don’t feel the emotion you are trying to convey right now. Just make sure when you are painting to try to bring what you are trying to say to life. But don’t worry about it for now.” He takes in her advice and keeps doing what he is told. 

The next day he starts painting. He is a lot more nervous about making the first mark than he thought he would be. “Would you stop being a big baby and just start?” Nancy complains, trying to push the paintbrush in his hand onto the canvas. His strength halts her attempt, “No, I can’t. I have to make this perfect, Little Artist. I need to show your sister how sorry I am.” “Trying to make it perfect isn’t going to work. The raw emotion you put into it is what is going to make it perfect. So turn your brain off and start,” she commands. She goes over to her own canvas to do some work. He takes a deep breath and takes a leap of fate in himself by completing the first stroke. 

——

For weeks, Juni has been sending Y/N food every single day at the office. Y/N has tried to tell her that leftovers are okay to eat for lunch, but she doesn’t appear to listen. Y/N questioned how Juni could’ve gotten the money and was met with the promise that her work has added a lunch plan for two in her contract. This doesn’t sound any bit true to Y/N, but she goes along with the lie. The headphones over her ears make her oblivious to the world around her. She opens the door to the dark apartment, grooving to the music. The routine she moves through when she gets home goes smoothly until she gets to her bedroom. 

The thin large square package leaning against her bed is not a part of that routine. She approaches the gift, looking for any indication of who sent it or how it got into her room. Her first thought is to ask Juni if she knows anything and is met with the answer to her question. You got a package this morning when you left. I brought it into your room, Sweetie. This eases her worry that someone has broken into her room. She puts her purse away and starts tearing into the wrapping paper. The painting she finds brings tears to her eyes. Years of living with Nancy means Y/N knows a little bit about painting, so she knows the technique is nowhere near perfect. Yet, the meaning it is trying to convey is clear to the woman. She can feel the emotion he felt while he painted it. There could only be one person who made this for her. 

The subject of the painting: her, specifically from a picture of her when they went to Greece. They had found a little cafe near the beach and she was completely in love with the saragli and baklava he bought her. She was too occupied enjoying the nutty and sticky pastry to notice him taking her picture. The painting isn’t a good likeness to her. Her nose is a little too close to her lips and her eyes are wider apart than in actuality, but the lighting tells her everything she needs to know. She remembers the picture vividly and knows that it isn’t accurate to the day. Instead, the light paints her in a golden light that makes her look ethereal. The love he feels for her comes across with every golden stroke on the canvas. Her anger starts to vanish. 

She doesn’t know how she knows, but she heads to the front door. Y/N opens the door to find Rafe waiting with bubble tea in his hand. “The painting was amazing. It doesn’t make up for what you said though,” she comments, moving out of the way for him to come in. He does and sets the drinks on the kitchen island, “I know. I was hoping the bubble tea would make up for the rest of it.” 

“You and I both know that’s not what I am waiting for, Boss.”

“I know… I’m sorry, Butterfly. I have never thought that you were a gold digger. I was hurting because I didn’t like seeing you with another guy.”

“Just because you are hurting, it doesn’t mean you get to hurt me.” 

“That’s true. And I want to prove to you that I don’t truly think those things. But I’m going to have to be around you for that to happen. So if you feel the same way about me as I think you do, then please let me back into your life. I missed your excited squeals about food or watching you play with Dax. He misses you too you know.” 

“I miss him too. I just don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you.” 

He steps toward her, reaching for her hand. His fingertips graze hers before she lets his large hand envelop hers. His lips brush the shell of her ear, “I am prepared to wait for eternity to get you back.” Her eyebrows form a caterpillar as she gives him a trying look. “What if it takes an eternity and one day?” she pushes. His other arm pulls her flush against his chest by the waist, “I’d beg on my knees an eternity and a hundred days if you want.” “On your knees, huh? How about on your knees between my thighs?” Y/N whispers, lips ghosting his. She can basically feel his lips on hers. “I thought I was apologizing to you? But I’ll be on my knees between wherever you want. So, are we going to give me another chance?” 

“I think I have to think about it.” 

He chuckles at her playful tone, “Well, I hope you don’t mind me doing this.” She takes the lead and brings his lips to hers. Their lips move in tandem like a well-oiled machine. Her hands twist in his hair and he plays with the bottom of hers. This is where they are meant to be. She is who he is meant to be with. 

——

A year. A year of bliss as her official boyfriend. Although Rafe likes to count the time they spent faking dating as the start of their relationship, he knows Y/N likes the beginning of their relationship to be the day she found his painting in her room. She believes it’s more romantic that way. Now, she’s spent the last six months living in his apartment with him. He gets to wake up every day with her and go to sleep beside her every night. 

After they got together, Y/N didn’t go back to work for him and he completely understood why. She wanted to find someplace for herself in the world, which she did. Her love of food turned into an Instagram account reviewing different places around the city. It’s grown quite the following, but nothing so great that she would quit her job as an assistant accountant. Rafe insisted that he would take care of her while she pursued this passion, but ever the planner she is, she said that she wants a steady income to make some savings for herself first. Plus, accounting is a little more bearable when she can devour delicious food for money after work. 

Y/N is away at a work conference for the week and the empty house makes Rafe feel a little lonely. Dax keeps him company, but waking up the first day she is away is normally the hardest for him. Over the last six months of living together, they have grown into a well-synced routine with each other that is currently broken. Rafe would normally wake up earlier than needed so they could get ready for work together and he could drive her to her office before he gets to work himself. He tried offering to buy her a car, but she is very keen on saving up for one herself and he is not about to take away her independence. He sadly walks to the bathroom, getting ready to brush his teeth by himself. His hand reaches for the toothbrush and is met with the sound of paper rustling against his finger. He looks down to see a Post-it note on his toothbrush: I’m sorry I had to go away for work, but I love you, always, Boss. He smiles at the little note and feels his mood start to lift immediately. 

The next note he finds is in his car. The sun was in his eyes while he was getting ready to pull out of the parking spot, so he put down the sun visor, only for a small paper square to float down onto his lap. Did you know that 90% of drivers sing behind the wheel? So sing your heart out to Call Me Maybe, Boss. He loves it when she gives him random facts. He opens his phone case so he can keep it safe to put it with all the others. He’s kept every single Post-it note she has ever written for him, even the ones she wrote when she started as his assistant. 

By the third note, he guesses that the rest of the time that Y/N is away he is just going to be finding them everywhere. Ricardo walks in like he normally does every morning to give him a detailed rundown of his day. “The last thing of note is that Ms. Y/L/N has ordered me to give you this today,” Ricardo finishes, handing Rafe a blue piece of paper. He waits for Ricardo to leave before reading it. What do you call a butterfly that can fly faster than any other butterfly? A betterfly. He laughs at the horrible joke and texts her the laughing emoji. He knows she’ll know why without any context. He waits for a response and receives the kissy face emoji. 

He gets home from work and is getting ready to feed Dax when he finds the next one. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice the note sticking to the jar when he fed Dax this morning but he shrugs it off. Confusion crosses his face when he reads it though. Hi Daddy, Mommy wanted to let you know that I’m not going to be an only child soon. Love, Dax. Why in the world would Dax not be an only child soon? Is this her way of telling him she is adopting another dog? Dax whines for the food and snaps him out of his thoughts. He’ll just have to call her later to ask. 

The phone call he plans to make gets quickly forgotten and he is watching TV at the moment. However, Dax’s scratching at one of the guest bedroom doors removes Rafe from the couch. He goes upstairs to see what is going on, opening the door to see what Dax wants. The dog immediately enters the room and hops on the bed to his favourite chew toy that has somehow got in there. He heads over to take the toy into the living room so he can keep an eye on Dax. He stops at the contrast of the bright pink sticky notes against the light gray sheets. “Huh, why would mommy leave a note here? We never go in here,” he asks the occupied dog. Rafe takes a second and remembers the last time this room was used. It was the first-night Y/N had ever stayed over at his house. His hand hesitantly picks up the note and this time he isn’t met with words but a drawing.

The drawing is of a woman without a clear view of her face because her hair is blocking it. She is looking down at her round belly with her hands placed lovingly on it. Rafe’s first thought is that there is no way Y/N drew this because she can barely draw stick figures this well. Then the dots start to connect. The note before this one. The complaints that her favourite foods are repulsing her. The crying at every animal commercial. The little belly weight she gained that he just chalked up to being because he read in one article that the extra weight gained at the beginning of a new relationship means they are happy and he isn’t displeased by that fact. His happiness quickly turns to upset that she isn’t here to celebrate the news with her.

His hands clumsily fish for his phone in his pocket and he goes to dial her number. When the ringing comes from behind, he freezes all movement. He slowly turns around to see her standing with a massive grin on her face. His phone drops to the floor and he doesn’t care that a massive crack noise sounds throughout the room. He runs to her, taking her into his arms. He lifts her up from the ground and spins her in excitement. Her giggles send pure joy through him. “We are having a baby!” he exclaims, finally letting her two feet find the ground again. She takes his chin into her hand so she can look into his eyes, “We are.” 

“I can’t believe it. We have so much to do. I have to go to the store so we can repaint this room. Actually, we should hire someone to paint a mural. And we have to pick out the crib, a new dresser, a diaper gen-”

“Woah, woah, woah, Boss. Slow down a little. The baby isn’t coming for another nine months. And I thought I was supposed to be the planner.”

“You are right. I’m just really excited. I literally just found out about them and they are just the size of like a pea, but I already love them as much as I love their mommy. I can’t help it.” 

“I love you too and I can’t wait to meet them too.” 

The couple takes a moment to just look at each other in their eyes, conveying all their emotions and thoughts. The baby was not planned, but it is clear to both of them that the baby is still very much wanted. They smile at this communication and kiss each other for the first time since she got home. For once in her life, Y/N Y/L/N took a chance on love and look where she is now. She never looked back on that decision to let go of her fear of commitment because it led her to not only her first love of her life but to her second one as well. 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @aprilrudgate @loving-and-dreaming @thepatriarchykeychain @maybankslover @abbybarnesstuff @wh0reforbucknasty @spencereidbasis @drewsmusee @starkowswife @mskezza @h34rtsformilli @ijustwanttoreadlols @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @bellbottombaby @jaydaaasworld

[xamaxenta]

ASL all being raised on violence so they genuinely don’t understand softer touch, genuine kindness at first

Like these three feral jungle kids bit kicked scratched each other full on brawled one another because it was the only way they knew how to show affection

(Garp’s fist of love is not exactly a great point of reference for any of them, Dadan was also likewise heavy handed but lets be real these brats kicked her ass more than she kicked theirs lmao)

Luffy clicks with Zoro because Zoro’s just built like that, he’s built walls and his dreams to become the worlds greatest swordsman and nothings gonna stop him, So when Luffy decks him, hauls ass flings him about, its how Luffy shows affection, rocketing at top speed towards Zoro whilst yelling his name because he knows Zoro can take it, the same doesnt really go down well with Nami or Usopp, theyre not built the same way— bruises and bumps and scratches, Nami whacks him over the head all the time for stupid stuff she says and Luffy finds thats familiar, to which Usopp is like my guy my dude thats actually pretty effed up holy hell

Usopp and Sanji being the first of the crew to show Luffy that affection doesnt have to be violent (like usopp sharing a cool beetle he found, Sanji ruffling his hair because hes mad hes gotta wait until dinner for more food)

Ace fights a lot because it’s all he knows how to do right, hes good at it, he wins alot mostly but loses just as many times because he overestimates himself, maybe after fighting Whitebeard 100 times he doesnt let up and Whitebeard catches on immediately after Ace has taken his ink like son, just because i can kick your ass doesnt mean you have to go looking for it. Ace confused is like huh? But isnt this like a bonding activity and WB concerned asks Ace what his childhood was like and Ace shrugs uh. Absent everyone? Like everyone, kinda acted out a ton for attention and stuff, the WBP appalled at Ace’s viewpoint on violence versus affection look to multiple ways in which they can smother their newest brother with actual kind affection, naturally it starts with Marco approaching him with food and no other motive than to be kind — Ace used to fighting tooth and nail to eat looks so suspicious its almost heartbreaking

Sabo who’s never known a kind word from his blood parents and only begruding respect and tolerance from Dadan — hes perceptive, the fact this bandit lady with the crazy intense face is allowing him to freeload with Ace n Luffy tells him a ton about her, she’s coarse and rude and everything Sabo’s parents hate so naturally Sabo loves her, (its a shame we never got more Dadan and Sabo :(((((() gravitates towards Ace because he’s everythinf his parents hate too, wild uncouth loudmouthed and violent and they get along, they beat each other up bc its how they tell each other theyre strong ive got your back

And then he loses his memories and maybe thats a good thing because Sabo learns kindness with the revolutionaries, he feels seen and heard and respected (Big Applause to Dragon and Iva for listening to kid Sabo beg and plead not to go back to his old life and went okay hes ours now chadmindset love to see it) he learns that violence and affection are a double sided coin, that he can use his skills to fight and protect those that cant do it for themselves

ASL are a rowdy set of rabble rousin kiddos but its really nice to see how they develop as they got older bc of the people they encountered who help them understand theyre not alone as they think they are

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hi! Just found your bog and I really like how you write Tim/Masky. So could I request Tim/Masky and EJ with a very caring reader, reader is mother hen-ish and gets worried about them not taking care of themselves while reader themselves doesn’t take care of themselves much either. Hope that makers sense, have a great day!

Tim/Masky and Eyeless Jack x mother hen!reader but they're a hypocrite

Giving tim and masky separate parts since I do write them just sliiiiiiightly different to each other !! Glad to hear you like my silly lil take on this dude! Was/is definitely hard to get him down while trying to appease two fandoms 😭😭

MASKY

He wont exactly stop you from treating any of his wounds when he comes home, but hes not going to be thrilled. The only time he would seek out your help is if he cant reach it. Very stubborn, while yes hes not trying to go out of his way to get hurt hes not going to be making sure hes staying totally safe when hes out doing his.. thing.. oh if you could only see his face when he sees you not drinking your water after you hound him for not staying hydrated.. he might actually try to force you to drink or get a snack. When it comes to sleep he physically holds you to him in bed.. he might not be tired himself but if this is the only way you'll get to bed then so be it

TIM

Hes a little more accepting of help than his counterpart, though its mostly out of confusion as he doesnt know where his wounds come from. Actually he can't really remember the night prior.. assuming you're unaware of everything going on with him, you just try to patch him up. Thankfully it's not usually anything more than small cuts and scrapes. Sometimes theres bruises.. moving on tim can also be a bit of hypocrite like you. He insists you take care of yourself but he forgets to apply the same standard to him.. it's not that he intentionally is holding a double standard, he just genuinely either forgets or doesnt have the energy. Mental illness can do that to someone and it sucks. But it can be turned into you both trying to do better for each other, and it sort of becomes a system.. that'd be sweet, I think, you both uplift each other over time

EYELESS JACK

All things considered, hes fairly good at taking care of himself. Granted, there will be real consequences if he doesnt.. for him and you.. so he cant take many chances. Look, missing a meal when you're a man eating demon who goes rabid when hungry is.. not the best. He doesn't want to take any chances, so even if it mentally messes with him to eat his food he still toughs it out because it's better that the alternative. I guess theres a plus that he technically doesnt need to sleep to function.. semi good enough. Actually if anything hes the one scolding you for not taking care of yourself. Being the one being looked after.. feels weird to jack..

[darlingdekarios]

keeping count.

eating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 3,470 content: William "Ironhead" Miller x f!reader, established relationship, angst, mentions of canon-accurate death and violence, smut [f receiving oral, unprotected p in v]

when William returns home far later than he was supposed to, it becomes his new mission to show you how worried he was he'd never see you again.

Your boyfriend was only supposed to be gone for a week, so on day eight when he still hadn’t walked through the threshold of your shared home the anxiety began to bubble in your stomach. By day ten, the anxiety had festered into full-blown trepidation, and by day fourteen you were practically hysterical on the phone with family – both yours and his, minus his brother of course, as they were supposed to be together. No one had heard from either of the Miller brothers in two weeks now, and that fact made any possibility of comfort for you impossible. William Miller, a man so tough you’d never fathomed that he could be in danger when he last walked out of the door, was officially missing. 

It was always misery being away from him – it had been this way for the last few years of your relationship – but the feeling that this time he seriously may not come home to you was worse than any pain you’d felt before. The time passed so slowly, 24-hour days feeling double that until they all muddled together, each day bringing new and horrible thoughts about where he could possibly be. By Friday, 15-days after he’d set off with his team, you could hardly sleep, or even focus on anything other than when he was going to return home to you. 

If he was going to return home to you. 

The temporary reprieve for the day was a day off from work, a nice hot shower, and the bottle of bourbon that awaited you in the kitchen, eager to numb the pain and quiet your mind for a few hours. Keenly aware of the hour you’d already spent in the shower by the amount of music that had passed you resigned yourself to moving on to the next part of your evening after conditioning your hair. As your head tilted back to rinse your hair you closed your eyes, inhaling a deep breath to steady yourself once again. 

Your mind occupied in that false semblance of a peaceful moment, you missed that the song playing through your speaker had stopped and that the heavy wooden door to the bathroom had swung open without a creak. The interruption was unnoticed for a moment before your eyes opened once again, immediately landing on the one thing you’d spent days hoping for through the glass door of the shower. You wanted to ask him if he was real or just your mind playing a cruel trick on you, but your mind betrayed your wishes and refused you the proper words to utter as he pulled his shirt over his head, his pants and underwear soon following. 

His time in South America and whatever had, presumably, gone wrong had caused him to lose a bit of weight, and his eyes contained so many emotions encompassed by exhaustion that you had to wonder how he was even managing to stand. Your usually clean-and-tidy William was now disheveled, the evidence of a lack of access to a good shower for days presenting itself to you. As he moved closer to the shower and opened the door to join you the stitches on his side showed themselves to you, a quiet gasp leaving your lips at the sight. William had always been completely honest with you, something you loved about him, so while you had known why Santiago invited him on this mission down South, you never expected him to return home with that many stitches. 

By the time he had climbed into the confines of the shower with you your mind was reeling with an entirely new set of questions – where had he been? What happened? Why did he have stitches? Why didn’t he call you the second he could? Why did he always let Santiago get him in trouble? Was he okay? The racing thoughts were overwhelming, and as always he read your expression perfectly as he stepped right in front of you, his arms wrapping around your waist to bring you forward to the warmth of his body firmly and his head lowered to press soft lips to your forehead. 

  “I’m home,” he breathed out quietly, lying his head on top of yours to soak in the feeling of closeness to you once again, cherishing the way your arms wrapped around his neck instinctually as any remaining centimeters were closed between the two of you. Tears broke through the dam you had built against them for the day, spilling down your cheeks before you could stop them. 

  “Will,” was all you could manage back as a reply, his name leaving your mouth somewhere between a sob and a prayer, your fingers locking together on the back of his neck in an attempt to prevent him from pulling away before you were ready for him to.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he whispered into your hair, his lips pressing into the freshly-washed area in a way they’d done thousands of times before, soaking in the coconut and orange scent that he’d spent hours wondering if he’d ever smell again. His hands slid to grasp your hips in a display that meant you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, either. 

  “You’re eight days late, William,” you choked out, the anger boiling to the surface to cover the despair in your voice. There was no use hiding from him though – he saw through you now as clearly as he ever had. 

  “I know, I kept count,” he sighed, his fingers digging into your skin with the lightest pressure. When your face tucked into the crook of his neck as you attempted to quiet another soft cry from your lips, one of his hands slid to cover the distance from your hip to the back of your head. As he stroked your hair softly and held you against him his lips repeatedly pressed into your head. “I won’t do something like that again, sweetheart…I promise.”

  Finally truly at home again back in his arms you allowed your emotions to continue spilling out, quiet and strangled whimpers soaking into the skin of his neck as he held you through your emotions. Taking a step back into the water he allowed the heat to work over his muscles, washing the dirt and grime and blood away from his skin. He knew he’d have questions to answer when he returned, and remained certain that they were an inevitability sooner rather than later, but he still found hope building that for today you’d allow him to enjoy what he had feared he’d never see again. 

  He was always the perfect source of comfort and soon you were satiated, your falling tears coming to an end as you pressed a light kiss to his shoulder. Nuzzling your face against the hollow of his neck in a quiet sign that you were happy he was home pulled a relieved breath from him, his arms wrapping to hold you tighter in silent communication that he was happy, too. As you released one hand from its hold on the back of his head to reach for soap your head dipped back at the perfect moment his reached for you, your lips meeting in a days-late kiss, the starvation of you evident in his heated kiss.

  Finding his designated bar of soap that had gone unused for weeks you began to work it over his skin as he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip to beg for entrance, an unnecessary gesture he knew you still always melted for. When you pulled away for a desperate breath his lips chased after you, his head ducking to capture the soft skin below your ear as your head fell back, a quiet whimper escaping your lips. You were always conscious of gentle, calculated movements with him, but he displayed a newfound level of appreciation for them as he placed small kisses down your neck. Doing your best to keep an eye on where your hands were taking the soapy cloth to avoid stitches and lighten over bruises you eventually cleaned his entire torso, leaning forward to press a light kiss to his chest. 

  “You’re filthy,” you remarked quietly, earning a quiet and missed chuckle from his chest as he nibbled lightly at your collarbone. He eagerly moved forward to claim your lips again and released a frustrated huff when you evaded him, clicking your tongue in disapproval. Turning your head you placed a light kiss over a bruise on his thigh, soaking in the quiet whimper that passed through his lips. “You’re not finished.”

  The quiet words had hardly registered when you sank to your knees in front of him, your hands sliding down his torso and to his hips to begin work on his muddied legs. A quiet sigh passed through his lips as your hands worked over his thighs, down his calves and back up to slide back to his muscular backside. Soon your hands had made their way back to his thighs. 

  As one of your soapy hands reached to work over his slightly hardened cock, a light moan slipped through his lips as his head leaned back to soak in the feeling of your hand wrapped around him again. With several rubs of your hand he was satisfactorily clean everywhere and his cock was at full attention in front of you, his eyes once again staring down at you as though you may disappear any moment.

“Santiago is a bad influence,” you frowned, leaning forward to place a soft kiss to his hip, quietly appreciating the chance to have more moments like these given the two weeks you’d spent panicking about his well-being.

“I’ll tell him you said that, sweetheart,” he breathed out with the normal amount of honesty behind his voice, his fingers finding their way to your cheek to brush it gently as you kissed along the expanse of his waist. 

  “I’ll tell him myself,” you asserted, your hands sliding to the backs of his thighs again carefully. “Did Benny come home?”

You finally returned your gaze to his face, met immediately by his impossibly blue eyes. A nod from him lifted some of the remaining anxiety from your chest and you nodded in return, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “Did…everyone come home?”

His silence and the hazy look that reached his eyes brought no comfort as you trailed kisses up his torso, standing once more to reach for his lips and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Your kiss brought him back to his current whereabouts, his hands once again finding your waist to hold you close as his quiet voice reached your ears. “Please…tomorrow. Let me just be home tonight.”

As the word home left his lips his right hand slipped downward, a long and skilled finger sliding along your folds to gather the evidence of your excitement to see your partner home again. A quiet moan of his name left your lips in agreement to his proposition and his lips claimed yours again as the same finger slipped into you, swallowing the next noise that came from your mouth as his tongue gained the entry it sought. Your body responded to him as it had done many times before, leaning into him as he curled his finger inside you to pull another moan from within you. 

His lips moved in a kiss that communicated the fear he’d spent days feeling – the fear that he’d never have you again – until he found himself breathless, his solitary finger pumping in and out of you gently. When he withdrew for air he began his trail of kisses once more, making his way down your torso with a speed that reflected his lack of patience as he fought through pain to kneel before you, pushing you back toward the wall with a gentle hand on your stomach as he went. 

“William, your stitches…” You barely managed to breathe out, your speech entirely uneasy as a second finger was added within you, his eyes once again finding yours through the steam of the shower. His free hand slid to one of your ankles, encouraging you to lift it over his shoulder which you fulfilled hesitantly as his lips kissed your hips one at a time. Any hesitation you felt melted under the heat of his voice. 

“To hell with the stitches,” he essentially growled, his face moving forward to lick a thick line from the fingers he had buried in you to the swollen bundle of nerves he knew would send you over the edge. His reward was the quiet whimper released from your lips as your fingers found their way into his still-wet hair. “I’m starving.”

There was no further reasoning with him, not until he had completed the mission he set out on, and you knew that as his lips connected to your clit again, sucking lightly as his fingers curled in blissful unison against the coveted patch deep within you. The groan of appreciation that left his throat was laced with pure appreciation – grateful for the taste of your arousal for him, and grateful he got this again. Grateful that thanks to a newfound clarity of what was important in his life, he’d never risk giving this up again. 

His free hand slid to grasp your hip, digging his fingers in and holding you in place as he pumped those two fingers faster, alternating his sucking and perfectly pressured licks to your clit perfectly. He couldn’t help himself from keeping track of each moan that left your lips; each perfect combination of his tongue and fingers causing your walls to tighten; and each time your grasp on his hair pulled his face just a little closer, often so close he struggled to breathe – not that he’d ever complain in his current position. 

A particularly wanton moan and feeling your thigh shake beside his head signified his goal was in sight, his fingers curling and stilling within you as he tilted his head back to search your face, happy to see your loving gaze already fixated on him. He licked his lips free of your arousal painfully slow before telling you what he needed to hear.

“So delicious,” he praised as his lips found their way to your inner thigh, pressing a kiss to the soft skin there before wiggling his fingers back and forth slowly. “Give me one, princess.” He removed his fingers, eliciting a desperate whine from you before he coaxed the sound into a moan, licking along your folds and dipping his tongue inside of you before returning his tongue to your clit, flicking it back and forth. A few more sinful flicks of his tongue had you ascending, your fingernails digging lightly into his scalp as you moaned out his name, signifying you’d given into his desires perfectly once again.

Catching your hips in his hands to keep you steady through your orgasm he gathered what he could onto his tongue with a final swipe of his tongue before kissing back up your body. When his lips reached yours again he tasted of you, and you hadn’t returned your breathing to normal; and even still you hungrily swallowed his kiss with fervor, your hands sliding to the sides of his neck as you awaited whatever he asked of you next. Your kiss was too consuming to pull away from, and he whispered against your lips just long enough to plead you for more.

“I can’t carry you,” he panted, his voice strained despite its low volume. “I’d take you right in the shower, if I could. Let’s go to bed.”

The suggestion had barely left his lips before you were out of the bathroom, heading down the wood-floored hallway recklessly dripping water wherever it landed. Will didn’t waste time with a towel and followed behind you with slightly more cautious steps until his feet reached the carpet of the bedroom, his steps increasing to cover the distance between the two of you so he could reclaim your lips in his. Ensuring the pair of you made it onto the bed without damaging his stitches took more restraint than he needed to have right now, and by the time he found himself kneeling between your spread legs and stroking himself he could hardly wait to feel your warmth engulf him. Bending forward, his lips found yours once again.

His lips kept their connection to yours as he rubbed the leaking head of his cock around your entrance, his kiss faltering as he pushed inside of you, moaning out in profound appreciation at how you welcomed him home again. Your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, your lips leaving his as your head fell back against the pillow he’d reached back to move beneath it, thankful as ever for your partner’s endless consideration toward you. Your hands grasped his biceps as his fingers dug into your hips, sliding thick inch after inch into you before there was nothing left to give and nowhere else to go, filling you completely. 

Burying his face in the crook of your neck he sucked your earlobe between his teeth to lightly nibble before nuzzling his nose into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo once again as he savored simply being inside of you. When a quiet “please” fell from your lips he ground his hips into yours, groaning deeply and the friction the movement brought. There was no amount of money worth the risk of never feeling this again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he cooed, sliding his already-throbbing cock out despite his desire to stay buried in you painfully slow. Weeks in the jungle meant he had recently had other things on his plate and no access to you, and he knew no matter how laser-focused he attempted to be he’d never last long – you always made it so hard to last long after he was away. His back straightened again to look down between your bodies as he slid his cock back into you even slower than he’d exited, his fingers grasping your hips hard enough to bruise. “You should see how fucking pretty you look taking me in like this, you perfect thing.”

His praise was always rewarded by the most thankful cries and now was no different, your hands reaching to slide down his chest as your legs wrapped tighter around him in a desperate attempt to keep him closer. Eager to oblige you, he began a melodic pace, pumping into you with intentional and calculated yet rhythmic movements as he gazed down at you lovingly, enjoying the glow to your face and the way you only looked this messy and beautiful and perfect for him.

As he pondered his adoration for you his pace picked up, his hips occasionally grinding against yours as he bottomed out within you to rub the head of his cock within that sensitive patch deep within you. When he found the angle to hit it perfectly it became relentless, his right hand reaching between the two of you to connect his thumb to your clit. As he rubbed perfect circles around your clit his pace quickened to a possibly reckless speed in his current state, neither of you fully conscious of the risk as your thoughts only focused on the results of your reunion. The noises from your mouths combined with the sound of his balls slapping against your skin as he forfeited any grinding, focusing his efforts on pinpointed thrusts. 

“Give me another one, baby,” he coaxed, leaning down once again to press a kiss to your lips as he adjusted his position to lay over you in desperation to be closer. “Please give me one more.”

You whined into his mouth and wrapped your legs tighter as your walls clenched around him, giving into his needs for the evening once more as your legs shook around him. Normally not one for messes, Will had opted to release onto your stomach or back in the past, but now he couldn’t bring himself to leave you as his own orgasm washed over him, painting your walls with thick white ropes with no regard to the potential consequences. 

When he could bring himself to remove himself from you he repositioned onto his back, keeping the arm closest to you extended in a welcoming gesture for you to come to his side. In a way you’d done so many times before and you’d never take for granted again you curled into his side as the two of you steadied your breathing to normal, your eyes closing as your head found his chest as a pillow. 

$5 or $5,000,000, he had everything he needed right here with him.

masterlist.

[mishsymishy]

Digital circus/Reader

Angst¡¡ Part1-

-

( first ,If there is any language error please tell me, English is not my first language lmao , and I never write angst gonna be honest)

You can take it as platonic or romantic, although it is more romantic

Warnings!!!: A LOT OF ANGUST! , insecurity, bothering others, suicidal thoughts, self-blame, insanity, self-hatred.

You end up abstracted.

—

Ragatha¡

—She will definitely feel like it's her fault, Even if you became distracted by something else unrelated to her or your relationship with her, she will feel that she is guilty and will have a hard time thinking otherwise

—She won't reach the point of also falling into the madness (I hope), After knowing that you are the black thing with eyes, she will try to act as if everything is fine so as not to get more nervous, (failing in the attempt)

—Ponmi really cared about her, I mean, she lost her loved one ,her even saw her in the hallways talking to herself, many times stopping in your room with your photo crossed out.

—Little by little she will improve, although not completely, she will always have a void in her heart or mind, now feeling guilty of anyone who also abstracts

—She misses you too much, she misses her morning talks with you, she misses your voice and your touch.Her didn't sleep digitally because I was thinking about you, And she will spend days thinking about you again

-

Ponmi!

—She already has traumas, losing you would be like a double punch in the stomach. She will never be the same again, even if others try to help her, she is convinced that without you there is no point in even smiling. He feels guilty for not having been with you at that moment, she feels that she failed you at the worst moment.

—When they gave her the news, she already expected it, she didn't see you all day even if you told her yesterday that you were going to meet her to play some strange thing or try to remember things from back

— she wants to cry, but nothing comes out of her eyes ,Her pupils simply dilate every time she thinks about being with you again, you were her support .The reason she hadn't gone crazy yet

— She goes literally crazy, isolates herself from everyone and starts trying to find a way out sooner or even tries to convince herself again that everything is a dream no matter how real it all was, she laughs to herself and starts not even paying attention even Ragatha and no one

—

Jax!

-Firts think it's a joke, that they want to get revenge on him for the jokes using you.Don't believe anyone even if they are panicked or gleeful about abstraction.I mean, you were fine..right? He saw you very well the last time he see you, it doesn't even make sense.

—He stands still when he sees everyone gathered..and you missing, watching as Caine takes the abstraction to the basement, saying your name in a really dramatic sigh.

He don't believe it ,he doesn't want to believe it.

—Feel bad for Ganglee, because now he is going to bother twice as much and with more pain , even taking her mask and breaking it into pieces in front of her face.

He's twice as serious and doesn't even smile that shit-eating smile anymore, not even when someone falls or starts to descend into madness. Just making practical jokes to annoy and get revenge for everything with everyone.

—If someone else abstracts themselves, he will feel proud but also painful, as if it were revenge for taking you away from him (Even if it is not the fault of others, he will think that others are to blame, especially Caine)

—He will secretly cry for your loss, wishing you were there to ask for your forgiveness and he alsowould secretly tell Caine that if he finds a way to fix the abstracted ones, you have to be the first one, And fuck the rest. he doesn't care anymore

—He carries his depressed and angry feelings towards other people, without caring about the consequences, he no longer even cares if he becomes an abstraction, or rather he doesn't even see the bad thing about that

-

Gangle!

—

-God, not even the happy mask can fix it, She will cry and sob every night , every hour, every moment. It's really fucked, because Jax will remind you of you at any second ,And it's not unintentionally.

_- Oh yeah.. s/o can fix it ..oh sorry_- Jax says, watching the mask hide in its ribbons as she runs away from him , crying quietly

—She will hide in her bands or cover her eyes every time someone tries to support her, she will feel bad for not being with you and leave you alone in the basement, although she doesn't know what's going on there , she knows that you probably don't want to be there and you're trapped there with people that you don't want. ( like her )

Thinking about that, she quickly panics, sobbing your name while tightly grabbing her happy mask and accidentally breaking it by crying ,and accidentally putting pressure on her mask. She cries more and runs to her room, again not even wanting to go on missions with the others to distract herself, don't want to see anyone any more. Even if it makes her abstract. She could make company there. They are totally not going to notice her disappearing.. she is no one on the team, no one cares about her like you did.

—

I need to study so I split this in two

Byebye people , don't cry and be happy , yay.